Fic: Sherlock Playlist Drabble Challenge
Couple of mini fic-type-things based off of songs. I'm sure you all know the classic meme,
Set playlist to random
Play (howevermany) songs
Write fic inspired by each song
Stop when song is over and post, no editing, no tweaking.
Was primarily trying to write for another fandom, but Sherlock has infected my brain so much I couldn't resist with these two particular songs.
Song: My Strongest Suit from Aida
Rating: PG-13 for swearing
Wordcount: 436
Characters/Pairings: Jim/Sebastian implied
Conversation? Wit? I am a doubter.
Manners? Charm? They’re no way to impress.
So forget the inner-me, observe the outer.
I am what I wear and how I dress
There were certain risks inherent in sleeping with Jim Moriarty. It was just part of the job description. Sebastian was aware of this. Hell, that was half the reason he was there in the first place. Cuts, burns, bruises, asphyxiation, and suspicion-inducing limps he could handle. He might even call them bonuses.
But this? This was unbearable. This was torture. Jim couldn’t carry a tune with a bucket and the aid of several minions.
“Oh now I believe in lookin’ like my time on earth is cookin’, whether polka-dotted, striped, or even checked...”
Sebastian pulled the covers off his face and cracked an eye, peering around for his errant boss-slash-lover. He spotted the man’s iPod, docked on the dresser and blasting cheerful music at an infuriating volume. Showtunes this morning. Must be Saturday already. No sign of the criminal mastermind, however.
However, the singing appeared to be coming from-
“So never compromise, accept no substituu-ute… I would rather wear a barrel than conservative apparel, foo-or dress has always been- my strongest suit!”
Freshly showered and wearing nothing but his tightest green pants, Jim came dancing out of the closet.
Sebastian was too tired and uncaffeinated to even make a bad joke about that.
“Stayin’ in or hitting townwards, from the top and working downwards-”
He had a veritable rainbow of shirts, t-shirts, vests, and jackets flung over one arm, which he unceremoniously dumped on Sebastian’s feet.
He buried his head in a pillow and tried to ignore the noise, as Jim attacked the wardrobe with glee. Socks and ties flew in every direction. He felt them pelting his covered form as Jim assembled an outfit to go with whatever persona he was impersonating today.
“Not to strut your stuff outrageously is a crime!”
“Jim, It’s five in the fucking morning!”
Jim ignored him. He was moonwalking.
“Do we have to do this every single day?”
His only response was to add an Elvis-y kind of hip swing move and belt, “That in negligee or formal, I am anything but normal- yeah, dress has always been my strongest suit!”
Conceding defeat with a growl, he flung the blankets back. Jim continued to ignore him. He was fussing with his eyebrows while attempting to simultaneously eyefuck himself in the mirror. Sebastian pulled on his dressing gown and padded out of the room in pursuit of tea.
Yes, lunatic sadistic bastards he could handle. But God save him from Morning People.
Song: The Letter (Reprise) from Billy Elliot
Rating: G
Wordcount: 225
Characters/Pairings: Sherlock, John, Mummy (sort of)
Alright, I'll admit that I cheated slightly for this song and had to play it through twice before I could get anything written. But only because this song makes me bawl like a mofo every single time I hear it. So it may be unbearably maudlin and cheesy.
“Where are you off to at this hour?”
“To visit my mother. Mycroft’s been harassing me for weeks. I shouldn’t be long. ”
“I still don’t think I’ve met your mother. Ah, well. Tell her hello for me. ”
“...I will.”
Please Mummy, know that I will always be proud to have known you
Proud that you were mine, proud in every sense
And I promise you this, Mummy
In everything I do I’ll always be myself
And I always will be true
It’s been years since the last time he was here, but he remembers the way as if it were yesterday.
“It’s been ages since I’ve visited, I know. Mycroft hasn’t let me forget, you’ll be glad to know. But I’ve been… not good. For a long time. I didn’t want you to- well...I just wanted to let you know that I’m doing better now. I’ve got a job now that I think I quite like. I’m helping the police sometimes. I get to chase murderer s and criminals. Sometimes I save people. It’s… nice.
I’ve got a friend now as well. His name is John. I think he’s probably my best friend. At least, by default he is… there’s hardly competition. But even then I think, yes. You’d like him. He’s clever and thoughtful and kind. He insists I give you his greetings, by the way. And he’s funny as well. I catch myself laughing all the time when I’m with him.
And he likes me. I’m still not sure why.
Just… I hope you’re p- well. “
He kneels down to brush the first bit of snowfall off the headstone that reads,
Sheridan Holmes
1956-1990
“I think I might ask John to come with me next time, if that’s alright.
Goodbye, Mummy. I- …love you forever.”
Set playlist to random
Play (howevermany) songs
Write fic inspired by each song
Stop when song is over and post, no editing, no tweaking.
Was primarily trying to write for another fandom, but Sherlock has infected my brain so much I couldn't resist with these two particular songs.
Song: My Strongest Suit from Aida
Rating: PG-13 for swearing
Wordcount: 436
Characters/Pairings: Jim/Sebastian implied
Conversation? Wit? I am a doubter.
Manners? Charm? They’re no way to impress.
So forget the inner-me, observe the outer.
I am what I wear and how I dress
There were certain risks inherent in sleeping with Jim Moriarty. It was just part of the job description. Sebastian was aware of this. Hell, that was half the reason he was there in the first place. Cuts, burns, bruises, asphyxiation, and suspicion-inducing limps he could handle. He might even call them bonuses.
But this? This was unbearable. This was torture. Jim couldn’t carry a tune with a bucket and the aid of several minions.
“Oh now I believe in lookin’ like my time on earth is cookin’, whether polka-dotted, striped, or even checked...”
Sebastian pulled the covers off his face and cracked an eye, peering around for his errant boss-slash-lover. He spotted the man’s iPod, docked on the dresser and blasting cheerful music at an infuriating volume. Showtunes this morning. Must be Saturday already. No sign of the criminal mastermind, however.
However, the singing appeared to be coming from-
“So never compromise, accept no substituu-ute… I would rather wear a barrel than conservative apparel, foo-or dress has always been- my strongest suit!”
Freshly showered and wearing nothing but his tightest green pants, Jim came dancing out of the closet.
Sebastian was too tired and uncaffeinated to even make a bad joke about that.
“Stayin’ in or hitting townwards, from the top and working downwards-”
He had a veritable rainbow of shirts, t-shirts, vests, and jackets flung over one arm, which he unceremoniously dumped on Sebastian’s feet.
He buried his head in a pillow and tried to ignore the noise, as Jim attacked the wardrobe with glee. Socks and ties flew in every direction. He felt them pelting his covered form as Jim assembled an outfit to go with whatever persona he was impersonating today.
“Not to strut your stuff outrageously is a crime!”
“Jim, It’s five in the fucking morning!”
Jim ignored him. He was moonwalking.
“Do we have to do this every single day?”
His only response was to add an Elvis-y kind of hip swing move and belt, “That in negligee or formal, I am anything but normal- yeah, dress has always been my strongest suit!”
Conceding defeat with a growl, he flung the blankets back. Jim continued to ignore him. He was fussing with his eyebrows while attempting to simultaneously eyefuck himself in the mirror. Sebastian pulled on his dressing gown and padded out of the room in pursuit of tea.
Yes, lunatic sadistic bastards he could handle. But God save him from Morning People.
Song: The Letter (Reprise) from Billy Elliot
Rating: G
Wordcount: 225
Characters/Pairings: Sherlock, John, Mummy (sort of)
Alright, I'll admit that I cheated slightly for this song and had to play it through twice before I could get anything written. But only because this song makes me bawl like a mofo every single time I hear it. So it may be unbearably maudlin and cheesy.
“Where are you off to at this hour?”
“To visit my mother. Mycroft’s been harassing me for weeks. I shouldn’t be long. ”
“I still don’t think I’ve met your mother. Ah, well. Tell her hello for me. ”
“...I will.”
Please Mummy, know that I will always be proud to have known you
Proud that you were mine, proud in every sense
And I promise you this, Mummy
In everything I do I’ll always be myself
And I always will be true
It’s been years since the last time he was here, but he remembers the way as if it were yesterday.
“It’s been ages since I’ve visited, I know. Mycroft hasn’t let me forget, you’ll be glad to know. But I’ve been… not good. For a long time. I didn’t want you to- well...I just wanted to let you know that I’m doing better now. I’ve got a job now that I think I quite like. I’m helping the police sometimes. I get to chase murderer s and criminals. Sometimes I save people. It’s… nice.
I’ve got a friend now as well. His name is John. I think he’s probably my best friend. At least, by default he is… there’s hardly competition. But even then I think, yes. You’d like him. He’s clever and thoughtful and kind. He insists I give you his greetings, by the way. And he’s funny as well. I catch myself laughing all the time when I’m with him.
And he likes me. I’m still not sure why.
Just… I hope you’re p- well. “
He kneels down to brush the first bit of snowfall off the headstone that reads,
Sheridan Holmes
1956-1990
“I think I might ask John to come with me next time, if that’s alright.
Goodbye, Mummy. I- …love you forever.”