sherlockbbc_fic (
sherlockbbc_fic) wrote2014-03-30 11:33 am
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Prompting Part XXXV
GUIDELINES
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WARNINGS/OFFENSIVE WORDING IN PROMPTS
Please consider warning for prompts that may trigger people (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.
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PROMPT FREEZES
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MEME LINKS
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OTHER LINKS AND AFFILIATES


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Useful resources for Sherlock and LiveJournal.
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Author Anon: ^^^ PART SIX!!!^^^
(Anonymous) 2014-04-01 07:20 pm (UTC)(link)No 7/
(Anonymous) 2014-04-03 09:07 pm (UTC)(link)Three hours in which Sherlock's mind was completely silent, three hours in which he may as well have lost his sight, for he only looked at the paper in his hands. The words did not come together to form sentences.
He just. Stood.
At one point he heard Mrs. Hudson leave. She hadn't returned yet. Sherlock knew she must be at Hospital. He was glad of it. A warm hand holding John's
I should be beside his bed
Talking nonsense.
I should explain, apologize, explain, tell him, do I tell him that I respected Mary. I did. I did. I never truly liked her, but she made him so happy...and she was clever. She saw how much I loved him....
Sherlock lifted the paper.
Love him. I love him. He's still here. I love him.
Sherlock raised the paper higher, stared at the letters. It took a full two minutes for the letters to finally form into words, sentences.
A suicide note.
Sherlock,
Do not blame yourself. Do not. Don't let that "machine" of your mind run until the gears become too hot, smoke, and burst into flame. I was so vulnerable.
I should have said no. After...well, after I stood up I should have told you I didn't want to. Not then. Not at that moment. Not at that moment at all. Because I didn't.
I just wanted someone to hold onto, to stop being brave. To stop being "John, so stoic." I wanted to forget.
I also wanted Mary. I still do. I know what she's done, but fuck Sherlock! I killed a man to protect you the first day we met, you killed to protect me-and Mary, though I know it was really me. And she is no different.
When I met you, you pushed me down a path, that gave me what I needed then. Kept me laughing, a friend. A real friend.
Mary gave me warmth, and love, and light. So much.
I should have said no. I was screaming it in my head. I should have waited. Waited until the pain of her death didn't overshadow everything. Though I still don't know if that will ever happen.
I loved mary. So much.
I love you, and I knew I wanted to live with you again, to have our relationship grow.
You used me. But I should have said no. I should have said no. For all of us.
I've become useless. That night was wrong. I confused you. And I hurt Mary. She may be gone but I hurt her. The world will happily go on without me. You can stop using people in that way-you'd become a good man, that man Greg hoped for. But I didn't say no, I didn't do what I am supposed to to: Keep you from doing stupid things.
So, do what you want with my belongings. Everything has been left to you. You will move on, you have your cases, your mind, your bloody experiments. Your parents and your life.
You once said England would fall if Mrs. Hudson left. But for all your faults and flaws...it would fall without you.
No 8/
(Anonymous) 2014-04-03 10:54 pm (UTC)(link)Sherlock held his hand up. Greg was struck silent, Sherlock was not in his traditional "I pretend not to care about such ordinary things as clothing, whilst wearing £500 shoes" Sherlock was wearing a t-shirt, jeans and barely worn trainers. No Belstaff coat, no scarf. Sherlock fixed his eyes onto Lestrade's. Sherlock carefully placed John's note atop Lestrade's desk "I raped him. Charge me."
Lestrade did not move, he finally reached for the letter "I'm not charging you."
"You read it! You read the damn thing. Did you know I placed valium in his tea? That I...." Sherlock turned "...I acted like a petulant child when John said her name? After I screamed out names. That I faked everything? That I've never had sex? I researched and prepared. I prepared Lestrade, like it was a case, or a criminal I needed to "befriend", a club I needed to gain access to. I knew what state he was in. I knew. And the single person, the one individual that is not related to me, understands who I am, what I need. Has saved my life. The man that had made me. "A good man"? I treated him as-as." Sherlock walked to the nearest chair and slumped into it.
"Arrest me. Arrest me. Please."
"Get out." Lestrade carefully placed the letter on Sherlock's lap.
"What you did" Lestrade sighed "I'm not arresting you. You'll never do this again, but it's what you want. I'm not about to charge you with rape because you want it. You'd get so much attention, you could sulk and you would love it."
Sherlock raised his head "I raped him."
"You used him. In the worst way. You used him for your own selfish wants. You did a disgusting, and to me an unforgivable thing. It sickens me after all he's done. After all you both went through. But you did not rape him. I'm not about to give you what you want. That satisfaction to sit and sulk and whatever it is you do. Get out."
No 9/
(Anonymous) 2014-04-08 03:03 am (UTC)(link)He'd failed. A former doctor, a former soldier, and he'd failed. He had all the right drugs, taken an anti-emetic. And now? Well, he was obviously waking from a coma of sorts. Perhaps he was brain damaged. It was a horrific hope, an unkind one to those who truly suffered from brain injuries.
But perhaps he could be sent to a "home" of sorts. Allowed to be wheeled, or sit, at a window. Looking at nothing.
Remembering Mary, every extraordinary thing she had been. Their child.
Sherlock, before he had jumped. Sherlock before he had killed. For John. Not for Mary. Sherlock didn't like Mary. He'd likely rather spend time with...
"John?"
That was Greg.
"Dear God, you're actually awake this time. Truly-"
John listened as Greg moved and yelled for help.
John wanted to say "there's a call button" he wanted to say "don't call for doctors and nurses. Help me. Hold a pillow against my face." But he'd never allow Greg to be charged for murder.
Watched as doctors finally rushed in, the noise was too much, the movement. John faded sllwly away.
His last thoughts were "Mary" and "did he read it? Understand it?"