Welcome! (Prompting: part i)

[sherlockbbc_fic]

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.

Comments

Re: Fill: The Heart of the Matter (1c/?)

[anonymous]

Several minutes after they left, Doctor Brennan began to pack up her things. “Are you nearly finished, Mister Holmes?”

“Mmm.”

“I was wondering if you wanted to try catching up with Booth and Doctor Watson,” she continued.

“John is irritated with how I’ve been behaving lately - I get bored when I’m not working - and obviously wishes for some time on his own. Plus, he doesn’t drink around me for some reason I haven’t puzzled out yet. So, as enthralling as that offer sounds, no.”

An ordinary woman would probably have backed down and gone on her own to the pub, but Brennan proved herself not to be an ordinary woman by staying put, drilling into him with her unusually-sharp eyes. Every reason she could give for convincing him to go had already crossed Sherlock’s mind, and yet he was still taken aback by what she next said.

“Doctor Watson’s limp has no physical origin.”

Almost against his will, Sherlock looked up at the woman, trying not to appear impressed. “How did you deduce that?”

One of Brennan’s eyebrows twitched slightly; she was pleased with the reaction elicited from him. “I’ll tell you,” she reasoned, “if you explain how you determined so much about the victim from his belongings.”

Sherlock briefly allowed one corner of his mouth to lift slightly. It seemed that the game was on.

_____________________________________________
This is the end FOR NOW. I'm working on more parts and have the rest planned out, but it could be a while until the next part - I'm entering a busy phase at school

Re: Fill: The Heart of the Matter (1c/?)

[firefox1490]

hehehehehhe

Bones and Sherlock future bffs :D

Re: Fill: The Heart of the Matter (2a/?)

[anonymous]

The pub was noisy and crowded full to the gills with people much younger and much more energetic than John felt at the moment, dreading his decision to get a drink with Booth the moment he stepped out of the government-issued car Sherlock’s brother had supplied. However, they quickly settled into a booth (ha, ha) before anyone could recognize John, and got several drinks in as they both hesitantly reminisced the lighter aspects of going to war.

“So…” said Booth, rolling his eyes around in search of something to talk about once all war-related topics had been worn out. “You and Holmes, eh?”

If John hadn’t already downed two and a half pints he wouldn’t have taken nearly as long to look embarrassed and annoyed. As it were, a full four seconds of silent nodding ensued before John caught himself and started shaking his head. “No,” he insisted, “No, it’s not like that. We’re just…just flatmates.” He tried to fight the throes-of-unrequited-love-oh-woe-is-me sigh that seemed to build up in his chest every time the subject was brought up (which seemed to be quite often between Mrs. Hudson’s assumptions, Mycroft’s half-sarcastic comments, and Anderson’s snide remarks), but in his slightly-imbibed state it won, and soon he was sighing down into the dregs of his third beer.

Not looking the least bit smug about being able to glean such honesty from a complete stranger - in fact, he looked a bit crushed - Booth gave him a stern sort of look over his drink. “That look you had on your face, back at Bart’s, when Holmes was getting into your business? I know that look. I’ve worn that look,” he said with a knowing glint in his eye.

“What, being annoyed?”

Booth chuckled. “That too. But you weren’t annoyed, not really. It’s more like part-annoyed, part-amused, but partially-affectionate, right?” He didn’t sound condescending in the least as he listed everything John felt when Sherlock deduced exactly what he’d been doing and with whom; if anything, the older man sounded saddened and bitter. “The three deadly A’s.”

“God, I hate them,” John grinned. “You know this from experience, then?” Booth parried his head from side to side and rolled his eyes again, obviously uncomfortable with the spotlight on him. “What, you and Doctor Brennan? Good on you, mate.”

“Not exactly,” grimaced the other man. “I’ve known Bones for almost eight years, worked with her on and off for about six, but no matter what I’ve done…” He cleared his throat and stared at the wall over the bar. “She’s very…factual…about matters of the heart. Contributes love to-”

“A chemical imbalance of dopamine and norepinephrine?” John groaned sympathetically, patting Booth on the shoulder when he nodded. “Why is it the most brilliantly-detached people seem to draw in poor sods like us?”

“Hey, speak for yourself,” Booth laughed. “Though opposites do seem to attract in our case.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

They rose their slightly-shaking pints to one another and finished drinking in silence.