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Sherlock BBC Prompting Meme

"we get all sorts around here."


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Prompting: Part II
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. UPDATE: sherlockrpf</lj> has set up an RPF meme post in their community. Anon posting is on, and that meme is free for you all to use.
+Depending on the rate of activity, there may or may not be a prompt freeze when a part reaches 5000 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 Pagesherlockfest - Sherlock RPF Request Post - Overflow Post -


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Shadows on the Wall 11(/17?)

John keeps his eyes on the television and forces his voice even. Sherlock still isn't looking (not at him) and John has done this before and survived it. (His dad spent every moment he wasn't drunk explaining why he wasn't an alcoholic. His mum tried to make them a functional family by sheer force of will and never admitted there was any such thing as a problem. Harry, with the night-life sparkling off her broken edges, who wants a brother when she's desperate or sober or lonely or all of the above and pretends he doesn't exist when she's happy.)

He asks about Carl Powers because Carl is important. He doesn't see how, not yet but even when it isn't clear, John's learnt the weight of important information, how the distortions and echoes shape around the thought of Carl Powers suffocating in the chlorine and clamour of the pool with the lifeguard screaming for an ambulance. (Her name was Katy. She blamed herself for it until she died saving a kid from a drunk driver. There's a plaque up to her in her church, pristine among the graffiti and-)

-and none of this is relevant. If John were Sherlock, maybe all this mental clutter would be useful. He'd know who Moriarty was, why Carl died and he'd stop this. John keeps watching as the television shows the flats again and there are figures, people huddled together at the very edge of the police tape.

John asks about the classmates and still, he's angry, fists loosely clasped and eyes resolutely turned away. Sherlock answers languidly, unable to bear not being the centre of attention but equally incapable of feigning a genuine interest in anything but his blasted precious fucking cases.

"Maybe the killer was older than Carl?" (Not right, wrong way around, Sherlock's going to-)

"The thought had occurred."

-miss the point completely? John waits a beat, two but Sherlock is still staring into the middle distance, smiling.

Oh, oh no. Sherlock doesn't get to do this to him. John is used to just being the sounding board for everything from Mycroft's latest diet lapse (he only had hot chocolate on Friday because he'd eaten nothing else) to Sherlock's vaguely interested assessments of handsome young men – and wasn't that excruciating, John thinks because whatever else he is he's honest with himself. John knows more about Sherlock than anyone realises, just because he's always there.

It hurts worse than either of the bullets, burns like the phantom searing that promises John's future isn't going to be boring (or very long-term) to realise that Sherlock isn't going to talk about Moriarty. Moriarty who is different, Moriarty who is special and Jesus, John is jealous.

The skull is cackling like an old woman with a fifty a day habit and Joe in the fridge is calling Sherlock 'a right plonker'.

Pride wars with the need to know and John asks because this is important and if he waits for Sherlock to realise that John is feeling excluded, they'll be here until Doomsday. "So why is he doing this then? Playing this game with you. Do you think he wants to be caught?"

"I think he wants to be distracted," Sherlock says in a tone that John has never heard him use before, rough and wanting and John can't take it any more. He can't keep loving Sherlock while Sherlock destroys himself (again. Last time it was drugs, saved by Mycroft who can panic and make human mistakes like screaming at a stupid, selfish little brother who has nearly died and it's a toss-up whether Sherlock hates him more for the save or the too true dressing down in the middle of the hospital.)

"Oh," John pushes up, away because if he doesn't get something solid between him and Sherlock right this second, he's going to kill the bastard. "I hope you'll be very happy together."

Because this is a line John has to draw, now and as unambiguously as possible. If Sherlock wants Moriarty, well, John's just another in a long line of idiots and he'll try to stop them and probably fail but Sherlock cannot - will not - ever be able to have Moriarty and John.

(It's not a choice, Sherlock's already chosen) and John's never been good enough even for a 'normal' person.

Pain bleeds into anger, hotter, stronger and fuck it, John thinks.

Re: Shadows on the Wall 11(/17?)

(Anonymous)
Oh, John. I think I may be even more invested in this version of John than I am in the canon one. I love this, and I'm so glad there's more.

Re: Shadows on the Wall 11(/17?)

I'm glad John's got someone rooting for him since Sherlock is probably going to get worse before he gets better.

Thank you so much for reading and commenting.

Re: Shadows on the Wall 11(/17?)

Two posts in one day? We are lucky.

*reads*

*whimpers*

*hugs John*

*smacks Sherlock upside the head with an open hand [and he can consider himself lucky I didn't break out the Victorian-Era Frying Pan of Malice(TM).]*

*copy-pastes the lot into a certain WordPad file for future recording purposes*

Re: Shadows on the Wall 11(/17?)

I'm horribly, horribly behind on this story, I know but it will absolutely and for certain be done by the end of the month unless my immune system takes me out again. ::crosses fingers::

I'm keeping a tidied up Google doc of the fic if that would help once it's finished. Most of the parts only just scrape under LJ's comment limit so some formatting is inconsistent. ^^;;;;

Thank you for reading!

Shadows on the Wall 12(/17?)

Sherlock's perturbed "Sorry, what?" stops John in his tracks.

He sounds perplexed in that annoyed way he has when John is being too mundane to bear and John erupts. Sherlock will make use of John's knowledge, the hard-earned skills of his profession but at times like this, John wonders if Sherlock is really so staggeringly ignorant of what a doctor is.

["I solemnly pledge myself to consecrate my life to the service of humanity; "]

"There are lives at stake, Sherlock," John shouts and in his head he hears it as an echo of Major Doctor Reginald Daziel who had taught him how all the 'fancy-pants school learning' translated into life or death on the front lines. He had taken to John over the Scottish connection, even if it was more theoretical than anything else in John's case. He was the best doctor John has ever known. "Actual human lives!"

["I will give to my teachers the respect and gratitude which is their due; "]

Daziel was the only person John ever tried to tell; he'd been barely twenty-three, still a wet little medical student scuttling after the Major/Doctor and terrified and awed by Desert Storm and the reality of war. He'd stammered and fumbled his words, trying (and failing) to warn without giving everything away and Reginald Daziel died in the sand surrounded by the Army and life he'd loved. John still goes to put flowers on his grave every Thursday he's in London.

["I will practise my profession with conscience and dignity; the health of my patient will be my first consideration; "]

"Just so I know, do you care about that at all?" John demands because he's dying here. He needs some sign that Sherlock's sociopath act is still only skin-deep because god knows he's getting nothing to hang his hopes on from the rest of the case.

"Will knowing about them help save them?" Sherlock demands coldly, like John is being wilfully stupid just to antagonise him. More than just that, he looks offended as if John has said something that isn't true.

["I will maintain by all the means in my power, the honour and the noble traditions of the medical profession; my colleagues will be my brothers; "]

"Nope," John says tightly. It's the logical, rational truth after all.

"Then I'll continue not to make that mistake." Sherlock's practically sneering at him and John will grant that Sherlock is smarter than him, more confident and better in countless ways but John will not ever concede that being a normal, empathic human being is something he should be ashamed of.

"And you find that easy, do you?" John asks before he can calm down enough to think or consider tactics or a measure approach.

"Yes, very. Is that news to you?"

"No, no."

["I will not permit considerations of religion, nationality, race, party politics or social standing to intervene between my duty and my patient; "]

"I've disappointed you," Sherlock says, looking at John in a way he hasn't since that first case.

"That's good, that's a good deduction, yeah." John laughs a little, everything so clear in the light of his burning bridges.

"Don't make people into heroes, John. Heroes don't exist and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them."

["I will maintain the utmost respect for human life from the time of conception, even under threat, I will not use my medical knowledge contrary to the laws of humanity; "]

The blasted phone goes and Sherlock abandons the conversation in favour of his new fascination and John stands and stares at him. He wonders, a tiny echoing thought in the hollow where his heart used to be, if Sherlock will even notice when John is gone.

"Oh, you're angry with me, so you won't help." Sherlock sounds amused, condescending. "Not much cop, this caring lark."

["I make these promises solemnly, freely and upon my honour. "]

John comes slowly to attention, puts back his shoulders and crosses slowly to the pile of papers. Sherlock will believe it was his ability to manipulate but John is a doctor before he's anything else and someone, somewhere, needs his help if they're going to survive the day.

John can save them, or help at least and John took an oath to save every life he could. What's a broken heart compared to saving a life?

(Deleted comment)

Re: Shadows on the Wall 12(/17?)

Sherlock's a bit of a prick, isn't he?

Re: Shadows on the Wall 12(/17?)

(Anonymous)
This is awesome. I really can't wait to see how you end it. Will you let Sherlock know?

Re: Shadows on the Wall 12(/17?)

I've known how I was going to end it all along. Maaaaybe. =D

Thanks for reading.

Re: Shadows on the Wall 12(/17?)

(Anonymous)
Oh my poor, aching heart. Oh, John.

I love this story to little pieces.

Re: Shadows on the Wall 12(/17?)

oh. my. god. that was stunning. absolutely, completely, stunning and i have no words. the writing and imagery is astounding.
this is definitely one of the best fics i've read in a long while. and i thank you so very much for it!

please keep posting we need to know what happens next!

Re: Shadows on the Wall 12(/17?)

(Anonymous)
Oh, oh oh.

Re: Shadows on the Wall 12(/17?)

OMG each chapter just gets worse for poor John. And even though intellectually that's expected, knowing the episode, it doesn't make it any less heartbreaking to read.

Shadows on the Wall 13(/19?)

The papers are all blotchy, dull grey and John has to work to focus on the words. There's a suicide (Rachel Caine, 15, taking the only escape route her bullies hadn't closed off. For the last few seconds of her life, she was flying free and that was enough to make it worthwhile.) which Sherlock dismisses out of hand.

"Two kids stabbed in Stoke Newington," John says dully. (Michael Brady and Mohammed Bartholomew who played football together and died when a pack of chavs with too much cheap cider and meth frying their brain attacked them because they were walking down the street together.)

"Man found on the train line, Andrew West," John looks up from that one. Andrew West is going to be important; just like Carl was (is) and he's hoping Sherlock will see it now that Mycroft isn't hovering over him.

"Nothing!" Sherlock spits as if he's reading John's mind (he's not) and calls Lestrade.

John looks down at his pile of papers and isn't surprised when Sherlock's impatient phone call gets results; Lestrade may not like Sherlock a lot of the time but he respects Sherlock's instincts. John doesn't listen to Sherlock's side of the conversation, just stares down at the newsprint and waits for Sherlock to fuck right the hell off.

It will be...not better because nothing is going to make this better, but easier if John has time to recover. He just needs the time to rebuild the mask, to sort out what Sherlock wants John to be when he needs someone to send scurrying off to do the boring, necessary work that the great Sherlock Holmes can't be bothered to do himself. He needs time to collect himself, time to hide and he's not going to be able to keep a lid on his hurt unless he has some time.

"John?" Sherlock is hovering by the door with his coat on and his scarf tucked into the collar.

"Lestrade's found you something then?" John says matter-of-factly.

"Yes, weren't you listening?" Sherlock's frowning a little now and John closes the papers and steadfastly refuses to look up.

"I try not to listen to conversations that aren't my business," John replies carefully.

"Useless niceties," Sherlock huffs, coming a little closer until he's towering over John. It would be intimidating if John hadn't had his whole life to get used to being the smallest kid in his class and later his unit. "If you had listened, you'd have heard that he's found it!"

"It?"

"The body, John," and now Sherlock's exasperated and John breathes in even and slow. He will not be responsible for what he does to Sherlock if Sherlock has the fucking gall to lose his temper at John now. "Do keep up!"

"I wouldn't want my 'caring about him' to disrupt your case," John snaps and Sherlock rears back like John has slapped him. "Don't feel the need to hang around on my account."

Sherlock is staring at him, hands twitching and eyes narrowed as if John is being perplexing again. John isn't sure what Sherlock expects him to say here but he's damned if he's going to be the one to break the tension suddenly thrumming between them. He looks back down at his hands, watching them curl into fists as the skull starts to whistle the theme from Jaws. Badly and out of tune.

"The police have found a body," Sherlock says again. "This is what he wants me to solve. Moriarty."

"Still not seeing where I come in," John points out coolly.

"John," Sherlock says, all exasperated tone but his eyes are fixed on John with the sort of intensity that he normally reserves for crime scenes. "Stop being childish and get your coat."

John has to bite back a completely inappropriate giggle. Sherlock wouldn't know a pick-up line if John tattooed it on the back of his hand which really only makes it funnier. Sherlock loses some of the nervous tension and the corners of his lips rise a little.

"Do hurry up, John, or Lestrade will have to let Anderson start working on the scene and he'll destroy all my evidence."

John blinks up at Sherlock who is holding out John's coat and for once not commenting on the patches or the frayed inside pocket. He has the feeling, barely discernible under the hurt and amusement, that there's another conversation here he's missing. John sighs and pushes himself up.

"Oh, all right."

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