Fic Writing for the Prompt "Stay"
...for a challenge at gameofcards.
Stay
Fandoms: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Sherlock BBC
Rating: G
Total words: 1088
Notes: Part of this crossover ‘verse I write in, sometimes, where Giles brings the Slayerettes to London after the fall of Sunnydale, and they get involved with the Sherlock crew in solving crimes. Some of the chapter titles are songs; click for YouTubes.
1) Def: To endure, to quell, to satisfy
Mycroft Holmes smoothed his lapels and, uncharacteristically, had to take a slow breath to steel himself before pushing open the door. A portion of his multi-active mind considered the question of why this, of all the world-threatening meetings on simmering global disasters he has walked into with calm, why this, of all things, should be causing his heart to race.
Putting aside such self-reflection, he schooled his features into a position between abject panic and his usual cold determination, more like bland, pleasant, and somewhat empty-headed. Willing his nerves into quiescence, he entered the pub to join his brother, the doctor, the American visitors, the English Watcher, and *cough* Detective-Inspector Lestrade for a night of--of all things--drinking and karaoke.
2) Stay With Me (Rod Stewart)
As he entered the smoky, dimly-lit tavern, he espied the oddly-assorted group clustered around several tables in the corner, near the stage, where some ill-begotten Everyman was caterwauling words which seemed to proclaim, "Wo, wo, wo, wo, wo, sweet child o mi-i-i-ne." Quite dreadful, but nonetheless it was mildly and suprisingly gratifying when, as he neared the table, the silver-haired Detective Inspector pushed back from the table and and gestured him over. "Mycroft!" he said cheerily, waving toward the chair next to him. "Glad you could make it! You're just in time!" this time waving to the side of the stage, where Rupert Giles, holding a microphone, moved to take the place of the Caterwauler under the bright lights. "Rupe said you were coming to meet him, he'll be done in half a mo'! Fancy a drink?" Mycroft started to reply, but a loud burst of music, followed by Giles's not disreputable, raspy tenor, drowned out his words. Shrugging lightly at Lestrade, he turned toward the stage, keenly aware however that Lestrade's hand remained on the back of his chair, tapping in time to the music. "Stay with me/Staaaay with me/'Cause tonight you're gonna stay with me."
3) Stay, Stay, Stay (Taylor Swift)
As Giles finished his song with a flourish and began making his way to the table, amidst the cheers of the pub denizens, Mycroft managed to communicate his drink preference to Lestrade, who headed to the bar where John Watson and his medico friend, Stamford, were conversing avidly.
He noted that his brother was nowhere to be seen, but the four young Americans were clustered around a binder near the stage--no doubt the song choices, he thought with a sigh, wondering why he and the Watcher couldn't meet in an office like civili- "Mycroft! Good to see you,' shouted said Watcher, clapping him on the back grabbing the seat opposite. "Good fun, yeah?" Mycroft essayed a few mild pleasantries as he reached into his case to pass over the folder he'd come to deliver. Meanwhile, from the speakers came a loud strumming, and the three young women bounded onto stage and launched into song. "My fears, my hopes, and dreams/All those times that you didn't leave/It's been occurring to me I'd like to hang out with you, for my whole life."
4) Stay (Florida Georgia Line)
Xander mounted the stage after the girls, laughing and waving, danced off. Finding himself sliding into his terrible Elvis voice, he looked into the crowd and said, "I've chosen to sing a country song. Because after all, it is the music of pain." Before the mixture of boos and cheers could crescendo, he gestured to the DJ to begin the song. "I'd sell my soul just to see your face/And I'd break my bones just to heal your pain/In these times I need a saving grace, but time is running out and I'm starting to lose my faith."
5) Stayin' Alive (The Bee Gees)
Good times, good times, John nodded to himself as he followed Mike from the bar to the tables. Good friends, good times. He realized he was slightly drunk, pleasantly so, as he wedged himself into a chair with Mike on one side and on the other, Lestrade, who seemed strangely intent in a conversation of some sort with, of all people, Mycroft. In an association of thoughts, he pulled out his mobile for word from Sherlock; seeing none, he instead gazed around him with that same sense of tipsy contentment. Ah, the young Americans, nice kids, trying to figure out another song to sing. Rupert Giles, jolly chap, buttonholing Stamford over something or other. Suddenly, a thumping beat and a high-pitched whine penetrated his alcoholic haze and went straight to his heart, causing it to clutch and stutter. "Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive/Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' al-i-i-ive." All at once he was stone-cold sober, the air was suffused with the smell of chlorine, and he felt the panic rise in his throat, coupled with a surge of adrenaline that made him jolt up from his seat. At that moment the pub door flung open, Sherlock swirled in on a gust of brisk air, and the song and the singer came to a close. Sagging momentarily, John recovered himself, and waved Sherlock over.
6) Don't Go (Yaz)
Having swept into the pub and taken a stance by a pillar near the crowded tables of his acquaintances, Sherlock pulled out his phone and stared at the screen, momentarily nonplussed. He had intended to use his customary gambit for distracting his mind from stultifying circumstance. However, in this case, it occurred to him that anyone he might want to text under pretense was already present in this smelly, cacophonous room. Nothing for it, then, he thought, noting that John was draining yet another pint and now leaning heavily on Mike Stamford's shoulder. "Well, shall be off then," he barked out, waving dramatically. "Whaaa-?" muttered John blearily, staring up at him. "You jus' got here."
"Yes, Sherlock, don't leave yet," "Stick around a bit, mate!" "C'mon, Sherlock, I wanted to sing with you!" "Have another drink!" "For pity's sake, relax why don't you" came the chorus of voices, deep and light, slurred and chirpy, irritated and happy.
John reached up and pulled at the scarf. "Yeah, Sherlock, hang on. 'Don't stop now, don't you know, I don't ever wanna let you go, don't go!'"--singing drunkenly, but looking up with suddenly clear eyes and a winning smile. Sherlock's face softened, then he rolled his eyes. "Oh very well," he huffed, sitting back down. "It's tedious, but if you insist. I'll stay."
Stay
Fandoms: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Sherlock BBC
Rating: G
Total words: 1088
Notes: Part of this crossover ‘verse I write in, sometimes, where Giles brings the Slayerettes to London after the fall of Sunnydale, and they get involved with the Sherlock crew in solving crimes. Some of the chapter titles are songs; click for YouTubes.
1) Def: To endure, to quell, to satisfy
Mycroft Holmes smoothed his lapels and, uncharacteristically, had to take a slow breath to steel himself before pushing open the door. A portion of his multi-active mind considered the question of why this, of all the world-threatening meetings on simmering global disasters he has walked into with calm, why this, of all things, should be causing his heart to race.
Putting aside such self-reflection, he schooled his features into a position between abject panic and his usual cold determination, more like bland, pleasant, and somewhat empty-headed. Willing his nerves into quiescence, he entered the pub to join his brother, the doctor, the American visitors, the English Watcher, and *cough* Detective-Inspector Lestrade for a night of--of all things--drinking and karaoke.
2) Stay With Me (Rod Stewart)
As he entered the smoky, dimly-lit tavern, he espied the oddly-assorted group clustered around several tables in the corner, near the stage, where some ill-begotten Everyman was caterwauling words which seemed to proclaim, "Wo, wo, wo, wo, wo, sweet child o mi-i-i-ne." Quite dreadful, but nonetheless it was mildly and suprisingly gratifying when, as he neared the table, the silver-haired Detective Inspector pushed back from the table and and gestured him over. "Mycroft!" he said cheerily, waving toward the chair next to him. "Glad you could make it! You're just in time!" this time waving to the side of the stage, where Rupert Giles, holding a microphone, moved to take the place of the Caterwauler under the bright lights. "Rupe said you were coming to meet him, he'll be done in half a mo'! Fancy a drink?" Mycroft started to reply, but a loud burst of music, followed by Giles's not disreputable, raspy tenor, drowned out his words. Shrugging lightly at Lestrade, he turned toward the stage, keenly aware however that Lestrade's hand remained on the back of his chair, tapping in time to the music. "Stay with me/Staaaay with me/'Cause tonight you're gonna stay with me."
3) Stay, Stay, Stay (Taylor Swift)
As Giles finished his song with a flourish and began making his way to the table, amidst the cheers of the pub denizens, Mycroft managed to communicate his drink preference to Lestrade, who headed to the bar where John Watson and his medico friend, Stamford, were conversing avidly.
He noted that his brother was nowhere to be seen, but the four young Americans were clustered around a binder near the stage--no doubt the song choices, he thought with a sigh, wondering why he and the Watcher couldn't meet in an office like civili- "Mycroft! Good to see you,' shouted said Watcher, clapping him on the back grabbing the seat opposite. "Good fun, yeah?" Mycroft essayed a few mild pleasantries as he reached into his case to pass over the folder he'd come to deliver. Meanwhile, from the speakers came a loud strumming, and the three young women bounded onto stage and launched into song. "My fears, my hopes, and dreams/All those times that you didn't leave/It's been occurring to me I'd like to hang out with you, for my whole life."
4) Stay (Florida Georgia Line)
Xander mounted the stage after the girls, laughing and waving, danced off. Finding himself sliding into his terrible Elvis voice, he looked into the crowd and said, "I've chosen to sing a country song. Because after all, it is the music of pain." Before the mixture of boos and cheers could crescendo, he gestured to the DJ to begin the song. "I'd sell my soul just to see your face/And I'd break my bones just to heal your pain/In these times I need a saving grace, but time is running out and I'm starting to lose my faith."
5) Stayin' Alive (The Bee Gees)
Good times, good times, John nodded to himself as he followed Mike from the bar to the tables. Good friends, good times. He realized he was slightly drunk, pleasantly so, as he wedged himself into a chair with Mike on one side and on the other, Lestrade, who seemed strangely intent in a conversation of some sort with, of all people, Mycroft. In an association of thoughts, he pulled out his mobile for word from Sherlock; seeing none, he instead gazed around him with that same sense of tipsy contentment. Ah, the young Americans, nice kids, trying to figure out another song to sing. Rupert Giles, jolly chap, buttonholing Stamford over something or other. Suddenly, a thumping beat and a high-pitched whine penetrated his alcoholic haze and went straight to his heart, causing it to clutch and stutter. "Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive/Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' al-i-i-ive." All at once he was stone-cold sober, the air was suffused with the smell of chlorine, and he felt the panic rise in his throat, coupled with a surge of adrenaline that made him jolt up from his seat. At that moment the pub door flung open, Sherlock swirled in on a gust of brisk air, and the song and the singer came to a close. Sagging momentarily, John recovered himself, and waved Sherlock over.
6) Don't Go (Yaz)
Having swept into the pub and taken a stance by a pillar near the crowded tables of his acquaintances, Sherlock pulled out his phone and stared at the screen, momentarily nonplussed. He had intended to use his customary gambit for distracting his mind from stultifying circumstance. However, in this case, it occurred to him that anyone he might want to text under pretense was already present in this smelly, cacophonous room. Nothing for it, then, he thought, noting that John was draining yet another pint and now leaning heavily on Mike Stamford's shoulder. "Well, shall be off then," he barked out, waving dramatically. "Whaaa-?" muttered John blearily, staring up at him. "You jus' got here."
"Yes, Sherlock, don't leave yet," "Stick around a bit, mate!" "C'mon, Sherlock, I wanted to sing with you!" "Have another drink!" "For pity's sake, relax why don't you" came the chorus of voices, deep and light, slurred and chirpy, irritated and happy.
John reached up and pulled at the scarf. "Yeah, Sherlock, hang on. 'Don't stop now, don't you know, I don't ever wanna let you go, don't go!'"--singing drunkenly, but looking up with suddenly clear eyes and a winning smile. Sherlock's face softened, then he rolled his eyes. "Oh very well," he huffed, sitting back down. "It's tedious, but if you insist. I'll stay."