Shamelessly stolen from
fuyu_no_fuhei: Posting the names of all the files in my Sherlock WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Choose one (or a few, I don't care), and I will post a random line or two.
In no particular order of completion, importance, or capitalization:
- The Light Discontinued
- Our Hugest Home
- writer!john
- Derringer Sky; android
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In the afternoon of May 20th, 2015, Sherlock Holmes starts down the steps of the British Museum and walks neatly into the arms of a dead man.
John Watson is wearing a green pullover and a pair of faded jeans, comfortable and solidly unremarkable dark shoes. John Watson is carrying a duffel bag over his uninjured shoulder, resting fingers upon the straps, looping in the metal buckles; his skin is tanned, more so than before, his hair sun-streaked - longer around the temples. John Watson will be thirty-eight in a matter of six weeks, and the crinkles around his eyes draw whiter lines into his skin. Two years and eleven months ago, John Watson toppled over a cliff and into a waterfall in Switzerland.
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Reichenbach!AUs are a guilty pleasure of mine, heh.
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/pats
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This is actually a very convoluted story spanning three, possibly four, different timeframes, more or less following Sherlock's process of grieving. A lot of it turns around photography, but I sort of wrote it in different fragments over a long stretch of time, and now I'm trying to make it all fit around the same theme and ugh ugh ugh nin I may have to send it to you so you can tell me whether or not it makes any sense. D:
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Aww, poor baby. It probably involved a lot of shutting down on himself.
Hahahah, go for it~ I will endeavor to help!
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