Sherlock BBC Prompting Meme

"we get all sorts around here."

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Welcome! (Prompting: part i)
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

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.


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 *


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

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Interim crack fill part 1

Until someone can get around to posting a real one.


When Mycroft emerges from the cubicle Sherlock blinks three times, looks at the (ridiculous) coat that he appears to be drowning in, then at the missile plans before back to Mycroft’s face.

He is missing his umbrella and one of his hands doesn’t seem to know what to do with itself.

Approximately five seconds later, Sherlock is laughing (not just laughing screaming with laughter until the tears roll down his cheeks) and Mycroft is smirking and there’s the sound of a foot being stamped somewhere from the other side of the water.

“Oh don’t be tedious,” Mycroft says to no one in particular. He tilts his head and Sherlock can just make out the helix of wire behind his ear. “I’m not going to say that

A red dot appears on Mycroft’s forehead and drifts down to his chest as he irritably takes off the hideous coat and throws it to one side.

“Sherlock,” he says, a look of long-suffering patience on his face, “I do wish you would cease getting involved in such messes.”

“Where would the fun be in that?” Sherlock asks.

There is approximately enough Semtex strapped to Mycroft to blow up the whole postcode area, not just the swimming pool, but explosives have never really bothered Mycroft. Sherlock can remember the time when his brother was twenty one and some aspiring idiot had plastered C4 to his car. Mycroft hadn’t even batted an eyelid.

“Also, the idea of handing over Top Secret government plans... in a swimming pool? At midnight?” Mycroft tuts (he’s very good at tutting, though it’s an art Sherlock has never mastered) “Predictable, cliché and really rather second-rate of you... not to mention an act of treason.”

“You did threaten me with a knighthood,” Sherlock responds.

"Ah, so you're rebelling again. I thought we'd got past that stage."

There is a half-shout from behind the scenes and a voice drifts out, angry and tight.

“Say what you’re supposed to... or I’ll blow your brains out.”

Mycroft sighs, deep and weary.

“People have been trying to blow my brains out for years, young man, and so far no one has managed it.”

“You’re wearing Semtex... there’s a sniper!” Moriarty’s voice is rising higher and higher in pitch.

“Well...” Mycroft begins but the voice cuts him off.


Interim crack fill part 2

“A few seconds ago you wanted me to talk,” Mycroft responds, “do try to make up your mind.”

“Shoot him!” the disembodied voice of Moriarty cries. Nothing happens. Mycroft looks up towards where the dot is coming from.

“Robertson is it?” he says. There’s a murmur of affirmation. “I do hope we won’t have to terminate your contract with the British government because of this incident.”

“No sir,” the voice responds.

“That goes for you too, Philips... and you Hernandez. I doubt your Defense Secretary will be pleased to hear that you’ve engaged in actions that could be construed as acts of war.”

Sherlock sighs and slips the plans back into his pocket, heading for the door where Moriarty’s voice is coming from. He’s not going to have any fun here with his brother crashing the party. He is currently verbally berating the snipers on their lack of efficiency and inability to understand the meaning of the term ‘exclusive contract’.

Moriarty is a lot shorter than Sherlock imagined and vaguely familiar...

“Ah... the gay one,” he says, a little disappointed, because honestly, the utter arrogance and stupidity of introducing yourself to your opponent like that. (Though Sherlock hadn’t realised and he’s going to have to rectify that).

From the pool, Mycroft can be heard commenting on the distinct lack of imagination that has gone into the creation of the bomb: ’Only one dummy wire... and no hidden booby traps. Sub-par and definitely something we’ll have to work on Morrison, if you’re going to work for us again.’

“Mycroft knows every assassin in Europe, and most of those in the United States,” Sherlock explains, a little wearily, “I think he calls them reusable assets.”

“Unexpected, but hardly a problem,” Moriarty tells him.

’And no remote detonation... theatrics over practicality. I despair of the state of this country’s defence contractors sometimes.’

Sherlock pulls out John’s gun.

“I was hoping it would be a little more... interesting than this,” he admits. “You were doing so well, right up until Mycroft.”

“He’s your family,” Moriarty says, pouting.

“No... he’s my brother.”

Interim crack fill part 3 - end

There are footsteps, running up the corridor towards them and both Sherlock and Moriarty look round. It’s John, followed (at a much more sedate pace) by Mycroft’s PA .

Moriarty takes advantage of the distraction to pull his own gun.

“I do hate to get my hands dirty, but needs must,” he says. Sherlock laughs in his face.

“If you think that threatening my life is going to work...” he says. Moriarty spins on his heel, his face going into a look of affected surprise.

“Your life, Sherlock? Oh no... I see my mistake now. I should have gone for the doctor from the beginning.”

He grins at where John is standing, now still, calculating whether he can get to Moriarty in time. Before either he or Sherlock can arrive at a decision however, there is a single gunshot and they watch as Moriarty falls to the ground, mouth still wide in ironic fake shock.

They look over, heads turning in sync, and see Mycroft’s assistant tucking a gun back into her hand bag, one hand (and both her eyes) still glued to her blackberry.

Sherlock risks a quick look down at the body. One hole, right between the eyes.

John is about to say something, but before he gets the chance there are footsteps from the pool and Mycroft appears, divested of his explosive fashion item. He glances down to Moriarty’s body.

“Oh well, I’ll have to call out the clean up squad again,” he says, looking in distaste at the pool of blood. “But it can’t be helped.” He holds out one hand to Sherlock and, without even being asked, Sherlock places the USB drive into his palm. “We’ll talk about this later.”

His assistant crosses over and hands him his umbrella calmly as he looks at his watch.

“And I’m late for my meeting with the Iranian ambassador, how tiresome.”

Then, he leaves, as sedately as he no doubt arrived, leaving John and Sherlock (and Moriarty’s body) alone.

“Well,” John says, looking at Sherlock’s rather petulant face. “That was a bit... anticlimactic.”

“Yes,” Sherlock agrees. “It was.”

(And then they all lived happily ever after – apart from Sherlock who was bored again and had to deal with Mycroft’s ever more annoying phone calls about how treason was not just another law that he could ignore at his convenience.)


Re: Interim crack fill part 3 - end

LOVED THIS! Perfect!

OP here! Re: Interim crack fill part 3 - end

*De-anons* This is perfect!!! What's all this nonsense about it not being a real one! I really hope you repost this somewhere! Thank you so much, you have truly made my morning! XD

Re: Interim crack fill part 3 - end

LOVE!!!!! Oh Moriarty you fool!

Mycroft was awesome in this :D

Re: Interim crack fill part 3 - end

This is glorious. So very very glorious.

Re: Interim crack fill part 3 - end



Re: Interim crack fill part 3 - end

Wonderful! Mycroft is quickly becoming a favorite of mine. I love how Sherlock is actively annoyed that he is saved so easily. And I like that you made 'Anthea' such a BAMF :D

Re: Interim crack fill part 3 - end

OMFG, EPIC WIN. ;DD Love Mycroft's running commentary on the bomb in the background. And Anthea. Anthea!

Re: Interim crack fill part 3 - end


Re: Interim crack fill part 3 - end


Re: Interim crack fill part 3 - end

::cackles madly:: This is perfect :D

Re: Interim crack fill part 3 - end

MYCROFT. *squees* This is AWESOME. He so /would/!
Ah, you idiot you, Moriarty. He's not /family/, he's his /brother/. ;D

Re: Interim crack fill part 3 - end

Made. Of. Win.

Mycroft! Sherlock! John! Not!Anthea! Footstamping!Moriarty!

I cannot properly express how brilliant this fic is - I am grinning like a loon :)))

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