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Sherlock BBC Prompting Meme

"we get all sorts around here."


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prompting: part iii
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.
+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 Page - Sherlock RPF Request Post - Overflow Post -


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So... I'm not sure if it's been prompted yet, but I think we need the obligatory empath!John fills. I'm not sure what the plot would be, but I'm lacking and that's my headcanon for Watson's superpower if he had any. Go wild, go fun, go angsty (not too angsty, though), doesn't matter. I just need some empath skills for John~

Totally seconded!

Empathic John - Part 1

(Anonymous)
So I'm not really a writer but this idea just latched on to me and wouldn't let go. I'm not sure if I'll write more to this as I think it stands fairly well on it's own and I currently don't have any more ideas but we'll see. Also I write this mostly in one sitting and it's getting kind of late so apologies for any mistakes.

John didn’t remember when it had started. Sometime in childhood certainly but it had snuck up on him so gradually, that it felt like it had always been there. He’d always had a quiet understanding of other people, always knowing what to say, or not say. “Such a sweet, sensitive boy,” his mother’s friends would say, pinching his cheeks and smiling indulgently at him. “He’s going to be quite the catch when he’s older.”

It wasn’t until puberty that he had begun to suspect that it was something more. Not his own puberty necessarily, but that of everyone else around him. It took some time, but he did eventually realize that the tight funny feeling he got when he looked at Miss Davidson in maths was not his own, but that of the classmate sitting next to him. From there it spiralled downward, feelings washing over him like waves causing him to grit his teeth to stop form snapping that he didn’t care about their petty jealousies and feuds and would they all just calm down?! Still John carried on, and earned himself the reputation of being friendly if a bit on the quiet side, definitely a good listener. Overall, John didn’t have any complaints.

When John was sixteen, Mr. Jones from across the street died. John didn’t think he’s exchanged more than a few cursory greetings with the man, but the outpouring of grief that came from his wife and daughters hit John from almost three blocks away. It knocked into him like a physical blow and he needed to lean against a wall to catch his breath. By the time he made it home he felt sick to his stomach and his head was aching. His mum had taken one look at him and sent him upstairs to bed, later bring him soup and a cold compress for his head. Even Harry had tiptoed around him for the next day or so, only commenting that he looked like death and that he had better not be contagious. John had flinch at the mention of death and retreated back into his room, trying not to think about the grief that was sliding into despair across the road.

Perhaps joining the army had not been the most sensible plan for someone who could feel the emotions of others, but John had wanted to be a doctor for as long as he could remember and when the army offered to pay for medical school, it was an offer that he just couldn’t resist. That was s Basic training had been fine and even living in close quarters with other young men hadn’t been worse than anything he’d dealt with before. He didn’t think he’d actually be sent off to war.

It was during medical school that he had discovered the word for what he was. Empathic. That was, someone who had great understanding for the feelings of others. John sat in classes and listened to his professors go on about how important it was to imagine what their patients might be feeling. At one point they had need to practice by role-playing with their fellow students. John had rolled his eyes and done his best, despite being completely distracted by the utter derision that his partner had had for the entire exercise.

He wasn’t prepared for Afghanistan. He thought he knew what to expect, but what he hadn’t been expected was the low level fear that thrummed just under everyone’s skin. It never stopped, ever, and as the weeks went on John found himself unable to relax, the tension settling into his shoulders and around his eyes, his body reacting to the added stress of everyone else’s feelings. “For God’s sake Watson,” Mason, one of his unit- mates said, trying to entice him into joining a card game. “You need to get that stick out of your arse and learn to relax.” A week later Mason had died in agony begging for someone to tell his girlfriend that he loved her, while John did his best to try and save him. John’s headache had lasted for three days.



Re: Empathic John - Part 2

(Anonymous)
John did, however, remember when it stopped. When John woke up in the hospital in the hospital after being shot, the first thing he noticed wasn’t the pain in his leg, or his shoulder, but the quiet. Not literal quiet, hospitals were always noisy, but the silence that was inside his head. All around him was the hubbub of the daily routine of the hospital but it was like he was watching it on television. He could see it and hear it, but he couldn’t feel it and John felt almost as if he wasn’t really there. A nurse spotted that he was awake and came over to his bedside “Hello there,” she said with a cheerful smile as she checked his chart. “We were wondering when you were going to wake up. You had us worried for a while there.” She continued on with what were probably more details about his injuries but John had stopped listening. Her voice faded into the background as John stared at her, first in confusion, then in wonder. For the first time in years John couldn’t tell if she had actually been worried.

When John arrived back in London the first thing that struck him was how dull the city seemed. In Afghanistan everything had been bright and sharply in focus, from the people to the colours to ... everything really. By comparison London seemed grey and muted. Before Afghanistan if you had asked John (though no one ever had) if he would have given up his empathy he would have said yes. Though it did come in handy upon occasion there was no denying that his life would have been a lot less complicated without it. Now though John just felt disconnected from everyone around him, like there was a curtain between him and the rest of the world and making everything all fuzzy.

John’s therapist thought he had trust issues. She was probably right, he reflected. He may not have ever been able to read people’s thoughts but emotions were a pretty reliable indicator of if a person meant what they said. John had usually been able to tell if someone was lying or being dishonest and he found that he missed being able to tell what people meant as well as what they said. It was like loosing one of his senses and it wasn’t until it was gone that he realized how much he had come to rely on it. Yes, John’s life was certainly less complicated. He got up, he went to therapy, he went home and he stared at the blinking cursor on his laptop screen. But as the days went by he wondered if becoming less complicated had been worth it after all.


And then he met Sherlock Holmes.

Re: Empathic John - Part 2

DD: Does he get his empathy back? What happens with Sherlock (besides what we see in the show)? I need to know!!

Thank you for filling this though~ :D If you do get anymore ideas, you should definitely roll with it; I absolutely adore fics like this and would love to see it continue.

Re: Empathic John - Part 2

very, very interesting! Keep going please!^_^

Re: Empathic John - Part 2

That was such an interesting take. I'd love to see it come back and see what it does with Sherlock! But even if it doesn't it would be very cool to see what you do.

More please anon! :-D

Part 3/?

(Anonymous)
This wouldn't leave me alonge, so I kept writing. There will be more, I'm just not happy with the next bit yet. I didn't want to rewrite all A Study in Pink but it looks like I'm going to. Hope you enjoy.

****

John almost didn’t turn around when he heard a voice call his name in the park. It’s been days since he’d spoken to anyone other than Ella and it felt like longer. Still, something made him hesitate and he did stop. “Mike, yes. Hello,” he said, forcing a tight smile on his face.

Ten minutes later they were sitting on a park bench drinking coffee and John was exhausted. It was the most social contact he’d had since he returned to London – Harry didn’t count, all they did was snipe at each other; some things never change – and John didn’t know how to do small talk anymore. He managed to keep up with the conversation, despite the distraction of controlling the tremor in his hand until a laugh from Mike pulled him wholly back into the present.

“I’m sorry, what?” he said.

“You’re the second person to say that to me today,” Mike replied. At John’s raised eyebrow he continued. “A fellow I know from Bart’s. Doesn’t work there, but … I guess you’ll see.” He stood up. “Come on. He’s probably there now. I’ll introduce you.”

John wasn’t even sure he wanted a flatmate. The idea of being around someone day after day and yet still feeling the silence was overwhelming. But he couldn’t think of a way to say no and the idea of going back to his room alone was unbearable, so he levered himself off the bench and followed Mike back to St. Bart’s.

Yeeeees, this makes me so happy that you're continuing. xD

Awww, sorry. Dx I'm sure it would get tedious rewriting a whole episode, if you skip a lot of stuff, I certainly won't blame you, haha.

Oh awesome! You're writing more! :-D

As for rewriting ASIP, eh. Unless you think that you'll add something new and interesting to every scene (which you very well might! I've no idea of your plans), I'd say just pick and choose the scenes you think would be particularly important to the point of the story (the empathic or lack obviously). After all, we'll be able to follow you, everybody on the meme has watched the eps to death, haha.

Re: Part 3/?

(Anonymous)
yay!

Part 4/?

(Anonymous)
John was discovering that he wasn’t a fan of surprises Before – it was strange how neatly his life divided into two; before he’d been injured and lost it and after – it had been very hard to surprise him. He’d always known that something was coming, even if he hadn’t known what to it was. Now, he never knew what to expect and it was hard to gage whether he was supposed to see something coming or not.

Still he was pretty sure that when his potential flatmate said “Afghanistan or Iraq?” he was allowed to be surprised.

It didn’t end there. By the time Sherlock Holmes strode off down the hall John was sure that he had never been more baffled by another human being in his life. It didn’t stop him from leaving the next evening for 221B Baker Street though; in fact it made him more interested to go.

****

The cab ride to Lauriston Gardens had been full of wonder and disbelief. Sherlock’s deductions had seemed perfectly obvious after he explained them but John was sure he wouldn’t have been able to do it, even before. He wondered if he had sounded anything like Sherlock after he pointed out something that he’d thought was perfectly obvious. It would explain some of the looks he’d gotten over the years.

Now Sherlock was darting back and forth over the crime scene, looking for something that John couldn’t see. He beckoned John closer and asked him what he thought. John had eased himself onto the floor with his bad leg behind him, self conscious under the watchful eye of the waiting DI. Once settled he got to work, relaxing into the task with practiced ease.

The dead don’t feel anything. John remembered that from Afghanistan. One minute a person would be a mess of pain and fear and anger, then it would just stop, the whole world going seemingly still for a moment before everyone else came rushing back to fill the gap. Jennifer Wilson was lying facedown on the floor and despite the tragedy of it all, John felt, for a moment, more grounded than he had since his injury. For once, if only in relation to one person, John was certain that he wasn’t missing anything.

****

John was struggling out of his forensics jumpsuit when a voice came up from behind him. “So you know him well then?” John turned to find that DI Lestrade had followed him down the stairs. “Sherlock, I mean.”

“Not really,” he replied. He reached down to pull the jumpsuit off and wavered as too much weight came down on his bad leg. Lestrade reached out to steady him, but thankfully stopped short of actually making contact. “I only met him yesterday.”

“Oh?” said Lestrade. “And you’re already following him to crime scenes?”

John shrugged. “I suppose I am.”

“Why?” Lestrade pressed. “I know why he does it. Needs the puzzle, needs to make sure everyone knows he’s smarter then them. But what do you get out of it?”

John looked at him and suddenly felt tired. He’s been justifying his presence since he arrived and he didn’t think he had the energy to do so anymore. The connection and alertness he felt at the crime scene has evaporated and he doesn’t know how to make Lestrade understand when he’s not sure he does so himself. “I don’t know,” he said finally, a little shaper than he intended. “He asked me to come and so I did. And now I’m going.” Tossing the jumpsuit in the bin, he started off down the hallway, his cane thumping against the wooden floor.

Lestrade caught up in a few paces. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “It’s just I’ve known Sherlock for years, at least as much as anyone can know him and he’s never brought anyone with him before. Never thought he would either.”

John listened expressionlessly, unsure of Lestrade’s point. When he didn’t respond Lestrade hastened to add, “It’s good though. He needs someone who can keep up with him. Or at least someone who wants to try.”

Lestrade looked so earnest that John couldn’t help but believe him. At least he thought he did. “I guess I’ll give it a go then,” he said with a cheerfulness that he realized wasn’t completely forced. Taking his leave of Lestrade, he exited the building in search of Sherlock.

Yay, there's more! c:

And a missing scene! :O I'm surprised there wasn't more confused!Lestrade in the series; I would be if I were him.

Re: Part 4/?

(Anonymous)
This is so awesome! I can't wait to see what happens next!

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