Welcome! (Prompting: part i)
Please check the Sticky Post to find the newest active part and post your prompts there.
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... )
God, the crowd was so young tonight, and some looked so naïve and vulnerable it made his heart ache. So insecure, so much him he just wanted to take them home and give them tea and biscuits. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back as he looked for their man himself. Enough men with black hair around, but none that seemed who they were looking for. He got a few semi-interested glances himself, which he ignored. And now he'd lost Sherlock as well, because he'd disappeared again and how did he manage that? How hard was it to lose sight of a six-foot man in this crowd?
John was scowling when an arm dropped heavily around his shoulders, making him wince at the sudden pressure being exerted on his left by this side-hug. He turned to see whose arm it. Fuck. His heart sank into his shoes as he took in the tanned face (bed: the man would never go abroad), the too-white smile, the dark hair, and brown eyes. Fuck.
“I thought it was you, Johnny-boy,” the man said, all smile that didn't reach his eyes. It rarely did. “Some of the lads and I wondered where you'd gone off to, you were gone so sudden.”
“Pete,” John said through clenched teeth. 'Goddammit, Sherlock, find the man so we can leave.' He didn't return Pete's smile.
“So where had you gone off to?” Pete asked. He hadn't let go of John, most likely counting on his desire not to make a commotion. “You're looking good, I must say.”
“That makes one of us,” John snapped, and regretted being drawn out.
Pete pressed closer. It made John's skin crawl. Why had he ever-? “Must you go and hurt my feelings, Johnny-boy?” John elbowed him in the gut, getting out of the embrace as Pete was startled into letting him go.
Reply
Reply
Reply
*squishes John*
Reply
Sherlock had often - well, not often, but in those spare moments between cases when he was out of all other stimulants - thought about John's past. The man had one, of course, but nothing to show for it but graduation papers from Barts and some military paperwork. No personal correspondence or other keepsakes. A sure sign he was running away. Nothing criminal: John didn't hold himself like an ex-convict, and Mycroft hadn't said anything either. John had a tenuous contact with his sister, so he wasn't trying to get away from his family. Having a family meant this wasn't a second life. Failed relationship was likely. Not that John talked about those. It was a puzzle that Sherlock paid scant attention to, since it was of little importance.
Until this case. It was a simple crime of passion - he couldn't fathom why he had been called in, were they scared he was bored? - the clues leading to the killer simple - good grief, even Anderson could have figured it out.
The victim: Hans Meyer (German, married to a woman, no children, wine-drinker, in London on business and to meet his male lover) had been stabbed. Sherlock had deduced enough about the killer for the Yard to take over the case, right down to the bar the victim and his lover had been to earlier. The name of the bar had made John hesitate for a moment, before he'd clamped down on his emotions, staring straight ahead in the way that said he wasn't willing to talk about it. The same expression he wore when people tried to talk about Afghanistan with him.
It intrigued Sherlock. The bar was a somewhat seedy gay bar, but the matter of John's orientation was easy to decipher, so that couldn't be the reason. Rather, it was the bar itself, not its demographic. Sherlock wanted to know why. At least it was closer than Afghanistan.
“We need to go there,” he'd said.
“No, Sherlock, we don't,” John said. “That's what the nice policemen are for.” He was standing at parade-rest.
Sherlock sniffed. “They wouldn't know who they are looking for. I do.” And he'd walked off, confident John'd follow, even now. John's body-language said he didn't want to do this, but he followed anyway.
Once inside the club, and seeing that the man they were looking for wasn't there, Sherlock had made himself scarce to observe John. Hiding in plain sight was a carefully cultivated skill. John's reaction to the man who sidled up to him was interesting. From the way the man was behaving, he saw himself as more than just a friend. An ex, then, and it had not ended well.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Teacher: "'The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.' What are your immediate thoughts and feelings about this quote?
Me: (OH CRAP. JOHN. SHERLOCK. GAYCLUBS.)
I really couldn't think of anything other than this fill! XD
Incidentally, will there be moarrr of this ? ^.^
Reply
*offers cupcakes as reward*
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment