(no subject)

[nny]

[Poll #1601159]



ALSO: I promise to consider ficlet prompts. I do not promise to write them, but I promise to consider them. Merlin, Sherlock, Good Omens, probably other stuff. Procrastination woot!

Comments

[last-archangel.livejournal.com]

I've been craving GO/Sherlock fic for about two days now, and I think you would manage it awesomely.

(It's generally "hoodie," by the way, at least in the States. Dunno about elsewhere. &hearts)

[villainny.livejournal.com]

The door tinkles when he opens it; a small brass bell on a curled spring hook arrangement that John hadn't thought anyone even had any more. But then the whole shop's like that, a turn of the century feel to it that feels bizarrely comfortable, as though it's the rest of the world that he doesn't quite belong in.

The shopkeeper is behind a battered desk, doing something vaguely surgical to the spine of a book, blond head bent forward and small glasses perched low on his nose; he looks up at the noise and gives John a slow and peaceful smile.

"Hello," he murmurs, low-voiced. "You must be Sherlock's - "

He doesn't give a name to it, but there's a lack of the sort of winking, sideways-smirking implications that everyone else's voices leave a space for. It's more as though the man doesn't know what to call it because it's currently in a space without definition; John sometimes feels like that, too.

"Is he here?" John asks, and the shopkeeper nods as he shushes him, manicured finger held up to his lips. The neatness of his nails is an odd contrast to the rest of him, all battered tweed and dust. John faintly resents being silenced - the ranks of books notwithstanding, the place isn't a library - but follows the beckoning finger anyway, walking along a short corridor piled high on both sides with books and coming to a pleasant sort of back room. It's got plants in every nook, and books in every cranny, and a ridiculously tall and gangling detective spread across a battered leather sofa, fast asleep.

"Have you drugged him?" John hisses, taking a quick step forward.

"No, my dear, of course not!" the shopkeeper answers, sounding only very mildly offended. "He's my best customer."

It must be the serenity of the space, then, that's eased into Sherlock's bones - because there's something about the shopkeeper's voice that banishes even the possibility of lies. John takes another step closer, oddly fascinated by the peace on Sherlock's face.

"You don't mind if I - ?" he asks, gesturing to the armchair. The shopkeeper smiles.

"Not at all, my dear chap, I'll make you a cup of tea. Since you're Sherlock's."

And this time, it doesn't even sound like there's a word missing. John can sort of see his point.

[brewsternorth.livejournal.com]

That is beautiful. And trust Aziraphale to cater to the dynamic duo's hierarchy of needs: books, rest, tea and sympathy.

[last-archangel.livejournal.com]

Oh, I truly love you, and this story. *hugs tightly* I needed this, thank you so much1

(PS: Made even better by the appearance of Castiel in your icon.)

[genarti]

<33333

[mardia.livejournal.com]

Sherlock fic, where John has a high fever and Sherlock acts accordingly. Or doesn't act accordingly, as the case may be. And heh, it's hoodie in the US, but I don't know where people call it elsewhere.

[villainny.livejournal.com]

John's dry, rattling cough keeps him up all night - keeps them both up, and quite possibly Mrs Hudson too, since one flight of stairs apparently does nothing to keep the sound from Sherlock's bedroom. It's not that Sherlock had any particular designs on sleep, but the sporadic coughing and the way his brain tries to ascribe a rhythm to it, an algorithm to determine whether John's getting better, is distracting. But if he is distracted, by morning, then John is positively nonsensical; wittering on about anything and everything from bulldogs to bee-keeping, catching his dry voice in the cracks of the words and stumbling from topic to topic without making more than a sentence of sense.

He's too hot, too, hunched under the duvet and shivering. Not too far gone to give him a strange look when Sherlock presses a hand to his forehead, but beyond the protesting of it; he just turns his head against the pillow, in entirely the wrong direction to protest. Sherlock sweeps a thumb across John's brow, disordering the strands of hair that have stuck there.

"Sherlock?" John croaks.

"Yes?"

His mouth tilts up into a very small smile, his teeth rattling against each other inside it.

"Thought you were a dream again," he manages.

Again, Sherlock thinks.

"You're stuck with the real me, unfortunately. Can I get you anything?"

"Drink?" John says. "Cup of tea, Mrs Hudson, and some biscuits if you've - " his voice strains and thins out towards the end, then is lost entirely in a fit of coughing that makes Sherlock's stomach muscles clench in sympathy.

"Right," says Sherlock, "drink," and he clatters down the staircase, shouting for Mrs Hudson at the bottom. It's Tuesday, of course it would have to be Tuesday, the morning she always spends delivering shopping to the local derelicts, but he's not entirely sure how to cope with this one on his own.

Water, glass, thoroughly rinsed even though he's almost certain it wasn't the one with the entrails. He goes into the bathroom to stare vaguely into the medicine cabinet for a moment, but there's only nicotine, John's painkillers, the vitamins he's always trying to get Sherlock to take. They really ought to be more equipped, but everything always seems to end in hospitals, these days.

tbc

[villainny.livejournal.com]

Somewhere in the back, though, questing fingers find a box of ibuprofen; there's really no telling how long they've been there but it's got to be better than nothing at all. Sherlock nestles them in the crook of his elbow then soaks a flannel, ringing it out almost entirely before draping it over his arm like a waiter.

Upstairs, he lays it across John's forehead.

" - really help," John says, on an unsteady croak, and Sherlock rolls his eyes.

"I know it doesn't, but it doesn't hurt. How does it feel?"

"Good," John says on a sigh. "Better."

"Well then."

"We'll have to change the curtains though," he continues. "They won't stay still."

"Absolutely," Sherlock answers, with an attempt at a smile, helping John to sit so the water goes into rather than onto him; his too-hot weight is unfamiliar against Sherlock's side, and he freezes when John's head turns to rest against his collarbone. It's an effort of acrobatics to slide his phone from his pocket; PLEASE HELP, he types, I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO.

(It's entirely too galling, scrolling through his phone book, to stop on the Ls, but it's - it's John, and that's enough to scroll through to the Ms.)

[deepbluemermaid.livejournal.com]

Ohhh, lovely H/C. If anything could get Sherlock to contact Mycroft, it would have to be a very sick John.

[mardia.livejournal.com]

Oooh, I love this, and I can't believe I managed to miss it until now!

[ilostmynuts.livejournal.com]

This is lovely.

[xtinethepirate.livejournal.com]

Absolutely lovely. The final sentence made me both squee and laugh at the same time. Oh, Sherlock.

[brewsternorth.livejournal.com]

Always thought it was "hoodie" in 'standard' spelling on both sides of the Atlantic, but there might be regional differences in usage/spelling.

GO/Sherlock, Crowley and Team Lestrade.

[villainny.livejournal.com]

UGH NOW I HAVE A PLOT FOR A WHOLE STORY IN MY HEAD DAMN YOU.


Lestrade pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Walker, put the bloody case down where you found it. Exactly where you found it; Cardwell's got the crime scene photos if you need them. Anderson, if you're going to have an aneurysm you have it on your own time, am I clear?"

He lets out a huff of dissatisfaction, then turns to the man beside him.

"Sorry, it's not usually like this, Chief Inspector - "

"Crowley."

"Crowley, right." He knew that, he did know that, his brain just doesn't seem to want to keep hold of the bloke next to him, to his pointedly modern hair cut and sunglasses and stylish shoes. "Oh for - Anderson!"

Anderson turns his cold fish face in Lestrade's direction, pallid skin folded into a truly impressive frown.

"Get that idiot away from the fingerprinting, will you?"

"Kaur is perfectly capable - "

"Well apparently not," Lestrade says, exasperated, gesturing over to where the PC has managed to cover himself and an improbably large number of Modern Crime Classics in grey powder. "Which is why you're going to do it yourself, and show him how to do it properly, and not let him near the powder again until I get over my homicidal urges."

There's a headache settling in right behind his left eye; he doesn't want to pull Sherlock in on this one, isn't sure he can put up with rants about sacrilege when he sees what's been done to the books, but it's a regular locked door mystery, this one. The owner's missing, too, with nothing to show for it except for a circle on the floor of the back room, surrounded in chalked sigils. Not to mention the higher-ups they've put on his case...

"Listen up," he says, raising his voice a little. "This is Chief Inspector Crowley, he's going to be keeping an eye on us, give us a hand with this one."

"Oh?" Anderson says, in a voice that's not far off his snidest. "And where has he come from?"

"Down under," Crowley says, and Anderson looks confused.

"You don't sound Australian."

Crowley just smirks.

[pinigir.livejournal.com]

Loved this one and the others. Great to see the crossovers between Sherlock and Good Omens. :-)

[sonicbookmark.livejournal.com]

MOAR OF THIS PLEASE THANK YOU.

[renshai.livejournal.com]

It's a bunnyhug, dagnabbit. (But only if you're from Saskatchewan, I guess.)

[genarti]

Sherlock meets the Slash Dragon in the basement.

[villainny.livejournal.com]

*makes note for self that this is done*

XD

[pennyplainknits.livejournal.com]

I would pay cash money to see Sterling (Sterling! \0/) interact with Sherlock.

[havenstar.livejournal.com]

oh my god, I am currently watching the Sherlock pilot and have been screeching, clapping, and bouncing enough to make my chair squeak. THIS SHOW OH MY GOD THIS SHOW I'M SO HAPPY

PROMPT: Watson meets a girl, Sherlock ruins everything probably deliberately

I am certain this will actually happen in the show at some point, if it hasn't already oh my god I'm so excited to finish watching.

aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh the revival and reimagining of one of my favourite classic fandoms has made this past year SO GREAT. joyjoyjoyjoy

[villainny.livejournal.com]

*just. Points*

XD

[havenstar.livejournal.com]

HE'S TOTALLY ALREADY DONE IT HASN'T HE

I NEED THE SECOND EPISODE I NEED IT RIGHT NOW WHERE IS IT AAAAAHHHHHHHHH


working on downloading it now :| WHY CAN'T IT JUST TRANSMIT DIRECTLY TO MY BRAIN

[havenstar.livejournal.com]

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA YESSSSSSSSSS

THIS SHOW THIS SHOW I LOVE THIS SHOW

[villainny.livejournal.com]

INORITE. It's faily on multiple points, it has to be said, but it's just so very tempting to forgive it for being cute and easy to redeem through fanfic...

[emmarrrrr.livejournal.com]

fgkjghkjghkgjh dear aziraphale, please never change.

this is ridiculously adorable. so much so that i appear to have lost the ability to use capital letters. just. oh.

[roseinlove12.livejournal.com]

Oh, God. There must be more! :O

[xtinethepirate.livejournal.com]

Directed to these ficlets from holmesian_news and between squeeing over Good Omens/Sherlock xovers, noticed your poll. In some parts of Canada, they're called "bunny hugs." Haven't a clue why.

(and, on the off chance that you're still considering prompts... Sherlock on a scene with Vimes, what with all his canon anti-deductive reasoning stance in Feet of Clay and all. :))