Sherlock BBC Prompting Meme

"we get all sorts around here."


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Welcome! (Prompting: part i)
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



This is a fic prompting meme based around the BBC series Sherlock, written by Stephen Moffat & Mark Gattis.

There are a couple of communities that have sprung up already, namely here and here and here, and also a very busy sherlockkink meme based around the Robert Downey Jr/Jude Law film, but since there's a GAP IN THE MARKET for a BBC Sherlock prompt meme and people are gnawing off their own hands in need of fic, here we go!

ETA: There's also a very dedicated meme here which covers all varieties of Sherlock Holmes adaptations/ spin-offs.

Guidelines:

1) This is a Sherlock meme, so no RPF please! We don't want any legal trouble.

2) Feel free to post anon by all means, it's a matter of personal preference.

3) Remember to include a warning in the title for anything a little more "niche" or that people might have a problem with - non-con, dub-con, death!fic, incest, death!fic etc. Other than that, anything goes - crack, slash, het, gen, fluff, angst, whatever floats your boat.

4) Feel free to prompt as much as you like, but do try to fill as well as prompt; we don't want pages full of frustrating unfilled prompts!

5) Have a look beforehand to see whether your prompt has already been prompted - we want to avoid duplicate prompts as much as possible!

6) Please, be civil, be friendly, but don't be shy!

*Any problems, please message jjgd *

LINKS AND AFFILIATES

Delicious Archive * sherlockfest * List of all the Prompting Posts * Overflow Post *

  • 1

oh this would be odd

(Anonymous)
Sherlock/Hetalia cross-over, oh god please don't kill me

Sherlock and John meeting the anthromorphication/representative of the UK, England, also known as Arthur Kirkland. Maybe they did a case that was of vital national interest. I just can't help but wonder how they'd react to him.

Bonus if Mycroft is involved.

Re: oh this would be odd

(Anonymous)
Seconded so hard! Maybe I'll fill this is I have the time

Emerald 1/?

(Anonymous)
The call arrives on the Monday morning.
People calling on Monday mornings would be perfectly normal for most, except for the fact that the phone rings at three in the morning, and whilst John can easily sleep through most disturbances (the sound of Sherlock not playing his violin is enough to cause him to worry, which makes him start to doubt his mentality if he doesn’t mind that,) the sound of a ringtone piercing through the quiet atmosphere of the living room seems to be different from all of that, mainly because the strings on there sound much more smooth than his flatmate normally plays (not that he’ll ever tell him that.) By the time he has at least managed to stumble into the main area of work in his dressing gown, narrowly avoiding tripping over a pile of books, on which a skull sits; a different one this time to be displayed in plain view, because Sherlock has at least relented to keep the human one away from Mrs Hudson’s sight.
It doesn’t stop the doctor, however, from hearing the sound of shifting upholstery every night.
“Turn that thing off!” The detective snaps irritably, waving a hand in some nether region of the dark and cluttered room, before placing it back over his right ear. “It’s putting me off!”
“It’s not mine,” John replies amiably. “I thought it was yours.”
“Music would be blaring at me every second if I had one,” Another dismissive wave is sent, this time towards him. “Find the wretched thing. It’s not helping me think.”
About what, he wants to ask, because London has been conspicuously absent of crime over the week, or at least, crime that needed higher minds than that of the police to deal with, and he is sick of it, not only because of the lack of adrenaline, but also, vaguely, because he is sure that even Lestrade didn’t have to cope with a self proclaimed sociopath who decided that his brain was wasting away with no exercise.
“Can I…?” he gestures towards the direction of the light switch, barely stifling a yawn. Violin or no violin, he is still tired when something this disruptive enters his sleep.
“Yes, yes,” Sherlock shoots at him. “Do whatever is necessary to be rid of that infernal thing.” The lights are switched on, casting a warm yellow glow over the mess. He can see how test tubes spill out of large, side down cardboard boxes, papers litter the floor, and, as he picks one up, debates with himself as to whether the man may have accidentally (though of course, hardly anything’s an accident with him,) discovered the secret of life in the Universe. It wouldn’t surprise him. He locates the nuisance of a sound in a hidden corner of the room, the type, that, when he was small, he might have recoiled from for being too dark and too gloomy, the type of place where evil monsters like to lurk- but the small boy would never have dreamt of fighting in Afghanistan, savouring with relish the very same terror and fear which plagued him in the first few years of life. He turns it over in his hands as he carries it over to the other. Although he is not a great connoisseur of the fine parts of technology, he is sure that he has never seen such a model on sale before. His may be new, but this is far sleeker, more advanced, the only type of which may have resembled some sort of futuristic device. Sherlock, when it is presented to him, eyes it with distaste.
“That would explain why I never recognised it. It’s from Mycroft.”
That, at least, would explain the design.
“Of course,” John slumps onto one end of the sofa, smoothing his blonde nest of hair down unconsciously as he becomes aware that he is being watched intently for any reaction, “I know you’re going to answer it.”
“Oh really?” he is replied with an arched eyebrow. “How do you know this exactly?” Sherlock rises, making a move towards the open window with the device, as if to cast it into the tender embrace of gravity. “What if I was to merely,” he gestures, “throw it away?”



Author anon is so sorry for this, but promises that the next will be better- also is worried about what accent England should have... I hope you've enjoyed it so far though!

OP!

(Anonymous)
No no. This is good. This is BRILLIANT! I can wait for more!

*tracks*

Captcha says 'feuding rea'. WAT.

Emerald 2/?

(Anonymous)
“You won’t,” John responds, injecting false conviction into his voice, “Because I know that you love a good mystery, and until you answer it, you’ll never know who called you.”
“It’s you who really wants to answer it, isn’t it?” A ghost of a smile appears on the detective’s lips, before he tosses it toward the sole occupant of the sofa. It is caught clumsily, before the blonde stares, puzzled at it. “So go on. Humour me.”
Sliding open the cover, At least design hasn’t gone so far as to not conform to one of the main two or three basic layouts of a mobile, he presses what he believes to be the ‘answer,’ button before, with a shivering hand, although the psychosomatic tremor has nearly disappeared at the possibilities this call may represent, he raises it to one ear.
“Hello?”
Ah,” hums pleasantly on the other end. “Doctor Watson, I presume?” In that question, the accent of the caller (British at least, and not like the other Bohemian who contacted them a month ago,) manages to slide up and down a range of intonations, ranging wildly from Geordie down to Cornish, one minute upper class English, the next Cockney, before settling on Estuary. It is unsettling to say the least.
“Yes,” he replies cautiously, aware that Sherlock is still watching him with some sort of twisted amusement, “How do you know who I am?”
I have …methods.” There is an audible sound of derision from Sherlock, who has now moved within hearing range of the mobile.
“Whoever is on the other end of the phone has awful clichéd remarks.”
I have …methods.” There is an audible sound of derision from Sherlock, who has now moved within hearing range of the mobile.
“Whoever is on the other end of the phone has awful clichéd remarks.”
Why, of all the impertinent young-” the voice explodes on the other end of the phone. “This is a matter of vital national importance!
“Oh,” the detective’s face falls immediately, before a mask of disinterest is assumed, “I would like you to tell him, John, that if it’s to do with Mycroft, I’m not interested. Does he even know who I am? Or who you are, to be precise?”
Of course I do, I practically know everything there is about you people! Doctor Watson, this is urgent, a matter that is of vital security. I am sure that as an ex-soldier from Afghanistan, you would know about duty.”
“He’s playing to your patriotism. There’s no way I’m going to take this up.”
“Don’t you wish to find out who this person is, at least?”
“I’ll admit,” Sherlock confesses, And isn’t that something extraordinary? “That I may be possibly intrigued.”
Good,” The voice says breezily, “Don’t forget to bring a warm coat. After all, London is very cold.
“As if we didn’t know that already,” John stares at the blinking screen. “He rang off!”
“Surprise me,” Sherlock replies dryly. “I daresay most mystery callers generally do.”
*****
After reassuring Ella multiple times that he will be perfectly safe with Sherlock; she seems largely unconvinced by his murmurings and he can practically hear her pen and pad moving already, they catch the tube to some underground place which reeks of nefarious intent. Sherlock, however, ignores this, and strides into the darkness, rubbing his hands together with anticipation.
“Splendid!” he calls out from somewhere ahead of him. “John, things are beginning to look up!” The sound of slow clapping reaches their ears, before a torch light is flicked on.
“Ah, Holmes-san, Watson-san, it is a pleasure to meet you both in the flesh,” A young Japanese man in his twenties steps out of the shadows, a carefully sculpted look of polite tolerance plastered across his face. “I have heard much about you.” A head piece is attached to his ear, one which looks both futuristic and otherworldly, and it crackles as another message is relayed over the speaker. It is scrambled and gargled, but from what he can at least make out, John hears some form of:
“Good. Show them in.”
“What’s your name?” he enquires, because in the end, he knows that Sherlock will be so wrapped up in his thoughts that he won’t even bother to spend a second on the poor youth.







Emerald 2.5/?

(Anonymous)
“In your order of introduction,” a small smile appears on his lips, “Kiku. Kiku Honda.”
“Is it real?”
“Yes.”
“You are of high status, are you not?” The tallest starts. Perhaps John is wrong- after all, nothing’s ever stopped his ‘colleague,’ from proving his intellect before. “No, actually, don’t answer that, because I know you are. You hold in your hand something which is more than likely inaccessible to the general public, your kimono speaks of much tradition in your family, and the way that your right hand is unconsciously gripping onto the left side of your belt suggests that normally you have a weapon there of some kind, implying that you feel the need to defend yourself. You have been put under some kind of pressure recently, the way your cheeks are somewhat flushed indicates that, and you also smell somewhat of pasta and wurst, a strange combination, but not entirely unusual. The stain on your left sleeve is gunpowder of some kind, indicating that you have recently been next to a marksman, possibly from a shooting range, or that you are part of some underground mob, which is highly unlikely, due to the polite affectations and the smoothness of your tone. You also seem to be related to this mysterious call, for otherwise you would not have just told him that we were here,” He does not pause for breath. “Anything I have got wrong?”
*****
Character length cut me short, but I hope OP doesn't mind me bringing the other characters in! Thank you, when I saw the prompt, I just had to fill this! It's good to know that there are other fans out there of these two!
And to be honest, this is my first fill, so your comment really encouraged me!
Lol at Captcha!

OP!

(Anonymous)
Oh my Kiku, yes! Additions I don't mind. Also, that's the first time I've seen England's voice described that way. ♥

You're doing well for your first fill! *cheers you on*

Re: OP!

(Anonymous)
Thank you! It totally didn't help that I was watching the rest of the episodes to catch up, but Su-san and Finland are just so funny

The next segment will probably be up tomorrow, because I need to go somewhere far far away today. I'll try and make it two fills tomorrow!

A Case of Mistaken Assumptions (1/?)

(Anonymous)
Urgh, I'm used to the Hetalia kink meme, and have therefore been spoilt. Anyway, my friend referred me here, so this wasn't originally written with the intent of filling anything, but... We thought it fit well enough.

Warning though! I hope whoever reads this isn't opposed to US/UK. Because that's what it was originally intended for. Otherwise, I hope the other filler keeps going, because it's kind of brilliant thus far. :)


---

A knock sounded on the door, and three heads turned to watch Mrs. Hudson walk into the apartment. The stout woman gave a quick nod of silent greeting before turning to a blonde man with green eyes.

“Mr. Kirkland, there’s a man for you downstairs,” she informed him. “He seems a bit impatient.”

He rolled his eyes in response. “Always is, the silly lout.” Turning to his hosts, he stood and ducked his head in a half-bow. “thank you for your time and consideration of this case, Mr. Holmes. I have full faith you’ll be more successful than your brother has been thus far.”

Sherlock Holmes grinned in a self-satisfied manner that made Dr. Watson’s eyes roll. “Anything for my country,” Holmes said happily.

His client, one Arthur Kirkland, smirked at that, offered his thanks once more, and exited the apartment after Mrs. Hudson. Watching the street, Sherlock observed Mr. Kirkland leaving the building with another blonde man, the two apparently bickering before Mr. Kirkland got in the driver’s side and the car sped off.

-

“Get your arse out of the toilet before I forcibly remove it!” England beat his bathroom door soundly, pretending it was America’s face. He was abruptly doorless and America’s face appeared, England catching himself just in time to keep his imagination from becoming reality.

“I can’t find my-” A pair of socks plowed into America’s chest, the younger nation hardly catching them. “Oh, thanks, Eng- Wait, these are yours.”

“Get over it,” England ordered, shoving his way into the bathroom beside America. “your feet can’t possibly be so massive they won’t fit.”

Busy attempting to fix his tie, England missed the glare-pout hybrid America sent him. “You probably scent them with sprigs of mint or something girly,” he grumbled, shoving the socks and his shoes on anyway.

America had just managed to work his heel into his right shoe when England grabbed him by the lapel and dragged him out of the room and through the house. He ignored the calls of “Shit! England, slow down!” They were already late and it was America’s fault keeping them up all bloody night anyway. England’s charge to the front door was finally stopped by a loud cry and America being pulled from his grasp.

“Motherfu- Dammit, England!” He turned to see America on his knees, holding his hip in pain. Ah, perhaps England had taken that turn a bit fast. “You don’t have to slam me against the wall,” America snapped, wincing as he got to his feet. “I’m moving as fast as I can, alright?”

“Yes, I’m…it won’t happen again,” he got out, unable to truly apologize. “Really, though, we need to be going.”

“I know,” America said, shooing him on with one hand. “just get moving again. I’m fine.”

England hesitated for another half-second, then began the rush to the car again, realizing there was no time for him to be mothering America just now.

-

A Case of Mistaken Assumptions (2/3?)

(Anonymous)
Arthur Kirkland arrived twenty six minutes late, and with a guest. The taller male was introduced as Alfred Jones, Mr. Kirkland’s…associate. He offered only a quick “Hey” and a lopsided smile.

“You may tell your associate I have the utmost respect for his privacy,” Sherlock said after polite introductions. “No need for that famous American paranoia.”

Jones looked impressed. “How’d you know I was-?”

“America?” You checked the wrong side of the street as you exited the car,” he explained easily. “Or do you mean your preoccupation with being spied upon?”

“Yeah,” the American said. “The…that.”

“You did a quick visual check of the corners of this room the minute you entered it,” the detective pointed out. “Not particularly effective, but more force of habit. Now, onto the matters at hand, if you please.”

“Dude,” Jones exclaimed softly. “This guy is awesome! You didn’t tell me you were working with a genius, Artie!” he punched the smaller male lightly on the arm, earning himself only a glare. “Do something else,” the American requested eagerly.

“We hardly have the time,” Kirkland said shortly. “Mr. Holmes, I believe we still need to discuss the particulars of my missing agent?”

“Yes, of course,” Sherlock assured him. But if he was right… “And any further observations may imply more about Mr. Kirkland’s habits than he would like revealed in any case.”

The smaller man’s eyes narrowed into green slits. “I assure you, I have nothing to hide. Have at it, detective; I have nowhere to be but here.”

“Sweet!” Jones grinned widely, excited.

“If you insist,” Sherlock said obligingly. “Besides, Watson and I don’t mind that you two are sleeping together, if not seriously involved.”

Watson, avoiding notice until this point, emerged from the kitchen. “Keep me out of this,” he said shortly. “I don’t want to be involved in personal lives.”

“Nonsense, John,” Holmes replied lightly. “I’ve already told them we don’t mind what’s not our business.”

“Wait, wait.” The American seemed to have recovered first, whereas Kirkland had turned pink in the face and apparently lost the ability to speak. “What?! That’s a pretty big jump, even for someone like you.”

“Not particularly. The evidence is all over you.” Jones checked himself quickly, then Kirkland, before looking back up, confused. “It’s not as blatant as you might imagine, but for anyone with decent observational skills, it isn’t particularly challenging.”

A Case of Mistaken Assumptions (3/3)

(Anonymous)
“Yes it is!” the American shouted before appearing to think over what he’d said. “I mean, you can’t… Explain.”

“Quite easily,” Sherlock said. “First, and least importantly, you arrived together probably from the same place, seeing as you were in an equal hurry and similar states of dishevelment. The bags under your eyes say that you were engaged in some activity last night which kept you both up. Probably why you overslept.”

“Yes,” Kirkland conceded. “But that doesn’t mean that he...that we…” He trailed off, flustered, and Sherlock took up again.

“True, it only proves that you shared the same lodgings. However, it is rare that two unrelated males would be in the practice of sharing clothing and deodorant as well as sleeping quarters. And you are clearly not relatives. Facial structure, eyes color, and the blatant difference of your nationalities proves it.”

“We’re not wearing each other’s clothes,” Jones pointed out, sounding relieved to have discovered this fault in the deductions.

“No, you’re wearing your own clothes,” the detective replied. “The same as yesterday’s, in fact You are, however, wearing Mr. Kirkland’s socks. They are the same brand and you keep trying to subtly adjust the unfamiliar fit.”

Mr. Jones didn’t bother to question how he’d pegged the shared deodorant as well, but stopped fiddling with his left sock using his right foot.

“This apparent closeness combined with Mr. Jones scuffed knees and the limp he walked in with, lead me to conclude that your relationship is somewhat more than simply ‘associates’.” With hardly a pause, Sherlock turned to Mr. Jones with a mildly questioning look. “Though from your postures and mannerisms, I would have assumed the positions were switched. Never the less, it is not my place to judge one’s habits in the bedroom, only to point out their failure to hide such information.”

“Ridiculous!” Kirkland shouted, overriding Jones’ ch’yeah right. “Your assumptions aren’t unfounded, and some of that was true, but we are not in…involved! I’m sorry, Mr. Holmes, but you go too far!” Mr. Kirkland’s face had gone red, unhelped by Jones grumbling under his breath about himself being ‘on top if it ever happened anyway’. The American earned himself a slap upside the head for his insecurities.

“I simply took what information I could perceive and created the most logical explanation for its existence,” Sherlock explained a bit primly.

“Yes,” Mr. Kirkland agreed, exasperated. “But you’re wrong.”

“It’s always that one little something, isn’t it, Sherlock?” a voice sounded from the kitchen.

“Thank you, John,” Sherlock called back. “You are an invaluable help, but are much more appreciated for the task you are supposed to be doing.”

“Okay,” Jones interrupted loudly. “The point is, we aren’t screwing. Can we talk about the stupid MI6 guy so I can go hide in shame?”

“Certainly,” Sherlock answered. “Though I have one more question on the previous matter. Why aren’t you?” Judging from the looks on his guests’ faces, they’d never considered that question. “No matter,” he went on in a rare show of consideration for someone’s shame. “A rhetorical question I suppose. In any case, I’ve located your missing agent, Mr. Kirkland. Shall we arrange a pick-up and some form of payment?”

-

“Dude, he is too awesome to measure. That guy’s, like, off the coolness scale!”

Clearly, Mr. Jones was unaware he could be heard as they exited the apartment complex.

“He implied we were sleeping together. Brilliant, yes. Awesome, no. He has absolutely no propriety!”

“Yeah, but he noticed all that stuff even though we, y’know, aren’t.” A low mumbling came from Mr. Kirkland.

“Hey, Iggy?” A pause, and the voice was almost too distant by this point. “Why aren’t we?”

Sherlock Holmes grinned to himself, then walked into the kitchen to find Watson still attempting to battle his latest experiment. “John, you’re a betting man,” he said easily. “How long do you wager until my assumption comes true?”

---
A/N: Please accept this humble contribution and don't hate me for shoving my fav pairing in there please!!

Re: A Case of Mistaken Assumptions (3/3)

(Anonymous)
Yay! You posted it!!! XD This is just as wonderful as the first time I read it! You got Sherlock's voice down pat, and I loved all of the humor! You had me smirking and giggling and all out laughing all the way through! ^_^ Great job and keep writing! <3

OP!

(Anonymous)
No I don't object to US/UK at all. THIS IS BRILLIANT.

The last scene was utterly hilarious.

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