Sherlock BBC Prompting Meme

"we get all sorts around here."

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Prompting: Part V
Giggles at the Palace
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

+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 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.

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.

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...
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!

Delicious Archive - Filled Prompts Post - Page-A-Mod
Check the Sticky Post to find a list of all the prompting posts. - Flat View of This Page
Love Post - Rant Post
Sherlock RPF Request Post - Overflow Post

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Sherlock. Moriarty. Lobster Knife Fight.

Is this an AU where they're all lobsters, or do they have their pet lobsters fight their battles for them?

That *so* needs to be made an icon.

Quoted anon is deeply flattered to see her words immortalised.

What the hell, writing a fill.

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kuoicwsg (Anonymous) Expand
Either or, I'm not picky. Though the first is far more lolsy.

I'm blaming the second beer for the fact I've been laughing about this, hard, for at least 5 minutes now.

Oh, fangirls: we are all cray-cray.

WTF is my excuse, I don't even drink. I think I hurt myself laughing just now.

Now I'm thinking about the Eddie Izzard thing about sending crabs & lobsters to fight Achilles.

Captcha says: 30 constun = yes, Mycroft constantly has 30 lobsters on staff in his security division.

Cray-cray like crayfish!

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Fff, I'm almost done filling this but I seriously need to go to bed. Tomorrow there shall be lobster fic. Watch this space.

Also, Mycroft put waves under the Captcha words. Clearly he's watching our every insane move.

*salutes* Aye, aye Captain! *creepily and intensely stares at fill's space*

This is What Happens

When I'm bored, can't sleep and can't get my own prompt out of my head: I do lazy photoshops that look terrible.

Re: This is What Happens

I love you, Anon. Please have my Photoshop babies!

And make them look like lobsters.

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Some time I will stop laughing at this and go to bed...any time now...nope, still laughing!

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that picture showed me how to love.

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*is ded of lols*

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Can't laugh. Eyes will explode. Can't laugh. Eyes will explode. Can't laugh. Eyes will explode. Can't laugh. Eyes will explode. Can't laugh. Eyes will explode. Can't laugh. Eyes will explode.

Re: This is What Happens

If I fail at college because of this thing of wondrous beauty, I won't be regretting a single thing.


FILL: The Lobster Quadrille 1/3

Somewhere, there’s a gunshot and two out of three bodies break the water surface in a mass of entangled limbs. The deafening explosion that follows drowns out the sound of the splashing entirely.

The story of how many, if any, of those three bodies walk away from that pool isn’t this story. And when we say three bodies, we mean four or five. Or more than five. Or five bodies and a lot of laser pointers. Anyway, that story isn’t this story. This story involves a far bigger mass of water and, while there are far fewer guns (and possibly laser pointers), there are far more knives.

In a universe not-too-distant from the one where the rather inconvenient need for oxygen is making the fingers of one body go slack against the other’s sodden clothes, there are lobsters.

Lots and lots of lobsters, everywhere.

With knives.

Presently there are three lobsters. Or four or five, or more. Or five and— you get our point. For the sake of expediency we’ll say that there are three. The important bit is that two of them have knives. (Actually, another important bit is that there’s a piece of coral that has the security layout to King Triton’s palace inscribed on it, but one of those lobsters just tossed that into an anemone and rendered it plot-irrelevant. That’s all right though, because it was fairly plot-irrelevant to begin with.)

The really important bit is that the very same lobster, known as Lobsteriarty, is threatening John at knifepoint. Sherlobster isn’t too happy about this particular development. It had been so much fun at first; the puzzles, the little games, Go Fish. Now that John has thrown himself into harm’s way for Sherlobster to escape a terrible knifey fate, however, matters are more aptly described as nerve-wracking rather than fun.

Lobsteriarty, all twitching spindly legs and mocking voice, is going on and on about how unfit a boring lobster like John is for a lobster like him. (“He doesn’t even have a lobster name, just like a proper pet. Like a dogfish, a little nursehound. Isn’t that right, John?”)

And he’s got it all wrong, because the H stands for Homard, and dogfish isn’t just a common slang term for the Scyliorhinus stellaris, the fairly harmless nursehound, but also for the Ginglymostoma cirratum, the nurse shark. Every self-respecting lobster knows that nurse sharks particularly favour crustaceans and could have Lobsteriarty for breakfast. John isn’t harmless at all and anyway, he isn’t Sherlobster’s pet.

“We could rule the seven seas,” Lobsteriarty says. “We could be mightier than Triton and Poseidon combined.”

“Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?” Lobsteriarty says.

Sherlobster’s claw tightens marginally around John’s old service knife. There are several things he would like to do, the majority of which involve a great quantity of clarified butter near its boiling point and a long, thin fork. He keeps his face carefully blank while his mind races for a way out of this veritable Gulf-of-Mexican standoff.

He has Lobsteriarty at knifepoint. Lobsteriarty has John at knifepoint. The way he’s holding the knife in all his arrogant confidence is absentminded at best, making it larvae’s play for John to disarm him. John had in fact proven this hypothesis by disarming him two minutes ago, but then Lobsteriarty had pleasantly informed them of the eel handler keeping an eye on Sherlobster. (Apparently the eels were very well trained, very attached to Lobsteriarty and very hungry. He wasn’t bluffing, Sherlobster knows. Several of the cases he has solved around Lobsteriarty have indicated that he works with an accomplice. He’s suspected for a while now that this accomplice is none other than an assassin known only as Muraena – a name owed to his admittedly impressive command over eels.

If any readers are currently confused about this ‘Muraena’ because of our only introducing three characters at the beginning of the story, we would like to remind them that we only mentioned the number of lobsters. Muraena – or Sebastian, if you will – is a crab.)

FILL: The Lobster Quadrille 2/3

The look of misery on John’s face as he’d let go of the knife and scuttled backwards was perhaps the worst thing about the situation. Sherlobster never wants to see that expression again. And that— he knows that’s bad. He cares about John, cold blue blood be damned, cares so much already that it’s too late to go back to the not-caring. It’s bad because Lobsteriarty is quite gleefully pointing out that he does have a heart, one which he will inevitably tear it out with his bare claws. Sherlobster despises that he couldn’t feel more vulnerable if he were in the middle of moulting.

“Poor unfortunate soul,” Lobsteriarty says.

The last details of an escape plan and its seven different possible outcomes are finalising in Sherlobster’s mind. He tries to communicate this plan to John with nothing but his beady little eyes and some intricate twitches of his antennae. John glances at the anemone that’s gently swaying in the current. His antennae bob in agreement.

Then a giant cod sweeps down and eats Lobsteriarty, designer Westwood shell and all.

The knife is left sinking down, down, down, and chases up a little cloud of dirt upon hitting bottom.

We would mention that Sebastian lets out an anguished little shriek at the sight, insofar as crabs have the ability to shriek. Sebastian has seen a lot of things in his lifetime. He’s travelled the world; has seen horrors in the Arabian Sea during the war and hunted different horrors in the Bay of Bengal for sport, has narrowly avoided death in the Labrador Sea. Once, while roaming the coast of Denmark, he was captured by a French chef of questionable sanity and in possession of an even more dubitable moustache. To this day Sebastian refuses to talk of the things he’s seen in that kitchen, referring to it only as The Kitchen. In that moment, Sebastian Muraena knows that, as with The Kitchen, the sight of Lobsteriarty being swallowed whole will stay with him for the rest of his life. Possibly the event will only be referred to as The Cod.

But we won’t be telling you about all that. This story reads a little bit like a fairytale, after all, and no one really cares about the bad guys’ feelings in fairytales, do they?

Anyway, in the end, Sebastian turns out to be quite right about the terrible image staying burned on his retinas forever. Fifteen seconds later the cod scuffs him down and shoots the eels a calculated look. The eels look at the cod.

They look at each other.

They look back at the cod.

The eels promptly turn tail and swim for their lives.

The cod calmly drifts onwards and leaves the scene in a stunned silence.

“Mycod,” sighs Sherlobster suddenly. He sounds cross. “Really, how does he expect any of those diets to work when he insists on devouring all my nemeses whole? He never does let me have any fun.” The words have no sooner left his maxilla or he looks stricken. “John! Are you all right?”


He has scrabbled over to John, antennae frantically roving over him to check for injuries and, if he were perfectly honest, just to touch and reassure himself John is still there. “Are you all right?” he asks again.


He stops.

“I’m fine. It’s fine,” John babbles. Sherlobster can see his left claw and second right pereiopod are trembling, the latter threatening to give out under his weight. There’s a pause.“I’m glad no one saw that.”


“You, feeling me up right in the middle of the bloody North Sea. The Merfolk might talk.” John huffs out a bubble of laughter.

“The Merfolk do little else.” Sherlobster smiles faintly, or, well, does something that approximates the human idea of a smile as much as a lobster can. “Speaking of Merfolk. Lobstrade has informed me that one the King’s daughters has gone missing. Kidnapped, they say. Doubtlessly they are missing the finer points of the case.”

They swim onwards in the vague direction of the crime scene while Sherlobster expounds on the various mistakes Scotland Loch has indubitably made so far. If John reaches out one of his antenna and Sherlobster tentatively returns the touch with one of his own, then the Merfolk can just bugger off with their gossip.

FILL: The Lobster Quadrille 3/3

Later, when they’ve solved the Case of the Little Mermaid and Sherlobster is vehemently denying his exhaustion, John insists they take a holiday to the Hudson Bay. They end up in Florida before the week is through, where they help out a kind English human lady who’s run into a spot of bother with her husband. As a token of her gratitude for ensuring her husband’s execution, she knits Sherlobster a little scarf and makes John a cable-knit jumper that is so small and so precise that it could go in the Guinness Book of World Records.

Their holiday (honeymoon, some would say) eventually draws to a close and they return to the North Sea. A great many cases and long years together later, they retire to the English coast where Sherlobster keeps plankton and John tells the tales of their adventures to their loyal band of fans, and they live lobstery ever after.

The End.


The above are 1.555 words of lobster slash. It can be summarised as: “Suck it, studying.”

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Re: FILL: The Lobster Quadrille 1/3




Re: FILL: The Lobster Quadrille 1/3

Oh, my goodness. I haven't laughed so hard in ages!

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