sherlockbbc_fic | Prompting Part XXXV

Skip to Main Content

Entry tags:

Prompting Part XXXV

THE MEME NEEDS ARCHIVISTS!

GUIDELINES

Anon posting is not required, but most definitely allowed. If you think you recognise an anon, keep it to yourself and don’t out them. IP tracking is off, and will remain that way.

Multiple fills are encouraged, and all kinds of fills are accepted! Fic, art, vids, cosplay, interpretive dance — whatever. Go wild! :D

Don’t reprompt until TWO parts after the last posting of the prompt.

RPF (real person fic, i.e. fic involving the actors themselves) is not supported at this meme.

Concrit is welcome, but kinkshaming, hijacking, and flaming are not tolerated.

THE FILLED PROMPTS POST
When you fill a prompt, please use the appropriate Filled Prompts Post to archive your fill (there are instructions on the actual post).

If the part you wanted isn't up yet, just wait and one of the archivists will get to it, but please, once it is up, make sure you post your fills there according to the guidelines. DO NOT skip out on doing this because it seems like too much effort. If you want your fill to make it to the Delicious archive, that’s the way to do it.

Do not be afraid to ask questions about how it works if you are confused! The mods will be happy to explain.

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.

That being said, this is a kink meme. As such, there will be prompts that could offend you in a number of different ways. Not every prompt will have a trigger warning, and not every prompt will rub you the right way. If you have an issue with a specific prompt, feel free to bring it up in a discussion that takes place off the meme. However, flaming will not be tolerated regardless of origin.

You are highly encouraged to scroll past any prompt that you dislike.

Remember: be civil, be friendly, but don’t be shy!

THINGS THAT MAKE BROWSING THE MEME EASIER FOR EVERYONE
Please nest your fills. Doing so will make it easier for archivists to save your fills to the Delicious archive. Using subject lines will also help people reading the meme in flatview keep track of what’s happening. Finally, titling your fills (even if it’s something silly) will be helpful to those tracking a lot of prompts or scrolling through the meme.

PROMPT FREEZES
Depending on the rate of activity, there may or may not be a prompt freeze when a part reaches 2000 and 4500 comments. However, there will be one when it reaches 7000. After the 7000 comments freeze, a new part will be posted, and all prompting should happen on the new part.

CONTACTING MODS
Your mods for this meme are

ellie_hell,

anonspock and

anonbach. If you have any questions, concerns, comments about anything at all on the meme feel free to send a PM or contact us via the Page-A-Mod post.

MEME LINKS
Pinboard Archive - Delicious Archive - Guide to the Archive
Filled Prompts Posts: Parts 1-23 - Parts 24+ - Spoiler Free
The Glorious FAQ - Page-A-Mod

Flat View of This Page - Newest Page in Flatview - Newest Page of the Meme

Love Post - Chatter Post - Searching Post
Concrit Post - Story Announcement Post - Orphan Post
Spoiler Free Prompt Post - Overflow Post

Links to previous prompting parts

OTHER LINKS AND AFFILIATES

sherlock_rant: A place to rant about or discuss anything with few to no restrictions.

sherlock_rpf: This is a kinkmeme for RPF about the show.

sherlockcrit: A multi-fandom betaing/concrit community, with a focus on BBC Sherlock.

sherlockbbc: A community dedicated to the BBC adaptation of Sherlock Holmes.
Useful resources for Sherlock and LiveJournal.
Sherlock screencaps.

NOTICE: All links on the meme are now being screened because of spambot issues. When you submit a comment containing a link, it will be marked as spam. Please don't worry, the mods will unscreen it as soon as they can.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Too bad no one thinks Sherlock needs affection. Too bad no one wants to touch, much less hug, the freak.

Angst, please. Sherlock eventually gets the hug he needs, but damn it hurts in the meantime.

(1/4)
Sherlock slumped against the table, his forehead resting against the rapidly warming wood (currently thirty-five degrees Celcius/ninety-five degrees Fahrenheit/three hundred and eight point one five degrees Kelvin). He hated not having a case. He hated these slow days when he had nothing to do and no way to keep his mind occupied. Days like this made him feel like the junkie he would always be, like an addict locked away as his body strained for anything like the high of a case.

On days like these, he would kill for a cigarette. (Ingredients: acetanisole, acetic acid, acetonin, acetophenone, ammonium alginate, ammonium hydroxide, amyris oil, trans-Anethole, anisoldehyde–)

The worst part of these days was knowing that what he /really/ required wasn’t his seven per cent solution or a mountain of nicotine patches or an incredibly interesting experiment. He knew something that could pull him out of the withdrawals after a case was physical contact; he also knew he couldn’t simply ask someone for the necessary physical contact because he was /Sherlock Holmes./

For now, the table was an adequate substitute for the touch he so desperately wanted (needed?). The contact between his forehead and the wood grounded him some and helped him stop his mind from spiralling out of control.

He heard the door open as John returned from the clinic. When the shorter man finally climbed the stairs (tread less muffled than usual [always starts walking with his left foot, no limp today, limp comes back when it rains] suggesting that he’d worn his older pair of shoes, faint scent of lemon [lemon cleaning wipes in the cabinet with his spare clothes] which always meant he’d had to change into a new shirt after a younger patient was sick in the clinic–), he saw Sherlock sitting upright in the chair and staring into the microscope. He didn’t seem to notice that the younger’s back was unnaturally straight or that Sherlock was practically vibrating out of his skin because of his boredom.

“Tea?” John asked, flashing Sherlock an unaware smile as he passed to pull two mugs from the top shelf. Sherlock made a wordless humming noise that meant something along the lines of /yes please./ When the drink was placed beside him (one sugar, splash of milk, biscuit on the plate–), Sherlock waited until John was upstairs before he picked up the mug in order to cradle the warmth closer to him, closing his eyes to convince his brain that this was enough for now.

Lovely! More!!!!

(2/4)
Being at the lab was no better than being at the flat, which didn’t decrease the feeling of tension bubbling up from beneath Sherlock’s skin. He was too easily distracted from his experiment and every time he heard the slightest sound his eyes would dart up to pinpoint where the sound was made. Molly came in after a bit and Sherlock’s brain lingered on asking her to provide some contact, but the thought only lasted a few moments. Contrary to what John assumed, Sherlock was very aware of the influence he had over Molly and he did not want to encourage her.

Days like today were more conducive to the wielding of a gun than the smoking of countless cigarettes. If John hadn’t moved the gun somewhere Sherlock couldn’t find it without hours of searching, Sherlock would be home right now so he could make a friend for the face on the wall. It might as well have some companionship since no one else seemed to.

His fingers drummed on the table as he scanned the beakers in front of him. Molly left the room and Sherlock looked up again before dragging his focus back onto the task at hand. When she returned after a minute or so (seventy four seconds exactly) he fought to keep his eyes on the beakers. Something rustled as it was placed next to his hand and immediately he looked over to see what it was. A bag of crisps (Walkers, ready salted, thirty-four point five grams, containing potatoes and sunflower oil [thirty-four per cent] and salt, probably in the machine for about two days–) sat there, the wrapping gleaming innocuously at him. He looked up at Molly without speaking.

“Eat,” she suggested—no, /demanded./ “You’re wearing yourself out and you really shouldn’t collapse on those. Corrosive acids and such.”

His startled stare made her cheeks redden but he complied, eating a couple of the crisps without complaint before setting them aside to focus on the experiment. He knew he didn’t need to eat—that wasn’t the problem making him fidget and lose focus on the experiment. As much as he hated to admit it, his transport required physical contact to allow his mind to stop racing one way and then the other.

When he looked up from the experiment again, Molly was gone. Sherlock got up and silently put on his coat, going to the door and binning the rest of the crisps on his way out.

(3/4)
He took to walking through crowded streets, taking the Tube more often than usual, and hated that he’d been driven to such desperate measures. The contact helped some, but the nagging need remained with him for far longer than he would admit.

When he went to bed, he piled the coverlet together and slept pressed close to it and dreamed of easy, comfortable companionship.

When he woke, he felt worse than ever.

—

He got another case. An /interesting/ one. He wanted to weep with the relief of having something to occupy his brain rather than his lack of physical connection with those around him. The case required more running and bullet dodging than usual, but he didn’t mind. He was perfectly content with the case until he saw a stray bullet graze the wall just an inch from his eye.

After the case was over (John chased the shooter, tackled him, called the police, checked Sherlock for injuries; his fingers methodically inspecting Sherlock’s skin felt good enough to make him shiver a bit but John didn’t notice), Sherlock sat in a police car with a blanket around his shoulders. (Material: fifty per cent polyester, fifty per cent wool; colour: eye-searing orange, between #f04f01 and #ff5300) The first case with John replayed in his head, but it felt hazy and distant in comparison to the sick feeling in his skin. He curled further into the shock blanket and imagined it was a living being, offering him some comfort.

Lestrade had given him the blanket. He’d rested his hand on Sherlock’s tense shoulder for a moment as he adjusted it around Sherlock. (His expression was sympathetic, almost relieved as he squeezed his shoulder for a brief moment–) Would he be opposed to…? No. The relationship between himself and Lestrade was professional, so any sign of weakness would only serve to destroy Sherlock’s professional image. He couldn’t–

Knuckles rapped on the window and Sherlock’s eyes snapped open. Sally gave him a slightly concerned but mostly suspicious look. “Your boyfriend’s here to take you home,” she told him, but the usual dislike in her words was almost completely drained away. (She’d used a hair drier that morning instead of air drying like usual; obviously the case had prevented a date, but she didn’t seem upset about it so she wasn’t interested in the potential partner anyway–) He got out of the car, abandoning the blanket so he could follow John toward the road to get a cab.

My heart breaks for him.

(4/4)
When they got home, Sherlock went to the sofa immediately and curled up, his eyes closed. John brought tea and sat next to him. (His steps were curious, bordering on worried; he only made one cup of tea; was he going out–?) “Sherlock,” he murmured.

The way he said Sherlock’s name made the detective’s will crumble and he leaned toward the other a bit. “Hug me,” he mumbled, his forehead against his knees.

(List of base ten Harshad numbers: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 12, 18, 20, 21–)

“What?”

(–24, 27, 30, 36, 40, 42, 45, 48, 50, 54, 60, 63–)

John didn’t sound offended or disgusted, but Sherlock didn’t risk repeating himself. “Nothing,” he muttered as he leaned away again. The next thing he knew, he’d been wrapped in warm, strong arms and there was a cheek against his hair. He froze but gradually relaxed with a quiet sigh.

(–63…)

“Is this what you’ve been needing?” John asked. He sounded a touch amused.

(63…)

Sherlock considered lying before deciding against it. He nodded a little, not wanting to shift and make John move.

(…)

“You’re a ridiculous git, you know that?” The older man laughed quietly, but the sound wasn’t mocking.

“What do you mean?”

“You could have /asked/ like a normal person would. Is this why you’ve been so tense lately? Have you been getting /any/ physical contact?” Sherlock nodded to the first question but chose not to answer the second. “Jesus, Sherlock. Why didn’t you ask?”

Sherlock opened his mouth, excuses such as John’s claim of not being gay, the fact that it was just transport acting up, and his image as a cold detective bubbling up. They didn’t get further than that. “Unnecessary,” he finally murmured, closing his eyes to memorise the sensation.

“Apparently it’s quite necessary.”

“It won’t happen again.”

John paused before shifting a little, which made Sherlock cringe. Was he pulling away? No. John tugged Sherlock’s arms up and wrapped them around himself before hugging him again. “Well, if you’re sure you won’t want help again, best make it a good one.” The doctor rested his cheek against Sherlock’s shoulder now that Sherlock was taller than him again. “You know I don’t mind this, right?”

Sherlock blinked and looked down at John, confused. “But you aren’t…”

Amusement shone in John’s eyes. “Doesn’t mean I’m so insecure I’ll say no to a hug or a cuddle.” He squeezed Sherlock a bit. “Especially when my best friend needs it. If I asked you, you’d be okay with hugging me. Yeah?”

“Yes,” Sherlock answered, a bit hesitant. “But that’s different. You’re not… You…”

“I’m not what?” John gave Sherlock a look. “The world’s only consulting detective?” Apparently Sherlock’s silence was enough of a clue that John took the guess a step further. “You think this is going to ruin your image.” Sherlock gave a terse nod. After a moment that made his muscles tense, he heard John laugh. “Silly bugger.”

He couldn’t see Sherlock’s answering smile, but there was no way he didn’t feel the way Sherlock relaxed against him as they stayed close together for the rest of the evening.

(This is the writer)
I posted this on my ao3 account. If you want to go read it there, the link is /works/1737941

Lovely. Thank you

OP here! I'm so sorry for taking so long to see this. Thank you, I love it. =D

I love this so much!!!!
Thanks for sharing!

Oh, this was wonderful! I needed this angst and the happy ending so much tonight.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only