sherlockbbc_fic | Prompting Part XXXIV

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Prompting Part XXXIV

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MEME LINKS
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Links to previous prompting parts

OTHER LINKS AND AFFILIATES

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Useful resources for Sherlock and LiveJournal.
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Sometimes, when you bury your heart too deep, when you stop listening to it's gentle whispers of right and wrong, kind and cruel, it will manifest itself as a physical person.

Even if you never listen to another person, you will find yourself listening to your hearts physical being, even against your own personal judgement.

That's what John is for Sherlock.

//The Burning Palace//

Summary: While trapped in the Mind Palace during his second brush with death Sherlock slays monsters, finds his guardian angel, has a long chat with his heart, and, in all, generally has some pretty warped hallucinations.
A/N: This one has been brewing for over a month, since I saw this post. Hope you like it.

///

"Everyone carries a room about inside them. This fact can even be proved by means of the sense of hearing. If someone walks fast and one pricks up one's ears and listens, say at night, when everything round about is quiet, one hears, for instance, the rattling of a mirror not quite firmly fastened to the wall."

- Franz Kafka

///

Mankind invented murder. They perfected killing for sport, envy, greed. In some ways, Sherlock considered it to be their only true art form. He admired Mary for giving him the opportunity to experience it first hand. He had always known he would say no to a natural death. He’d rather this next great adventure than the abject banality of cueing at the bank again.

In the distance, the wailing siren fell silent. Sherlock felt gutted and hollow, floating just inches off the ground. The rules of gravity no longer applied to him. The lights, the swiftly working hands, the faces above him blinked out.

When Redbeard died Sherlock buried him in his mother's garden next to the azaleas and the rusted out old plow, and Sherlock, the pragmatist, who never believed in heaven for any human being, believed in a heaven he'd never enter. In a heaven for all dogdom, Redbeard waited for his arrival, wagging his flag-like tail in friendship.

He fell to his knees and dug his fingertips into the dark soil under the azaleas. Redbeard wasn't with him.

It was like a dream, of course, but many important things, Sherlock found, were learned during sleep.

"Are you praying?" Mycroft asked, all cool private school arrogance, and condescension. "That won't help you now."

He squinted up at his brother through the sticky blood-red flowers. The sun behind Mycroft was bright and sterile like a surgery lamp. Sherlock's hands were too small to shield his eyes. He felt small too. Mycroft towered over him.

"I'm kneeling."

"You're dying: internal bleeding, blood loss."

"Yes," he closed his eyes against the sun. There wasn't anything he could do about that, was there? Not now. "I know."

When he looked up again his brother was gone. Nothing eclipsed the blinding sun. Waves murmured against an endless expanse of beach. Heat bounced off the sand in cellophane ripples.

Mary stood next to him, her wedding dress torn, stained black at the knees with dirt. In her arms she held an infant whose heavy head bobbled against her breast. The baby's red cheeks and round blue eyes seemed pasted onto its face, like mismatched splotches of color cut out from a newspaper.

"Do you think there's anything the matter with my little girl's hands?" she asked anxiously.

The child's fingers were as long as it's arms and webbed in between. A bubble of adrenaline rose in his stomach and popped in his rib cage.

"No," he said, voice catching. "She's beautiful."

Pulse racing, he forced himself to reach out and touch the sick child.

The ground opened up and swallowed him.

He found himself in a pitch black room. The floor rolled under him, as though he was in a ship at sea during a storm. There was something else in there with him. He knew. He heard it's soft footfalls. Whatever it was it made his stomach turn.

A single light flickered to life, illuminating only the strange baby. It hung upside down on a hook like a naked chicken in a butcher's shop.

He backed away, heart racing, until he hit the wall. Then fumbled with the latch to the door until it gave, fell backwards, and ran.

Re: Fill: //The Burning Palace// [1/?]

(Anonymous) - 2014-02-24 02:30 (UTC) - Expand

John comes home from a night out, disheveled and very obviously fucked out. Sherlock takes exception to what he sees as his straight flatmate's bumming for someone else.

Cue a very possessive Sherlock cleaning him out and then filling him up with his own spunk.

Bonus points- dirty talk, restraints, Sherlock having emotions, and/or fucking John til he can't see straight/walk/passes out (and then keeping on with it).

No straight up and out non-con, but won't say no to a bit of dubious consent.

Oh yes! I would absolutely live to see this filled.

In S3's TSoT, Sherlock and John have sex while both are very, very drunk. Awkward, poorly coordinated "I think I'm hot but I'm not," sex. Neither are remember it when sober.

John has Sherlock blindfolded, gagged and tied to or on the bed. What is he going to do to him now?

Please have this part of a d/s relationship where there is concent - but have Sherlock struggle some.

Seconding. Sign me up for this.

Sherlock is John's baby, and he's not happy that this woman and a new baby are moving into their lives. Although he makes jokes about it, he is seriously hurt by the idea that John no longer wants/needs him.

After the events of TSoT, John is tipped off that Sherlock went back to the flat to get high. John goes in with the intent to punish him, but ends up comforting a sobbing, terrified Sherlock - who thinks that he's being abandoned - instead.

No infantilisim or actual father/son, please. Daddy!Kink welcome, but not required.

Ok, I want this.

In 2.03, we see that Sherlock is not the easiest man to buy gifts for (need I even mention the extremely expensive diamond cuff links?).

So John finds himself at a loss for what to buy his lover for Valentine's Day. What do you buy for the man that has everything?

Bonus:

+10000000000 if John consults Mycroft in his quest to find the perfect gift.

When Sherlock throws a fit, he won't even let John near him - and not for lack of trying. It used to bother him... that was, until he realized that the only one capable of calming Sherlock in moments like these was his big brother, Mycroft. And really, it is just nice to see them getting along for a change. That, in and of itself, is worth taking a small step back in this aspect of Sherlock's life.

Pre-Fall, John meets Moran on a case. As in, Moran is their target. Maybe he's hired to kill Mycroft or something. But John is the one who finds Moran and when they see each other, something just clicks and John, for some reason, finds himself letting Moran escape. It doesn't make sense but he just accepts it, thinking he's never going to see him again anyway, only to find him a few days later in a casual setting, like a donut shop or something. Thus begins the extremely unconventional relationship between them, where both of them really, honestly find themselves falling hard for each other and they are just a perfect fit in every way and it's like something straight out of a movie, except Moran is a villain who kills people for money and John is supposed to be the good guy who takes guys like Moran down. And there's just no way for it to end well, but they can't stop.

Preferably no Sherlock/John or Moriarty/Moran, but I totally want Sherlock getting mad because he just knows something is up with John but can't even begin to guess what's really happening. And once he knows he probably thinks Moran's using John to get to Sherlock or something (because everything is actually about him, obviously).

Help me, kink meme. You are my only hope.

Seconded

John and Sherlock are finally getting married. It is the big day and... Sherlock is running almost an hour late. The ceremony starts in fifteen minutes and everything is falling to shambles. John is an absolute wreck, between worrying about Sherlock (because the idea that Sherlock would get cold feet is totally out of the question) and trying to save the shambles of the ceremony, and Mummy Holmes can clearly see that he is stressed.

She takes his hand and leads him aside, and promptly begins to tell him embarrasing stories from Sherlock's childhood to lighten the mood.

John thought he was just adding a little extra alcohol in Sherlock's drink when he poured the second shot into his glass. In his inebriated state he thought it would be amusing to throw off Sherlock's precise calculations of their alcohol consumption. He had no idea there was something else in that second shot. When Sherlock seems to be spending a suspiciously long time in the bathroom, John goes looking for him only to walk in on the worst. Sherlock in the process of being sexually assaulted.

Oh, the angst! Seconded.

Re: AU Stag Night; Spoilers 3x02; TW:non-con, drugging

(Anonymous) - 2014-01-27 09:36 (UTC) - Expand

Re: AU Stag Night; Spoilers 3x02; TW:non-con, drugging

(Anonymous) - 2014-01-27 10:21 (UTC) - Expand

Re: AU Stag Night; Spoilers 3x02; TW:non-con, drugging

(Anonymous) - 2014-01-27 19:59 (UTC) - Expand

naw, don't be sorry! as long as someone got inspiration out of it I'm cool.

(So this last week has been absolutely appalling for me, pain-wise, and so I am dealing with it by transplanting it onto characters I love)
Sherlock suffers from chronic joint pain. Whether or not this is tied in with any other conditions/illnesses (nausea, migraines, hypermobility, etcetc) is entirely up to you. He's still the same Sherlock we know, but this condition is very much a part of his life, however much he tries to pretend otherwise.
Caring John going into doctor mode to look after Sherlock on a bad day.
Would be interesting to see it played out where Sherlock is shoot-the-walls-bored-out-of-his-mind, but is also unable to move because of the pain.

There was a reason Sherlock picked the Bee Gees for the wedding reception. After all, it would be just like Jim to be 'fashionably' late.

Please no reformed!Moriarty, but would prefer that he was not recognized either.

Someone higher-up at work makes Lestrade's job very difficult. He's given the hardest jobs, is expected to go to work at the most impossible times, is insulted... (Maybe because he isn't a member old the Old Boys' network?)
Mycroft is aware that something is bothering Lestrade, but Lestrade tells him that he can handle it.
Only when Mycroft meets the other guy does he realise the full extent.
The British Government is Very Displeased with how his lover is being treated.

Slow!mance preferred. Also if smut happens, bottom!Sherlock preferred but the other way is fine, too.

I have a bit of a thing for swearing loyalty, and secret crushes, and who doesn't like just a little bit of power imbalance. During wartime Lord?/Prince?/General? Sherlock has had his eye on one Captain Watson and when one John Watson is captured Sherlock says he'll kill him if John doesn't swear fealty, the thing is Sherlock really, really wants John to swear himself, even if he has to seduce him into it. After all, his old commander left him to be captured, and left to his death, surely even Sherlock could take care of John better than that.

Sherlock can't deal with sex + feels and so asks to have each experience be a role play which is peculiar but whatever it takes to make him feel safe. Each experience is more intimately emotionally charged and Sherlock character is more like himself.

+ 100 John sets up an intricate surprise scene as a way to show affection and understanding.

+ 1000 The character Sherlock wants John to play is very revealing of the way that Sherlock thinks of him but would never say outside of a roleplay.

Interesting...Seconding! :)

So Ben Schwartz who plays jean ralphio (please youtube him or something) in parks and rec looks really similar to mark gatiss so either:

Mycroft went through an embarrassing teenage/young adult phase where he acted like Jean ralphio (bonus if Sherlock/someone has/stumbles across footage/photos of this and uses it as blackmail.)

or,

Mycroft is still very much like Jean ralphio even though he's the most powerful man in Britain.

Please :3

(Also super sorry if this has been prompted before

Irene/Sherlock/Mary/John - AU where the woman is know to be alive and well. Also in an established relationship with Sherlock...

Sherlock and Irene have a double date with John and Mary. As the night winds on and everyone drinks more and more. The girls gossip spilling juicy details about Sherlock and John's sex lives and then things get interesting.

Mary miscarries on her honeymoon and doesn't have the heart to tell John. Upon returning to London, Sherlock is able to deduce the truth without Mary having to say a word.

Sometimes, someone caring enough to realize something is wrong without you having to utter a word is all the love and care and comfort that you need.

Sherlock doesn't rush his brother out of 221B as quickly as he used to. The brothers end up watching TV, eating Chinese, and Mycroft seems to be enjoying himself. Unbeknownst to Mycroft, Sherlock has drugged the tea as an experiment. Things go from a good time to very bad, when Mycroft has an unexpected allergic reaction to something in the tea, and starts having seizures.
It's not even Sherlock experimenting on him that hurts Mycroft, it's that he believes Sherlock only kept Mycroft there for that purpose, and not for the company.

Awwww poor mycroft! :( I second this so hard!

BAMF Brothers Holmes to the rescue.

Make me hurt, make me laugh, make me fear for them all, make me go "awww".

All the brotherly AND family goodness.

Mix the two together, please.

So, I've probably read every our-favourite-detective-cross-dressing-fic that there is, but somehow it is lacking one thing: Casual clothes. Sure, we've seen designer dresses, corsets, lace and silk, but I want to see Sherlock in an every-day outfit, a pencil skirt and a blouse or something. Something casual. Please?

Seconding this! This could be hot as hell and it is something for which I have a mighty need.

OP here

(Anonymous) - 2014-01-31 13:48 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

(Anonymous) - 2014-02-04 14:52 (UTC) - Expand

OP here

(Anonymous) - 2014-03-22 22:47 (UTC) - Expand

Make me cry, anons: I cannot rid myself of a mental picture of John, standing at a gravestone that has two names on it:

MARY MORSTAN WATSON and the dates of birth and death, and

MARIE SHERLOCK WATSON with only a single date.

Not exactly series 3-compliant, but this was rolling around in my head all day. Not my best writing, but I hope you like it nonetheless.

.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Then again, there were many things in John Watson's life that weren't supposed to happen. Like surviving a bullet wound that was supposed to have been fatal. Like his career ending too early for his desire, leaving him stranded and lost in the middle of London. Like becoming best friends with a madman and witnessing that madman toss himself off the roof of a hospital. Like falling in love with the most wonderful woman he'd ever met, only to lose her far too soon.

Blue eyes locked on the gravestone before him, John mused that it shouldn't have been possible to grieve the death of someone he barely even knew. Someone who, really, never lived to begin with. Yet here he was, mourning the loss of not only his beloved wife, but the little girl she had been carrying with her.

John was well acquainted with death, being an army doctor and all. But that didn't stop him from squinting his eyes shut, teardrops rolling unbidden down his cheeks before he could stop them falling.

He reached a shaking hand out until it rested against the cold grey stone; his knees gave out and suddenly he was kneeling in a quiet, sobbing prayer to a deity he'd long since lost faith in. Mary Morstan Watson and Marie Sherlock Watson, snatched away from him before he could even blink. There in an instant, gone the next. Such was the nature of life and death, he knew, but it hurt so goddamn much.

John felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up at the blurry figure of Sherlock standing next to him. His lips were drawn in a thin line, his face pale and searching. John let his head hang, his own hand sliding down the front of the gravestone, fingers tracing the engraved letters in the most ornate font, beautiful yet so, so cold.

The weight of the hand on his shoulder disappeared as the weight of loneliness settled in, deep into his bones. John drew in a trembling breath, letting the last of his tears slide down his face before easing himself back to his feet. He wouldn't say goodbye, because he wasn't ready to. Wasn't sure if he'd ever be ready. He looked over to where he thought he'd seen Sherlock, only to see empty space there.

He really was alone this time. And alone, it seemed, he would always be.

Re: Minifill: Unexpected

(Anonymous) - 2014-04-10 04:19 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Minifill: Unexpected

(Anonymous) - 2014-04-11 03:04 (UTC) - Expand

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