"I remember when I was reading that story as a kid, Sherlock goes on and on about The Woman, the only one who ever beat him, and you’re thinking, he’s had better villains than this. And then you click: he fancies her, doesn’t he? That’s what it’s about."
i am opening the door. i am stepping outside of my house. i am walking to the airport. i am getting on a plane. i am flying to steven moffat’s house. i am sneaking inside very quietly. i am pooping in every pair of his shoes.
because it’s not like irene adler had a genuine victory or anything. it’s not like she outsmarted sherlock holmes. it’s not like she disguised herself so well that she could literally follow him and hear all of his plans and then topped it off with actually saying ‘goodnight, mr. holmes’ to his face. it’s not like he didn’t even figure it out until he got to her house the next day and found a note explaining all of it.
FUCKING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH AAARGH AAAAAAH AAAAAAAAAAH ARGH UGH BLECH RAAAAAAWWEEER ARGH THIS MAN. AND THEN HE FUCKING STOLE HER VICTORY FROM HER BECAUSE HE’S AN IMBECILE AND LITERALLY MISSED EVERY POINT.