le wip meme.

[falling_voices]

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

Comments

[ningen_demonai]

Always interested in TONC!deleted scenes and TTSSish spy!au. :D I would pick all of them if you would actually write them. >>

[falling_voices]

Ahaha, you can pick more. It's the writing more than what I've already done that's in jeopardy :/

TTSSish spy!au, to complement the bit that's up there:

"Tell me about Sebastian Moran," Sherlock says.

John tenses carefully, shoulders tight and pulled in. He blinks, rapid sweep of eyelashes grown dark and long under the stark, overhead lamp. His face has a stranger's angles, the grime of the last few days spent Underground unshaven on his cheeks, eyes made quite incredibly blue in his darkened features.

Sherlock is running on thirty-six hours without sleep or food and nothing but twelve nicotine patches in quick succession - he feels slightly giddy, fascinated like a child. He watches John's face for the sweetest flinch, the slight clench of his mouth, yes, that one, the soft drag of his tongue across his lips. Available data.

TONC deleted!scenes IN WHICH LESTRADE GIVES SHERLOCK THE TALK (no, not that talk. the other talk.):

let_us_tradeHey, great picture. I like the way you emphasized the muscles best

[ningen_demonai]

So, obviously this means I needta read the book, yeah?

LESTRADE IS TOTALLY THE FANDOM DAD. \o/

[falling_voices]

YES. YES YOU DO. It's a fantastic book!

He really is, though, isn't he?

[ningen_demonai]

IF I'M ALLOWED TO PICK MORE, actually scratch that, I just want a peek at all the ones you haven't talked about yet. *Is always interested in your stuff* :>

[falling_voices]

Hee, bb ♥ And, uh, I think the only one left is there's propaganda for you? so here you go:

Sherlock knew the shape of London like he knew his own heart, knew the palms of his own hands; normally every shop and street mouth fell in smoothly, slotted fast, a perfect fit. Now the night entire was splintered.

It was devastating to be half-lost, a great numbness overshadowing London. There was a hard jagged mass in the back of his mouth when he swallowed, heat blooming over his throat when he turned it. Every time he blinked, it was as though he dropped in years asleep. John's hand on his arm was the only thing distinct, a sharp angry focus, and Sherlock thought of him as a blind man's guide, their roles now quite reversed; John was no longer the one following.

[ningen_demonai]

Whoah, consider me intrigued on what brought the role-reversal. WAR?! D:

[falling_voices]

No, although now I want to change it into that. A wartime story would be rather fantastic. :/ STOP MAKING ME WRITE STUFF, NIN. i mean i mean never stop

[ningen_demonai]

You love it, darling ♥

[falling_voices]

I have so many ideas for this now. Damn you, I do believe I am going to change it to a wartime context.