Irrational Fears
anonymous
December 29 2010, 05:02:16 UTC
I think I have one of the most irrational fears in the world. And it seems to be a theme around here where we prompt to have our boys share these fears. So I was thinking: what if a bunch of us posted little fills of one of them sharing an irrational fear of ours?
Sink Teeth [1a/?]
anonymous
December 29 2010, 05:03:17 UTC
Keep in mind I don't know if homes in Britain have these, as I know they're not as common in Canada as they are in America. (Lucky)
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The skull is small in his hands, the eye sockets barely big enough for his fingertips to press through and the gnashed bone teeth able to lock around his smallest finger with only a tinge of strain. It’s the tiniest bit of bone he’s ever examined, as it’s only slightly bigger than a pound, and he’s only doing it for the bits gashed at the top. The mouse had been captured by an animal first, and he doesn’t know if it’s supposed to be important or not, but it’s fascinating enough to stop the slow crawl of boredom settle into the base of his skull. He’s moved over the sink now, the fluorescents better there than in the main room, and he turns the bone in his hands to get a better angle when it slips.
He doesn’t have time to snatch it before it clatters into the sink, disappearing down the gaping black mouth of the bladed drain.
“Shit.” Sherlock Holmes spats in a hushed tone, not like him to curse,
( ... )
Sink Teeth [1b/?]
anonymous
December 29 2010, 05:04:16 UTC
He jumped back as if he had been electrocuted, holding his hand against his chest and panting like he had just run laps. This was insane. Utterly, utterly insane. His heart was ramming wildly in his chest. Small tremors coursed through his hands. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself, he just simply couldn’t do it. Leaning against the table, he breathed forcefully until he gained control, then stormed out as if wronged by the kitchen and threw himself onto the sofa.
“There’s a mouse skull in the garbage disposal.” he stated flippantly, reaching for his netbook and pulling the lid open as if he didn’t just have a mental battle with a sink and lost. He knew John would deal with it, even with the exasperated sigh and roll of the eyes. However, as his friend got up to take a gander, he knew there was no way he could watch him do it.
Re: Sink Teeth [1b/?]
anonymous
January 2 2011, 08:23:28 UTC
i had one of my bones fall in the garbage disposal. i don't stick my hands in there for any reason. that's why i have a pair of really long plastic tongs and a flashlight.
Re: Sink Teeth [1b/?]
anonymous
January 27 2011, 22:06:04 UTC
I don't know if I'm precisely afraid of garbage disposals, but I won't stick my hand in one for anything. I'll fish something out with another object, but no hands near blade level.
Sink Teeth [2/2]
anonymous
December 29 2010, 05:06:11 UTC
The problem possibly stemmed from his childhood, but he couldn’t know for sure. The only thing that made sense was when his cousins had arrived for a surprise visit and the youngest of her children tried to place several plastic toys and her hand in a running blender. Other than that, there was simply no logical explanation for the gripping fear that gaping hole had caused
( ... )
Re: Sink Teeth [2/2]darthhellokittyDecember 29 2010, 08:15:50 UTC
That is what TONGS are for!
Note that every time I turn the damn thing on, I'm afraid there's going to be a spoon or something in there that's going to shoot out and stab me in the head.
Entophagophobia 1/1
anonymous
December 29 2010, 05:44:58 UTC
Might expand. Done in five minutes after reading promptSherlock’s eating habits were strange. He’d never eat on a case, and off a case he seemed to chew languidly more out of boredom or because John had nagged him to do it than because he was hungry. John could not remember a time when Sherlock ever seemed to really enjoy his food
( ... )
I'll even go first.
Reply
--
The skull is small in his hands, the eye sockets barely big enough for his fingertips to press through and the gnashed bone teeth able to lock around his smallest finger with only a tinge of strain. It’s the tiniest bit of bone he’s ever examined, as it’s only slightly bigger than a pound, and he’s only doing it for the bits gashed at the top. The mouse had been captured by an animal first, and he doesn’t know if it’s supposed to be important or not, but it’s fascinating enough to stop the slow crawl of boredom settle into the base of his skull. He’s moved over the sink now, the fluorescents better there than in the main room, and he turns the bone in his hands to get a better angle when it slips.
He doesn’t have time to snatch it before it clatters into the sink, disappearing down the gaping black mouth of the bladed drain.
“Shit.” Sherlock Holmes spats in a hushed tone, not like him to curse, ( ... )
Reply
“There’s a mouse skull in the garbage disposal.” he stated flippantly, reaching for his netbook and pulling the lid open as if he didn’t just have a mental battle with a sink and lost. He knew John would deal with it, even with the exasperated sigh and roll of the eyes. However, as his friend got up to take a gander, he knew there was no way he could watch him do it.
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also, nicely done! I love the way Sherlock can pass everything off as something John has to do.
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Fic's good though :)
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I hate those things, and it's good to know other people do too.
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(yeah I hate fishing things out of the garbage disposal too)
thanks for posting! Poor Sherlock!
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Note that every time I turn the damn thing on, I'm afraid there's going to be a spoon or something in there that's going to shoot out and stab me in the head.
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loved your fic, though
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