sherlockbbc_fic: (Giggles at the Palace)
sherlockbbc_fic ([personal profile] sherlockbbc_fic) wrote2011-12-25 09:12 pm

prompting part XXIII

All new prompts go on Part XXIV
Prompts from this post can be filled on the Overflow Post

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(prepared by anonymous)

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LINKS AND AFFILIATES
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Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII
Part VIII - Part IX - Part X - Part XI - Part XII - Part XIII - Part XIV
Part XV - Part XVI - Part XVII - Part XVIII - Part XIX - Part XX 
Part XXI - Part XXII
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Overflow Post

FILL: scenes from a book no one wrote -- 5/?

(Anonymous) 2012-01-07 10:13 am (UTC)(link)
+

It was some time before anything made sense again. He relapsed because he was partially human and because he missed magic, because magic was so hard to even touch Aboveground unless, apparently, he was dying or desperate,, but eventually he fell into something like stasis. Nicotine and caffeine balanced out by sleeping as little as he could get away with and eating nothing near enough.

When the vertigo hit, he could feel the Labyrinth reach out to sustain him.

For a period of many months, it was the faintest of magic that held him together, and it was then that he felt as if things might turn out alright, even if his home was destroyed and no one would ever understand him.

+

221B was Sherlock’s second home and it may have been a disaster but it was his and he guarded it. He knew every step, the way it creaked, he knew the way the carpets lay, the ease with which each door opened, he knew it. It was his.

This was how he knew Mycroft was sitting on his sofa waiting for him before he’d opened the door entirely. There was a general wrongness, compared to the way he’d left it, and as he scanned, intuition bloomed into observations: the newspaper articles tacked to the fridge slightly skewed (Mycroft checking on what he was eating, or more like if, perhaps); door from the kitchen to the sitting room closed where Sherlock always left it open; the light from under the door, whereas he’d left the lights in the next room off…

“Dare I guess the reason you deign to grace the doorway of my humble home?” Sherlock asked. He slipped his coat off his shoulders to drape it over the kitchen chair.

“They’ve reached a ceasefire,” Mycroft said.

Sherlock nearly ran into the door in his rush to open it. “What?”

“Father and the King of the Sea have reached a ceasefire. It’s to our advantage, really; the other kingdoms tire of the war and sympathize with father, and so hostilities should soon cease.”

Sherlock felt his mind go still. “Has Mummy woken up then?”

Mycroft was sat at the edge of Sherlock’s sofa, his umbrella resting on the ground between his knees, expression blank as ever. “Not yet,” he said. “But Father says she may yet.”

“Well,” Sherlock said. “That’s good to hear. Now get out of my flat.”

Mycroft did.

Re: FILL: scenes from a book no one wrote -- 5/?

(Anonymous) 2012-01-07 01:06 pm (UTC)(link)
THIS IS AMAZING. Please don't stop!

Re: FILL: scenes from a book no one wrote -- 5/?

[identity profile] fairest1.livejournal.com 2012-01-07 02:15 pm (UTC)(link)
oh god yes.

Re: FILL: scenes from a book no one wrote -- 5/?

[identity profile] moxyg.livejournal.com 2012-01-08 10:27 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh my, this is FANTASTIC. Utterly believable, and Sherlock's thoughts in the cell made me whimper out loud. I'll be stalking this thread, eagerly awaiting the continuation. <33333333
Edited 2012-01-08 23:54 (UTC)

scenes from a book no one wrote -- 6/?

(Anonymous) 2012-01-09 09:47 pm (UTC)(link)
+

Sherlock had expected the body parts or the violin or the decay or the experiments or, of course, his personality to drive John away within two months tops, and was later glad that he hadn’t said as much to anyone. It was impressive, really, because even Mycroft couldn’t spend two months living with him before resorting to violence.

That might have been why, in the middle of the night, Sherlock was lingering outside John’s bedroom, reaching deep to touch the magic, freer, now, and, in peace, greater, at the core of all things. It was child’s play to cast a ward against nightmares, and besides, having Night Mares charging through the flat all night was getting rather…old.

And besides, if John slept more, he’d probably be able to put up with Sherlock more.

It could have been any number of reasons, really, that Sherlock was there, spinning a spell in the air.

Sherlock remained eminently pleased with himself for having been clever enough to throw the ward up so quickly despite years without using magic until he walked into the kitchen, fully intending to resume his experiments on the time it took a blood stain to set in silk, and saw his father leaning against the refrigerator.

“I had a fair amount of trouble finding you until you were helpful enough to cast a spell. Nightmares, really?”

For a moment, Sherlock saw his father as any number of strangers foolish enough to wish others away must have – not like an owl, as his chosen form was, but as some sleeker bird of prey, the sort of falcon that could rend flesh from bone with the same ease as it breathed.

“It wasn’t for me,” he said.

“Oh, are you living with someone, then?”

“I’m surprised Mycroft didn’t tell you,” Sherlock said.

“Hmm,” said his father.

(Dressed in a warcloak, a new one, likely meant he’d had time to have one made for the sake of ceremony, looking good during negotiations, eyepaint heavier than it used to be, bright blue under his eyebrows, under his lower lid – to mask exhaustion, still pulling long hours, he’d never been one to abstain from wards or potions to sleep, why pulling long hours? Not enough data regarding political situations Underground; couldn’t be dire or Mycroft would have said something, at least dropped by; last stages of negotiations? The treaty-making couldn’t be that bad, the King of the Sea’s armies had to be decimated--)

“I’ve been doing my best to try and wake your mother,” he said—

(Oh.)

“But the Labyrinth won’t let her go. My best guess is that until it recognizes that all of…of us are back, it won’t acknowledge that the war is over.”

“You want me to come back.”

“Yes, obviously. But more than that, I need you to convince your brother to come back.”

“He won’t?”

“No. And I would suppose you can guess why.”

“He thinks you want to put him on the throne while the political climate favors a transition to a somewhat younger monarch.”

scenes from a book no one wrote -- 7/?

(Anonymous) 2012-01-09 09:48 pm (UTC)(link)
His father nodded and crossed his arms around his chest. Now that the adrenaline from finding him there had faded from Sherlock’s veins, he could sense the thrum of magic deep in his father’s bones, the sense that he’d spent far too long seeped in something far too old and far too vast. “I didn’t lie to him, and I won’t lie to you. I would like him to take the throne now. I would put him there if I could. But I shan’t force him to. The idea of a reluctant leader is nonsense. Heaven knows that the kingdom is a piece of work, and if he doesn’t want it, he shouldn’t govern it.”

Sherlock considered sitting down. His back ached from work, but then again, he was as tall as his father like this, and why waste that sort of psychological advantage? “I guess the next question is obvious,” he said as distastefully as he could.

“Would you at least consider it?”

“Answer this honestly: can you see me ruling over a kingdom largely inhabited by a species identified mainly by its complete lack of any sort of higher level intelligence, a species that invented the sport of chicken throwing? Can you honestly see that?”

“Sherlock, according to the latest census, goblins only just make up half the population. Stay up to date, really.”

God, he sounded like Mycroft. “Yes, but I’d be the Goblin King, Father, can you honestly see me as the Goblin King?”

“Goodness knows you have the requisite flair for the dramatic. You’re letting vanity stand in the way, really?”

“Oh, it’s not vanity, it’s dignity.”

His father did not visibly flinch in rage, but the magic around him did. “Very well then,” he said, with a voice that made the air go colder. “Please do drop by to attend to your mother at your earliest convenience.”

Right, there was that, wasn’t there? A shame John wasn’t there to be all ‘bit not good, Sherlock’ or ‘remember the woman he loves has been asleep for the past, what is it now, six years, Sherlock.’ “I will,” he said.

“Why don’t I leave something for the woman, then?”

“I beg your pardon?” Sherlock said.

His father opened a hand into the air and there, suddenly, was a peach. Sherlock bit back a groan.

“It’s obvious enough. You’ve cast a nightmare ward for someone, and voluntarily, I assume. Oh, and it’s actually clean here. How could you keep a place clean without someone dogging you? Is that what’s keeping you here?”

“Don’t be daft, Father.” God, was everyone going to assume that he and John were together? “You know what? Leave the peach. See what happens. It’ll just rot there, because that’s not it. You’re so enormously wrong that it’s almost funny.” He’d just tell John he’d poisoned it and was testing the effects on the rate of decay, John would never touch it, one up over Father. Brilliant.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he said.

And then he was gone.

Sherlock had never understood the appeal of the dramatic disappearance. One ought at least have the dignity to stalk through a door, let the cloak flare, and then slam the door before vanishing. Much more intimidating.

+

Sherlock fell asleep on the couch sometime around five in the morning.

He woke up when he heard a very loud thunk in the kitchen.

He pondered the possible consequences of staying where he was. He could get in another hour or two of pure sloth easily, but then again, something might have fallen over.

He got up.

John was sprawled across the kitchen floor in his pajamas, half-eaten peach in one hand.

“Shit,” Sherlock said, rather calmly for the circumstances.

He crouched down and took the peach from John’s hand. He sat against the counter rather carefully – wouldn’t do to be sore when he woke – and, sighing, ate it as quickly as possible.

Re: scenes from a book no one wrote -- 7/?

[identity profile] moxyg.livejournal.com 2012-01-09 11:21 pm (UTC)(link)
Dang it I almost want to get a paid account JUST SO I CAN TRACK THIS.

Another gorgeous piece. <3333 Can't wait to see how John reacts!

*keeps tab open, refreshing determinedly*

Re: scenes from a book no one wrote -- 7/?

[identity profile] obscuriglobus.livejournal.com 2012-01-11 09:36 am (UTC)(link)
Wonderful :D

Re: scenes from a book no one wrote -- 7/?

(Anonymous) 2012-01-12 02:32 pm (UTC)(link)
Ha! This is excellent. I'm enjoying the Holmes family dynamics.

Re: scenes from a book no one wrote -- 7/?

[identity profile] annakas.livejournal.com 2012-01-17 07:43 am (UTC)(link)
This crossover rocks!
I can't wait to see John's reaction to the Labyrinth and the world Sherlock is coming from. Lol not to mention his family. This will be fun!

Re: scenes from a book no one wrote -- 7/?

[identity profile] annakas.livejournal.com 2014-01-21 03:27 pm (UTC)(link)
Any hope of getting more of this awesomeness?