Comments | sherlockbbc_fic: Overflow Post

sherlockbbc_fic

Overflow Post

Apr 12, 2011 21:35

This post is for responding to prompts from prompt posts that are full, or continuing WIPs that have already been started but the prompt post is now full or near to full.

PLEASE POST ALL NEW FILLS TO THE NEW OVERFLOW POST!( Read more... )

prompting: overflow, prompt posts

Comments 8171

Dark!Sherlock velvet_mace April 16 2011, 20:01:49 UTC

FIRST! (lol)

Original Prompt Here: I have been watching this video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F1VM0GVb0-Q&feature=player_embedded pretty much nonstop for the last few days. I read the story upon which it's based and the spinoff-prequel. But I simply. Cannot. Get. Enough dark!Sherlock.

Anon's mission, should (s)he choose to accept it, is this: Sherlock over that razor-thin edge alluded to by Donovan, a serial killer not motivated by enjoyment but by his characteristic boredom. I don't want to see a caricature of psychosis, but what canon!Sherlock might have been/could still become if his sociopathy were taken just a little bit farther, and he found solving crimes to be just a little too boring. John's role is up to anon, whether he had murderous inclinations of his own before meeting Sherlock or whether he's a normal guy who gets pulled into Sherlock's world before he realizes what's going on.

Smiley Face 1/3 velvet_mace April 16 2011, 20:04:32 UTC

John looked at the corpse, but his mind wasn’t on the twisted body. It was on the prickly feeling at the back of his neck. Sherlock was standing behind him at an angle so that he could observe John’s reaction whilst not be observed himself. Or so he thought. John could see him, blurrily, in the plate glass window of a shop every time he looked up.

He was getting used to this. Part of him was flattered that Sherlock would pay that much attention to him. He’d been so much of a nobody all his life, but now, this amazing, brilliant man seemed to think he was worthy of a long stare. A second’s glance could tell Sherlock reams about a person’s life. What possible thing could Sherlock divine from John from that long, long gaze.

John felt a blush crossing his cheeks. I’m being dissected. John thought. If I were sane, I’d be scared.He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t sure what he felt, other than the pressure to say something about this corpse in front of him. “Uh…” He felt Sherlock shift behind him. A slight warmth of body heat ( ... )

Re: Smiley Face 2/3 velvet_mace April 16 2011, 20:05:18 UTC

Don’t say anything, John said as they entered the flat. Normal boring day, let it pass. Sherlock surely has his reasons.Sherlock smiled as he closed the door. “John,” he said as if he just remembered something, “Come with me a moment. I want to show you something ( ... )

Re: Smiley Face 3/3 velvet_mace April 16 2011, 20:06:00 UTC

“That woman who suicided ( ... )

Thread 28

(The comment has been removed)

Re: Those Boys with the Earthly Eyes 3/3 velvet_mace April 17 2011, 05:54:05 UTC

They are both so very much in character. I think this is the most believable depiction of them getting together I've ever read. Kudos!

Thread 9

Masturbation fill from part IX anonymous April 17 2011, 04:40:06 UTC

Encouraged by velvet_mace who said this post was feeling lonely, I thought I would cheer it up with a little bit of self love.

Original prompt was here:
http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/5880.html?thread=21264120#t21264120

Sherlock doesn't masturbate by using his hands, but by putting something between his legs and humping it.Before the show officially begins, here, have some anonymous author notes ( ... )

Something Borrowed, Something Blue 1/3 anonymous April 17 2011, 04:45:17 UTC

The first time he had done it, Sherlock had been aware that he had been breaking every flatmate agreement set up by flatmates around the world. Yet, it hadn’t stopped him from trying to rationalise the behaviour. At the time, he had told himself it was a matter of convenience; he had been working on a very important case and researching some crucial information on his BlackBerry had required the use of his two hands. He had told himself that since people’s life were at stake, it would have been unacceptable to cease his research even for the few minutes it would have taken to get himself off and get rid of the massive erection that had been plaguing him for the last seventy-two minutes. What had started off as a low buzzing inconvenience in his abdomen had soon erupted into a wild fire consuming his insides while something low and primal had beaten a demanding rhythm in his groin. He had been unable to think about anything other than the desire and the voice screaming want want want inside his head and, after the eighty third minute ( ... )

Something Borrowed, Something Blue 2/3 anonymous April 17 2011, 04:48:41 UTC

As he did every time, he took off his shirt, but kept his pyjama bottoms under which he wasn’t wearing any pants. His cock gave a slight enthusiastic twitch when he turned to lay on his front, the warm sheets like a soft caress on his naked chest. He stayed like that for a long moment, inhaling the delicious scent of John and only shifting once in a while to adjust his hardening cock. His body was almost immobile, but his mind was ablaze with images of John. He pictured his flatmate’s strong thighs straddling his hips, his hard cock brushing teasingly against Sherlock’s lower back. He imagined John leaning down to whisper his name in a voice husky with desire, biting his earlobe and chuckling upon hearing Sherlock’s moans of approval. He pictured John shifting down until he could rub his cock in the crease of his arse, spreading precome in the process and teasing his hole ( ... )

Something Borrowed, Something Blue 3/3 anonymous April 17 2011, 04:51:47 UTC

When he couldn’t stand the slow teasing, he shifted until the weight of his lower body was supported mostly by his toes and he lifted his arse higher into the air before thrusting violently up and down, his cock leaving a long trail of precome on the pillow that he would have to wash later, but right now he was desperately turned on by the trace of himself on John’s pillow case, on a place where John’s face had been a few hours before. The thought made him grunt possessively and he buried his cock into the fabric, his arse undulating as he ground deeper and deeper ( ... )

Thread 21

from part 9 anonymous April 17 2011, 20:20:55 UTC

If this has been prompted before, it hasn't been filled, and that is a goddamn tragedy. So...

The Inception team has been hired by Moriarty. The target is Sherlock.

Unfortunately for them, Sherlock has his own special form of security. It looks like John Watson.

And it's increasingly more badass John Watsons all the way down. sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/5880.html?thread=23054840#t23054840

Fill 1/2 anonymous April 17 2011, 20:22:05 UTC

"You said the mark wasn't militarized," Ariadne shouts at Arthur as they duck behind a pillar. The ground's shaking beneath them, but it's not the dream destabilizing -- it's the fucking bombs being dropped on them.

"He's not!" Arthur shouts back. The mark's already under for the second level, Eames and Dom hooked up to him and sleeping peacefully. "Cover me," he says to Ariadne, and runs for the PASIV.

The thing is, there's only one projection shooting at them. But he has fucking good accuracy, and when they'd shot him down the first time, the mark had freaked out and a new one had sprung out of the woodwork, guns blazing. That's when the bombs had started falling ( ... )

Fill 2/2 anonymous April 17 2011, 20:22:34 UTC

But when he picks them up and fans them out, they're -- they're nonsense, bits of phrases and quotes and remnants of memories. So you're unattached. Like me, written large across one sheet, and on the back, It's all fine. An image of a man (the mark's housemate) from behind, dripping water and wearing only a towel -- a snapshot taken without his knowing. It's full of data, a lot of data -- military records, medical records, transcripts of conversations with arbitrary parts highlighted ("A date, where two people go out and have fun.")

And not a single bit of it is about their client.

ShitThat's when he hears the doors opening. It's too soon, much too soon. There's no time to conceal himself, so when Eames and the mark swing into the room, he's already sitting on the bed, giving off every impression of having been patiently waiting ( ... )

Re: Fill 2/2 fairest1 April 17 2011, 20:40:38 UTC

*snrk* Yes. So much with the yes. John really knows how to bring out the survival instinct in people.

Thread 26

anonymous April 17 2011, 23:00:22 UTC

Original prompt: "Anyone and everyone who plays a musical instrument will know how HORRIBLE wrist pains and/or RSI can be... especially if you need music to keep you sane. And my wrist likes to play up at the worst possible times.

I can just see Sherlock sinking into a really foul mood because his wrists are playing up and he can't play the violin (well, he can, and does, but of course this only makes it worse), and John is all annoyed at his bad mood for a little, but then goes all Dr Watson. John ends up forcing Sherlock NOT to play so that his wrists can heal, instead of just pumping him full of anti-inflammatory pills.

tl;dr -- Sherlock has wrist pains/RSI and can't play violin; John goes into Dr. Watson mode, but refuses to give Sherlock anti-inflammatories so that his wrists can heal on their own."

[OP, if you're still out there, I would apologize for turning this into an extended excuse for some porn but... I'm only sort of sorry about that.]

Anacrusis (1/6) anonymous April 17 2011, 23:02:39 UTC

“Do you take requests?”

Sherlock looked up to see John ambling down the stairs, clad in loose plaid pajama bottoms and a faded black t-shirt.

“If the noise keeps you up, I apologize.”

“No, no. I was awake, anyway,” John replied, waving a hand as he settled into a chair opposite the sofa. “Usually am. I thought I’d finally come down and enjoy your performance in person, rather than filtered through the walls.” Sherlock was quiet for a moment, just watching, and John added quickly, “If that’s all right with you.”

“Of course,” Sherlock said plainly, drawing his bow slowly across the instrument and pulling from it one long, pure note.

“Do you know Vivaldi’s Concerto in D?”

Sherlock’s mouth quirked up into a bemused smile. “Il Grosso Mogul? Really, John? Didn’t think you were the type ( ... )

Anacrusis (2/6) anonymous April 17 2011, 23:06:35 UTC

John sighed. “If you didn’t sprain it jumping off the fire escape, it must be a repetitive strain injury. It’s a common issue for musicians ( ... )

Anacrusis (3/6) anonymous April 17 2011, 23:08:13 UTC

John regarded him for a moment, but didn’t press the matter. Sherlock blinked back, a blank expression flickering into something more studied before returning to unreadable. It happened so quickly John wasn’t entirely sure he’d seen it, but he was sure that when Sherlock pulled his hand away, John wanted nothing more than to wrap his fingers around Sherlock’s delicate wrist and hold him there.

* * *Sherlock found the tickets tucked under his teacup a week later. Two tickets to the London Philharmonic, a program of Liszt, Dvořák, and Tchaikovsky, performed that evening. He spread them on the table with one finger, but did not pick them up. They seemed incongruous, almost confusing, but he couldn’t quite figure out why. It was obvious John had left them; their genesis was hardly any great mystery ( ... )

Thread 19