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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
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. 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 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 - 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 15(/19?)

"Why hasn't he phoned?" Sherlock demands in the taxi. "He's broken his pattern. Why?"

John spares him a distracted glance, humming non-committally. He's back to watching the passing traffic through narrowed eyes. (Moriarty has been distracted by Sherlock. Moriarty's network is full of men who don't like having their mastermind distracted. It's not profitable, after all. They want to make sure Sherlock...ceases to distract. It's a percarious balance that tips too fast for John to be sure where they stand; Moriarty's inevitable and ingenious retribution versus the resumption of business and profits as usual.) John's on high alert, apprehensive and fingers itching for the gun that he doesn't have with him. Afghanistan left him with more than just a limp and shaking hand, John remembers the feel of a sniper lining up the shot.

"Waterloo Bridge," Sherlock snaps at the cabbie, catching John's attention.

They're going to the gallery, apparently. Not that Sherlock's admitting it just yet. John bites back the acidic comments about how Sherlock's daily dose of drama should surely have been met already today. He doesn't say anything like that because his phone is still a guilty weight in the pocket of his coat and even if John knows there is no way Sherlock could know about the text message.

"The Hickman's contemporary art, isn't it?" John asks, trying to redirect Sherlock before he says or does something to attract attention. (A deliberate misstep, dating from Moriarty's more subtle courtship.)

The insight leaves John's mind frozen; he tries not to analyse the way his mind interprets its feedback but where the hell did 'courtship' come from? What sort of crazy, insane mind would consider this courtship?

Aside from Sherlock? John thinks and hates himself for it.

Thankfully Sherlock isn't in the mood to chat, too busy scribbling in that ratty little notebook John bought him at Sainsbury's to engage with John's blatant red herring. He's careful not to let John see what he's writing and stops the taxi so he can get out at the bridge itself. There's a girl (Margaret) sitting on the bench, a couple of boxes and the better quality plastic bags beside her. (She's twenty six, doesn't look it and lives on the street because it's better than going back into her husband's house or worse, her father's.)

Surprise, surprise, John winds up stuck with the taxi fare when Sherlock sends him off to speak to Meg, not that Sherlock cares about her name.

"Lestrade will know the address," Sherlock says, dismissing the matter as entirely John's problem. John doesn't need to call Lestrade so he doesn't. It's not just about efficiency even if John does prefer having Sherlock where he can see him or at least close enough that he can call for help if the situation goes to hell. It's reassuring, from time to time, to be able to prove to himself that it isn't just a delusion.

Meg turns out to be a pleasant, dumpy woman who talks about Alex and his job easily and openly. She's at pains to assure John that they weren't sleeping together, that Alex was a good man who "didn't deserve it, Mr. Watson."

The only possibly interesting clue is the break-in and John asks about the message because...because it's important and there's a life at stake. Not Sherlock's, not his and John is about certain it's another poor sod who didn't ask to be involved in Moriarty's webs which doesn't make it any easier to contemplate. Meg leaves him in Alex's room and John can think for a second, explore the feeling. It's not a certainty, there's still a chance – a very, very slim chance – that John can stop whoever it is from being murdered. Mycroft texts him, prodding him to yet another reminder of shattered lives.

Andrew West loved his country, John knows and died an innocent man. John has no idea how to prove that or if he even can without tipping Mycroft off about it. John puts his phone back in his pocket and declines Meg's offer of tea. Sherlock hasn't summoned him back and there's no text from Lestrade. John pulls up the address, carefully book-marked in Google for him and well, he's got nothing better to do, really.

He might as well attempt the impossible.

Re: Shadows on the Wall 15(/19?)


Re: Shadows on the Wall 15(/19?)

Still so amazing~

Re: Shadows on the Wall 15(/19?)

I love this so much! &hearts

Poor Meg. I felt badly for her in the ep too, she seemed sad.

Er... this text message John sent secretly? Am I meant to know who it went to? Or is that supposed to be secret? I'm hoping it's supposed to be secret, because otherwise I'm missing something. :(

Re: Shadows on the Wall 15(/19?)

Glad you're still enjoying it. ♥

I thought Meg had a case of 'the lady doth protest too much' myself.

And the text message will be explained, probably in part 17 the way things are going. It's still mysterious so far.

Shadows on the Wall 16(/19?)

"I knew Westie, he was a good man." Liz Harrison says, voice wobbling on the edge of a sob. "He was my good man."

She leaves John standing in the street and vanishes back into the drab house. Her brother is waiting for her in the hallway and he gives John a flat, unfriendly look before the door closes. John looks at the red door for a second and turns away.

Liz Harrison didn't know anything new and John's willing to bet every penny of his pension that she told him everything she knew. Everything that supports her assumption, perhaps, Sherlock's voice echoes in his head and John turns away, frowning. He'd considered that she might be lying from the moment she said hello. He doesn't see victims when he asks these stupid, repetitive questions these days. Nowadays, he sees suspects and it is somewhat terrifying to think that Sherlock's ...Sherlockness might be contagious.

He still doesn't think Liz Harrison lied to him.

John starts walking. What he got out of the interview isn't as worrying as what he didn't get. It is still there, still filling his head with cluttered impressions but he got nothing from Miss Harrison. A jumble of what might have been memories or dreams of her and her fiancé or ...anything, really.

The last three days have been insane, literally insane but John is horrified to realise just how quickly he's come to depend on it: Sherlock's influence, no doubt. John's learned to treat 'normal' as a situational variable since he moved into Baker Street which - yeah, okay - isn't a bad thing. Most of the time.

But it isn't something he can rely on and John forgot that in the rush of needing to be Sherlock bloody Holmes' safety net. He isn't Sherlock: isn't anything but a beat-up medic that even the Army doesn't want and a ticking clock that's rapidly running down.

Andrew West needs a genius detective to clear his name and John stuffs his hands in his pockets and goes back to the case Sherlock actually cares about. There can't be that many Professor Cairns in London, surely?

It takes until the evening to find her and she's some sort of astronomy professor, ridiculously busy and doesn't believe in mobiles. After two frustrating hours, he finds out that she's going to be at the planetarium later tonight. Sod that John thinks and goes to find Sherlock.

Sherlock's coming out of the flat just as John arrives. He wants everything John's picked up about Woodbridge which is not enough, apparently and he wants the cab. Of course he does, because god forbid John should be able to to have a cup of tea or a sit down. Sherlock doesn't actually get in the cab, so he's probably planning not to pay for it (again), instead he goes to talk to someone standing by the railings. It's Margaret and John blinks.

(she likes this, he's a daft bastard but he's better than any bleeding copper. makes her feel that she's making things better, being a good soul like her nan used to say. doesn't need her to actually go near the bloke, which is good. she reckons he's a bad lot.)

Sherlock sweeps back into the taxi and John sighs and follows. It's not like he has a choice, after all. Sherlock sends the taxi off through the late traffic and John watches through the window, eyes narrowed. (Moriarty is currently ascendant but that doesn't mean the threat isn't still there)

He doesn't speak to Sherlock. There's nothing worth saying after all and if Sherlock wants to know what John's found out, he can damn well ask. Sherlock keeps glancing at him as the taxi veers around buses and John pretends not to notice. When they finally arrive, Sherlock pays the fare which is a pleasant surprise and floors John completely by noticing the stars.

"I thought you didn't care about-" John starts.

"Doesn't mean I can't appreciate it." Sherlock says crisply and John's reading too much into that. After all, Sherlock might genuinely just like stars or...maybe, just maybe he might not be a lost cause. John doesn't press the point.

"Listen, Alex Woodbridge had a message on the answerphone at his flat." John says instead because Sherlock caring, even if it's just about stars, deserves positive reinforcement.

Re: Shadows on the Wall 16(/19?)


Re: Shadows on the Wall 16(/19?)


Re: Shadows on the Wall 16(/19?)

Neeeearly finished. Nearly. =D

Re: Shadows on the Wall 16(/19?)

Right. Couldn't manage a coherent response last time I mainlined the whole thing, this time I took notes. Among the things I love about this:

Mrs Hudson being a former MI6 agent.
Molly's Nobel Prize.
Sherlock not being a sociopath but wanting to be.
Rachel Caine. That -- that hit close to home. Doesn't matter what form it takes, the only solution to bullying is escape.

Re: Shadows on the Wall 16(/19?)

Please, more. I'm liking this so very much.

Re: Shadows on the Wall 16(/19?)

Fantastic, stunning, absolutely amazing!

I sincerely hope there's more to come ^_^

Re: Shadows on the Wall 16(/19?)

i love this so much, just found it tonight an can't wait to see how john attempts to pull things into a rightness through his sheer force of will.

also, it wasn't until i read your story that i realized that my observation about how snippy and short of patience john was being with Sherlock during TGG could be attributed to jealousy. gonna go re-watch, so thanks for that.
thanks so much for writing!

Re: Shadows on the Wall 16(/19?)

I've had this tab open for *weeks*, and every time you post more it makes my day!

Shadows on the Wall 17(/20?)

Sherlock brushes off the information which is good, fantastic because as soon as John steps in past the first archway, it comes roaring back. This is old London and John jolts as years of history boil up. It's a quiet, secret place. (Drunken prostitutes, desperate souls and all the flotsam of the city pass through here. The man in the corner, Jack Mills, used to be top boy at his school but there was no money for university and bitterness poisoned his life. He's dying of heroin; doesn't eat, doesn't sleep if he can avoid it. He's dying of pneumonia but he'll die of exposure first.)

John is astonished but not genuinely surprised to find that Sherlock can interact so seamlessly with the homeless. (It started in university, Sherlock intrigued and attracted to the outcast, those who didn't merely fail to live up to society's standards but were actually incapable of doing so. A reminder of how well he could choose to integrate and the price if he didn't.)

He turns to look, just as Dzundza stands up and bloody hell, Alex wasn't kidding. He looks like the master vampire off Buffy crossed with a giraffe. John staggers a little; just as he starts to move. The man taints everything he comes within a hundred miles of and why in God's name didn't John bring his gun? Sherlock could have waited three goddamned minutes because John is pretty much certain that going up against the Golem with a gun is going to get them both killed.

John gets them both flattened against the wall, feeling hopelessly for where his gun should be. Then Sherlock - infuriating, crazy, wonderful Sherlock - slips him his gun and you know, they might actually manage this.

They don't because Moriarty isn't willing to tip his hand just yet. It's one thing to surrender some petrified client but letting Sherlock get his hands on the Golem would be an entirely different matter. Dzundza's got minders, a whole team of gunmen. (Ukrainian with nothing to go home for. They aren't evil but their utter indifference to normal morals has made them invaluable to Moriarty. No trained snipers but they're all good shots.)

John knows - knows - that they won't be able to save Professor Abigail Cairns in the second that the red lights of the car vanish into the London night. He still tries because he's not Sherlock, mercurial and brilliant or Lestrade, jaded and intelligent but he's John Watson and as Harry used to say, he has stubborn where he should have common sense.

The fight in the planetarium is chaos; Dzundza isn't stupid and problems like Sherlock are serious problems. John lets his gun fall; Sherlock will miss, even this close where John wouldn't. Cairns is already dead, John can hear her voice wavering on the edge of hearing and John wants Dzundza to face the consequences.

The police arrive too late and John doesn't notice that Cairns' voice has faded until long after they have loaded her body into an ambulance.

Lestrade is distracted as Sherlock unravels the scheme, the latest hostage providing the countdown. (The boy isn't in danger. Seventy percent certain. Moriarty doesn't normally touch children but even his West London boss' kids aren't necessarily safe. Snatched from his mum's house, the kid's spent the last eleven and a bit hours playing games and sleeping and he's only now starting to realise something isn't right.)

Sherlock solves it, literally at the very last second and John's voice is breathless and funny as he and Moriarty's client are left staring at the painting. John leaves her to the uniforms and goes outside to find that Lestrade on the phone to Dover.

"Yes, Dzundza, Oskar Dzundza. Sounds like him all right."

John dips his head to hide the flicker of pride and relief. Lestrade got his text message, thank god and listened to it. Sherlock is pulling on his gloves, eyes intent on the woman being led out in handcuffs. He doesn't even look at John, waving him away before John can come up with a plausible reason for not wanting to come to the interview.

John gets home and goes straight up to his laptop. He opens Outlook and takes a deep breath before he starts to type.

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