Welcome! (Prompting: part i)
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Prompts from this post can be filled on the Overflow Post
This is a fic prompting meme based around the BBC series Sherlock, written by Stephen Moffat & Mark Gattis.
( Read more... )
Prompts from this post can be filled on the Overflow Post
This is a fic prompting meme based around the BBC series Sherlock, written by Stephen Moffat & Mark Gattis.
( Read more... )
Apologies in advance.
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John doesn't pretend that his powers of observation are anything spectacular (no doubt Sherlock would only rate them barely passable), but he's sure he had more than one clean jumper in that drawer the last time he looked.
In fact, he's fairly sure that given the total number of woollen jumpers he owns (7, all gifts from various members of his family in the year after he first joined the army, when no one was sure what he was allowed or what he would use), and the frequency with which he washes them (every 3 wears), he should always have more than one clean jumper in his drawer. As long as he does the laundry once a week, which he has been. He's been doing Sherlock's too, come to think of it, because if he doesn't, it just builds into great hulking piles that block up doorways and reduce what precious little remaining floorspace they have. John does not want to die in this flat because he's broken a leg falling over Sherlock's dirty underwear and the ambulance people can't find him in the sea of old newspapers and obsolete street directories.
It's not as if he doesn't have the time; because his hours at the clinic, the hours spent running around London with Sherlock like a maniac (and sometimes, after maniacs) and even his dates with Sarah still leave between them an astonishingly large amount of free time. ...Free time he's been using to prove that he is, in fact, Sherlock's little wife, evidently. Time well-spent, then.
Not for the first time (or the last, likely), John feels that a nervous breakdown might be in order.
None of this, of course, is helping to explain why he's now facing a choice between the jumper that makes him look like the Michelin Man and the one in the unfortunate shade of puce, that looks like it should belong to his mother.
Sighing resignedly, John pulls on the puce monstrosity. Everyone already thinks he's flaming; he may as well run with it.
--
But after a long and thorough search, John is honestly boggled. He's checked the washing machine, the hamper of dirty laundry, the basket of clean laundry (which, blast it, he's now ironed and folded, and yes, he does realise that when he ends up without a leg to stand on in his protests about not being gay-married to Sherlock, it'll have been his own doing), the backs of all the chairs and the coathooks. He's checked all his other drawers, his suitcases and even gone burrowing through Sherlock's piles of utter rubbish, even though he can think of no good explanation for how the jumpers could have found their way there (admittedly, it's not the first time his belongings have ended up somewhere absolutely baffling. John's learned not to dwell.). In a fit of suspicion, he also ventured into the kitchen to make sure Sherlock wasn't carrying out some arcane experiment on the wear of jumpers worn by Englishmen or the rate of retention of dead skin cells by knitted wool, with John's clothing as test-subjects. (Well, to be fair, Sherlock was carrying out an arcane experiment. It just didn't involve John's jumpers. He may also have raised an eyebrow at John's puce travesty, but was manfully ignored.)
John will concede that lost socks are an inevitability. But this is just ridiculous.
[Mein Gott, exceeded the limit, wot.]
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Finally, drastic times call for drastic measures.
"You don't, by any chance, have any idea where my jumpers are, do you?" he asks Sherlock.
Who looks up from pounding a severed foot with a frozen carrot to give John a slightly disbelieving look.
"Didn't think so," John sighs, pulling off the puce affront to humanity, and forgoing being warm in exchange for some modicum of attractiveness. "Off to meet Sarah, don't wait up."
Afterwards, he will realise that that wasn't actually a "No".
---
He returns the next morning after a (cold, so cold--) night kipping on Sarah's sofa. He hangs up his jacket, and heads into the sitting room to find and pull on the puce invention of brilliance so he can be finally and blessedly warm.
Only to stop short, stupefied, at the sight of Sherlock, curled up and fast asleep on their sofa.
With his face buried in John's puce jumper.
Sherlock stirs, mutters sleepily and turns his face away from the sunlight coming in from the window. Further into the jumper. Rubbing his cheek against John's puce sleeve, John thinks, a little hysterically.
He clears his throat. Sherlock's eyes snap open, and John notes with what might be amusement that he even clutches the jumper a bit closer to himself.
"Well," John says, cheerfully. Sherlock is still frozen, and looking more than a little wild-eyed. And he still hasn't let go of John's jumper. "What's this, then?"
Because whatever it is, it's going to be good.
(There maaaaaaaay be a Sherlock B-side coming, but then I maaaaaay decide to spare humanity the horror XP)
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Humanity is overrated.
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*SHIFTY LOOK*
Seriously, I like this fic.It made me guffaw, and I'd like to read more of it. Please?
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But THE POINT OF THIS WASN'T IN FACT PLUGGING.
Thanks for taking the time to comment =D (<-- was the point)
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Excellent stuff, m'dear. I really loved it. Can you imagine the conversation between those two after this?
*does so.*
*dies laughing.*
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WHAT WOULD I GIVE TO BE A FLY ON THE WALL FOR THAT CONVERSATION.
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lovely fanfic!
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(apparently, so disregarding of the plight of humanity am I that I DIDN'T EVEN NEED the cookies as incentive!)
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OH man, I nearly cried from joy to see this filled. Beyond thankful. I AM INCONSOLABLY HAPPY.
There will be more, yes? YEEES?!
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Hee! Glad to have been of service in BRINGING YOU JOY.
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I love this and I would love it if you wrote the B-side ♥ ♥ ♥
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Glad you liked it :D
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And the B-side...wasn't so much a matter of being inspired, as being beset by plot bunnies that sank their teeth in and wouldn't let go D:
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