The Baker Street Babes

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The Web’s Only All Female Sherlock Holmes Podcast


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Episode 18: The Reichenbach Fall


"It is with a heavy heart that I take up my pen to write these the last words in which I shall ever record the singular gifts by which my friend Sherlock Holmes was distinguised." - The Final Problem


On the 15th of January, 2011, we and upwards of 8million other people in the UK (and beyond) were staring at out television, tissues and wine in hand. It is the night of The Reichenbach Fall and The Final Problem. “My best friend, Sherlock Holmes, is dead…” a broken John Watson reveals to his therapist, and we start our emotional roller coaster of the Sherlock Series 2 finale.

Babes Curly, Ardy, Jenn, Turk, Amy, Maria, and Marie mull over Reichenbach. We console, we laugh, we theorize, and we declare our everlasting love for Molly Hooper. Why did Mycroft do what he did? Did Sherlock really believe he was going to die? We discuss so much and with such passion because this is the show that started off this podcast. So we discuss the brilliant directing and editing and performances, as well as the larger impact, and how we’ve all been hit by an emotional bus of crying and heartbreak.

How did he do it? Moriarty in Sherlock’s clothes? Well places rubbish truck? Rhodedendrun a la Guy Ritchie? Magical unicorn? We discuss our theories, our hopes for The Empty House, and our continual heartbreak over this amazing piece of television.

In all seriousness, this is what acting and storytelling is about. Sherlock is the epitome of what television should be, what art should be. Benedict Cumberbatch, Martin Freeman, Andrew Scott, and everyone involved in this production deserve every award possible. Thank you Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat for an amazing series, and thank you Steve Thompson for Reichenbach.

The lyrics for Caitlin’s song…
I’ll miss your words
and the way you always acted so absurd
and not to be a ridiculous sap
but i’ll even miss that goddamn hat
if nothing else
for your face
when i brought it up

without you
London streets are far too
without you
i miss
the random acts of violence
without you
i don’t walk
this world the same

miss your harpoon
and the way your chem sets
smoked up all the rooms
i miss it less in an actual way
and more like how a parent would say
they miss the days
when their kids were hellish demons

without you
my blog is getting dreary
just backlogs of old cases,
comments full of fruitless queries
and without you
what’s the point

i know i’m being stupid
and these words aren’t quite the point
but no simple phrase can quantify
how everything’s just noise
and the way the world seems smaller
and so easy to destroy
without you

and i didn’t mean to be there every other
time you called
so i did resent, sometimes, that i could not escape your thrall
but i never would have thought the time i wasn’t
there at all
would be the moment
be the day
when you would fall

so I’ll miss your face
sort of
I’ll miss your mess
well, I mean
I’ll miss that slightly less
but still I’ll miss you
miss you