John Watson has three siblings not Just one
anonymous
October 31 2010, 19:48:41 UTC
The Four Horsepeople of the apocalypse need to perform their duties even though the end of days is still far off. Some of the Horsepeople like their job others try to put off performing their jobs as long as possible when they can.
- War has currently has infiltrated the government as an assistant to a miner government official who starts wars when bored, her name is definitely not Anthea.
- Pestilence found a genius that was being bullied and convinced him to kill his tormenter resulting in him becoming an evil mastermind spawning a plague of murderers. Pestilence’s name is Sebastian Moran.
- Famine has only been metaphysicly present at her job she has reasontly overindulging in drinking destroying her relationship with her soulmate. She is the only sibling of Johns that Sherlock knows about the existiance of.
- Death hates the needless loss of life he is quit fond of humans, he became a doctor and joined the army so that he could try and preserve the lives of those unfortunate people who end up being sent to fight and die by his sister who is definitely not named Anthea. Death ends up in Afghanistan until he was shot in the shoulder and sent to London where he meets his soulmate Sherlock.
The Holmes brothers and Moriarty are clueless about the nature of the people who are in their lives. How do the Horsepeople stop them from finding out what they are? How does John convince Sherlock to be with him romantically? What happens after John tells Sherlock what he is/ Sherlock deduces what John is after being together for a significant amount of time? What are the family reunions like when John and his siblings bring the people close to them to the event?
I hope that you enjoy this prompt and have fun with it.
Re: John Watson has three siblings not Just one
anonymous
November 10 2010, 10:05:30 UTC
I will try! I really will. I was looking through again today and now I have ideas. And... gah! If it's still unfilled when I have time then I will definitely try!
I was just rereading what I have written above and noticed I had made a mistake in War’s description it should read like this:
- War has currently infiltrated the government as an assistant to a miner government official who starts wars when bored, her name is definitely not Anthea.
Fill: Time In Lieu Of Part 1/?squidwhiskNovember 10 2010, 23:20:52 UTC
Notes: I know this is being filled right now, but I could not resist to fill as well. Also, I mixed up pestilence and war. Sorry! I should have read over the prompt more than once.
--- They met every morning of the new moon in a small cafe off High Holborn. Anthea (or Xena or Medea or Alice) arranged for the security and so they were rarely accosted by the CIA, FBI, or MI6 (or the MIB, which don't exist. Of course they don't. Why would you even think such a ridiculous thing?)
They used to call themselves the Homeland Order for Rapid Societal Enlightenment; an (admittedly small) order of artisans, individuals who could work sublime materials into earthshattering art. However, that order soon deteriorated due first to internal struggles and secondly due to the Industrial Revolution, which destroyed artistry and replaced it with a drive for mass produced drivel and the constant push for numbers. The group reformed in pieces for a century before coming back together in 1928 after a particularly disastrous event. Now they just called themselves the Board.
Perhaps they operated more efficiently but John, who was a bit of a traditionalist at heart, certainly found it less rewarding. Time to forego even that. Personally, he was going to outsource.
By the time he managed to detangle himself from everyone in the tube station and make his way through the crowd he felt decidedly put upon and in desperate need of tea. He entered the froufrou little cafe, ignoring the latest addition (a tiny bell that tinkled in a charmingly cloying manner) and assessed the room. It was covered in dark wooden panelling, with minimalist modern furniture, and cool mirrors. In other words, one could not hide anywhere in the room. How very thoughtful of Anthea. Each of the tables boasted an overpriced blue/white flower arrangement (gladioli, monkshood, hydrangea and begonias nestled in cypress). Modern art in flower form. Society was going to hell and he didn't even have to raise a finger. Anthea was already there, looking splendid in a simple black suit and nestled between the flowers and a single teacup and saucer.
"I could murder a cuppa." John gratefully sank into an overstuffed velvety chair and sighed in relief. It was so nice and quiet in the café. Mind, his expectations of nice settings had really devolved in the past few months. The criteria now consisted exclusively of: serves tea, lacks human heads that are not attached to human bodies, and lacks unidentifiable substances dripping from the tables. Wasn't humanity at large supposed to have gotten over this pursuant to the renaissance?
"Hmm." Anthea did not stand to greet him. Instead she daintily picked up her teacup and sipped at the outrageously expensive tea she insisted on drinking. John had heard it was first digested by a cat. Ewwww. After being a soldier and living with Sherlock, Anthea still managed to find things that unsettled his stomach. Maybe this was how Mycroft was losing weight.
John sat in quiet contemplation looking over the minutes of their previous meeting and the quarterly production statements as Anthea nibbled on a biscuit and dexterously typed away at her Blackberry. She would address him eventually, undoubtedly she was following up on her latest endeavour (A virus specifically designed to crash the pentagon's computers; a red herring for her work in rerouting supplies and humanitarian aid.) Luckily, some of Anthea's artistry had survived the Industrial Revolution. There was a tricky moment for a while, with the advent of sewage systems, but Anthea had persevered. John had always known she was the cleverest of them all.
"So, how is his royal Holmes-ness? Still kidnapping hapless soldiers and stuffing them into unmarked cars?"
Anthea smirked. "Not so much these days. He is currently working on a little situation. Should have it all sorted out by lunch, he would have dealt with it in minutes but working with the Prime Minister can be so very tedious."
John sighed. "You realize that Mycroft's never going to be allowed to croak?"
Anthea snorted in amusement. How unladylike of her. "Serenity would make him go mad and Lucy won't take him. She does have some concept of self-preservation. Speaking of which, how is the domestic life?"
Fill: Time In Lieu Of Part 2/?squidwhiskNovember 10 2010, 23:21:50 UTC
John poked at his biscuit and tea. Ever since he had started living with Sherlock food had gone from "Very interesting and lovely to indulge in" to "Dear God that is NOT a carrot so why is it in with the carrots?!!" He had foregone eating entirely. It had been a month and Sherlock had not even noticed.
"Thinking of outsource Harry's job to Sherlock."
"I suppose he never learned to avoid mixing raw meats with vegetables? Good boy! I hate modern infection control procedures." She said 'infection control' like a swear word.
"And you should see how the boy eats!" Harry's bell-like laughter filled the room as surely as the smell of her sweet perfume. "He lives off packets of sugar. Like a fruit fly. He’s kinda my hero." She leaned over John's chair to give him a kiss on the cheek before sinking into the seat reserved for her at Anthea's side. She plucked a glass of red wine off the table.
Harry looked like every single cover of every single fashion magazine in the country. Possibly because she -was- on the cover of all of them. She swept her strawberry blond hair away from her face and shrugged bony shoulders. The whole concentration-camp-survivor look somehow managed to work for her. Being below a weight that could sustain life certainly wasn't affecting her incredibly well publicized and obscenely well-documented modelling career. While lacking Anthea's brutal grace and efficiency she did manage to keep up her numbers without resorting to anything too obvious. Sherlock had not put together that “Harriet Watson” was THAT “Harriet Watson.”
And speaking of the obvious. Sebastian shifted in his seat. "Oh piss off." he mumbled. Anthea and Harry tittered at his discomfort. John shuffled his papers again. He signed. He really did not want to relive the pool incident but there really was no choice. Their interactions while necessary for some operations should (as much as possible) not include others, especially as their close presence to one another had a tendency to tip normal humans off.
Thank God Sherlock was none of that.
Seb sighed heavily.
"Seb, your project kidnapped me. Strapped me to a bomb and nearly killed me. Do you realize how messy things could have gotten if he succeeded?" Anthea shuddered. John getting shot had been unpleasant for all of them.
"But he didn't." Seb rolled his eyes and sipped at his coffee. “And in the future, I will make sure he won’t come near you. It was an oversight.”
"Anthea had to intervene."
"Again, thank you for that." Sebastian smiled winningly at Anthea. "If you need help with your little venture out east you just let me know and I'll do everything in my power to help. It really is the least I can do, by the way."
"Oh, don’t worry yourself. “ Anthea pretended coquettish very well “The venture is well in hand. Also, the fruit basket was really too much, you really shouldn't have." Anthea took a cryptic sip of her tea, eyeing Seb over her teacup. Seb grinned in response. If they were in cahoots there would be blood, and it would be their blood. John would make sure of it.
Harry scowled "No, Seb, you misunderstand. You -really- shouldn't have. I've been working on Mycroft for the past three years as a favour to Anthea and you COMPLTELY undid at least two months of my work. Really Seb, If I didn't know better I would think you are trying to introduce discord into our happy little family."
"She is quite right Seb.” Anthea intoned in a dry tone, her cute flirty manner drained away in the blink of an eye. “I am always happy to help. But all this trouble over one man? He may be a criminal mastermind but he is an artisan. His numbers are too low.”
Ah, so the secret little smile now meant that the Terrible Two were in cahoots and Seb was about to be stabbed with his own sharp little grin. John sighed. They really did not need another falling out; the last time the left hand did not know what the right hand was doing they ha accidentally ensured the development of Penicillin.
Fill: Time In Lieu Of Part 3/?squidwhiskNovember 10 2010, 23:23:42 UTC
Sebastian puffed up like a pissed off goose. Squawk. Squawk. Squawk. John sighed. And they were back to this again. He slammed his hand onto the table. "Children!" The flower arrangement wilted. Everyone shut up.
Sebastian scowled dangerously and both Anthea and Harry stared at him mutinously.
John cleared his throat. "I think that Seb’s steps towards diversifying his portfolio are very admirable. There is no reason we cannot enjoy one-on-one consultations." Was this what having children was like? Probably. Sebastian’s glare slowly subsided. He -was- the youngest and while an adult in every other sense he had a weakness for reacting to Anthea’s and Harry’s goading.
"I thought we couldn’t afford to spend time doing one-on-one consultations." Harry frowned. Her pretty face shattered by the expression.
"Right. that is what I wanted to talk about today. "
Anthea raised an eyebrow before slipping her BlackBerry into her purse and turning her full attention to John. It was kind of creepy.
"I'm taking a vacation." John continued.
"WHAT?! You can't do that!" Harriet's shout seemed to summarize the general consensus of everyone else at the table.
"Why not?"
"John. Do not be ridiculous.” Anthea’s words were clipped. “Think of what the shareholders will say, let alone the CEO. They are never going to go for this, you are their top producer! I mean, just look at the past century: diabetes, cardiovascular disease, cancer, motor vehicles (you were the first to realize how masterfully they would collide)." Anthea looked like she might be suffering from a heart attack herself.
"Nope. I'm taking the next century off. Anthea, you can run the meetings. Just send me the minutes."
Harry turned to Sebastian. "This is why I drink. This. Right here."
Sebastian looked like he had just swallowed a lemon. "John, if this is due to the stress that I inadvertently caused you over the pool, I am so so sorry. So sorry. I will make it up to you in any way I can. I can drop the Tower of London on Jim, will that make you stay?”
“Seb, that is very sweet, but really unnecessary. It is just a vacation.”
“You can’t vacation. We’ll get pulverized if you leave! Do you know why I’m diversifying? It’s because organized conflict is going down. A century ago, I had empires beating the shit out of one another all over the world. Today I’m left with one maybe two reliable continents and even that’ll soon be sorted. I’m not even going to get into the bullshit with immunization.” Sebastian paused so everyone could have a moment of respectful silence for Anthea’s loss.
"Well, I have a theory."
"A theory? Lovely. Will this theory save the Board from complete ruin?" Anthea sounded incredulous.
"I don't think we have stakeholders anymore. I frankly don't think anyone cares. When was the last time anyone reviewed your numbers?" John eyed his compatriots. Three blank stares greeted him in return.
Sebastian leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. "So you think we have been left to what, babysit an abandoned toy that was no longer interesting?"
"Exactly. I mean look at us; We’re smart enough and powerful enough to rule everything, but the desire to rule was carefully bred out of us. Other than Harry (well done, by the way!) all we do is obsessively follow a handful of intelligent humans because that is all we have left, because our natural leadership has abandoned us. So bullocks it. I'm taking a vacation. See what I can do when half my consciousness is not taken up with scheming and counting dead humans. I'm outsourcing my entire operation back to the humans, maybe to China. Possibly to Coca-Cola."
- War has currently has infiltrated the government as an assistant to a miner government official who starts wars when bored, her name is definitely not Anthea.
- Pestilence found a genius that was being bullied and convinced him to kill his tormenter resulting in him becoming an evil mastermind spawning a plague of murderers. Pestilence’s name is Sebastian Moran.
- Famine has only been metaphysicly present at her job she has reasontly overindulging in drinking destroying her relationship with her soulmate. She is the only sibling of Johns that Sherlock knows about the existiance of.
- Death hates the needless loss of life he is quit fond of humans, he became a doctor and joined the army so that he could try and preserve the lives of those unfortunate people who end up being sent to fight and die by his sister who is definitely not named Anthea. Death ends up in Afghanistan until he was shot in the shoulder and sent to London where he meets his soulmate Sherlock.
The Holmes brothers and Moriarty are clueless about the nature of the people who are in their lives. How do the Horsepeople stop them from finding out what they are? How does John convince Sherlock to be with him romantically? What happens after John tells Sherlock what he is/ Sherlock deduces what John is after being together for a significant amount of time? What are the family reunions like when John and his siblings bring the people close to them to the event?
I hope that you enjoy this prompt and have fun with it.
Reply
I want to write this so freaking much... but I have no TIME.
AARGH!
Reply
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
Reply
Reply
That faint high noise? That's me, squeeing at a pitch to make bats shake their heads.
Reply
Reply
- War has currently infiltrated the government as an assistant to a miner government official who starts wars when bored, her name is definitely not Anthea.
Sorry for the double has in the original prompt.
Reply
Grammar Nazi Sherlock says: Minor...unless Mycroft is singing Heigh-ho...though I'd love to see him trapped in a mine.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
---
They met every morning of the new moon in a small cafe off High Holborn. Anthea (or Xena or Medea or Alice) arranged for the security and so they were rarely accosted by the CIA, FBI, or MI6 (or the MIB, which don't exist. Of course they don't. Why would you even think such a ridiculous thing?)
They used to call themselves the Homeland Order for Rapid Societal Enlightenment; an (admittedly small) order of artisans, individuals who could work sublime materials into earthshattering art. However, that order soon deteriorated due first to internal struggles and secondly due to the Industrial Revolution, which destroyed artistry and replaced it with a drive for mass produced drivel and the constant push for numbers. The group reformed in pieces for a century before coming back together in 1928 after a particularly disastrous event. Now they just called themselves the Board.
Perhaps they operated more efficiently but John, who was a bit of a traditionalist at heart, certainly found it less rewarding. Time to forego even that. Personally, he was going to outsource.
By the time he managed to detangle himself from everyone in the tube station and make his way through the crowd he felt decidedly put upon and in desperate need of tea. He entered the froufrou little cafe, ignoring the latest addition (a tiny bell that tinkled in a charmingly cloying manner) and assessed the room. It was covered in dark wooden panelling, with minimalist modern furniture, and cool mirrors. In other words, one could not hide anywhere in the room. How very thoughtful of Anthea. Each of the tables boasted an overpriced blue/white flower arrangement (gladioli, monkshood, hydrangea and begonias nestled in cypress). Modern art in flower form. Society was going to hell and he didn't even have to raise a finger. Anthea was already there, looking splendid in a simple black suit and nestled between the flowers and a single teacup and saucer.
"I could murder a cuppa." John gratefully sank into an overstuffed velvety chair and sighed in relief. It was so nice and quiet in the café. Mind, his expectations of nice settings had really devolved in the past few months. The criteria now consisted exclusively of: serves tea, lacks human heads that are not attached to human bodies, and lacks unidentifiable substances dripping from the tables. Wasn't humanity at large supposed to have gotten over this pursuant to the renaissance?
"Hmm." Anthea did not stand to greet him. Instead she daintily picked up her teacup and sipped at the outrageously expensive tea she insisted on drinking. John had heard it was first digested by a cat. Ewwww. After being a soldier and living with Sherlock, Anthea still managed to find things that unsettled his stomach. Maybe this was how Mycroft was losing weight.
John sat in quiet contemplation looking over the minutes of their previous meeting and the quarterly production statements as Anthea nibbled on a biscuit and dexterously typed away at her Blackberry. She would address him eventually, undoubtedly she was following up on her latest endeavour (A virus specifically designed to crash the pentagon's computers; a red herring for her work in rerouting supplies and humanitarian aid.) Luckily, some of Anthea's artistry had survived the Industrial Revolution. There was a tricky moment for a while, with the advent of sewage systems, but Anthea had persevered. John had always known she was the cleverest of them all.
"So, how is his royal Holmes-ness? Still kidnapping hapless soldiers and stuffing them into unmarked cars?"
Anthea smirked. "Not so much these days. He is currently working on a little situation. Should have it all sorted out by lunch, he would have dealt with it in minutes but working with the Prime Minister can be so very tedious."
John sighed. "You realize that Mycroft's never going to be allowed to croak?"
Anthea snorted in amusement. How unladylike of her. "Serenity would make him go mad and Lucy won't take him. She does have some concept of self-preservation. Speaking of which, how is the domestic life?"
Reply
"Thinking of outsource Harry's job to Sherlock."
"I suppose he never learned to avoid mixing raw meats with vegetables? Good boy! I hate modern infection control procedures." She said 'infection control' like a swear word.
"And you should see how the boy eats!" Harry's bell-like laughter filled the room as surely as the smell of her sweet perfume. "He lives off packets of sugar. Like a fruit fly. He’s kinda my hero." She leaned over John's chair to give him a kiss on the cheek before sinking into the seat reserved for her at Anthea's side. She plucked a glass of red wine off the table.
Harry looked like every single cover of every single fashion magazine in the country. Possibly because she -was- on the cover of all of them. She swept her strawberry blond hair away from her face and shrugged bony shoulders. The whole concentration-camp-survivor look somehow managed to work for her. Being below a weight that could sustain life certainly wasn't affecting her incredibly well publicized and obscenely well-documented modelling career. While lacking Anthea's brutal grace and efficiency she did manage to keep up her numbers without resorting to anything too obvious. Sherlock had not put together that “Harriet Watson” was THAT “Harriet Watson.”
And speaking of the obvious. Sebastian shifted in his seat. "Oh piss off." he mumbled. Anthea and Harry tittered at his discomfort. John shuffled his papers again. He signed. He really did not want to relive the pool incident but there really was no choice. Their interactions while necessary for some operations should (as much as possible) not include others, especially as their close presence to one another had a tendency to tip normal humans off.
Thank God Sherlock was none of that.
Seb sighed heavily.
"Seb, your project kidnapped me. Strapped me to a bomb and nearly killed me. Do you realize how messy things could have gotten if he succeeded?" Anthea shuddered. John getting shot had been unpleasant for all of them.
"But he didn't." Seb rolled his eyes and sipped at his coffee. “And in the future, I will make sure he won’t come near you. It was an oversight.”
"Anthea had to intervene."
"Again, thank you for that." Sebastian smiled winningly at Anthea. "If you need help with your little venture out east you just let me know and I'll do everything in my power to help. It really is the least I can do, by the way."
"Oh, don’t worry yourself. “ Anthea pretended coquettish very well “The venture is well in hand. Also, the fruit basket was really too much, you really shouldn't have." Anthea took a cryptic sip of her tea, eyeing Seb over her teacup. Seb grinned in response. If they were in cahoots there would be blood, and it would be their blood. John would make sure of it.
Harry scowled "No, Seb, you misunderstand. You -really- shouldn't have. I've been working on Mycroft for the past three years as a favour to Anthea and you COMPLTELY undid at least two months of my work. Really Seb, If I didn't know better I would think you are trying to introduce discord into our happy little family."
"She is quite right Seb.” Anthea intoned in a dry tone, her cute flirty manner drained away in the blink of an eye. “I am always happy to help. But all this trouble over one man? He may be a criminal mastermind but he is an artisan. His numbers are too low.”
Ah, so the secret little smile now meant that the Terrible Two were in cahoots and Seb was about to be stabbed with his own sharp little grin. John sighed. They really did not need another falling out; the last time the left hand did not know what the right hand was doing they ha accidentally ensured the development of Penicillin.
Reply
Sebastian scowled dangerously and both Anthea and Harry stared at him mutinously.
John cleared his throat. "I think that Seb’s steps towards diversifying his portfolio are very admirable. There is no reason we cannot enjoy one-on-one consultations." Was this what having children was like? Probably. Sebastian’s glare slowly subsided. He -was- the youngest and while an adult in every other sense he had a weakness for reacting to Anthea’s and Harry’s goading.
"I thought we couldn’t afford to spend time doing one-on-one consultations." Harry frowned. Her pretty face shattered by the expression.
"Right. that is what I wanted to talk about today. "
Anthea raised an eyebrow before slipping her BlackBerry into her purse and turning her full attention to John. It was kind of creepy.
"I'm taking a vacation." John continued.
"WHAT?! You can't do that!" Harriet's shout seemed to summarize the general consensus of everyone else at the table.
"Why not?"
"John. Do not be ridiculous.” Anthea’s words were clipped. “Think of what the shareholders will say, let alone the CEO. They are never going to go for this, you are their top producer! I mean, just look at the past century: diabetes, cardiovascular disease, cancer, motor vehicles (you were the first to realize how masterfully they would collide)." Anthea looked like she might be suffering from a heart attack herself.
"Nope. I'm taking the next century off. Anthea, you can run the meetings. Just send me the minutes."
Harry turned to Sebastian. "This is why I drink. This. Right here."
Sebastian looked like he had just swallowed a lemon. "John, if this is due to the stress that I inadvertently caused you over the pool, I am so so sorry. So sorry. I will make it up to you in any way I can. I can drop the Tower of London on Jim, will that make you stay?”
“Seb, that is very sweet, but really unnecessary. It is just a vacation.”
“You can’t vacation. We’ll get pulverized if you leave! Do you know why I’m diversifying? It’s because organized conflict is going down. A century ago, I had empires beating the shit out of one another all over the world. Today I’m left with one maybe two reliable continents and even that’ll soon be sorted. I’m not even going to get into the bullshit with immunization.” Sebastian paused so everyone could have a moment of respectful silence for Anthea’s loss.
"Well, I have a theory."
"A theory? Lovely. Will this theory save the Board from complete ruin?" Anthea sounded incredulous.
"I don't think we have stakeholders anymore. I frankly don't think anyone cares. When was the last time anyone reviewed your numbers?" John eyed his compatriots. Three blank stares greeted him in return.
Sebastian leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. "So you think we have been left to what, babysit an abandoned toy that was no longer interesting?"
"Exactly. I mean look at us; We’re smart enough and powerful enough to rule everything, but the desire to rule was carefully bred out of us. Other than Harry (well done, by the way!) all we do is obsessively follow a handful of intelligent humans because that is all we have left, because our natural leadership has abandoned us. So bullocks it. I'm taking a vacation. See what I can do when half my consciousness is not taken up with scheming and counting dead humans. I'm outsourcing my entire operation back to the humans, maybe to China. Possibly to Coca-Cola."
Reply
Leave a comment