Sherlock BBC Prompting Meme

"we get all sorts around here."

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Prompting Part XXXII
Giggles at the Palace
Please check the Sticky Post to find the newest active part and post your prompts there.

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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
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Links to previous prompting parts

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.

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Reprompt: Holding it all together


Anthea is ill. Mycroft sends her home. England suffers.

(No pairings)

Believe 1/?

When Mycroft is four, Mummy took him to the lake.

"Don't get too close to the edge, dear, it will be dark soon," she says as she lays out a blanket for their picnic. Just the two of them, like she promised.

"Yes of course Mummy." No need to be childish and catch a cold, after all.

The sun set slowly, as if reluctant to go. And that's when Mycroft first saw them.

The lights swirled in the fog beyond the edge of the water, dancing just out of reach.


"Ah, I think those are fairies, dear."

Mycroft blinked. He was too old for fairy stories, surely Mummy knew.

She must have seen the doubt on his face. "Now don't be like that, Mycroft. When every new baby is born its first laugh becomes a fairy. One of those is probably yours, you just have to believe."

Mycroft wasn't sure it worked like that. But the lights were rather pretty and they made Mummy happy. "Alright Mummy."


When Mycroft is seven, Mummy came home and he had a brother.

"Sherlock." She says, when he asks for a name.

"Sherlock." He repeats. The name echoes in the hall as if he will say it a million times.

Mummy looked tired, so Mycroft asks "Will he have a fairy, too?"

"Perhaps," she answers, and she still looked tired but now she was smiling. Mycroft smiled too.


When Mycroft is thirteen, Sherlock wanted to be a pirate.

"As if any respectable pirate would lose to a bunch of children," Sherlock scoffed as he sat and watched Peter Pan.

Mummy was busy and the sitter wanted a break so she had found the old tape. Mycroft didn't blame her. Still, he probably should not leave Sherlock wandering the house alone.

"Well, they do have Tinkerbell, and they can fly," Mycroft reasons.

Sherlock sneered, "Don't tell me you believe in fairies, Mycroft."

Mycroft didn't reply, and turned back to his homework.


When Mycroft is eighteen, he was officially starting his third year of university.

Unofficially, he was also starting a job that would make Mummy frown and worry.

And one day when he had to answer too many phone calls and smile too many fake smiles and fix too many of the world's too many problems, he went back to the lake.

And that's when he met her.


A quote from Peter Pan: "And now when every new baby is born its first laugh becomes a fairy. So there ought to be one fairy for every boy or girl."

And I promise Anthea is coming soon, this is not just a rant about fairies but I got hit with a truckload of ridiculous backstory for some reason (my brain...idek).

Believe 2/?

He finds her standing in the water, not quite in the lake but not quite out of it, either, the edges of her form fading into the fog. At first he isn't sure what to do, convinced that she was just a sign that his sleep-deprived mind had somehow finally cracked. So he stares. Mummy would tell him it is impolite, but he is weary beyond politeness now.

Eventually she notices him, and he sees her stiffen and turn. For one second she looks angry and feral and, if he will admit to himself, almost scary. Then the moment passes and she is nothing more than a girl, looking as tired as he feels.

Mycroft finds himself at a loss for words, despite all the days and weeks and months of exchanging empty pleasantries.

Nothing seems adequate. In the end he just settles for "Hello."

The greeting seemed to shake her, and he imagines she looks a little more solid than before.

His brain must not be working properly after the near-disastrous discussion with a Russian ambassador earlier that day, because the next words he heard coming out of his own mouth were "Are you a fairy?"

He clicks his jaw shut with a snap, and winces at how stupid that sounded, even if he is standing by a foggy lake with a half foggy girl that probably maybe was only the product of his foggy mind.

She straightens a bit, and looks at him curiously. " father was not..." Her voice sounds small, like she is not used to speaking at all. "I'm different," she says after a pause, and looks away, back to the lights over the lake in the distance.

Mycroft thinks of Sherlock, so different and so alone. He thinks of how his brother's voice sounded just as small and lost for just a moment when Mycroft was leaving for university, like the world was too big and there was nothing to anchor him anymore. And Mycroft thinks he understands.

"I believe you," is what he says instead. And something from his childhood echoes in his head, I do believe in fairies, I do, I do.

She steps fully out of the water, then, edges becoming clear as she leaves the fog. It is unspoken, but they both knew she would follow him when he leaves the lake today. He is her tie to this world now, her purpose to stay.

He clears his throat. "What's your name, then?"

She just smiles. "There is power in names."

He just nods. Nothing is too strange anymore.

When he returns to his office, the morning light is just fighting to rise above the towering buildings of the city. He sets her up as his personal assistant, and nobody questions it. His work becomes twice as efficient within a week.

By the time Mycroft is twenty-three, he practically is the British government, and nobody even looks twice at his nameless shadow with the small, knowing smile.

Re: Believe 2/?

(Not OP)

I never knew I wanted fairy!Anthea, but I'm so glad this exists. <3 Can't wait for more!

Believe 3/3

When Mycroft is twenty-seven, he missed two important phone calls and a meeting for the first time since Sherlock first overdosed and he ran out of the room, politics
be damned. That was over a year ago. Something was wrong.

He brushes off the curious look from one of his office staff, and eventually finds her on the roof. She is swaying with the breeze, eyes glazed over and staring into nothing as the sun sets.

Mycroft does not ask if she is alright. It is obvious that she is not, but he does not know what he can do and so he stands with her as she looks at something he cannot see.

It's not until she falls in a crumpled heap that he realizes. She was staring in the direction of the lake.

He calls for a car and picks her up, thankful that everybody in the building knew better than to question him when he was walking with a purpose, even if he did have an unconscious woman in his arms.

By the time they reach the shore of the lake, the sun had mostly set and she was as pale as the fog itself. He sets her down on the edge, not quite in the lake but not quite out of it. She barely has time to shiver before she fades into the fog.

Mycroft stands alone for a long time, the cold water ruining his exquisitely polished Italian leather shoes.

A few weeks later, Mycroft fires his third replacement assistant and downs a glass of scotch so quickly it burns.


"I need you." He says into the fog. It is no passionate declaration or desperate plea. It is simply the truth.

Relations with China have been rocky for weeks now. Mycroft himself has not slept in days. He cannot remember feeling this tired since before her. Running a country is really too much for one person, even Mycroft Holmes.

"I believe," he whispers. He feels a bit silly, the British Government believing in fairies and whispering childish promises into the fog. But, if he thinks about it, fairy or not he believes in her.

He says nothing else. He doesn't even have a name to call.


The next morning she is at her desk as if she never left, Blackberry in hand no doubt firing off commands that will put the country back in line.

She was away from home too long, she says. She'll have to go back sometimes, but she knows she is needed here.

Mycroft smiles his first true smile in months. And if his eyes were a little too moist, neither of them ever mentioned it.

Within a week, China backed off and Mycroft finally manages to get a good night's sleep.


When Mycroft is twenty-nine, he manages to tactfully avoid nuclear war with North Korea. Again. He also managed to steer Sherlock into a hobby that was not drugs, provided that certain detective can keep a promise and not kick Sherlock off all his crime scenes. Mycroft counts the two victories as equal.

He wakes up rested after the tense negotiations the night before to the sound of birds and the warmth of spring.

He picks up the phone and sends a text.

Cancel all of my appointments today, but have a car ready. - MH

He had promised her a picnic.

Re: Believe 3/3


Not what I was expecting, but that was very sweet and beautiful, anon :)

Thank you :D

Re: Believe 3/3

I absolutely love this. Fantastic. <3

Re: Believe 3/3

Wow, I had missed this until someone commented and it came up on my email feed. This is gorgeous. And I also love connecting it with Barrie and Peter Pan because of his friendship with ACD and their interest in fairies, so it gives it this added dimension.
Thank you!

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