Bingo Row 3

Apr 27, 2011 01:02

SECOND BINGO!!
Yep, I'm ready for one more promotion and another card.

Title: Drabbles
Author: AnnieVH
Pairing/Characters: in order, Sherlock&John, Sherlock&Sally, Sherlock/Irene, Jim/Sherlock, John, Sally and the Yarders (Hey! Band name!!), Mycroft&Mrs.Hudson, Sherlock&John&Lestrade, Sherlock&John.
Rating/Category: overall, PG.
Prompt: Row3 from my Drabble Bingo Card at Team Watson, thegameison_sh 
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: don't own, just burrow
Notes/Warnings: none whatsoever.

Row3

HUMILIATE
one sentence
Didn't matter how mad John was, Sherlock was sure calling him a freak in front of the whole Scotland Yard was uncalled for. They were still giggling as he walked away from the crime scene.

SLIGHT
221B
Bruises and broken bones. That was not what Sally had aimed for when the investigation had began three days before. Sherlock wouldn't look at her but she still needed to ask before that brother of his came back and kicked her out again. "I'm sorry."
"Fine." He responded, in his usual tone of "nothing you say really matters, I'm bored".
"It's not. I jumped to conclusions. Didn't even make a slight effort to question Gregson's twisted theories-"
Sherlock sighed. "I don't care."
Sally could say his indifference was not towards her apologies, but to their madly accusing him in the first place. As if he had expected that all along.
She looked down on him, observed his body, taking in every wound their mislead actions had caused. Yet, Sherlock didn't seem angry, but resign.
She said, "Why didn't you just tell us?"
Sherlock gave her a bitter chuckle. "Much difference that'd have made."
"You were innocent and you had proofs."
"Yes, I did. So?"
"So!" She said, frustrated. "Instead of running around on your own trying to catch that maniac and getting yourself a beating you should have looked for us and rubbed the truth on our faces as you normally do."
"Oh, but Sally." Sherlock cooed, bitterly. "All of you would've been so disappointed the freak was not to blame."

QUIBBLE
drabble
When Sherlock's done, John says "Fantastic!" and Irene stares back at him with a blank face, not wanting him to know how impressed she truly is. Admitting to something like this, letting him know he's got to her, could be harmful. So she decides to give him a smirk that could either be mockery or flirt. "Show off" she says, in a challenging tone that forces him to fight back a smile, because a smile would be acknowledgment that she too could get to him. Show off. She knows he understands what it means. Try harder. And so he will.

SMITTEN
drabble
It's mostly because the boy is about his age, a bright ten year old that can see things the grown ups can't and that the same idiotic grown ups won't listen to. The look of disappointment and desertion on his face is almost too delicious. James had never met anyone who could be so fun to challenge and defeat as the young and brilliant Sherlock Holmes, so he decided to keep an eye on him. Watch his every move so he could find the perfect way to capture his beautiful mind and trap it forever. Little Jimmy is in love.

IMAGE
drabble
The road was endless and the rain made the long walk harder, but still the winter cold was refreshing. John couldn't begin to imagine how it would feel to do all that under the Afghanistan sun and he couldn't say he was curious to know how that felt. And yet, he was counting the days to his departing. He wasn't sure what was expecting him, though he knew that it wouldn't be good because war is not supposed to be good, but it couldn't be worst than sitting at home, watching the world burn down and do nothing about it.

DISTENSION
double drabble
Something tickled Sally's mind, but she pushed it away and watched Gregson rattle facts on the cellphone. The scarf, the prints, and maybe even a footprint on the backyard, and "you've met the guy, sir, you really surprised?"
Suddenly, she got the urge to call Lestrade because something there was not right, there were too many pieces of that puzzle and Sherlock could be messy, but hi work was meticulous, precise. That was evidence on display for their benefit.
She couldn't report to Lestrade this time, though. He was probably out there looking for Sherlock with Dr. Watson, nothing his boss could do about that, but he was too close to the suspect to remain impartial and was no longer in charge.
Not that the rest of them could be any better. They all hated the bastard. Everybody wanted to blame it on him - Gregson, who had been called an idiot too many times, was ready to twist the smaller facts to suit theories, and everytime something seemed to fit he'd smile as if that was a personal victory, not his duty.
Now, Gregson was calling her. Trying not to let guilt crawl up her mind again, she obbeyed.

BAKE
drabble
Not everybody demanded kidnapping and limos. When Mycroft told Mrs. Hudson, "Hello, I'm Mycroft Holmes" she pulled him inside and offered him tea. Then started to chat about what a fascinating creature his brother was, complained about his messy habits, commented on his latest cases and promised she'd let him know if anything bad ever happened in 221B, since Sherlock was such a stubborn child. Just about when she insisted he took one more vanilla cookie she baked herself to go with the new information, Mycroft starts grinning; this lady may very well turn out to be his favorite informant.

PENSIVE
drabble
"Good deduction, Detective."
"Excuse me?"
"I said it was a good deduction."
"Really?"
"Good enough for you, anyway. All together not really that impressive, but was mostly accurate. Maybe you people do think things through after all."
"Ah. How nice."
"Isn't it? Isn't it wonderful to use your head. Congratulations."
As Sherlock squated to observe the corpse, Lestrade whispered to John. "You telling him to be nicer?"
"Yes."
"Then tell him it's unpolite to treat people as if they were chimps learning to use a computer."
"It's a work in progress. All in all, I'd call it a good start."

TOUSLE
drabble
pure crack!
"NOT THE HAIR!!"
"What?!"
"Do not touch my hair!"
"Are you serious?"
"You take that hand far away from me!"
"But I was just going to brush that leaf off-"
"I don't care! Nobody touches my hair!"
"But... why?"
"Do you think I wake up and it just looks this perfect? It requires serious work to make it look this good and to keep it in place all day long. You touch it you're going to ruin it and all my four hours of work'll be tossed out the window."
"... Four hours? Everyday?"
"No. Only in good hair days."

sherlock, fanfic

Previous post Next post
Up