Sherlock BBC Prompting Meme

"we get all sorts around here."


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

Prompts from this post can be filled on the Overflow Post


GENERAL GUIDELINES
+Anon posting is most definitely allowed, but not required.
+All kinds of fills are accepted! Fic, art, vids, cosplay, interpretive dance--whatever. Go wild! :D
+Keep things neat! Read prompts before you post to see if something similar has already been done, and while you are encouraged to prompt as much as you like, try to fill as well.
+Please do not re-post prompts unless the last time they were prompted was on an older part. Simply put: ONE posting of each prompt per part.
+Until further notice, RPF (real person fic, i.e. fic involving the actors themselves) is not supported at this meme.
+Depending on the rate of activity, there may or may not be a prompt freeze when a part reaches 2500 and 4500 comments.
+However, there will be one when it reaches 7000. Also at 7000, a new part will be posted, and all prompting should happen on the new part.
+Multiple fills are encouraged! (: Just because a prompt has already been claimed by someone, do not be afraid to offer up a second fill.

THE FILLED PROMPTS POST
The new Filled Prompts Post is officially up and running! I’d like to ask that you all are patient as we work out the bugs in the system, but other than that, please 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-- While a mod will do an archiving sweep every now and then, we don’t want to be putting every single fill in the post.
Do not be afraid to ask questions about how it works if you are confused! Either of the mods would be happy to explain.

CONTACTING MODS
There are two mods for this meme. Your main mod is jjgd , and any questions, concerns, comments about anything at all on the meme should be directed to her via either PM or the page-a-mod post.
There is also an archivist: snowishness . If you have questions or concerns regarding the Filled Prompts Post (general questions, broken links, etc.) she can be reached on the page-a-mod post as well.

RE: OFFENSIVELY WORDED PROMPTS
Guys, I will only put in one reminder about this.
Think before you prompt about the way you are asking. It isn’t difficult, and it will only take a minute or so of your time.

That said...
DISCLAIMER
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 have rights to an opinion, of course, just as you have the right to scroll right past a prompt that you dislike.

Remember, guys; Be civil, be friendly, but don’t be shy!

LINKS AND AFFILIATES
- Delicious Archive - Filled Prompts Post - Page-A-Mod - List of all the Prompting Posts - Flat View of This Page - Sherlock RPF Request Post - Overflow Post -

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Werewolf!John with mating urges. John/Sherlock or John/Mycroft.

Hell. MFing. Yes.

Seconded in a major way.

This. Please.
Because Werewolf!John does things to me I'd never have expected.

Wow, I never knew I liked the sound of this until I read the prompt! Am in the process of scribbling a fill for this - first parts should be up in the next couple of days - but if anyone else wants to also have a shot then you can never have too much of a good thing! :)

Fill - part 1/?

(Anonymous)
It took a long time for Sherlock to notice ‘It’, inexcusably long for someone who called himself a detective (not that he’d ever admit that to Scotland Yard or, perish the thought, to Mycroft). However, in his defence, John went to very great lengths to conceal ‘It’.

‘It’ (and the capital letter was entirely deserved) started with John being absent for several nights each month. At first, Sherlock attributed John’s abrupt exits to their frequent arguments about kitchen space and then (later on, when John had bought him a second, smaller fridge for his body parts as an ‘unbirthday present’, whatever that might mean) to John’s tentative relationship with Sarah.

Said relationship eventually fizzled out, due in a large part to the growing attraction between Sherlock and John, and when Sherlock kissed John (and tumbled him into bed a scant fifteen minutes later) Sherlock had assumed that John’s absences would stop and that he would now be sleeping every night in Sherlock’s bed, where he belonged.

But apparently not. A few weeks later, John murmured something about needing more milk and left, only to send Sherlock a text fifteen minutes later saying that something had come up, that he had to be away for a couple of days but that he was fine and would be back as soon as he could. Acting on a suspicion, Sherlock checked under John’s bed and saw that his small, black hold-all was gone, along with a change of clothes and his toothbrush. So, not an entirely unexpected ‘something’, then.

One conclusion might be that John was maintaining a relationship with another lover, elsewhere in the city, but Sherlock dismissed that idea out of hand. Firstly, John was such an ingenuous person that the idea of him betraying someone he loved was ludicrous. Secondly, they had always lived in each other’s pockets to such a degree that not even the most patient lover could be satisfied with the odd scraps of time that were left to John when he wasn’t caught up in Sherlock’s cases. Third, John’s reaction when he caught Sherlock using his mobile or laptop was always and only that of annoyance, never the paranoia or anger that would be expected from someone who had incriminating text messages or emails to hide. And lastly, whenever John returned from his absences he looked exhausted and pale, lines drawn tightly across his face, but had a desperate hunger for Sherlock in a way that silenced the barrage of questions hovering just behind Sherlock’s lips and made him murmur, ‘Yes, all right’ when John pulled him silently and pleadingly in the direction of the bedroom.

John in bed was very…careful. Everything was completely satisfactory, Sherlock would be the first to admit that he had no complaints about anything whatsoever, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that John would never completely allow himself to get caught up in the mood, there was always a part of him that seemed to be distant, unreachable. And while John was usually passionate enough in his response to Sherlock, he did have a few quirks. For example, he would never, ever use his teeth. He would happily spend a long time kissing and stroking Sherlock’s throat, or gently tickling his earlobe with his lips, but would never bite down, even when he was moments away from coming and Sherlock was half out of his mind with clawing at John’s back and begging him hoarsely for yes, more and harder and now, please, now. And John was never rough with Sherlock. Sometimes Sherlock wouldn’t have actually minded John being a bit rough, since getting pounded into the mattress was a sure way to make his brain switch off for once, but when he had tried to explain this to John he had listened intently (reminding Sherlock irresistibly of how he must have looked in the Army when receiving orders) and then nodded and carried on exactly as before.

---

Fill - part 2/?

(Anonymous)
But this time, Sherlock was prepared. It might have taken him an embarrassingly long time to work out what he was dealing with but he had got there in the end and the situation was…well frankly, it was unprecedented in his experience.

In fact, it may well have taken him even longer to make the connection if it hadn’t been for one night (soon after John and he had started sleeping together) when he fell into bed too exhausted to close the curtains, and woke up at 2am because the light of the full moon was shining on his face. Groggily, he got up to pull the curtains shut and wondered hazily why John hadn’t closed them when he came to bed. It took a while for his sleep-fogged brain to remember but eventually he did – John was at Harry’s tonight. He frowned. And had been at Harry’s around this time last month too, saying that Harry wanted to cook dinner for them both and he would probably end up staying late and sleeping on her sofa. And (Sherlock strove to remember) the month before that, hadn’t there been a medical conference that John had attended in Bath? Sherlock wasn’t sure, but he could swear that it had also been around the time of the full moon.

Once Sherlock had managed to suspend his considerable instinct of disbelief towards anything even vaguely paranormal, it was a simple enough matter to carry out a series of subtle experiments over the following weeks, subtle experiments that nevertheless proved to be extraordinarily revealing:

1) The first discovery was that John always knew the phase of the moon. Often he would pretend he didn’t, hesitating when Sherlock asked him and then carefully saying that he had no idea with an honest air that would have fooled anyone else. But if Sherlock could catch him off guard then John would respond before he could think about it and he was always, always right.

2) When Sherlock left a Petri dish containing a small pile of ground silver squarely in the middle of the kitchen table John took the bread knife and, when he thought Sherlock wasn’t looking, nudged it to the far corner, as carefully as though it contained a pile of arsenic.

3) Finally, Sherlock brought back an armful of Aconitum vulparia and strewed it liberally across the kitchen table, ostensibly for a toxicology experiment. When John wanted to make dinner later that evening, he stopped as soon as he entered the kitchen. Sherlock was sitting at the table in the sitting room, checking his website, but he could feel John’s eyes boring into the back of his head, and a few moments later he heard John made a faint noise under his breath (that Sherlock tried hard to tell himself wasn’t a growl) as he opened the food fridge to take out ingredients. When Sherlock risked a brief glance over his shoulder, a few minutes later, it was to see John, with tea-towel-wrapped hands, awkwardly pushing the pile of greenery into an old basin before shoving it with the toe of his boot into the corner of the kitchen.

Sherlock had turned back around and stared at his laptop screen, feeling a low thrill running through his stomach. It oughtn’t to be possible, not in this day and age; this was the sort of thing that belonged in fairy tales, and low-budget horror films. Nevertheless, when you had eliminated the impossible then whatever remained, however improbable…

And so this time, Sherlock had made certain…preparations.

---

One afternoon, when the previous night’s moon had been a fat gibbous with only the smallest sliver shaved off it, Sherlock paid a visit to a small shop a few streets away while John was out. When he returned, he stuck his head around the door of John’s room to confirm his theory and smiled in satisfaction when he saw the discreet black hold-all already packed and waiting at the foot of John’s bed.

Fill - part 3/?

(Anonymous)
John returned, and Sherlock watched out of the corner of his eye as John made tea and updated his blog as he drank it and generally tried to behave like a complete stereotype of A Normal Person. A normal person who had somewhere to be, if the frequent glances at his watch and out of the window were any indication.

‘Off out this evening?’ Sherlock asked innocently, noting John’s slight jump at the sound of Sherlock’s voice.

‘No,’ John answered, just the slightest bit too quickly, before correcting himself with a forced laugh. ‘Well, yes, actually. It’s funny you should ask, because–’

‘Can I have a word with you before you go?’

Without looking to see if John was following, Sherlock led the way into his bedroom and locked the door behind them. He pocketed the key, tucking it into the little case he had purchased that afternoon and turned to face John, who was looking nervous. ‘I was wondering whether you’d prefer Chinese or Italian for dinner this evening?’

John shifted his feet, now looking slightly uncomfortable. ‘Sorry, I’m not actually going to be here for dinner. I’m…off to see Harry again.’

Sherlock noted the slight hesitation before the lie. Bollocks are you going to see your sister, he thought. It was interesting – clearly on some level John was unhappy about lying to Sherlock and wanted to tell the truth, although he knew he never would. Given the nature of this particular truth, Sherlock didn’t blame him.

‘Oh right,’ he said, ‘well, no problem. Another time then.’

‘Yes,’ agreed John, looking relieved that (locked door notwithstanding) this was apparently all Sherlock had wanted to talk to him about. ‘So…can I have the key, then?’

‘Of course.’ Sherlock took the case out of his pocket and, holding it lightly on his palm, offered it to John. ‘It’s in here.’

As John’s hand reached out for the case, he glanced at it and then jerked his eyes back up to meet Sherlock’s gaze in shock. Sherlock allowed himself a small, inward shout of triumph: he’d been right. The case sat on his palm between them: an old cigarette case (early Victorian if he was any judge), with beautiful engraving on the lid and maker’s stamp discreetly on the back.

And made from solid silver.

Hand hovering, John’s nostrils flared and his eyes bored into Sherlock’s own, looking for the slightest hint of knowledge. Sherlock didn’t move a muscle, hanging on determinedly to his expression of innocent geniality as John’s gaze flicked between his eyes, trying to read his thoughts.

‘Problem?’ Sherlock thrust his hand forward just the tiniest bit, encouraging John to take the small box and John managed, ‘No, ‘course not,’ as he picked it up. He turned away almost instantly but Sherlock heard a gasp and a muffled curse as, a second later, the case clattered to the ground at John’s feet.

Fill - part 4/?

(Anonymous)
Silence screamed in the air between them, and Sherlock stepped around John to pick up the case from the floor as John rubbed his hand like a man who had just brushed up against a hot stove.

‘Careful with that,’ Sherlock murmured, suddenly finding it difficult to catch his breath. ‘It’s an antique, you know.’

‘It’s got a sharp edge to it,’ John grunted. ‘Something just nicked my skin. Can you give me the key, please?’

‘Well, be more careful this time.’ Sherlock held the case out to John again, ignoring his request, and when John made no move to take it he breathed, ‘my God. It’s true, isn’t it?’

Instantly, John turned away. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Can you give me the damn key, please?’

‘Take it.’ He held his hand out again, and John ignored it.

‘Sherlock, I don’t have time to piss about with you, will you just give me the–’

‘Take it–’

‘Sherlock!’ John shouted in sudden fury and then instantly bit his lip, breathing hard and making a visible effort to stay calm. ‘Just give me the bloody thing.’

‘You can’t touch it, can you?’ Sherlock murmured. ‘God, I thought I knew what was going on but even so, this is incredible.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, and this isn’t funny any more. Joke’s over,’ John said tightly.

Sherlock thrust the case forwards again, towards John’s bare hand, and watched as John almost managed to repress his instinctive flinch away from it.

‘You’re a werewolf,’ Sherlock said softly, watching John’s face. ‘It hurts you, doesn’t it?’

Instead of answering, John looked at the window, expression taut and desperate now, and Sherlock read his thoughts.

‘I wouldn’t,’ he answered. ‘If what I’ve read is true then it wouldn’t do you any permanent damage but even so, a man crashing to the ground from a second-floor window would attract rather a lot of attention and possibly an enforced trip to hospital by well-meaning members of the public. I would guess that, at this time of the month, that’s the last thing you want.’

‘You’re being ridiculous.’ John forced a laugh. ‘There’s no such thing as werewolves, they’re just a kids’ story.’

‘Oh, I think I would beg to differ,’ Sherlock answered gently, and watched as John’s expression crumpled. Without looking at Sherlock, he collapsed onto the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands.

‘You know,’ John’s voice was muffled through his fingers. ‘I could probably burst my way through that door. Or attack you until you give me the key in self-defence.’

‘Knocking down my bedroom door would definitely draw attention,’ Sherlock said dryly, ‘as well as increasing our rent. And as for attacking me…’ He came to sit next to John on the bed. ‘Very poor threat, since I know you’ll never follow it through. You forget that I know you, John Watson. You’d do better to talk to me.’

When John’s hands didn’t leave his face, Sherlock began speaking. ‘You always know what phase of the moon it is, although you often pretend you don’t, and when you “stay over at Harry’s” it’s always around full moon. You didn’t like the wolfsbane that I brought back two weeks ago and,’ Sherlock gently took one of John’s hands and examined the reddened skin on his fingertips, ‘silver burns you.’ Sherlock brushed John’s palm lightly, watching John’s fingers curl reflexively around his own as he continued, ‘I’ve not yet been able to determine whether you shave your palms…’

The visible corner of John’s mouth twisted up in a reluctant smile and finally he dropped his concealing hand to say, ‘no, I don’t shave my palms, you madman. And nor do my eyebrows meet in the middle, thanks very much. But I do have quite long ring fingers.’ To illustrate, John held out his hands, palms facing away, and now that Sherlock knew what to look for he could see that the third finger on each of John’s hands was indeed very long, disproportionately so for the size of his hands. ‘And by the way, we prefer the word “bimorph”.’

Fill - part 5/?

(Anonymous)
Politically correct werewolves for the 21st century, Sherlock thought, inwardly amused but having more tact than to show it.

Heaving a sigh, John continued. ‘Well, since you’ve got this far on your own I might as well tell you, since I don’t suppose there’s any hope of you dropping this? No. Didn’t think so.’ He spread his hands in a gesture of defeat. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Are you going to change, since it’s full moon?’ Sherlock asked immediately, that clearly being the issue to get out of the way first. If he was about to be confronted with a large carnivore, then he needed at least a bit of warning.

‘No. Contrary to legend and folklore, modern bimorphs don’t have to change when the moonlight hits us, we’ve managed to overcome that. We’re more or less able to change whenever we want to, but at full moon it’s much easier and everything just feels generally…closer to the surface.’ John looked frustrated, and Sherlock tried to imagine how restrictive it must be to try and describe the physical feeling in a language that was completely unsuited to the task. ‘I heal fast, very fast, but I still scar from serious injuries, hence my shoulder. And the old beliefs about wolfsbane and silver still hold true, time hasn’t done anything to change those.’ John flexed his red fingers in Sherlock’s loose clasp. ‘Obviously. It’s frowned upon to take a mate who’s not also a bimorph, but if you do then you’re not supposed to stay with them during full moon.’

Sherlock had been silent during this – once John started speaking it seemed to loosen a dam inside him and the words poured forth – but after the last point John flushed slightly and fell silent.

‘To prevent the possibility of infection?’ Sherlock prompted gently, and John looked puzzled for a moment before his face cleared.

‘No! God no, nothing like that. My…condition is genetic, so there’s really no possible way I could pass it on to you. Christ, Sherlock, I wouldn’t have even touched you if there was a possibility I might give this to you.’

Now John looked slightly offended, and Sherlock squeezed his hand briefly in apology as he tried to delicately ask, ‘So do you become dangerous, then, at full moon?’

John hesitated for a long moment before answering. ‘Yes. Sort of. It would certainly be better if I weren’t here. Will you give me the key now?’

‘Of course not,’ Sherlock huffed. ‘You should know me better than that. What do you mean, “sort of”?’ But when John looked away, clearly not wanting to reply, Sherlock changed tack. ‘You said “we prefer the word ‘bimorph’”. Does that mean that there’s a lot of you, then?’

‘Yes. Not that many, but few hundred, in England at least. There’s an underground network of us all across the UK and Europe; it’s a secret that’s lasted hundreds of years, no government has ever found out about us.’ John looked at Sherlock, suddenly mistrustful and clearly thinking of Mycroft and his ‘minor position in the British Government’. ‘Not so far, anyway. Otherwise we’d all be rounded up and transferred to a secure lab somewhere in Siberia.’

Sherlock supposed he couldn’t really blame John for being wary, since a secure underground lab in a remote location would certainly be the ultimate destination for any werewolf, sorry, bimorph found running around modern-day London. But he wasn’t entirely able to conceal his chagrin at John’s lack of confidence in him.

‘Please,’ he snorted, ‘when have you ever known me to confide in Mycroft about anything? Your secret is safe with me. But how did you manage in Afghanistan?’

John shrugged. ‘During the nights I just made an effort to stay apart from other people. There was always someone who was willing to swap their night guarding shift with no questions asked. And during the day…well. When you’re living in a war zone then there are any number of reasons to be a bit tense and…snappish.’

Fill - part 6/?

(Anonymous)
‘Did you ever change into a wolf while you were out there?’

‘Yes, if I knew that I had complete privacy for a few hours. It’s oddly relaxing, and animal senses are much better for guarding than human ones. Much sharper.’

‘Hmm.’ Sherlock was silent for a moment, digesting the new information, before saying idly, ‘that could have been handy when we were trapped in that swimming pool with Moriarty.’

‘Sherlock,’ the exasperated look that John gave him was so dearly familiar that Sherlock grinned. ‘We had fifteen snipers covering us, and were trapped like rats in a barrel. What the hell good would it have done for one of us to have suddenly turned into a wolf?’

Sherlock tried to look innocently helpful as he suggested, ‘Element of surprise?’ and watched as John giggled briefly.

Sobering, John got up from the bed and moved to the window, watching the last rays of the setting sun touch the house opposite, making it look as though the walls were running with molten gold.

‘I’m going to need that key now, Sherlock,’ John said quietly, turning back around to look at him and leaning against the window frame.

‘First tell me why we’re not meant to be near each other,’ Sherlock countered, pulling the cigarette case out of his pocket and setting it down on his desk with a click. ‘Then I’ll give you the key. You said you’re only “sort of” dangerous. What does that mean?’

‘What if I just want to leave?’ John asked bluntly.

Sherlock tilted his head to the side. ‘The fact that you’ve lingered here talking this long would suggest otherwise. You don’t want to leave; you just feel that you ought to. Why?’

Turning his face away, John stayed stubbornly mute and Sherlock noted, ‘Your cheeks are turning pink, so whatever the reason is you’re embarrassed about it. Given what you’ve already told me, I can’t imagine there’s much else you’d get embarrassed about, unless it was something… oh God, it’s something sexual, isn’t it? It’s something to do with me.’

John’s faint flush deepened. He looked absolutely mortified, and Sherlock quickly crossed the room to kiss him, before John could change his mind about throwing himself through the window. Sherlock hands cradled John’s face as John’s mouth opened readily against his and he kissed him back hotly, hands coming to rest lightly on Sherlock’s waist.

‘John,’ Sherlock murmured against his wet lips. ‘You’ve had my cock in your mouth and up your arse, you’ve fucked me bent over that sofa out there, and I’ve been on my knees sucking you off while you were typing a text to Mycroft–’

‘Don’t remind me,’ John groaned softly, closing his eyes.

‘And I’ve fucking loved every single second of it, do you hear me? So whatever it is, I’m sure you can tell me.’

‘When it’s full moon,’ John said slowly, every word sounding as though it was being wrung from him against his will, ‘my kind get a strong urge to…procreate.’

Involuntarily, Sherlock’s eyes flicked down to John’s groin. ‘So do you transform…down there?’

‘No!’ Interesting. Sherlock had thought it was impossible for John to go any redder than he had been. Clearly he was wrong. ‘No, you loon, everything stays completely normal. Jesus.’ John sighed, defeated. ‘But we can be a bit rough, when we’re…you know. Hence the reason why it’s frowned on to take a human as a mate, and the reason why we’re not meant to be with them at full moon.’

‘So basically,’ Sherlock breathed, a full-blown erotic picture slowly forming in his head, ‘all those nights you’ve been disappearing, you’ve not been at Sarah’s or Harry’s at all, have you? You’ve been–’

‘Locking myself into a cheap hotel room on the other side of London and getting myself off, yes,’ John finished for him. ‘Repeatedly, if you must know.’

Re: Fill - part 6/?

(Anonymous)
Jesus. That's hot, and you haven't even got to the smut yet. More please, and quickly.

you chose to pause there?! *ish dead from suspense*
oh god I can't wait for the rest

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So it's a good thing this already got a fill, because my attempt turned out to be not so much about Werewolf!John at all. Um...

my body when it is with your, S/J, NC-17, over 10k words--which is why I'm posting it offsite.

@ LiveJournal
@ DreamWidth
@ An Archive of Our Own

Edited at 2010-11-10 08:40 pm (UTC)

Not OP

(Anonymous)
Oh God.

*Speechless with AWE*

AMAZING. I need to read a million more stories in this verse. :D

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