Log in

No account? Create an account

Sherlock BBC Prompting Meme

"we get all sorts around here."

Previous Entry Share Flag Next Entry
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 -

  • 1

Shadows on the Wall 1(/3?)

It starts as a whisper during basic training, a little internal voice that chips in just before he makes a decision. Like when Myers, the hot-shot with the perfect scores, fires what everyone believes is a full clip and the little voice says wait. John is the only one who doesn't stand and so the last bullet (fired when Myers spins his pistol like a western gunslinger) goes through Hodges' leg instead of John's chest.

In the endless days after Afghanistan, when all he can do is think and limp on around on a perfectly sound leg, John thinks that it had to start with his own survival. Self-preservation – that was a trait that naturally selected, right? A trait like that is valuable. In the evolutionary sense, at least.

The voice popped up again and again and again during boot camp but those first few months, it was only 100% right when his own life was on the line. That only started to change when he started the intense period of study that would get him to the lofty heights of an M.D. Again, John rationalises that it makes sense; it is an instinct, a skill and training can adapt either of those, turn them cross ways and make them useful. Doctors are trained to put their patients first, over everything.

Again, it starts with the extremes; a whisper that makes him shout for suction three vital seconds before the machines scream the low blood pressure warning: a nudge that draws his eye to the spreading blood stain in middle of the black shirt. But it keeps coming, the little voice and later, in the real war, the growing sense of deja vu that swells up from his hind-brain whenever he's on the cusp of a critical decision.

He actually had dodged the bullet that would have crippled his leg but by the end of his tour, John was sleeping maybe three hours a night, on a good night. Inevitably, his concentration eroded and the lines between what was and what might be became muddied; blurred past the point of distinction. John knows intellectually that he dodged, there's no scar under his fingers when the phantom pain spikes and he's a damn good doctor. He doesn't remember dodging. He remembers that he turned back when Callahan dropped his helmet, in profile for the crucial second after the sniper squeezed the trigger. He remembers how the bullet burned through flesh and shattered bone. He remembers the fever, the malaria that they didn't give him tablets for because he was vomiting his guts up every hour and the hushed voices as the doctors left him to God and blind chance. He remembers Harry's hysteria, that she and Clara don't divorce because Clara would never leave Harry with a crippled, half-dead brother and that their first son is called Hamish John because Harry is still a prat, even sober.

He hates himself sometimes, when his second-hand phone fills up with texts and voice-mails as Harry destroys herself, for making that choice. He thinks she would hate him, even if he could tell her, if he could explain that he had to make that choice or so many people would have died – will die, unless John makes the right choice again.

It makes therapy a bugger, that's for sure. He can't explain in a way Ella understands that he did choose to be shot. The only medic down with a bullet through the shoulder meant the Colonel turned them around and the 93rd were the first unit through the booby-trapped alley. Their demo boys were both rested and alert and spotted the IED before anyone could even be hurt. John clung to the memory of half his damn unit, alive and whole and bringing him crude 'Get Well Soon' cards instead of lying scattered across that stupid dusty track in strips of shredded flesh.

He clings to anything that helps him distinguish, anything that is difference and distinct. The tremor in his left hand isn't shell-shock, isn't PSTD or any of the hundred little things that Ella suggests but John pretends it is, waiting for the man who will tell him to his face that it isn't.

He goes back to London after Afghanistan and god, it's such a mistake. It started in London, started the day John Watson swore to give his life for for Queen and Country.

Re: Shadows on the Wall 1(/3?)

holy shit!!!!

Shadows on the Wall 2(/3?)

If he believed that it was anything but an unlucky genetic quirk, John's first month is London might have been a crisis of faith. He doesn't believe in God, not the God of bedtime prayers and Sunday services. If God exists, if God has something like it then He's mad. John believes that as he believes (in) nothing else. He falls into a rigid routine; no triggers means it doesn't flare up and he can pretend that it's gone.

Then Stamford crashes through his carefully constructed life with a single incredulous question. "John? John Watson?"

He almost keeps walking but it floods his mind and he's out of habit, can't push it away before he gets two distinct instants of possibility. One John Watson doesn't stop, keeps hobbling away and Mike, who is all blustering good intentions, lets him go and five days later, that John Watson shoots himself in the temple with his illegal service revolver. The other John Watson turns and lets Mike reintroduce himself and five days later, that John Watson is running down a street, fighting a giggle because he's said that they shouldn't giggle at crime scenes and he doesn't have a cane or a limp.

So, at last, John Watson meets Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock, his usual arrogant self, assumes John stutters after the question because he's stunned or offended. John doesn't tell him that it's because he has two distinct revelations crashing down on him. The first is He's not me. Not like me but he's brilliant! because yes, Sherlock is a mad genius who makes his brain do what John's 'it' can do but he controls it.

The second is I'm going to fall in love with you. When Sherlock shows him the flat and smiles that shy, happy smile, John smiles back and wonders if he'll ever even notice.

Sherlock is brilliant. John isn't lying when he calls his flatmate (friend?) fantastic. He races around problems, impatiently dragging John and the long-suffering Lestrade behind him. He has a brother who thinks John can be scared of men in suits and who will, unless John can figure out a trail for Sherlock to 'deduce', be assassinated in 2011 by Sherlock's real arch-nemesis. John likes him, even though he doesn't think he's meant to. Mycroft is proof that the only people for Sherlock are the mad and John slots into the whirlwind life of London's consulting detective like Sherlock has been saving his place.

John doesn't think like that often. He can't. After the hideously awkward conversation in the restaurant, he decides to put Sherlock's mind at ease. John needs Sherlock more than Sherlock needs John so the obligation is on John to keep things from getting awkward. He plays the straight bloke, asks out every woman he encounters (who doesn't actually want to date him) and tries to find the right future but maddeningly, it doesn't work. Not for this.

John steers a taxi, half the Metropolitan Police and emergency services to where the cabbie's taken Sherlock. But it whispers in his ear and John goes down the other corridor and watches through the window. Sherlock is going to take the pill. Sherlock will die. The cabbie poisoned both pills. Sherlock is going to die unless...

The gun feels feather light and John lines up the shot without even thinking. He knows he's going to make the shot, knows it isn't a kill shot (but the cabbie will be still be dead by the time Lestrade reaches the room).

He still shoots.

Sherlock figures it out, naturally but to John's real surprise, he doesn't tell Lestrade. He covers for John and smiles at him like John is remarkable. John looks up at him and he knows this moment, can taste the adrenaline and oh, oh of course. This is the moment that John falls in love.

He hides it, deflects Sherlock into a petty argument with his brother because this is who John Watson is now. He knows to the millimetre how thin the line is that Sherlock walks between immortal fame and absolute ruin and he devotes himself to keeping Sherlock balanced. And it works and it is good.

Then John opens the fridge door one morning and the severed head sitting on the bottom shelf says "Good morning," in a raspy voice.

Re: Shadows on the Wall 2(/4??)

John stares at the head and closes the door, breathing harsh and sharp. Then he opens the door more cautiously.

"Much obliged, guv," The head says with some relief and John shouts at Sherlock for putting the head in the fridge.

"I don't believe you," John says and he can see the dull white eyes roll up like an overlay over the real head.

"He's a right plonker, in't he?" The head coughs. "Sorry, forgetting me manners, I am. Joe Hobson, down from Scunthrope. Pleasure to meet you, guv."

"And you," John says faintly. He closes the door and goes to pick a fight with Sherlock. Then, ignoring the blurry flashes of possibility, he goes storming out to Sarah's. He likes Sarah and right then, he likes Sarah a great deal more than he likes Sherlock. John feels a very strong need to surround himself with 'normal'.

So, naturally on his rare night off, some lunatic decides to blow up their flat. John comes racing back and steps straight into the umpteenth round of Holmes Brothers' Cold War. He flounders a little, largely because he can hear a muffled voice coming from the fridge and he doesn't have to look at either of the other two to know that they don't hear it. He's badly rattled; always a mistake when you're in the same room as one Holmes, much less both of them. He's suddenly terrified again; this time that they'll see something, that he'll do something to give himself away.

It's made a lot worst by Mycroft's presence. Mycroft doesn't come to the flat, he sends his car and give John time to prepare, time to sort out the dozens of possibilites for the one that leaves Mycroft satisfied and smugly certain that John is just another flavour of bland normal human. John still isn't afraid of Mycroft but now, with flickering flashes of what Mycroft is capable of dancing behind his eyes, he is afraid of what Mycroft can do to him.

It's a relief when Mycroft tires of sniping back and forth with Sherlock and leaves. Sherlock's phone going a minute later is a more mixed blessing but Lestrade means station means people. If Sherlock really is feeling nettled then he'll make a point of ignoring John. If John is sensible then he'll have rebuilt the 'John Watson, dull sidekick' façade by then.

Sherlock sweeps out of the room and John hesitates. The head - Joe - is still complaining about the 'bleedin' dark' and his voice sounds like any querulous old fart in the hospital. John wavers. Then he hurries over to the fridge and hesitates before pulling out one of the battery-powered night lights from under the sink. Before he can talk himself out of it, he opens the fridge door and puts it on the shelf over the head (Joe). Then he closes the door quickly and scurries across the kitchen to the door.

"Cheers, guv. Yer a saint!" Joe's voice follows him back out to as he follows Sherlock out into the taxi.

John is grateful that Sherlock is on to full-on sulking by the time he catches up. It means that the cab is quiet and he can think.

Inevitably his thoughts circle right back to Joe.

John has known for weeks that Molly is going to be an award-winning research scientist who wins the Nobel Prize for Advanced Microbiology. He could tell Lestrade was going to fix things up with his wife and had carefully sabotaged Sherlock's phone last Friday so Lestrade made the all-important dinner with his wife and met Raphael who is going to make them both so happy. He reminded Sally to get her pap test over casual conversation, bringing up a patient who caught the cancer just in time and he's going to let her buy him dinner after the threat of cancer is averted.

John had honestly thought that he'd hit rock bottom as far as freakish psychic powers went. He's never had a body talk to him before and between medic training and Afghanistan, he's seen more than his fair share of them. Not that Joe is even a proper body, just a chopped off head stuck in fridge by a sociopathic detective to traumatise his psychic flatmate.

It's enough to drive anyone barmy.

John thinks suddenly of the neat stack of prescriptions Ella writes and he fills then flushes down a public toilet every week, and wonders, for the first time since moving to Baker Street, if maybe he's just going mad?

Re: Shadows on the Wall 2(/4??)

Forgot to mention that I'm enjoying these tremendously.

Re: Shadows on the Wall 2(/4??)


Re: Shadows on the Wall 2(/4??)

Ooh. Love! This is awesome. I have a rather ridiculous amount of adoration for the parts involving Mycroft, but then he is one of my favourite characters. ^_^

Hope you keep writing (and soon).

Re: Shadows on the Wall 2(/4??)

Oh my goodness... a third John is psychic fill?? It's like, my birthday, Christmas and Hallowe'en all rolled into one prompt full of love and I didn't even come up with it. Holy shit.

I love the fact that in this John took a bullet to save his company. That's just... so him. It's also a brilliant play with the psychosomatic limp! All the little things he does to help the people around him, I love it~

I think I died when I read about the head, haha. What an interesting twist for the power; can't wait for more to see how John handles it~!

Re: Shadows on the Wall 2(/4??)

F5 F5 F5

THIS IS BRILLIANT. JOHN'S SACRIFICE. The explanation for his "psychosomatic" limp! John pretending to be the dull sidekick! Molly doing something totally kickass!

*gets down on bended knee and proposes marriage*

Re: Shadows on the Wall 2(/4??)

Tracking the hell out of this badass fill.

Re: Shadows on the Wall 2(/4??)

OMG! 3 fills on my prompt, having never had any fills on any prompt before. I think I love you anon :)

Also, I love the twist on the limp and the shoulder wound - very John. And the *head* - LOL - poor John.

Can't wait to see the next bit :)

Re: Shadows on the Wall 2(/4??)

Oh, these are amazing. I love the 'John comes back psychic' fics and you're doing a great job with it. :D

Re: Shadows on the Wall 2(/4??)

He knows to the millimetre how thin the line is that Sherlock walks between immortal fame and absolute ruin and he devotes himself to keeping Sherlock balanced. And it works and it is good

I love you for that line alone but all of it really is superb.

Shadows on the Wall 3(/5?? I really, really hope?)

The police station is a relief; the only things dead in here are the plants and John's had a black thumb his whole life. He's still relieved when none of the desiccated ferns say anything. Sherlock sweeps through the station, John nodding distractedly to the various people he recognises as he hurries after him.

Anderson isn't in (wife's started to suspect the affair and he's taken her on a 'spontaneous' romantic weekend. It might have worked but the B&B owner has a good memory for faces and thinks Sally can do better). Sally smiles at him and John bites his lip thoughtfully. (Time to introduce her to Harry, maybe?)

Then Lestrade (looking much better, Raphael must be nearly ready to move in) gives Sherlock a package and John's heart stops. He manages, somehow, to bluff Sherlock into believing it's embarrassment. Sherlock is too wrapped up in the parcel to pay enough attention to spot the misdirection. John's eyes are magnetised to the phone and all he can hear is the hiss of sand running though his fingers.

He's twitchy, hyper-alert in a way that he hasn't been since before he was shot. Old habits, even his gait falls into the familiar military cadence and his thigh twinges with just enough pain to make his steps uneven. It would be a dead give-away to anyone that knows him but Sherlock's the only person that does now, and he's too enchanted with his new puzzle to notice a beat-up old soldier throwing a strop.

(n the back of John's mind, a countdown starts. Tick-tick-tick...)

He follows Sherlock down into the bowels of their home and goes tense and still in the small mouldy room. The shoes feel like booby-traps, like bombs and he's careless, tense and jittery when he speaks. He nearly jumps out of his skin when the phone goes and the room goes grey for second.

The conversation is agonizing. John has to clamp his mouth shut on a scream.

The woman (Elaine Dugs, 39, single mother (two boys, one in college, one doing his A-levels), works in Barclay's and her co-workers are planning a huge surprise party for her fortieth birthday and her team are paying for a proper holiday) is almost hysterical. She's praying, soundless heaving gasps of piety underneath the sobbing words and god, John can't do this.

He has to though, so he follows Sherlock out to the taxi, shoes tucked with great care into a brown paper bag that John charms out of Mrs Hudson. Lestrade gives him a significant nod as Sherlock hails the taxi, keep me informed, yeah? and John smiles awkwardly and nods.

Naturally Sherlock drags him straight to Bart's and John honestly wants to kill him for it. A whole lab full of pieces and fragments of humanity and all of them are fucking talking. As if that wasn't enough, John can feel Elaine Dugs' desperation seething around the fringes of his mind and he's snappish, short-tempered and Jim, sleazy nasty little Jim, passes him by completely.

John might, even then, have been able to stop it. He might have known, given some time, that Jim was Moriarty and the faint chlorine reek wasn't from Jim visiting the pool but instead, Sherlock hands him the shoes. John's been able to swim all his life; mostly in rivers or at the sea and god, he never thought of how much chlorine burns or how horribly bloated lungs full of water would feel, the way a heart would race and pound and struggle against the mass.

It takes three minutes to die of drowning. It feels like three years. John can almost taste the boy's confused panic, the hundred and one tiny things he wanted to have done better.

He offers a terse summary of what he can prove the shoes are telling him. Boy, big boy who took care of his shoes (first thing he bought with the money from his job down the supermarket), old style sneakers (80's and god, John had forgotten how foul hair spray smelt) and how worn they'd become (loved to swim but running was something he could do with his dad).

What John doesn't say is: his name was Carl and he was a good boy (occasionally thoughtless, occasionally cruel) and someone had killed him, in the most agonising, torturous way they could and he'd never even known who it was.

"I mean, you missed almost everything of importance."

(Deleted comment)
(Deleted comment)
(Deleted comment)
(Deleted comment)

Re: Shadows on the Wall 2(/4??)

He knows to the millimetre how thin the line is that Sherlock walks between immortal fame and absolute ruin and he devotes himself to keeping Sherlock balanced. And it works and it is good

I love you for that line alone but all of it really is superb.

  • 1