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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 5(/?)

By the time Sherlock finally calls, John is pretty much certain that he's snapped. He's huddled on the couch, hands pulled up inside the sleeves of his jacket and arms wrapped around his legs. He can't touch anything, doesn't dare.

(In the kitchen, the cup that Sherlock had on the table in his room while he was wanking and saying John's name is in shards on the floor. In the hallway, John's cane is lying where Sherlock and Mrs Hudson will never see it but Anderson will trip over on the next-but-one drugs bust; the one where he calls John a deviant in the kitchen while John taps at his laptop on the armchair...)

He can't even use his laptop any more and there's the tiny part of John that clings to denial even now which is proud that he got the information Sherlock needed and sent it to him before he stopped being able to read what was on the screen.

(The front page on his blog is a notice from Harry giving the date for his funeral. The front page of the newspaper cycles through headlines about 'UNEXPLAINED EXPLOSION'/'BOMB VICTIMS IDENTIFIED'/'POLICE CONFIRM COUNSULTANT AMONG THE DEAD'. The television keeps playing that daft make-over show and that stupid Connie Prince woman keeps stopping in the middle of the clip to look at him and say "Aren't you going to sort it out, dear?")

Sherlock's ring tone makes John startle and he's got his gun in his hand and pointed at the table. Joe's singing cuts out and he starts complaining about the racket.

"Come at once," Sherlock demands. "I have it!"

"What?" John sighs. "Fine. Where are you?"

He lets Sherlock give him directions and isn't entirely surprised that Sherlock is waiting for both him and Lestrade in a theoretically secure lock-up. He is surprised when the visions and the dizzying feeling of seeing how every action triggers a wholly predictable chain of events just ...stop as soon as he hears Sherlock's voice.

It disappears, not even flashes of Sherlock naked and instead of being relieved, John's pulse kicks up a notch. He stays as close as he can justify and watches Sherlock explain the case to Lestrade. John stays in the background, mind racing.

There's something more here; John doesn't dare touch the car because there's bitter dread on the back of his tongue and even ducking to look at the too-perfect blood stain makes his skin prickle like he's in front of a bonfire.

He lets Sherlock have his moment of triumph and they're leaving when Sherlock says "I am on Fire!"

John's brain whites out – there's the smell of chlorine and mould again and a high-pitched mad giggle and Sherlock, all stark lines as the air goes orange/red and the explosion sweeps towards him.

"John? John!" Sherlock sounds annoyed but with the inflection John has learnt means that he's actually feeling worried.

"I'm fine," John lies. He sees Sherlock's eyebrows fly up and gropes for an explanation that will satisfy Sherlock long enough for his mysterious opponent to start the next stage of the game. Right on cue, his stomach rumbles.

"When did you last eat?" Sherlock demands, expression already smoothing into irritation now that he believes he knows what the problem is.

John shrugs. "Head in the fridge, remember? I wasn't going to risk the rashers after that."

Sherlock looks cross which John automatically translates to 'guilty'. John pinches the bridge of his nose. "What did you do to the rashers, Sherlock?"

"I needed biological tissue and pigs are an acceptable substitute," Sherlock lectures him on the genetic similarities between pigs and humans the whole way to the nearest greasy cafe and hovers until John orders enough food to satisfy whatever random quantity Sherlock believes constitutes a 'proper' meal.

The food helps and John relaxes a little. The deluge of information has stopped and he's feeling more grounded now that he isn't half-fainting with hunger. He isn't stupid and he's dealt with it for years.

"Is it him? Moriarty?" John asks and feels the rushing heat of the explosion when Sherlock shoots him that shy/enchanted smile. The food in his stomach feels like a lead weight and John swallows the taste of his own blood.

Re: Shadows on the Wall 5(/?)

my dear, I don't know if you meant to but you de-anoned, but I am glad you did, so that I can properly express my undying affection. I am SO VERY in love with this story, and the more it goes on and the more John becomes unraveled, the deeper in love I fall. Thank you for continuing! I wait with bated breath for the next installment ♥

Re: Shadows on the Wall 5(/?)

I didn't mean to but I was posting v. late and accidentally outed myself. /o\ Mea Culpa.

I'm really glad you're enjoying the story. I think there's probably another 3-4 parts still to go so hopefully you'll enjoy those just as much.

Re: Shadows on the Wall 5(/?)

*Cheers* I love the update. And I love that its going to be longer than five XD Can't wait to see what Johns going to do.

BTW like twig_tea said idk if you meant to but your no longer anon.

Re: Shadows on the Wall 5(/?)

Probably 9-10 (but then I thought it was going to be four parts long so I'm not promising anything). Really glad you're enjoying it.

And I messed up the spambot challenge and utterly failed at ninja-like stealth. Mea Culpa.

Re: Shadows on the Wall 5(/?)

This is spectacular. Poor John's descent is very well written, it's easy to visualize it. I'm also really glad that you're still writing this! It's one of my favorite things on the meme. :)

Looking forward to the next part!

Re: Shadows on the Wall 5(/?)

Yay, I'm glad you liked it! I am still writing it, I just had a couple of deadlines sneak up on me. Hopefully be finished soon.

Thank you!

Re: Shadows on the Wall 5(/?)

(Anonymous)
I'm so hooked on this story!

Re: Shadows on the Wall 5(/?)

I love this. Oh, there are not words for my reaction when the head started talking. Thank you for sharing, I hope you continue.

I didn't even realize how much I love the idea of Harry/Sally or Lestrade and his wife having a mutual boyfriend until you mentioned them. I desperately hope you consider side stories for them, because they're brilliant all on their own.

Re: Shadows on the Wall 5(/?)

It's insane how much I love you for this! Please don't abandon it! *offers first-born child*

Re: Shadows on the Wall 5(/?)

I've just inhaled all the available parts of this fab story and wanted to thank you. It's fantastic. So clever!

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Re: Shadows on the Wall 5(/?)

(Anonymous)
This storyyyyy! I loveitloveit sooo much! *hugs it*

Re: Shadows on the Wall 5(/?)

How much do I love this story? Enough that I couldn't state everything I love about it without quoting at least half of it back and am probably being quite rude to ask this soon (my apologies) but doing so anyway - can I podfic this when you've finished?

Shadows on the Wall 6(/?) [I am clearly not a ninja]

The phone goes again and oh, oh god, no. Connie Prince smirks out of the small screen and John makes a light-hearted comment about his continued (permanent) unemployment and Mrs Hudson's viewing habits (Mrs Hudson never watches Connie Prince; thinks she's a vapid old bitch but he's safe; Sherlock won't ask if he thinks the presented evidence is plausible)crosses to turn on the TV. (Connie's voice hisses through the static. "Number fifteen, lovey. They're just showing me on the BBC again.")

John twitches and smiles blandly at the girl (Anne) behind the counter as he picks out one-five on the remote, looking down so he won't see Connie's face until the TV shows her clip with Tyra ("Lovely, lovely girl. She's going to be married soon, did you know? All thanks to me.") and the newsreader's voice droning over her. Connie's voice – the one that talks to John through static and background noise – fades away. The phone rings a second later and John swallows. He fumbles for the volume control and turns it down.

Sherlock's expression doesn't change as the latest puppet starts to speak. Then he ducks his head and suddenly, John needs to be closer. There are ...reflections – thin, sepia-coloured memories flooding the cheap plastic walls. A woman, in a wheelchair – one of those old iron carriages, probably in her eighties. Not the caller (Ruth-Elizabeth Darlington, 72, widow. Living alone though her son has wanted her to move in with him since she was declared legally blind. She doesn't want to be a burden; isn't staying where memories of her George are everywhere. She'll be dead in less than a day.), but someone else. Someone more important.

The old woman he can see has white eyes and long nervous fingers. There's a boy, blurry and out-of-focus, just tall enough that his head is on a level with her lap. He's holding up a fistful of flowers and the old woman accepts each one and runs her fingers over it, smiling small and proud. John takes his seat opposite Sherlock, the visions (memories) shifting with him. The lady fades again, leaving the empty chair for a split second as the boy looks at it then turns to face John. He's got turbulent curls, pale guarded eyes and John's breath catches for an instant.

Then the boy shifts and morphs, sinking into the real and present Sherlock and John thinks oh.

Not Mummy, John is certain of that. The woman was too old, too obviously frail. Sherlock couldn't have been more than five. A grandmother? Great-grandmother, maybe?

"Why are you doing this?" Sherlock demands and John's eyes fly up. Sherlock's expression is still virtually blank but his jaw is set. John can hear the woman (Ruth)'s voice, soft and breathy and starting to break under the strain as she parrots Moriarty's words. (He's there with her, in the flat, sitting just across from her. He'll leave after this message but he can't resist being this close, hearing Sherlock's voice without the added distortion from the phone tap.)

Sherlock keeps eye contact as Ruth laboriously reconstructs the sentence, Moriarty's high-pitched giggle and the steady breathing of the sniper are distracting her. Then, finally finished, she breathes out an 'ohhh' that is pure mortal terror and Sherlock looks away. For a second, John sees the boy, curled in the big old wheelchair with red, dry eyes, then Sherlock lowers the phone, flicks John an inscrutable look and sets the phone down, turning to look at the television.

John wants to say he's sorry, wants to offer Sherlock a shoulder and a welcoming ear for his child's memory of his (great-grandmother, French, they called her 'Grand-mère P' because Mycroft had a lisp, kept mispronouncing the 'V' and Sherlock stubbornly refused to believe his big brother had made a mistake.).

But he doesn't because Sherlock won't accept either, even if they weren't in public; even if John could explain how he knows.

Sherlock is staring at the clip of Connie Prince again, breathing a little faster and thumb twitching. John looks away, feeling intrusive just by being there, and takes out his phone to call Lestrade.

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