Yup. I'm that kinda person.
So.... someone on the BBC!Sherlock prompting posts asked for this: John and Sherlock and a Rusty Trombone.
I'm thinking about filling it. With like, an actual trombone (the instrument kind) that is rusty.
Because it amuses me. And I can already hear John scolding Sherlock about Tetanus.
And my word count for today sucks, because when I should've been working on the River/Inara I have to do instead I got hit with a random Marvelverse, specifically Iron Man, ficbunny that wouldn't leave me alone until I scribbled it down. It was annoying.
So my word count is the same, but my small snippet of who the hell knows where it will go is behind this cut if anyone cares to read it:
When the alarms go off at Stark Industries Design and Prototype Production Facility, there are no klaxons braying out warnings into the air, no sirens wailing.
The safety lights that run seemlessly along the walls flash a steady, pulsing red and a clear female voice calmly informs the employees to evacuate the premises in an orderly fashion.
Surprisingly, they do.
Unsurprisingly, Tony was not among them, opting rather to snag the handle of a heavy briefcase that gleams in the flickering red lights and make a beeline for the sector 4 test facilities where Jarvis told him the explosion originated from.
The large, steel double doors slid open with a Star Trek-ian whoosh, and he lifted his free hand with a grimace, waving away the cloud of smoke that rolled out into the main hallway as he stepped inside.
There was the faint crackling of electricity that faded to nothing as the auxiliary exhaust system kicked on and started clearing the room.
He expected terrorists. Or maybe signs of corporate sabotage.
What he didn't expect was a slip of a blonde girl to pop up from behind a bank of equipment, disheveled and covered in soot, expression somewhere between dazed and sheepish.
"I'm fine, everything's fine here, totally my bad."
He blinked once, mouth opening and then closing again while his eyes tracked her as she pushed away from the center console and scurried towards the testing area where the twisted remains of something large and imposing smoldered petulantly.
Tony's head tilted to the side and he regarded the back of her soiled lab coat with curiosity and bewilderment, "What the actual fuck?"
She didn't seem to even acknowledge him as she darted in and around the mangled remains, muttering mournfully and poking in at the areas that didn't seem to be too hot to touch.
He cleared his throat and she gave a tiny wave over the back of her shoulder without turning.
Yeah, one of those kind of days.
I'm thinking about filling it. With like, an actual trombone (the instrument kind) that is rusty.
Because it amuses me. And I can already hear John scolding Sherlock about Tetanus.
And my word count for today sucks, because when I should've been working on the River/Inara I have to do instead I got hit with a random Marvelverse, specifically Iron Man, ficbunny that wouldn't leave me alone until I scribbled it down. It was annoying.
So my word count is the same, but my small snippet of who the hell knows where it will go is behind this cut if anyone cares to read it:
When the alarms go off at Stark Industries Design and Prototype Production Facility, there are no klaxons braying out warnings into the air, no sirens wailing.
The safety lights that run seemlessly along the walls flash a steady, pulsing red and a clear female voice calmly informs the employees to evacuate the premises in an orderly fashion.
Surprisingly, they do.
Unsurprisingly, Tony was not among them, opting rather to snag the handle of a heavy briefcase that gleams in the flickering red lights and make a beeline for the sector 4 test facilities where Jarvis told him the explosion originated from.
The large, steel double doors slid open with a Star Trek-ian whoosh, and he lifted his free hand with a grimace, waving away the cloud of smoke that rolled out into the main hallway as he stepped inside.
There was the faint crackling of electricity that faded to nothing as the auxiliary exhaust system kicked on and started clearing the room.
He expected terrorists. Or maybe signs of corporate sabotage.
What he didn't expect was a slip of a blonde girl to pop up from behind a bank of equipment, disheveled and covered in soot, expression somewhere between dazed and sheepish.
"I'm fine, everything's fine here, totally my bad."
He blinked once, mouth opening and then closing again while his eyes tracked her as she pushed away from the center console and scurried towards the testing area where the twisted remains of something large and imposing smoldered petulantly.
Tony's head tilted to the side and he regarded the back of her soiled lab coat with curiosity and bewilderment, "What the actual fuck?"
She didn't seem to even acknowledge him as she darted in and around the mangled remains, muttering mournfully and poking in at the areas that didn't seem to be too hot to touch.
He cleared his throat and she gave a tiny wave over the back of her shoulder without turning.
Yeah, one of those kind of days.