Prompting Part XXIX

[sherlockbbc_fic]

Please check the Sticky Post to find the newest active part and post your prompts there.

IMPORTANT! Spoilers for aired episodes are now being allowed on this area of the meme, without warning. If you do not want to encounter spoilers, please prompt at our Spoiler-Free Prompt Post.

Comments

[anonymous]

I'd love to see a version of Pregnant! Fem!John, where she actually gets sent home from the army for being, erm, in a family way. No rape, please.

Bonus: it's early on in the pregnancy and she's on showing yet, so even Sherlock doesn't realize right away.

RTYIs most welcome. ^_^

a!a

[anonymous]

Your wish is my command! <-- have always wanted to say that and actually mean it ^_^

Fill: At Right Angles (4a/?)

[anonymous]

The hospital corridors were silent and deserted, when Joan arrived at Bart’s nearly an hour later. It ought to have been creepy, but for some reason Joan found the quiet comforting. It was a soothing counterpoint to the frenetic, heated worry that had lodged itself inside her brain. She’d sat in the taxi stewing all the way from home, her mind stuck on repeat as visions of her worst fears played and replayed inside her head: What if someone found out? What if she couldn’t find permanent work? What if there was something wrong with the baby? What if she didn’t love it? What if-it didn’t love her?But the halls of Bart’s were quiet, and the gentle drone of the sanitizing equipment and ventilation fans, which never ceased to operate, hummed like a lullaby in her ears. Joan moved trance-like towards the door to the morgue, where the frosted glass glowed bright with light from inside. The one lit room in a sleeping city

Fill: At Right Angles (4b/?)

[anonymous]

He nodded gravely, and set about making their tea. Soon they were both sipping from dainty china cups, the saucers balanced on their laps. It was delicious.

“So,” she said, lowering her cup to its saucer slowly. “You’re Sherlock’s brother.”

The man smiled again. “And you’re Dr. Joan Watson, recently of the Royal Northumberland Fusiliers, currently employed by St. Bartholomew’s mortuary. You are on voluntary leave from the army-not a permanent discharge, I believe. Do you have hopes of returning after your convalescence?”

Joan blinked. “What do you want?” she asked warily, carefully ignoring the final question. Whatever it meant. “And I don’t think I heard a name in all that.”

He laughed. “You’re quite right, how very rude of me. I am Mycroft Holmes. Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he replied amiably. “As for what I want…my dear, that is based entirely on what you want

Fill: At Right Angles (4c/?)

[anonymous]

Joan stared at him, her tea frozen partway to her mouth. “I-I…what are you

a!a

[anonymous]

Quick question: OP, how would you feel about Joan/Mycroft? I'm playing with the idea. Or could just be gen...

Re: a!a

[thispe]

Not the OP (and I didn't get to the other chapters yer so I don't know if the point is moot anyway), but I would adore you forever and ever if you made it Joan/Mycroft.

Re: a!a

[anonymous]

Glad someone is in support of Joan/Mycroft! My thinking is it'll be mostly flirting + gen in this fill, since I haven't heard from the OP...but there's always the possibility of a sequel! :D

Fill: At Right Angles (5a/?)

[anonymous]

“Sherlock hasn’t come by in a while,” Molly sighed sadly. It was Tuesday, Molly’s last day at the morgue, and she and Joan were taking a much-needed gossip break after finishing the day’s work.

“Yes, he has,” Joan replied. “He’s here all the time. Nearly every day.” A little too much, she thought privately, remembering their conversation the day before. Sherlock had renewed his offer of a flatshare, and Joan had begged for more time again. She still hadn’t made up her mind.

“Really?” Molly sounded surprised. “I haven’t seen him once! Do you think he’s avoiding me?”

“I doubt it,” Joan said, but she wasn’t entirely sure. Now that she thought of it, Sherlock did have an uncanny ability to appear just when Molly was out of the room. She wasn’t sure what to make of that. “I don’t think he cares one way or another, as long as he gets to see the bodies

Fill: At Right Angles (5b/?)

[anonymous]

“It’s fine, I probably just ate something a bit off yesterday,” Joan lied. She was reaching for the taps when another wave of nausea hit her. She doubled over, hand pressed to her mouth.

“Joan!”

Joan swallowed, fighting the need to vomit. This was awful. All she wanted was an afternoon sitting around gossiping, drinking bad coffee, giggling about men, not thinking about the ticking time bomb in her belly counting down the days until her life would be turned upside-down. But it seemed her traitorous body wouldn’t even let her have that little bit of normalcy.

Unbidden, a lump rose in her throat and Joan was horrified to feel tears burning in her eyes. She never cried in public! Never, not since she’d been old enough to understand that she had to be the strong, sensible one in the family. She heard Molly step away, probably to give her some privacy whilst she bawled. God, she probably thought Joan was an emotional wreck. She squeezed her eyes shut

Fill: At Right Angles (5c/?)

[anonymous]

Joan nodded distractedly. She wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t sure she was ready to joke about the future like this, or think about what the world would be like when her baby grew up. She couldn’t even imagine what the world would be like in eight months, let alone years from now

[imagination_sta]

a!a

[anonymous]

Thank you so much! Your comments are very motivating, I really really appreciate them. I actually don't know much about medical terminology, but I'm happy my google-fu is paying off. Please let me know if I use anything wrong/make stupid science errors--I'm thinking of reposting when this is done, and would love to get some feed back.

Anyway, sorry for the long break between updates, but here is the next bit...more casefic (so much for this being a story about Real Issues. Ah well, I tried), and little more Sherlock/Joan banter. ^_^ Also, Molly because she's awesome.

[imagination_sta]

Fill: At Right Angles (6a/?)

[anonymous]

The rest of the day was spent in a frenzy of activity. Jane Downing’s head wasn’t the only part of her missing from storage: her entire body was gone. Molly went off to make some calls to other city morgues. “Maybe someone put in an expedited request viewing request, and we just missed the paperwork,” she said, but without much hope. The only other explanation-that someone had stolen the body-wasn’t something anyone wanted to consider. Security hadn’t reported any forced entries, so the thief must have had an employee card. But the hospital’s basement level lacked a permanent security guard; conceivably, anyone with a Bart’s ID and the ability to slip past the security cameras unnoticed could have gotten in (Joan thought guiltily of Sherlock’s illicit employee pass, and wondered how many other people were wandering around with similar IDs in their pockets. Ought she to have reported him

Fill: At Right Angles (6b/?)

[anonymous]

Just then, Sherlock stopped and pulled a small slip of paper from the pile, a triumphant grin painting his parted lips. Joan leaned forward. It looked like a small packing slip, printed on cheap paper. “It’s a receipt,” Sherlock explained gleefully. He placed it carefully on the counter, while Joan and Greg crowded around to get a better look. “This isn’t just any butcher’s salt, it’s Sel de Mer, and the sender was hasty.” He jabbed at the receipt, pointing to the address at the bottom: White & Perry, one of the most expensive gourmet shops in London. Joan bit her tongue looking at the price on the receipt. It was close to the cost of a month’s rent