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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  • Don’t reprompt until TWO parts after the last posting of the prompt.
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When you fill a prompt, please use the appropriate Filled Prompts Post to archive your fill (there are instructions on the actual post).

If the part you wanted isn't up yet, just wait and one of the archivists will get to it, but please, once it is up, 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. If you want your fill to make it to the Delicious archive, that’s the way to do it.

Do not be afraid to ask questions about how it works if you are confused! The mods will be happy to explain.

Please consider warning for prompts that may trigger people (and also for fills, because some people read in flat view) and phrasing prompts in a manner that strives to be respectful.

Things which you might want to consider warning for include: Rape/Non-Con, Death, Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Harm, Underage Relationships, among others.

That being 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.

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Please nest your fills. Doing so will make it easier for archivists to save your fills to the Delicious archive. Using subject lines will also help people reading the meme in flatview keep track of what’s happening. Finally, titling your fills (even if it’s something silly) will be helpful to those tracking a lot of prompts or scrolling through the meme.

Depending on the rate of activity, there may or may not be a prompt freeze when a part reaches 2000 and 4500 comments. However, there will be one when it reaches 7000. After the 7000 comments freeze, a new part will be posted, and all prompting should happen on the new part.

Your mods for this meme are ellie_hell, charname, anonspock and anonbach. If you have any questions, concerns, comments about anything at all on the meme feel free to send a PM or contact us via the Page-A-Mod post.

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
Concrit Post - Story Announcement Post - Orphan Post
Spoiler Free Prompt Post - Overflow Post

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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Sherlock is a martyr (Tw: uh, anything goes? violence.)

Sherlock gets himself and John into trouble and a group of people (idk, it's up to you) - they hurt John a bit and Sherlock starts taking it on himself (idk beatings? whatever else you want to do) - antagonising them against himself so they hurt only him.

Would like some humiliation in front of John please.

Re: Sherlock is a martyr (Tw: uh, anything goes? violence.)

seconded like BURNING

Re: Sherlock is a martyr (Tw: uh, anything goes? violence.)

Yes. Thirted.

Re: Sherlock is a martyr (Tw: uh, anything goes? violence.)

fourth-ed so much i might have injured something! this fandom needs more of this
*thinks dreamily about the days spent reading SGA fanfics - there were tons of these situations there :)*

Re: Sherlock is a martyr (Tw: uh, anything goes? violence.)

Not only fifthed, but if anyone has any links to stories like this, PLEASE share!

PROMPT FILL: Clench Your Fists 1/3 (TW: Violence)

It had started off as relatively normal. Kidnapping was a pretty common occurrence for Sherlock and John, and most of the time the abductors had little to no idea what they were doing. Usually, the two of them would be out within a couple of hours, either escaping on their own or having been found by Lestrade.
Sherlock had been certain today would be one of those times. The kidnappers were clumsy, leaving clues everywhere, ones that even Lestrade would pick up. Sherlock didn’t bother struggling as a hood was thrust over his face and his hands were bound by cheap plastic. He was pushed into the waiting car, and a thump beside him alerted him that John had followed.
‘You okay?’ John asked, voice muffled by his own hood.
‘Of course,’ Sherlock drawled. And at that moment, he was. There was no part of him that was worried, except perhaps a small and ever present concern for John’s safety.
But Sherlock knew he could protect him, so it hardly mattered. Lestrade would find them soon, and by the end of the day they’d be back in Baker Street, laughing over the idiocy of the kidnappers.
The drive took a while, but Sherlock still had a vague idea of the neighbourhood they were in. Not that he had his cell phone on him to tell Lestrade; the kidnappers, while clearly amateurs, had at least thought to take away any weapons and methods of communication from Sherlock and John.
‘This way,’ a man’s voice said gruffly, and a strong hand gripped Sherlock’s arm and pulled him forcibly from the car. ‘Don’t you dare struggle, now.’
Sherlock felt the unmistakable feel of a pistol pressed against his lower back, but still, his worry was minimal. The air around him changed – they had entered a building. He heard a door close behind him, and then the bag over his head was lifted. He immediately sought ought John, who gave him a small smile. I’m fine. We’ll be fine.
Sherlock still wasn’t worrying when he and John were set up in a small, empty, and damp room. Warehouse, Sherlock assumed.
Two extra men entered the room, bringing the kidnapper count up to four. Sherlock sighed, resting his head against the wall. This was ridiculous.
‘May I ask what we’re doing here?’ John said, all faux-pleasantry and sardonic smiles. Sherlock smirked.
‘Your friend,’ one of the men spat, glancing venomously at Sherlock, ‘was responsible for our brother’s imprisonment.’
‘And?’ John retorted. ‘What was it? Rape? Murder? Sherlock’s rarely wrong. I’m sure your brother deserved it.’
The man’s nostrils flared and his hand tightened on his gun. ‘Keep an eye on them,’ he said, addressing the other kidnappers in the room. ‘I’ll make the phone call.’
Two of the remaining men stood at the doorway, standing at attention with pistols cocked. The third, a bald man with an ugly scar running the length of his bulky arm, took a seat on a stool in the middle of the room, facing John and Sherlock.
‘What exactly do you want?’ John asked. ‘A ransom? Who –’
‘Shut up!’ the man on the stool hissed. He was burly, Sherlock noted, seemed used to a life of crime; family business, perhaps. Lately, he’d been struggling more than usual for money. He was desperate. That’s what they’d kidnapped Sherlock for – to try and get money. From Mycroft. Sherlock rolled his eyes. Predictable.
Sherlock was an easy target – they already knew of him, noticed his public school accent, probably heard through the criminal underground about his wealthy brother. This was perfectly fine. Once Mycroft heard from the kidnappers, he’d have them gone in no time.
His only issue now was the bald man on the stool. He was becoming increasingly angry – noted by his clenched fists, flaring nostrils, gritted teeth, flushed face. Sherlock narrowed his eyes as he watched the man rise to his feet and stalk towards John.
Oh. There was the worry which had been evading him throughout this whole ordeal. This man, while hardly intelligent, had been raised knowing how to fight. And he was slowly advancing towards John, menacing intent clear in his gaze. John visibly tensed, preparing for the blow, and –

Edited at 2012-12-21 11:14 am (UTC)

Re: PROMPT FILL: Clench Your Fists 2/3 (TW: Violence)

‘I lied about your brother,’ Sherlock said, loudly enough for everybody in the room to hear. The bald man stopped in his tracks, swung on his heel, stared at Sherlock.
‘Say that again.’
‘I lied about your brother,’ Sherlock repeated calmly, though his heart felt as though it wanted to beat out of his chest. ‘To Scotland Yard, that is. I did not particularly like him, so I may have slightly exaggerated certain crimes.’
‘Sherlock, don’t,’ John muttered quietly, angrily.
‘Your brother was your source of money, was he not?’ Sherlock said, grin turning slightly manic as the bald man continued to advance. ‘And now –’
The barb he had been about to make was cut short by a heavy, well-practised blow to his jaw. Stifling a gasp, Sherlock fell back, unbalanced without his hands in use. His head knocked, hard, against the wall behind him, and he dimly heard John crying out his name. He clenched his eyes shut against the second wave of blinding pain, then opened them again, smiling slowly at his attacker.
‘And now,’ he said, spitting out blood caused by a broken tooth, ‘you have nothing, do you? That’s why you bothered to kidnap me. You have me to thank for that. Your brother is in prison for ten years longer than he should be. All because of me.’
The man was ridiculously easy to bait, Sherlock thought faintly as he endured another blow to his face, nearer to his eye this time. He hoped he didn’t go for his nose.
‘Sherlock, stop,’ John muttered, almost too quietly for Sherlock to hear him. Sherlock didn’t listen. John didn’t understand. Sherlock was doing this for him. To help him. He couldn’t stop. Not until he could be sure John was safe.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it was illogical; John had had combat training, knew how to take a blow better than Sherlock ever could. But Sherlock refused to see him hurt. It pained him more than the punches to his face.
He could bear it.
Sherlock’s mouth was slowly filling with more blood and his sight progressively becoming blurrier due to the bruising around his eyes. His body was attempting to pass out from the pain, but he forced himself to stay conscious; there was still the chance of them turning to John if Sherlock became boring to them.
The next blow was a kick, aimed at his stomach. This time Sherlock couldn’t hold back a small cry; his stomach was all soft flesh and vulnerable organs, and it was far more painful than just skin and bone. The bald man let out a laugh at Sherlock’s discomfort and kicked him again, harder this time. He moaned louder this time, knowing it’d encourage the man to carry on. In the distance, he could hear the other two kidnappers in the room chuckling to themselves, and he was fairly certain he could hear John’s voice plaintively whispering ‘Sherlock’.
‘Pull him up,’ one of the men guarding the door said, humour and malice in his tone. ‘I want to see him.’
Sherlock felt stubby, rough fingers tangling in his hair before he was pulled unceremoniously from the floor onto his knees, and without the hand in his hair he wouldn’t have been able to stay up. He ached from head to toe, shivering in sporadic bursts, breath coming hard and fast.
John. It’s for John.
When his stomach was kicked again, this time by one of the brothers who had been standing guard, and Sherlock felt tears spring to his eyes which he tried valiantly to force down. In this position, he couldn’t curl into himself to ease the pain a little, and the hand in his hair tugged and tugged and he was so close to unconsciousness but he couldn’t, not until he knew John would be safe, not until –
‘Spit on him.’
‘Seriously, Jack?’
‘C’mon. He’s an asshole. Do it.’
Sherlock closed his eyes, embarrassment curling low in his gut as his head was yanked further back, face pointing to the ceiling. It seemed idiotic to be embarrassed in a time like this, but he couldn’t control the feeling. It only intensified as he heard the noise of the man spitting and, a split second later, the feeling of liquid moving down his face and into his mouth. Sherlock barely avoided gagging.

Re: PROMPT FILL: Clench Your Fists 3/3 (TW: Violence)

The grip on his head loosened, and he dropped his chin to his chest, swaying on his place at his knees before he leaned on the first solid surface he could find, which – he was horrified to notice – was the leg of the bald man. He tried to move, but the man’s hand gripped his hair again, tugged his head up, grinned at him.
‘You’re gonna fucking die for what you did to our brother,’ he growled, spitting again. Sherlock barely closed his eyes in time, and this time he did gag, curling over despite the intense pressure on his head keeping him mostly upright.
He couldn’t bear to look at John. The extent to which he would go to keep the man safe scared even himself; and this was the worst so far, on his knees in an empty warehouse, bruised and swollen and bleeding with saliva drying on his face, and yet he knew he wouldn’t take any of it back.
It had meant John was safe. Or as safe as he could be in the situation. And that was all that he needed.
The bald man sent another firm kick to his stomach, letting go of Sherlock’s hair at the same time, and Sherlock went flying back against the wall, knocking his head again.
Then there was nothing but sweet, sweet darkness.

Sherlock slowly drifted into consciousness to the sound of beeping. Wonderful. A hospital, then.
The only solace was a strong hand gripping his which he immediately recognised as John’s. Smiling a little, he tried to open his eyes, but couldn’t accomplish very much. He frowned.
‘Yeah, you’ll find when you goad hardened criminals into beating you up, they won’t go lightly on you.’ There was anger in John’s tone, definitely, but it was mostly relieved. Sherlock tried harder to open his eyes, and managed a little more this time so he could look blurrily at John.
‘I did it for you,’ he said, rather stupidly, he thought. John chuckled quietly.
‘I know. You’re a fucking idiot.’
‘I know.’
A rustle, and the blur that was John Watson moved forward and pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s cheek. ‘Lestrade found us just after you passed out. Mycroft was there too.’
Sherlock grunted.
‘Next time, you don’t like to try and get them off my back, okay? I can handle myself just fine.’
‘Of course, John,’ Sherlock lied. John sighed.
‘You know that I know you love me, right? And that you don’t have to prove it?’
Sherlock stared at him. Or, well, squinted. ‘I was not attempting to prove anything to you, John. I wanted you to be unharmed. How could you –’
‘No, okay, it’s okay, I didn’t think so. I just wanted to make sure.’
‘Well, be sure, then,’ Sherlock said with a decisive sniff. John let out a laugh.
‘I love you.’
‘Obvious.’ I love you too. Sherlock reached for John’s hand again, and John grasped it tightly and moved the chair closer to the bed.
‘Go back to sleep, you twit. You were only out for a few hours . I don’t know how you’re not concussed.’
‘I think I am,’ Sherlock said, fighting a yawn. ‘You don’t have to stay.’ I want you to stay.
‘I know I don’t.’ John squeezed his hand, pressed a kiss to it. ‘Go to sleep.’

Re: PROMPT FILL: Clench Your Fists 3/3 (TW: Violence)

Ugh, the italics didn't carry through. Sorry, I'm still new to livejournal! Anyway, I hope this is something similar to what you were imagining. :)

Re: PROMPT FILL: Clench Your Fists 3/3 (TW: Violence)

It was great! Thank you so much! Made my day to get up to this in my inbox today :-D

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