sherlockbbc_fic | Filling Fest!

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filling fest

Filling Fest!

The Filling Fest Is Over. Thanks for everyone who participated!

Thanks to everyone who voted and shared their input. It really helped us figure out how things will go.

The fest will focus on prompts from Parts VI-VII (for those who want to fill prompts from the earlier days of the meme), and Parts XXIV-XXV (for those who want to revisit prompts from right after series two was aired. If you want to use the Filled Prompt Posts to browse through prompts, Part VI starts here, and Part XXIV starts here.

1. For the next three days, you can browse through those four parts and nominate prompts you’d like to see filled. Please include the full prompt and the link to the original prompt in your nomination. Those three days are for nominations only; don’t start posting your fills until this period is over.

2. After those three days, the nomination period will end and the filling period will begin. If you’re inspired by a nominated prompt, that’s great. If you prefer to look through those four parts and fill something that catches your eye, that’s great too. The filling period will last for two weeks.

3. All kinds of fills are welcome, as are multiple fills.

4. Anon posting is allowed, but not required.

5. Nominations without the link to the original prompt will be deleted. Same for nominations from parts other than VI, VII, XXIV and XXV.

6. Only post new fills that you haven’t posted anywhere before. If you have a WIP from one of those parts that’s gathering dust on your hard drive, it’s fine to post it, but only if you never started posting it.

7. Post your fill in this thread, but link to your fill in the original post (or in the Overflow post if the original post is full).

8. Please consider warning for triggery prompts (and also for fills, because some people read in flat view) and phrasing prompts in a manner that strives to be respectful. Things which you might want to consider warning for include: Rape/Non-Con, Death, Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Harm, Underage Relationships, among others.

9. If you have questions, please ask in the appropriate thread in this post.

One last thing: have fun!

The filling period will end on Saturday May 19th around 20:00 GMT.
Post your fill as a direct reply to THIS THREAD and please include the original prompt (or a summary of the prompt).

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Sweet ***, that was... even better than I hoped it would be. Thank you for the cool fic, Anon.

Victor Trevor was Sherlock's first love and also a struggling artist.

Now, Victor is famous, filling galleries with nude and semi-nude photos of a mysterious and handsome dark tall stranger.

Your choice how Sherlock (and other people) feel about this.

Link to the prompt: http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/5013.html?thread=17757845#t17757845

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were shocking. Not because they were drawings of nude men, but because it was one nude man... one that John knew very well...

Curled up around a pillow with the blankets kicked off the bed.
Stretched out across the floor.
Pose after pose, sketched out and shadowed with loving detail.

"Sherlock... are they all... Well, you?"
John turned to Sherlock.

Sherlock was smiling. Not the impish grin he wore when trying to annoy John, and not the smug satisfied smile when proving him wrong.

This was a different smile. More like he was just... content.

"Victor and I dated a year. He was struggling with his art then, trying to get attention from galleries and such."

He moved closer to the drawing that had prompted John to clarify in the first place; Sherlock from behind, naked, bow in one hand and violin in the other.

"He told me I was his muse. We broke it off so he could study abroad. We still keep in touch."

He stared for a while, perhaps reliving in his mind the day he had posed for it. John continued to stare at the man rather than the drawing.

"They make me feel... attractive, John. I have been told all my life I'm a freak; that I act as strange as I look."

He chuckled a bit, not quite bitterly, but a hint of pain.

"Jolie laide, French for ugly-handsome... But Victor... He's the only person that saw me as beautiful."

John was about to argue; to explain that no, someone found him extremely attractive.

But he decided against it.
Not here, not now.
Let him revel in the drawings, enjoying the fact that everyone here was enthralled by his body his unique beauty.

John had time to explain his thoughts and feelings. Someday he would show Sherlock just how beautiful he was to him.

400 pounds for a drawing?

That seemed reasonable to John.

(art)
http://kinneybaby83.tumblr.com/post/23100150702/for-a-story-on-the-sherlock-kink-meme-on-live

Oh wow, that's incredibly nice of you to say, thank you so much! I'm glad you decided to give it a chance, especially since it's usually not your cup of tea, and I'm even more glad that you enjoyed it.

How does one approach a sick flatmate? Mused the detective. John could possibly take offence if he tried to wake him and swing a punch. On the other hand, he looked like shit. It couldn't be doing him much good, curling into a shivering ball and sweating all over his sheets. Oh God! What if he'd been poisoned?! What if he was lying there on his bed, dying? No, no, that was ridiculous. But plausible. Fine, Sherlock decided. He'd wake up the doctor.

“John?”

“John? Can you hear me? Are you awake John?” Don't make me shake you. Or poke you.

“I bloody wish I wasn't.”

“John! Are..are you alright? You look ill.”

“No I'm just lying here in a pool of my own sweat because it sounded like such a good idea!” Ok, you're in a bad mood. Understandable. Please lower your sarcasm levels John.

“Do you need anything?” See? I am making an effort.

Wait, did he just hear correctly or did Sherlock Holmes just offer to help him? Maybe he was hallucinating. Yeah that was probably it.

“John?”

“I need you to piss off. I can deal with this myself.” I'm a bloody doctor, I can do this.

“Somehow I doubt that. Wait here, I will bring you something for your throat. It sounds hoarse.”

How had John missed that? It was his bloody throat. And Sherlock was right, as always, it was starting to become sore. But he felt hesitant in drinking anything Sherlock brewed, it probably wasn't safe. Especially when you find a severed finger next to the tea or an ear in the fridge sitting on the butter.
In fact most of their kitchen could be declared as health hazard and yet Sherlock never got so much as a sniffle, the bastard.

------

Said bastard returned several minutes later with a warm mug of something. It smelt nice. It smelt safe. John attempted to sit up, failing miserably as his head began to spin. Strong, thin arms lifted him into a better position and held his head up and let him sip the contents of the mug. It tasted like honey and lemon and soothed his throat. Who'd have thought Sherlock knew such remedies?

Sherlock rested John's head back on the pillows and placed the mug next to the full glass of water. John gave him a confused look and Sherlock found himself raising his eyebrows in response.

“What?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Isn't that what people do? Take care of sick flatmates?”

“You can't use that excuse for everything.” John rasped, a yawning taking hold of his words.

“I can and will. Besides, I suppose it is partly my...um..my...”

“Your what? Cat got your tongue?”

“What? No. Alright, it's my fault? Ok? Happy now?” I feel guilty. Me. Sherlock Holmes. What have you done to me?

“Ecstatic. Now piss off.”

Sherlock felt himself pouting. That was very rude. After all, he had tried his best to look after John and now he was pushing Sherlock away. Maybe he thought he could take better care of himself? Doctors were always rumoured to be the worst of patients and it seemed like John was proving the rumour to be true.

“No.”

“I'm sorry?”

“No. I'm not moving. You obviously think you can take care of yourself, but look at you? You couldn't even sit up without my help and no doubt your fever will take hold of you mind and render you unable to do the most menial of tasks. No I will stay here.”

"Suit yourself. Just don't do anything or say anything." John kicked the covers off his bed again.

"You're in fine insulting form this afternoon."

"Didn't I just tell you to be quiet? Course I'm in a bad mood. I'm bloody sick!" And whose fault was that?

Sherlock simply gave him a confused but curious look. John turned away and closed his eyes. Inhaling suddenly when he felt a cold, wet cloth plop onto his forehead. Oh that felt nice. Really great. Ok, Sherlock was actually trying to do the right thing and he wasn't half bad at it. That doesn't mean John was going to be nice to him when it was his fault in the first place.

If Sherlock wanted forgiveness, he was going to have to work for it.

That was very lovely, thank you for sharing!

Is it OK to post here after 05/19? My week has sadly not been conducive to finishing yet and I might not be done til Sunday (I'm in same time zone as NYC if that matters). Or is that not good?

April 7th
(21:52)
I'm in Bristol.
SH

(21:57)
What I thought was just a
missing family heirloom is
turning out to be a
blackmailing case. I need to
figure out who is blackmailing
whom, but there are too
many family members.
SH

(22:03)
I should be interviewing them at
the moment, but they’re asleep.
SH

(22:07)
Stupid bodies and their stupid
needs.
SH

(22:09)
John? Don’t tell me you’re
asleep too.
SH

(22:12)
John!
SH

(22:17)
John. John. John. John.
SH

(22:19)
I’m on a date with my girlfriend!
Succumb to your own body
needs and go to sleep.

April 8th
(12:23)
How is the missing brooch
turned into blackmailing?

...

(14:54)
Have you decided to run
away with the brooch to
start a consulting business
in Fiji?

(14:58)
I'm not sure Fiji is your style.
I don't know why, but I can
picture you in Switzerland.
Have you ever been?

(15:03)
I have. Strangely, my most
vivid memory is fighting with
my sister over who would
eat the chocolate the maid
had left on the hotel bed's
pillow.

(15:05)
I won. She was older and
stronger, but I could scream
louder.

(15:18)
For the record, I'm aware
that I'm talking to myself. This
is so you'll see what I have to
endure when you go on a
texting streak.

…

(19:34)
I get it, you're not available.
Text back when you have some
free time, alright?

April 10th
(08:17)
Still no news? That's strange,
you're not usually the silent type.

(08:27)
You're on a case, though. You
see, that's the problem: you seem
like the kind of person who gets
himself into all sorts of dangerous
situations. Maybe I'll open the paper
and see an article about the death
of London's greatest consulting
detective.

(08:32)
The world’s.
SH

(08:47)
Finally, there you are! What do you
mean 'the world’s'?

(08:48)
I'm the only consulting detective in
the world. It's fair to assume that
I'm also the best.
SH

(08:50)
According to that logic, you're also
the worst.

(08:50)
Shut up!
SH

…

(12:33)
So, tell me, how's the case going?

(12:34)
Oh, I don't know. Are you actually
free to talk or will I disturb another
one of your dates?
SH

(12:35)
I'm talking to you, aren't I?

(12:36)
It's better to verify, especially after
you left me alone in Bristol.
SH

(12:36)
What?!

(12:38)
You convinced me to take the brooch
case in Bristol, so obviously I assumed
you would be available for
brainstorming sessions when I
required them.
SH

(12:42)
I honestly can't figure out if you're
joking or not. You have to be joking.

(12:42)
Most definitely not.
SH

(12:43)
You're joking.

(12:44)
I'm not. You pushed me into taking
the case!
SH

(12:45)
Yes! So you would stop bothering
me at work!

(12:46)
I'm sorry John, I will stop
bothering you.
SH

(12:48)
You're insane.

(12:51)
Sherlock, come on, I can't even
apologise because there's nothing
to apologise for.

…

(16:45)
If you insist: I'm sorry for not
realising that by encouraging you
to take a case, I was also agreeing
to be at your beck and call for
the duration of the case.

April 13th
(11:21)
Are you still sulking?

(11:22)
Sherlock.

(11:23)
Sherlock.

(11:24)
Sherlock!

(11:27)
Sherlock Sherlock Sherlock
Sherlock Sherlock Sherlock
Sherlock Sherlock Sherlock

(11:29)
Sherlock?

(11:30)
Hey, Sherlock!

(11:31)
I don't know what you're hoping to
achieve by turning my jacket into a
vibrating device.
SH

(11:32)
This. Exactly this.

(11:32)
I don't have time for this.
SH

(11:34)
Yes you do. You answered far too
quickly, so you don't have a case.

(11:40)
That was some serious deduction.
At the very least you should
acknowledge it to encourage the
good behaviour.

(11:40)
What are you, a dog?
SH

(11:46)
Does brainstorming with someone
else really help when you’re on a
case?

(11:49)
Doing it with you would have been
my first experience with a person.
It does help when I do it with the
skull, so I was expecting positive
results.
SH

(11:51)
You talk to a skull?! No, don’t
answer that, never mind.

(11:57)
Here's what I suggest. Next time,
tell me if you think you could use
my help. I'm not promising
anything, but if I can, I'll try to
make myself available.

(11:59)
I wouldn't want to impose.
SH

(12:04)
Don't be a berk. You're a shit
detective if you can't tell I'm
fascinated by your cases. I would
love to help, even if it's just by
being your sounding board.

(12:05)
Sounds good?

(12:07)
Acceptable.
SH

(12:09)
Great. I’m at work now, and
no matter how long I stare
at my paperwork, it won’t fill
itself. So, I’m off. Text me
later, ok?

April 16th
(18:06)
Case.
SH

(18:12)
Does that mean you’d like my
help with something?

(18:13)
If you’re available.
SH

(18:14)
When?

(18:14)
Now!
SH

(18:17)
Bit short notice and I'm not home.
Hold on, I'll see what I can do.

(18:22)
Fine. I can talk. What's the case?

(18:27)
Are you familiar with the Tilly
Briggs Pleasure Cruises?
SH

(18:29)
I’ve seen the ads, but it’s not
something I could ever afford,
so I didn’t pay it much
attention.

(18:31)
It’s a boat renting company.
They have a small fleet that
people can rent when they
want to take a small cruise
on the Thames.
SH

(18:34)
Three days ago, one of their
boats was found abandoned
close to Kew.
SH

(18:35)
There was a couple plus the
captain on board when the
boat left, and no one was found.
All the safety devices were still
on the boat. No one has seen
any of them since they got on
that boat.
SH

(18:37)
Apparently the couple wanted
to have a romantic dinner, but
the food was untouched on
the table when the boat was
found.
SH

(18:41)
God, that’s weird. Any sign
of violence?

(18:41)
None whatsoever.
SH

(18:42)
I want all the hypotheses that
cross your mind. Even those you
think are silly. Perhaps it will
trigger something in me.
SH

(18:47)
Kidnapping. Alien invasion.
Pirates.

(18:47)
Really, John? Aliens before
pirates? Pirates was the first
thing that crossed my mind.
SH

(18:49)
Shut up, I’m thinking!

(18:53)
A suicidal pact? They rent a boat
and they jump off together?

(18:53)
Why go through all the trouble of
serving dinner? Unlikely.
SH

(19:11)
Has the boat been inspected?
Could there be a defect that
would have prompted them to
abandon ship?

(19:12)
Yes. No.
SH

(19:19)
Honestly Sherlock, I have no
idea. Maybe the answer is not
in the boat itself, but in the
passengers? Did they have any
reasons to disappear?

(19:21)
Maybe. The police is looking
into their backgrounds as we
speak. I’ll get their files when
they’re done with it.
SH

(19:22)
Yes, I know what you’re about
to say: It’s an enormous
waste of time, and things would
proceed faster if you were allowed
to look at the files right away.
SH

(19:24)
That’s not what I was going to
say.

(19:26)
I’m sorry I can’t help.

(19:27)
You’re kind of helping.
SH

(19:28)
Ha! That’s nice of you.

(19:31)
Where are you?
SH

(19:33)
My girlfriend’s flat. We’re
planning a trip to New
Zealand.

(19:35)
Oh. You didn’t have to help if
you didn’t want to.
SH

(19:37)
It’s fine, I really wanted to.

(19:38)
Have you ever been to New
Zealand?

(19:39)
Never.
SH

(19:41)
Are you a 15-year-old kid?

(19:41)
Have you seen how kids spell
nowadays? Surely you can’t
think I’m one of them.
SH

(19:43)
Kids nowadays? Forget what I
said, you’re 97.

(19:44)
Your girlfriend.
SH

(19:45)
What about her?

(19:46)
You told her you were texting
someone about a case. She
thinks it’s a prank.
SH

(19:47)
You’re right. Of course you’re
right.

(19:50)
Do you think I’m pranking you?
SH

(19:53)
If you are, it’s one of the most
elaborate pranks I’ve ever
seen.

(19:54)
You didn’t answer my question.
SH

(19:57)
No, I don’t think it’s a prank.
But she said you could be
anyone or could have bad
intentions.

(19:58)
And now you can’t stop thinking
about it.
SH

(20:00)
Maybe you’re the prankster with
bad intentions.
SH

(20:03)
I’m not. I’m also older than
15 and far younger than 97.

(20:04)
If it can reassure you: it’s the
same for me. You can tell that
to your girlfriend.
SH

(20:06)
Just got the passengers’ files.
SH

(20:08)
Great! Tell me if there’s
anything I can do.

(20:13)
You should consider checking
out Tunnel Beach. I hear it’s
interesting.
SH

(20:16)
You said you’ve never been
there.

...

(22:11)
Did some research.
SH

(22:16)
I’ll keep that in mind. Thank
you.

April 17th
(04:03)
I need your inferior mind.
SH

(04:05)
Jesus Christ, my inferior mind
and I are asleep.

(04:05)
You can’t be asleep, it’s only…
Oh.
SH

(04:06)
I’m sorry John, I’ve been
focusing on the case for so
long that I lost track of time.
SH

(04:10)
Apology accepted. Next time
you need someone’s help,
try not waking them up in
the process and don’t
refer to their minds as
inferior.

(04:11)
Don’t be insulted. Your mind
is inferior compared to mine,
but it’s far superior to some
people’s.
SH

(04:11)
I think I might be on the right
track to solving the case, but
I need to know how a normal
person thinks.
SH

(04:13)
Fine, I’m awake anyway.
But there’s no way I’m
doing this without tea, so
don’t start bombarding
me if I don’t answer fast
enough for you.

(04:13)
I’ll try to refrain myself.
SH

(04:13)
But hurry up.
SH

(04:20)
Alright, I’m ready.

(04:20)
You’re a millionaire. You’re not
famous enough to interest
the media, but you have
enough power and influence
to go to bed every night
feeling pretty pleased about
yourself. Can you see it?
SH

(04:21)
I can. It’s a lot nicer than
the dream I was having
when you woke me up.

(04:21)
You have a wife, an obedient
dog. You also have regular
homosexual intercourse with
rent boys.
SH

(04:22)
Sounds like my regular
Saturday evenings.

(04:22)
John…
SH

(04:23)
Sorry, couldn’t resist. Go
ahead.

(04:23)
You have masochist
tendencies that your wife
refuses to indulge, so you
often get a bit rough with
the rent boys. Not always
consensually.
SH

(04:24)
I’m not a very good man.

(04:24)
No you’re not.
SH

(04:25)
One night, things go too far.
Maybe you’re angry, maybe
it’s too much enthusiasm,
maybe the boy made you
angry. Either way, you kill
him.
SH

(04:26)
You know that your life will
be ruined if the story comes
out, so you do what movies
have thought you to do:
you make it seem like it was
a suicide, you wipe all traces
of your presence in the
room, and you go looking
for a solid alibi.
SH

(04:27)
I suppose I don't get caught?

(04:27)
You don't. But that’s
unfortunately not much of a
surprise. Whenever a junkie,
prostitute, or homeless
person dies, it always gets
blamed on drugs.
SH

(04:28)
In this case, the “suicide”
seems convincing enough,
even though the body is
found in a hotel room. The
case was closed quickly.
SH

(04:30)
But someone knows?

(04:31)
Let’s say someone does.
And let’s say that person
threatens to reveal
everything if you don't
agree to their conditions.
What do you do?
SH

(04:34)
I would agree to their
conditions for as long as I
could to save my reputation.

(04:35)
Let’s say the blackmail
doesn't stop. The person
starts harassing you at work,
starts asking for bigger sums.
SH

(04:38)
My answer still stands: I try to
protect my reputation.

(04:38)
You will run out of money
eventually.
SH

(04:40)
When that moment comes, I might
be tempted to kill him.

(04:42)
Let’s say you go on a romantic
cruise on the Thames with your
wife. During the trip, you
discover your blackmailer is also
on the boat, masquerading as
the captain.
SH

(04:45)
I…throw him overboard? Try
the suicide card again?

(04:45)
Risky.
SH

(04:46)
Will you just tell me what
happened?

(04:47)
There’s a confrontation on the
boat, he says he has arranged
to expose the truth. He’s sick
of the money, he wants revenge
for his friend.
SH

(04:47)
Only he knows how to stop
the truth from being exposed,
so if you throw him overboard,
you won’t be able to stop the
truth from coming out.
SH

(04:59)
Can I…throw him overboard
and then come up with a
story so my wife will believe
I’m in danger and someone
wants to ruin my reputation?
The victim’s friend can’t
have any proof or I would be
in prison already.

(05:00)
Thank you John, you have been
extremely useful.
SH

(05:02)
Wait! Did I get it right?

(05:17)
Sherlock?

April 18th
(15:34)
Guess who’s now in prison.
SH

(16:03)
It had better be the rent boy
killer.

(16:04)
It is indeed.
SH

(16:05)
Thank God, that’s where people
like that belong. How did you
solve it?

(16:06)
I searched the couple’s
names in the Yard’s database,
and I found that the husband
had been interrogated a few
years ago after having been
identified as one of the dead
rent boy’s clients. The death
was declared a suicide, the man
had a credible alibi, the two
names were never pronounced
in the same sentence again.
SH

(16:08)
Months later, the man (Bill) and
his wife are on a boat with one
of the rent boy’s friends (Joey)
knows everything. The man is
threatened, he drugs the
friend, and throws him off the
boat. To preserve his
reputation, he convinces his
wife to run away with him.
SH

(16:10)
You have no idea how many
questions I have.

(16:10)
Go ahead.
SH

(16:12)
How did you know he was
being blackmailed?

(16:12)
It was the only explanation of
all the facts.
SH

(16:13)
Also, after the rent boy’s
(Nathan), his friend and
colleague Joey told the police
that Nathan sometimes had a
sadist client who liked to push
things too far. That’s why the
police interrogated the clients.
SH

(16:14)
I’m guessing the interrogation
didn’t go as well as expected
by the rent boy’s friend.

(16:14)
It didn’t.
SH

(16:15)
What happened then?

(16:15)
Joey decided to seek revenge
in a different way. He told the
murderer he knew what had
happened, which was a bluff,
but Bill was terrified. He
confessed and agreed to pay
for Joey’s silence.
SH

(16:16)
Joey got greedy; Bill had the
means to pay. At least, at
first he had. Soon, money
wasn’t enough, Joey decided
he needed to destroy Bill’s life.
That takes us on the boat
where he managed to get
himself hired as captain.
SH

(16:17)
I can’t confirm if it’s true, but
apparently Joey had scheduled
to send an email that would have
exposed the truth to all the
biggest papers and TV networks.
Bill’s fortune had diminished
considerably in the last years
and he was desperate. He
managed to slip some of his
Digoxin into Joey’s tea, and then
he threw him overboard.
SH

(16:18)
Bill didn’t know how to stop
the email from being sent, so
he told his wife a story about
some people at work who
were out to get him and were
ready to do anything to ruin
him.
SH

To make it more believable,
he took a timer from the
kitchen, hid it in the cabin,
and told her it was a bomb.
He blamed the captain, she
was obviously terrified, and
soon they jumped off and
swam to shore.
SH

(16:21)
Wow. I’m a bit speechless. Why
didn’t they take the liferaft?
Or the vests, at least?

(16:22)
He said they could trace it back
to them.
SH

(16:23)
So he’s in prison for two
murders…his wife must
have been devastated when
she learned the truth.

(16:23)
I don’t know. Probably.
SH

(16:23)
Wow, poor woman. But
mostly, poor boys. How
old were they?

(16:24)
Nathan was 19, Joey had
turned 26 a few days
before his death.
SH

(16:25)
Christ!

(16:26)
How did Joey manage to
get hired as a captain?

(16:26)
He came from a rich family
who loved boats, so he had
a lot of experience with
them. As for his certifications,
I believe they were fake, but
that’s currently being
investigated, so I can’t
confirm.
SH

(16:28)
Wow. I’m impressed. All
this because the guy had
been interrogated once in
the past. And the kitchen
timer, good job catching
that. I still can’t believe
anyone would do that.

(16:29)
I mean seriously, a
bloody kitchen timer! I
would have been in tears
if I’d been there.

(16:30)
I’m so sorry. Some people
died, I shouldn’t be
laughing.

(16:30)
It’s fine, I had a bit of a
laugh, too.
SH

(16:31)
Anyway, congrats on
solving the case :-)

(16:31)
I had help.
SH

(16:32)
Yes, of course, you need the
police for some stuff, but
that was still amazing.

(16:32)
I was talking about you.
SH

(16:32)
What? Why? How?

(16:34)
Some things you said that
came into my mind at the
appropriate moment. You
suggested something
could have prompted
everyone to jump off the boat.
Later, you said you would
have faked a bomb threat to
get your wife off the boat.
SH

(16:34)
You’re serious? I helped?

(16:34)
I’m not lying. Thank you.
SH

(16:36)
Well, it was my absolute
pleasure, even if you woke me
up at a crazy hour. The
brainstorming helped then?

(16:36)
It did. If you are amenable to
repeating the experience, I
would like to use your brain
again in the future.
SH

(16:37)
Sure! That would be great!

(16:37)
Thank you John.
SH

(16:38)
No problem, you can text me
anytime.

...

Unsent message - (17:04)
I think we should meet, it
would make our collaboration
easier.
SH

I am LOVING THIS!!!!!!

Thought you should know :D

I love epistolary fic, especially text fic in this fandom, and this is so enjoyable :) can't wait for the next part!

Hope I did this right...
Prompt: http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/4777.html?thread=13533097#t13533097

---
Mycroft had a thing for men in suits.

The first night they met, he made sure Dimmock was in a suit.

It was... unconventional, to say the least.

"So what's this?"

DI Dimmock crossed his arms defensively, shoes tapping on the floor with impatience. He'd been kidnapped - abducted, by some woman and a man on a payphone, only to be brought to an abandoned warehouse. His gun rested under his jacket, fingertips pressing into the cold metal barrel. He may have come along, but he wasn't an idiot.

Mycroft Holmes slowly walked towards the DI, umbrella tapping along beside him. "Mycroft Holmes. A pleasure, I'm sure."

Oh, so it was this man. The one Greg told him about when he was drunk one night. The brat's older brother who'd kidnapped him, proposing payment for information on Sherlock. He fidgeted and breathed random half-sighs at intervals, uncomfortable as the man simply watched him.

"Do you want me to spy? Be your little 'toy?'" he blurted with more venom than he intended. Okay, so he was a little nervous.

Mycroft approached, feet stopping mere inches from Dimmock's. He pressed in close, the difference in their height painfully obvious when he craned to appear defiant in front of the tall man. Mycroft's smirk was visible. He did like a man who could stand up for himself. Dimmock muscles clenched, tense.

"Hardly." His hand pressed to the DI's chest, fingers slowly trailing up his finely tailored suit. "I just could never resist a man in a good suit." The elder Holmes licked his lips and leaned in, closing the distance between the two.

---

When Dimmock had finally accepted his position as Mycroft's partner - instead of screaming and going red-faced - he'd found the man's suit-kink near adorable.

Mycroft always had a certain weakness to them. Whenever he visited the man he made to wear a suit, and the look of shock and pure want on the man's face never stopped being pleasing. It was one of the few things he held over Mycroft.

Even now, with the utterly posh man leaning over him and essentially trapping him to the wall of his office (after working hours), he had some semblance of control. Mycroft's hand wandered and brushed the edges of his suit, deep, guttural groans teased with each delightful stroke of Dimmock's tongue into his mouth.

Their lips rubbed and moved together, his tongue darting to tease and torture before he suddenly plunged it inside, corkscrewing around MYcroft's. He was a sensational kisser; Mycroft was putty under his hands.

Fingers curling into the politician's ginger hair and nibbling on Mycroft's lower lip, Dimmock smirked.

"Shall I take it off? Or would you like it on as I take you?" He whispered soothingly, and Mycroft shuddered, fingers dancing under the fabric.

"The suit would be utterly ruined; I just purchased this one for you," he purred, arguing for propriety's sake. He nipped and sucked harshly on Dimmock's lips, working them until they were swollen and puffy; supple. He soothed the reddened flesh with his tongue and smiled into his lips, the suit jacket falling to the floor.

"Such a pity," Dimmock said with little feeling as the suit slowly fell to pieces.

---
Somewhat what OP wanted...Mini-fill, I suppose. This pairing is too rare. I like the idea of snarky!Dimmock and smitten!Mycroft. Sort of, anyway.

Edited 2012-05-18 03:47 (UTC)

Oh, Sherlock.

I love, love that you're still following the order of events - like the NZ trip from John's blog! Fantastic! ...Does John keep a blog in this universe?

Do people want me to continue?

A fill for this prompt:
Mycroft stops calling, stops coming around, stops smoothing the way for Sherlock. Sherlock doesn't notice of course. Not until things start becoming... difficult.

Link: http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/15638.html?thread=91598358#t91598358

'Makes the World Go Round', by achray
Short, pre-slash for Sherlock/John, relatively fluffy, though with character injury:
http://archiveofourown.org/works/407532

I'm very happy to know :-) Thank you very much for reading!

I love them too :-) In fact, I think we like the same kind of prompts because I always end up commenting on your fics, even when you write them anonymously, and you always seem to find mine.

I'm glad you're enjoying this, thank you for commenting!

I'm relying heavily on John's blog for the timeline and the cases (this part was inspired by one John had to take down, so it was a huge struggle). I'm glad you like that, because I will keep doing it :-)

In this universe, John also had a therapist who suggested he starts keeping a blog. However, without Sherlock to bring him along on some crazy adventures, his entries are rare and probably look something like "I saw a funny-looking tree today". Also, without John's blog to show the world he exists, Sherlock won't become famous as he did in canon.

I'm happy you like it, thanks for letting me know!

I know I that I already posted a prompt today, but I was inspired by a fic that I'm reading right now - I just gotta!

To keep from being bored, one of Sherlock's hobbies is drawing crime scenes he's been at to test how much he remembers. He always draws himself in the scene too.

One day, feeling bored AND lonely, Sherlock draws draws a friend next to him. He likes the drawing and finds himself putting the friend in the scene again and again. After a while he names the partner 'John Watson'.

Like it's the magic word - John becomes real.

http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/4777.html?thread=13906601#t13906601

--

Sherlock looked at his latest drawing with a slightly sour expression. He drew to alleviate his boredom when he had nothing better to do, but lately it hadn’t been as effective. He wasn’t certain why exactly. There was nothing different about the style he had cultivated. The charcoal drawing in front of him was up to his usual standards: spatially and technically correct down to the last detail he could recall. He was in this drawing as well, he put himself in all his drawings, but there was still something completely unsatisfying about it.

Annoyed, he stuffed the drawing into his portfolio without applying any fixative. He didn’t feel at all partial to this one and didn’t care if it smudged. He stood and picked up his violin from its case. He would just have to distract himself through other means today.

--

--

A week later and another case closed, Sherlock sat on the floor with his back against the sofa. His knees were drawn up slightly and his heavy drawing pad was lying against his thighs. He stared at the stark white paper as his mind raced through the details of the crime scene he had initially been called to.

He touched the tips of his fingers to the paper and drew them down its length. The texture was rough under his skin, but familiar and encouraging. Sherlock looked up and reached forward, his fingers ghosting over the assortment of charcoal, carbon, and graphite pencils on the coffee table before him. He plucked up the graphite pencil and began his preliminary sketch. Nothing too complicated, just lines of gesture and contour to set the scene down on paper before he began the task of detailing it in carbon and charcoal. The body was the focal point of the sketch of course, and he was there knelt next to it, examining the evidence.

Sherlock sat back to regard his sketch. A displeased frown tugged at the corners of his lips. This sketch felt just as incomplete as all of his sketches had been lately. Speaking from his recollection, there was nothing wrong with the scene. He had drawn it out just as he remembered it.

There was a bit of negative space on the left side of the page (to the right of the Sherlock in the picture). It made the composition feel unbalanced. Perhaps he ought to add something, but what? He did not add things as a general rule. He stuck to the true details as actually as he could recall them.

He tapped the butt of his pencil against the paper and sighed. This entire exercise was becoming tedious. He began doodling in the negative space, not really caring anymore about the picture. Maybe he would give up the whole ‘drawing to stave off boredom’ idea and return to more tried and true methods.

With a sigh he tossed the pencil onto the coffee table. It clattered against the charcoal pencils and rolled away to settle against his teacup with a clink. He took one last look down at his drawing before pushing himself up, but paused mid motion. He settled down again and tilted his head a bit to one side.

He had been doodling in Lestrade, just for the hell of it, but Lestrade wasn’t the person looking down at the body with his sketch drawing counterpart. The face was too round, and the proportions were all wrong. Sherlock settled back down and grabbed a carbon pencil from the table to begin detailing the picture.

Some time later the picture was finished and Sherlock was smiling. It was rare that he added anyone else to his pictures. Sometimes he would add Lestrade, but never any of the other members of the New Scotland Yard. They were all hostile toward him and weren’t worth the effort. Even Lestrade was generally reluctant and only accepted Sherlock’s aid, and by proxy Sherlock himself, as a final alternative. It was nice then, the idea that this picture now presented him with, of having a colleague at a crime scene instead bunch of resentful, ignorant, halfwits.

He signed his name at the bottom of the image and stood up. One long arm reached out and snatched up the can of fixative from the far edge of the coffee table. He uncapped the can and propped the pad up against the sofa before beginning to spray. This was a drawing he was definitely keeping.

--

--

After his next case was closed, Sherlock found himself drawing his new crime solving colleague into the drawing of the initial crime scene. As he drew he thought to himself. Who was his friend exactly? What did he do for a living, other than help Sherlock solve crimes. That was his main job of course but that could not be the beginning and end of his identity. Sherlock had no delusions about himself, he was well aware that he was a ridiculously self-centered person. But Sherlock didn’t suffer fools, and any friend of his would not be so dull as to bend to Sherlock’s every whim and make Sherlock the center of their world. That would just be boring. So what did his friend do?

His friend would have to be at least somewhat clever. Not as clever as himself of course, no one was as clever as he was except Mycroft, but Mycroft was lazy and that made him dull. So his friend would be clever for a normal sort of person, and very active to keep up with Sherlock. He would also have to be useful. What sort of person was clever and useful?

Of course! A doctor. His friend was a doctor.

--

Another week, another case, and Sherlock was sketching again. It hadn’t been a murder this time. This time it had been counterfeiters. Counterfeiters were always fun because they were usually quite clever and they got very agitated when you set fire to their fake money. Sherlock had gotten into quite the tussle. That was what he was drawing now, because staring at fake money was ridiculously tedious, thus drawing people staring at fake money could only be even more tedious.

So how would his friend fight, he wondered. Sherlock himself preferred to fight in close quarters. He was quite good at bare knuckle boxing. Would his friend be the same? Perhaps he would be, but he needed a skill that would complement Sherlock’s. So if Sherlock fought bare handed, perhaps his friend used a weapon. A knife was far too plebian, a sword was too archaic. A gun then, that would allow his friend to have an advantage at long ranges, which was always a good idea, and it would let him have something in his hands to use as a blunt object in melee situations. And of course a gun is no use unless you are good with it, so his friend would be very good. A crack shot. But how would he have gotten his hands on a gun in Great Britain and where would he learn to shoot?

He couldn’t be a policeman, he was already a doctor and the police were idiots. His doctor was no idiot. So where could one be a doctor while simultaneously being a crack shot and learning to fight without any qualms?

Military service. His doctor was an army docor.

--

--

Sherlock had been days without a case and he was starting to grow agitated. There was an abyss inside of him. It was gaping and greedy and fathomless. He tried to keep it at bay as best he could. He did this by building walls. He built walls out of mysteries, and science, and music; he built them out of sprints across London, out of cases from Scotland Yard, out of fights with Mycroft, but no matter how much he built them up they always, eventually, came crashing down. In those few moments that his body had to stand still, his mind raced forward, a freight train unable to stop, doomed by its own momentum. It tore down the walls he had so carefully erected, leaving him exposed to face that yawning chasm. And it would consume him.

Sherlock had nothing to draw, but he drew anyway. He drew himself with his friend. His friend could distract him from that abyss. How? What would he say? What would he do?

He was not a stupid man and he was a well-trained soldier. So he had little concern for his own personal safety. He was an upstanding, moral man. So he had no reverence for people who were criminals. He would make snarky, clever quips about suspects. Sherlock loved snark and he loved clever.

What else?

He was an honest person, a kind person. He could see the pathos in people that Sherlock could not properly fathom. He could see the humour in something Sherlock had said in perfect seriousness. He could see through Sherlock’s tantrums. He could laugh at himself. He could make Sherlock laugh at himself.

Yes that was how. His army doctor could make him laugh.

--

Sherlock sat hugging his knees to his chest. He had a potential case but god did it sound boring! So he was putting it off in favor of looking at his pictures. They were spread out around him, propped up against the table and in the chair opposite him. He had more pictures than he’d had cases to draw which resulted in a lot of the pictures just being himself and his friend. He let himself become even more distracted from the fact that he had something to be doing by letting his mind wander.

His friend. What would he look like in color? Sherlock drew in carbon and charcoal so he’d never thought about it before. But it struck him now. Maybe he should start. What color were his eyes? Perhaps grey, like Sherlock’s but not like Sherlock’s, darker. Dark grey. What about his hair? He always drew his friend’s hair a bit dark. It was too light to be brown though, and not light enough to be blond. It was more a sort of in between color, ash blond. He would prefer neutral and earthy tones, colors he could feel comfortable in. Never anything too flashy, he wasn’t a flashy person.

Sherlock picked up the nearest drawing and smiled faintly. The picture was protected by cellophane and so he did not hesitate when the urge to touch the picture took him. He ran his fingers over the figure in the image beside him.

What was his doctor’s name? Not something outlandish like his own name, that would never do. For all that this man was an extraordinary person; there was nothing boastful about him. He didn’t need to stand out to be happy.

“John,” Sherlock says with a smile. “Doctor John Watson.”

“You’ve gotten awfully good, Sherlock.”

Sherlock started, his gaze snapping to his right. Deep grey blue eyes set into a round face framed by ash blond hair gazed back at him. There was a gentle crinkle at the corners of his eyes and a small smile on his lips. He leaned heavily against the back of Sherlock’s chair. Sherlock stared at him, speechless. The man, John, only smiled wider. Finally he clapped Sherlock heavily on the shoulder.

“What are you sitting here for you great prat? Don’t we have job to be doing?”

He moved to stand in front of Sherlock, his hand held out in offering. The left side of Sherlock’s mouth curled up and he grasped John’s hand. The shorter man pulled the taller to his feet and they grinned at each other.

“Right you are, John.”

squee, dude. Squee.

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Page 9 of 13

Filling Fest!

Re: WARNING: Rape. Also creepiness. And corpses.

Story and art fill!!

Re: Wrong Number - 2c

Re: Doctor Holmes 2/?

Re: Story and art fill!!

Re: QUESTIONS

Wrong Number - 3a

Wrong Number - 3b

Wrong Number - 3c

Wrong Number - 3d

Wrong Number - 3e

Re: Wrong Number - 3e

Re: Wrong Number - 3e

Dimmock/Mycroft - Suits (mini-fill)

Re: Wrong Number - 3e

Re: Doctor Holmes 2/?

Filled prompt

Re: Wrong Number - 3e

Re: Wrong Number - 3e

Re: Wrong Number - 3e

Chiarascuro - 1a/1

Chiarascuro - 1b/1

Chiarascuro - 1c/1

Chiarascuro - 1d/1

Re: Wrong Number - 1d