Merlin!Sherlock
anonymous
April 17 2011, 03:10:49 UTC
Wherein Sherlock is really Merlin trying to stave off boredom through the centuries as he waits for super awesome adventure time with his BFF/soulmate, Arthur (and why can't BFFs be soulmates, anyway?). John is a clueless reincarnated Arthur, and Sherlock doesn't realize this/doesn't inform John of this for reasons up to the prompt filler. Eventually, he tries to convince John of his reincarnated king status. John doesn't believe him ("I'll believe you're an all powerful wizard, Sherlock, but there is no way anyone believes I am the Once and Future King. Just no."), and Sherlock tries to convince him via elaborate schemes to prove John's obvious BAMF status.
TL;DR - Sherlock is an irritating and bored version of Merlin. John is a dubious, reincarnated Arthur who wants to pretend he's not a complete BAMF.
Re: Merlin!Sherlock
anonymous
April 17 2011, 12:58:41 UTC
The more picture this, the more sense this is making in my head - therefore: THIRDED with enthusiasm!!! (Just think of Merlin smiling cheekily and then compare it to a mischievious grin from Sherlock... right/right?) (John is a dubious, reincarnated Arthur who wants to pretend he's not a complete BAMF. - WIN! He simply exchanged his chainmail for a cableknit jumper.)
Re: Merlin!Sherlock
anonymous
April 17 2011, 14:37:04 UTC
"John, why aren't you wearing the chainmail I bought/magically spruced up for you?"
"Sherlock, we live in the middle of modern London. People would talk. Also, it's terribly uncomfortable, and I'm still not convinced you're not insane."
Re: Merlin!Sherlock 1/?
anonymous
May 1 2011, 03:40:37 UTC
For the most part, Sherlock could tolerate the twenty-first century. Of course, people didn’t change that much, even over centuries, but there were always *things* going on now, and he was entirely fond of cell phones and the internet. They certainly would have improved the eighteenth century, which he’d found to be essentially a write-off
( ... )
Re: Merlin!Sherlock 2/?
anonymous
May 1 2011, 05:38:02 UTC
Bedivere worked for New Scotland Yard now, in line to be a DI, which made sense, he’d always been at least marginally sensible with a dedication to keeping the peace, not just going off on half-bollocksed quests every time you turned around. (Most of them, if you so much as hinted there was a strange castle or, in Gawain’s case, an attractive woman in a strange castle, they were off like hounds after hares.) When Sherlock had first discovered him there’d been an odd sensation in his chest it had taken him a bit to characterize as hope. It had to be a good sign, hadn’t it, to find one of the knights again, and in London no less
( ... )
Merlin!Sherlock 3/?
anonymous
May 1 2011, 19:05:41 UTC
When John was nine, his entire class had been dragged on a field trip to Stonehenge. The bus trip had been long and boring, the site only an improvement because it meant no longer being cooped up. By the time they’d walked across the sheep field to the orange plastic guard fence, there was already muttering about how it looked better in pictures (and bigger! loads bigger!) and why were they out here in the cold looking at a stupid pile of rocks anyway.
But John wasn’t listening to that, because he’d seen the standing stones, and they were marvellous. He tuned out the other students, and the teacher’s attempt to explain to a group of bored nine and ten year olds how primitive Britons must have used logs and waterways to move the stones from their quarrying site, in favour of pressing his body against the fence in an effort to get closer that would have probably torn the plastic if he’d been any older or bigger. He wanted to close his eyes and see them fixed and whole in their circle, but that would have meant not looking at them
( ... )
Here Be Dragons 4/?
anonymous
May 2 2011, 16:52:53 UTC
“This again, Sherlock?”
“Mind your own ruddy business, Mycroft.” One of these incarnations Sherlock was going to make sure he was listed as the older brother for a change, though it probably wouldn’t affect Mycroft’s ability to look disapproving. He’d despaired in any time period of finding a way of keeping Mycroft out of his flat if he got it in his head to visit.
“Cocaine now? What was it the last time? Absinthe and morphine?” Mycroft knew very well what it had been, just as he knew the exact date Sherlock had quit those, or the times before that he’d just tried to drink himself into hibernation, before humans had gotten as creative about methods of manufacturing oblivion.
“That was over a century ago, Mycroft, as you well know.”
“Yes, I think we were Mycroft and Sherlock then as well.” Mycroft sighed. “Must be something in the names. Perhaps we should consider removing them from the rotation?”
“I like Sherlock,” he replied with just a hint of petulance
( ... )
TL;DR - Sherlock is an irritating and bored version of Merlin. John is a dubious, reincarnated Arthur who wants to pretend he's not a complete BAMF.
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(Just think of Merlin smiling cheekily and then compare it to a mischievious grin from Sherlock... right/right?)
(John is a dubious, reincarnated Arthur who wants to pretend he's not a complete BAMF. - WIN! He simply exchanged his chainmail for a cableknit jumper.)
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"Sherlock, we live in the middle of modern London. People would talk. Also, it's terribly uncomfortable, and I'm still not convinced you're not insane."
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But John wasn’t listening to that, because he’d seen the standing stones, and they were marvellous. He tuned out the other students, and the teacher’s attempt to explain to a group of bored nine and ten year olds how primitive Britons must have used logs and waterways to move the stones from their quarrying site, in favour of pressing his body against the fence in an effort to get closer that would have probably torn the plastic if he’d been any older or bigger. He wanted to close his eyes and see them fixed and whole in their circle, but that would have meant not looking at them ( ... )
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“Mind your own ruddy business, Mycroft.” One of these incarnations Sherlock was going to make sure he was listed as the older brother for a change, though it probably wouldn’t affect Mycroft’s ability to look disapproving. He’d despaired in any time period of finding a way of keeping Mycroft out of his flat if he got it in his head to visit.
“Cocaine now? What was it the last time? Absinthe and morphine?” Mycroft knew very well what it had been, just as he knew the exact date Sherlock had quit those, or the times before that he’d just tried to drink himself into hibernation, before humans had gotten as creative about methods of manufacturing oblivion.
“That was over a century ago, Mycroft, as you well know.”
“Yes, I think we were Mycroft and Sherlock then as well.” Mycroft sighed. “Must be something in the names. Perhaps we should consider removing them from the rotation?”
“I like Sherlock,” he replied with just a hint of petulance ( ... )
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