Sherlock BBC Prompting Meme

"we get all sorts around here."


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Welcome! (Prompting: part i)
Giggles at the Palace
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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



This is a fic prompting meme based around the BBC series Sherlock, written by Stephen Moffat & Mark Gattis.

There are a couple of communities that have sprung up already, namely here and here and here, and also a very busy sherlockkink meme based around the Robert Downey Jr/Jude Law film, but since there's a GAP IN THE MARKET for a BBC Sherlock prompt meme and people are gnawing off their own hands in need of fic, here we go!

ETA: There's also a very dedicated meme here which covers all varieties of Sherlock Holmes adaptations/ spin-offs.

Guidelines:

1) This is a Sherlock meme, so no RPF please! We don't want any legal trouble.

2) Feel free to post anon by all means, it's a matter of personal preference.

3) Remember to include a warning in the title for anything a little more "niche" or that people might have a problem with - non-con, dub-con, death!fic, incest, death!fic etc. Other than that, anything goes - crack, slash, het, gen, fluff, angst, whatever floats your boat.

4) Feel free to prompt as much as you like, but do try to fill as well as prompt; we don't want pages full of frustrating unfilled prompts!

5) Have a look beforehand to see whether your prompt has already been prompted - we want to avoid duplicate prompts as much as possible!

6) Please, be civil, be friendly, but don't be shy!

*Any problems, please message jjgd *

LINKS AND AFFILIATES

Delicious Archive * sherlockfest * List of all the Prompting Posts * Overflow Post *

Testing testing...

Heh, heh, heh. ;-D

***Spoilers for 1.03***

Watson opened the fridge again. The head stared back at him. Or rather stared at the third button of his cardigan, since the man's eyes were hardly wide open anymore.

Severed bits of anatomy in the fridge were always a shock at first, but Watson had been to medical college. He reverted to the old habits of wrapping everything tightly and keeping it on upper shelves. A drip tray above the crisper should do for now. He made a mental note to see if there were severed-head-sized Tupperware containers as he lined the fridge bottom with bacofoil.

Sherlock barely glanced over.

-

He didn't know why Sherlock did that. Got him to look at something when he already knew everything about it. To feel superior, John supposed. He set himself to examining the shoes, not seeing that he was in turn being examined.

-

There was a moment, a cold moment, when Sherlock saw him at the pool, as John spoke Moriarty's first words... That look. He'd recall it later, after everything. It was the look of a teacher at school, having caught a favourite pupil cheating; not disappointed in his pupil, but disappointed in his own inability to see the deception in front of him. He'd thought John might have been Moriarty all along.

A flash of a look, gone even before the explosives were revealed; perhaps when Sherlock realised that, pool or no pool, Moriarty certainly wouldn't be wearing an anorak.

When John had tackled Moriarty, explosives and all, and Sherlock later said it was good, John felt like he'd finally passed a test.

---
(That's it, 'filled' in a rush, may edit if I repost.)

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John/Sherlock. Sherlock keeps 'accidentally' walking in on John when he's naked.

The first time it happened, he was in the shower. He hadn't been back home for so long that the novelty of being properly clean had worn off, so maybe he was flinging suds about with a bit more abandon than was strictly necessary, and maybe he was singing slightly louder than was called for, but still. That was no excuse for Sherlock to barge into the bathroom without knocking and gawk at him like he had something growing where a thing shouldn't be.

"You sounded like you were in pain," Sherlock said finally, mildly, and let himself out of the room without another word.

The second time was possibly, partly, a little bit his fault. So he'd had a few pints. And then a few more. And maybe getting undressed in his bedroom that night he'd stumbled around a bit more than a sober man might. Sherlock had frightened the daylights out of him, though, barrelling in like his hair was on fire, and it wasn't exactly like he'd needed the help getting his shorts on, not really.

It was nice of Sherlock to offer, though.

The third, fourth and fifth times Sherlock walked in on him in the buff all seemed perfectly innocent, but really. It wasn't like John was some kind of prude - he'd been in the army, for God's sake - and he certainly didn't think he had anything to be ashamed of, but it was all getting a bit much. A man had the right to keep his Johnson in some semblance of privacy in between appropriate moments for whipping it out.

Sixth time was the last straw. "Oh just take a bloody picture," he snapped when Sherlock lingered in the vicinity of his nakedness just a few seconds too long. "It'll last you longer."

Sherlock had his phone out and snapping before he could blink, and John abruptly felt like dimmest bulb in the box.

"Right then," he breathed. "Well if that's all you wanted, there's no need to be all sneaky about it."

He reached for Sherlock's coat and began pushing it off his shoulders. Time to start evening out the score.

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Mycroft/Watson and the not so well hidden jealousy it brings out in Sherlock.

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Sherlock thought he wasn't interested in sex, until he sees John kissing Mycroft's assistant.

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Sherlock/John + riding crop.

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So everyone knows the scene in the cafe/resturant place - when John's like "Girlfriend....boyfriend...?" and Sherlock's just like "....I'm married to my work."

Yeah? Good. I think we definatly need a fic based on Sherlock's thought in that conversation - cos he clearly wasn't thinking what he was saying. XD

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Holmes/Watson. Silk scarves and blindfolds.

Fill: Blindfolds NC-17

(Anonymous)
"Let's see how good you are at deducing without the use of sight," John said, wrapping the blindfold around Sherlock's head.

"Simple," Sherlock replied, "This will be utterly simple. I still have the use of my other four senses."

"That's true, you do," John said, "And I want to test them all."

Before Sherlock could respond, John captured his lips in a possessive kiss.

“So, what can you tell me about that?” John asked once he’d released Sherlock’s mouth.

“Like I said, it’s all very simple,” Sherlock answered, sounding only slightly breathless, “It’s obvious from your actions that you are physically attracted to me, and from my response, that I am physically attracted to you. The forcefulness of the kiss revealed that you are a very passionate lover, but you also are very dominant in the bedroom. The taste of mouthwash from the kiss shows that you planned this down to the last detail, and that you are also a very considerate lover, not wanting me to taste this morning’s breakfast when we kissed.”

“All right, let’s make it a little more challenging for you, if it’s just that simple,” John said. He began to undress Sherlock, removing everything--shirt, trousers, underwear--until he was entirely naked. Then he undressed himself.

“So?” John prompted.

“From the speed and agility with which you undressed me, I can tell that you are experienced in these matters. Also, you are quite eager to have sexual relations with me.”

“Quite right,” John agreed, opening a condom wrapper.

“From that sound I can tell that you are careful when it comes to exchanging sexual favors. However, I must assure you that my experience is quite limited and that my body is free of STDs. There’s a recent test in the night stand drawer if you want to take a look.”

“Good to know,” John said, spreading lube in his hands and positioning Sherlock on his hands and knees. He used one, then two fingers to open him up.

“Ah,” Sherlock moaned unexpectedly, “And from the careful way you are preparing me, I can tell that this isn’t your first time with a man. Also, from the position you’ve arranged me in, I can deduce that you find my arse quite pleasing to the eye and that you would like to view it as you penetrate me.”

“Yup,” John said, entering him slowly.

“And from the way you are stretching me, I can tell that--ohh--your penis is rather large. And from the way you are thrusting into me, I can tell that you know how to stimulate my prostate. However, I cannot be sure whether this is because you are a doctor or whether it is because of your experience with other male lovers.”

“Whatever,” John gasped, “You can shut up now.”

“I think I just might have to,” agreed Sherlock, pushing back to impale himself further on John’s cock.

“Fuck, you feel good,” John said, continuing to fuck into Sherlock’s arse from behind, causing Sherlock to moan and gasp.

He’d actually gotten Sherlock to stop talking, and if he hadn’t been so busy fucking his best friend, he would have patted himself on the back.

Fin.

Sherlock/Sally. She hates him now because she didn't then - or how Sherlock managed to upset Sally Donovan.

She hated him once because she didn’t then.

Sally Donovan is a smart and honest enough woman to know that this is incredibly petty. It’s hard to care, sometimes. At first she was just ashamed enough of herself to try keeping a lid on her hurt, but that didn’t work, and ever since her inner playground bully slipped out the first time, it’s been harder and harder to stay civil whenever Sherlock Holmes skips into one of her crime scenes. He has a habit of flinging out choice observations like a drunken maid of honor tossing someone else’s bridal bouquet. She’s just lucky Holmes hasn’t told the entire police force about the time she kissed him, and, considering Sally’s increasing tendency to push the envelope as far as he’ll let her, that’s becoming increasingly out of character for him.

She had noticed other women’s -- and men’s -- infatuation with Holmes first, of course, in a purely detached way. Sally was a policewoman, after all, and it probably helped that she didn’t make a habit of underestimating people like Holmes did. It was a laugh at first, and she didn’t mention it to anyone else. So what if the pretty young constable couldn’t take her eyes off Holmes’ wrists? So what if the closeted desk sergeant stood up a little straighter every time Holmes breezed into the station, making ridiculous demands and trying to steal macabre trinkets from the evidence room? It wasn’t any concern of hers. Except it was.

Sally fantasized about him when she was alone. It was a calculated risk, and she rationalized it as loneliness. Her hours didn’t leave much time for dating, after all. When she was feeling a little more honest with herself, perhaps after she’d had something to drink, she could admit that there was something compelling about Holmes himself in a way that indulged her sick side. It was easy to imagine that he kept his more lurid desires under lock and key, and it was very difficult to stop imagining what a beast he’d be in bed once she’d started. So what if she found herself using nail polish for the first time in three years, or paying more attention to her hair?

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John meets up with his sister Harry for coffee a week or two after he's moved in with Sherlock. She wants to know EVERYTHING about this mysterious man; what do they talk about?

Sherlock/John, obv.

Oooh, I think I'll have a crack at this.

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Holmes is at his violin. Watson is prepared to do anything for a bit of peace.

It was 4 o'clock in the morning, John pressed the pillow as tightly as he could manage over his head, but nothing could drown out the awful screeching coming from downstairs.
'15 more minutes and I'm going downstairs', he told himself for the third time since the violin playing had started. He lay flat on his black, staring at the ceiling, half trying desperately to think of anything to distract him from the noise, half wondering what an earth Sherlock was so worked up about. John knew he only played the violin when he was upset or thinking very deeply.
After a few more minutes he decided he couldn't bear it any more and stomped down the stairs, pulling a thick woollen jumper over his head and muttering to himself as he did so.
As he entered the living room he saw Sherlock in his pyjamas and silk dressing gown staring at a sheet of paper covered with seemingly indeipherable squiggles, with the violin tucked under his chin, still screeching away furiously.
'Sherlock' he hissed, not particularly wanting to raise his voice too loud in the middle of the night, despite the fact that even if he had shouted it couldn't possibly have been any worse than Sherlock's incessant violin playing.
'Could you KEEP IT DOWN?'
Sherlock quirked an eyebrow as if this was an odd request.
'Problem?' he asked, seemingly perplexed.
'It's 4 o'clock in the morning!' John whispered.
'Oh, is it?' replied Sherlock distractedly, not glancing up from his paper, 'Well I did warn you. I told you I play the violin while I'm thinking'
'Why do you need to be thinking...OR playing the violin for that matter... at 4 o'clock in the morning?'
'This is a very important case, I'm so close to cracking this coded message, can't possibly stop now...' Sherlock's sentence tailed up and he took a few more violent swipes at the violin.
'Sherlock, you need to go to bed.'
'Bed? What a proposterous suggestion. I couldn't possibly go to bed.'
'Please Sherlock? I'll do anything, just please sleep!'
This comment caused Sherlock to finally look up from his work,
'Anything?' he asked, eyebrows raised.
'Anything. I don't care, I just need to sleep, and I know I won't get any peace until you're asleep. I don't care what it takes, I'll make you hot chocolate, I'll read you a bed time story, I'll tuck you in. And if all else fails I'm afraid I'm just going to have to drug you.'
'I'm a notorious insomniac John, getting me to sleep will be more difficult than you think.'
'Does this mean you're willing to try?'
'Anything to stop you playing that damn violin!'
They looked at each other questioningly for a few moments, both of them unsure the extent to which the other was joking, before John let out an exasperated sigh and grabbed Sherlock by the wrist and dragged him off the sofa, the violin falling to the floor with a clatter.
'That's expensive you know' Sherlock half protested as John dragged him towards his bedroom, but John ignored him.
John cautiously nudged open the door to Sherlock's room with his foot, not releasing his iron grip on the detective's wrist. He had never been into Sherlock's room before, he hadn't had any reason to, and he had no idea what atrosities he might find there. Unfortunately, it was exactly as he had expected. Sherlock's bed was stripped bare, no sign of any sheets or even a duvet, and the bare mattress played table to a microscope and a huge assortment of slides.
John sighed again and Sherlock half chuckled to himself.
'Your first obstacle Doctor Watson. Do you give up yet? Can I go back to my violin. I did tell you. I don't sleep very much.'
John rolled his eyes in exasperation at how typical of Sherlock this kind of thing was, but refused to give in.
'You're not winning this easily Sherlock, you'll just have to sleep in my bed.'
'But John...', Sherlock for once seemed slightly fazed. John turned around to face Sherlock,
'Look Sherlock, I know this is weird, and believe me, I don't have some kind of creepy ulterior motive. I just haven't slept for nearly 48 hours, and unlike you, I don't run very well on no sleep, this is the easiest way.'

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Art!request

I read a prompt on here just - something about Sherlock walking in on John when he's naked - and I just NEED someone to draw John in the shower and Sherlock on the other side of the curtain and having a whole thing about whether or not to pull the curtain back. Please XD

(A fic would also do)

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Sherlock needs John, but of course he can never tell him. How does Holmes let John know? (Sociopathy + schmoop = ???)

All over this one, too. God, somebody stop me.

Molly/Sherlock -- four weddings and a funeral. Because this girl needs some time to shine! Also ~professionalism~ and impressing people (cough) would be a definite plus!

Oh God, could you even imagine Sherlock at a funeral?! I shouldn't laugh at the thought, but...

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John/Sherlock through the lens of a conversation between Molly, Sally, and/or Althea.

John/Sherlock, love at first sight

OK - I think I'm on this. But it's lonely out here so anyone else feel free to muscle in.

?

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