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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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Sort of fill: Dead Men Telling Tales 1/2

A/N: This turned out kind of grim. Sorry.

The world's only consulting detective is, despite his best efforts, neither psychic nor a calculating machine. Sherlock always misses something; he told John this himself. Sherlock deduced John's immediate background, familial relationships, and general circumstances nearly instantly. Since, he's discovered nearly everything there is to know about the doctor: childhood foibles, embarrassing details of relationships both past and present, favored hobbies, teams, bands and beers. What Sherlock doesn't know about John Watson, John supposes, would, in most circumstances, not be worth knowing. But there is one little detail about his flatmate that Sherlock Holmes has missed. And on days like today, when John has all but been driven from the flat by a cacophony of voices clamouring to be heard, he wonders how much longer this secret can be held. The dead speak to John, when they have any mouths left to speak with.

The first time John had walked in on Sherlock conversing with the skull, the detective had rolled his eyes at John's dismay. He naturally assumed that John objected, on grounds of morality or propriety, to what most would consider to be a misuse of human remains. The skull, which had belonged to a woman named Kate who had died of what Sherlock would have considered to be a thoroughly boring case of ovarian cancer, informed John that he needn't expect any deeper scrutiny than that from the man, because he was too arrogant to question his own assumptions. She also posited that, although Sherlock was dishy he was far too in love with his own voice for her tastes, and that if John would like to take over the position of sounding board, she would be most appreciative. John insisted to himself that he did it for his own sake, and not to oblige the skull. He was still very glad when Mrs. Hudson sneaked into their flat and took Kate away.

Dead Men Telling Tales 2/2

The poor bastard in the fridge's name was Tom. Tom had died of a massive myocardial infarction in the middle of rush hour traffic on a Thursday afternoon. He hadn't even been feeling ill, Tom insisted, and was rather put out at finding himself stuck among the containers of Chinese takeaway and milk that had gone slightly off. Not dignified at all, he said. John agreed, and as a conciliatory gesture, looked up Tom's old girlfriend and his job at the bank and told him what had become of them both. If Sherlock thought there was anything strange about John muttering into the refrigerator, he kept it to himself.

Things come to a head, as it were, at a crime scene, several months after Tom has been relegated to a biohazard bin somewhere. The flat currently houses a new skull, several complete jawbones, and a fetus in a jar. As a result, John has been on edge for days. When Lestrade texts Sherlock with news of a double homicide, he knows he should stay far away. The newly dead, particularly those that have been murdered, are the worst of all. They're nearly always still traumatized by their own deaths, and even though they talk nonstop, they hardly ever make a bit of sense.

This particular crime scene is brutal -- a young couple murdered in their home. The signs of violence are so stark and gory that no one on the scene is particularly taken aback when John pales. Had he been less preoccupied with the case, Sherlock might have been concerned. If nothing else, he knows that John's got an iron constitution. As it is, he doesn't notice that anything is amiss until John speaks. "There's another body," he chokes out. And then, "Oh, God, I'm trying -- there's another victim in the house. In the upstairs closet." Lestrade and Anderson just stare at him. He makes an exasperated, frantic noise and heads up the stairs. Sherlock follows him, but says nothing. He just watches as John staggers through the hall, opening every door until he finds the right one and falls to his knees. The girl is no more than four.

The doctor is whispering under his breath at the child's body in the closet, and takes no notice of Sherlock. He jumps when there is suddenly a hand on his shoulder. "John," Sherlock repeats. "You should get out of here."
"She won't stop screaming," John replies. Sherlock can't repress a shiver; John's voice is so incredibly sad.

"Come on," he says, and pulls John to his feet. He maneuvers the doctor past the sudden surge of concerned police, rattling off at least half a dozen indicators that the dead couple downstairs had a child who had not left the house, and practically pushes him out the door and into a cab. "I think that you and I need to talk," he says. John looks at him then. He takes a moment to study Sherlock Holmes: brilliant, strange, uncharacteristically concerned, and utterly alive. He knows that his last secret is about to be revealed, and he is glad. It's as much a surprise to him as to anyone when he starts to cry.

Re: Dead Men Telling Tales 2/2

Wow. I really love this. I requested psychic!John a while back and I know this isn't a fill for that, but it really could be. You don't have any plans to write more do you?

Re: Dead Men Telling Tales 2/2

I'm glad you liked it. I'm playing around with an epilogue for this one, but don't have any plans for a series. I wouldn't be adverse to someone else taking the idea and running with it, though.

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Re: Dead Men Telling Tales 2/2

Thanks for reading! I've got some ideas for an epilogue (of sorts) to this, so we'll see.

Re: Dead Men Telling Tales 2/2

Kind of grim, but awesome. It makes me want more of John's POV... why didn't he fight Sherlock harder on the whole body-parts-in-the-flat issue? And Sherlock has (for him) a fairly profound reaction to figuring out John's secret... you wrapped this up nicely, but I'd be curious to see where they go from here.

Re: Dead Men Telling Tales 2/2

I'm glad you enjoyed the story! I'm working on an epilogue that would address some of your questions, but I'm not sure yet if it's going to gel.

Re: Dead Men Telling Tales 2/2


This is too awesome. The humour then the angst and the partial fluff. I about died when I read Kate's impression of Sherlock. I feel so sorry for John, but... I need more. ;3;


Re: Dead Men Telling Tales 2/2

I totally love psychic John, and wish there more stories about that fill. Yeah it was grim, but I thought it was well written. I can hope there is a little more.

A Little More (1/2)

A/N: This is a sort-of epilogue for those of you who wanted to know what happened next. It didn’t quite go where I thought it was going, and I really don't have any plans for any more after this. However, if anyone wants to take the idea and run with it, you are more than welcome to.

"Not back to the flat." John collects himself enough to direct the cabbie to Regent's Park. He's watching Sherlock out of the corner of his eye, and can pinpoint the precise moment when he figures it out. John is surprised at the restraint the man has shown thus far. Despite the sheer amount of curiosity, tension, and what, strangely enough, appears to be concern that Sherlock is radiating, he also seems determined to let John lead this conversation. John makes him wait until they are sitting on a park bench, ostensibly watching the ducks.

"There are a lot of bodies in the park," he offers, by way of explanation. "But most of them have been here so long that they've nothing left to say."

"Most of them?"

John shrugs. "If anyone new speaks up, I'll let you know." And now Sherlock is giving him the oddest look. "What?"

"You could have let me know," Sherlock says. "...about the flat."

John rolls his eyes. "'Sherlock, we're out of milk again, and by the way, that preserved fetus of yours cries when it's bored and the sound is starting to grate on my nerves, so would you mind taking it back to wherever you got it?' Yes, I can just imagine how well that would have gone over." Sherlock looks disturbed. John supposes that he's disturbing. "Look," John tries to explain. "It's not... upset or anything and you can't hurt someone who's already dead. It just... never learned to do anything but cry." Sherlock doesn’t look much comforted.

"What else?"

"What else what, Sherlock?"

Sherlock stares at John in a way that he has not done for months, as if he is a mystery that needs to be solved. John is almost entirely sure that he doesn't like it.

"I'll take the fetus back to the college. What else ought I know about our... inanimate flatmates?"

John sighs. "This skull keeps to himself, pretty much. Most of the jawbones belonged to various East End tenement-dwellers who died in some sort of epidemic in the early 1800s, but one of them belongs to a dead flower child who called herself Aurora Moonbeam, but was actually named Betty Wilkins. She died in 1970, but she's not exactly sure how. She was dropping quite a lot of acid at the time."

A Little More (2/2)

John glances over at Sherlock and sighs again. “I am aware that I sound insane.”

Sherlock steeples his fingers, contemplating this new information. "And you've been able to do this for as long as I've known you."

"As long as I can remember, practically." John frowns a bit in remembrance. "Medical school was a treat."

Sherlock could scarcely imagine. "I suppose there was no chance of your becoming a pathologist."

John shudders and remembers regaining consciousness in Afghanistan after being shot. Remembers waking up surrounded by moaning injured and screaming dead and being unable, for several interminable moments, to figure out which he was. He imagines being surrounded by the newly dead on a daily basis, trying to ignore their fear and fury as he cut them apart to figure out what killed them. "No chance at all," he says.

Sherlock narrows his eyes, considering. "So today, at the crime scene, could you tell who..."

"No." John really doesn't want to talk about this, but he knows he has to. He always knew that eventually Sherlock's questions would lead back here. "If I tracked their bodies down in a month, perhaps they'd be able to... but, no. When they've just been killed, they're usually not coherent." He closes his eyes. "It's mostly just denial and screaming." Sherlock looks agitated at this, and this is the part that John’s been dreading. The part where Sherlock backs away from his macabre flatmate, or, God help them all, feels sorry for him.

“That’s not much help, then, is it?”

Or he could just be put out.

John is confused. Luckily, this is one state of mind he’s adapted to fairly quickly over the months, and he faces the problem head on. “Why are you just accepting all of this?” he asks. “Isn’t it possible that I’m completely off my head?”

“I had considered the possibility,” Sherlock allows. “But the data didn’t fit the theory, so I’ve moved on to the more likely option that you converse with the dead.”

They converse with me, more like,” John mutters.

Sherlock rolls his eyes. “It’s good to see that you’re focusing on the important parts, John. Wait. You said that this skull keeps to himself." He grimaces a little at the absurdity of his last sentence. "Am I to take it that the other one didn't?"

John laughs. "Kate? Hardly. Had an opinion on everything, that one."

Inexplicably, Sherlock looks annoyed. "What sort of opinions could a skull possibly have?"

John smirks. "Well, she thought you were a bit sexy, if dead stuck on yourself, and she was consistently impressed when I occasionally managed to get a word in edgewise during your monologues." Sherlock looks utterly scandalized, and John can’t help but laugh.


Things do change, if not as much as John would have expected. Sherlock limits his in-house experiments to things that don't talk, mostly. John occasionally excuses himself from the more gruesome crime scenes, but proves invaluable in closing out several cold cases. And if Sherlock occasionally forgets that his puzzles used to be people, he always remembers that John doesn't have that luxury. It's not much, but it’s a start.

Re: A Little More (2/2)

Even more fantastic than the first bit! Thanks so much anon!

I heartily approve of this universe!

This was brilliant! And I got an epilogue out of it too! I don't mind that it got grim at all, in fact I think I love it even more.

I admit when I thought up this prompt it came from the idea of the TV show Wonderfalls and I wanted to see what people could do with it.

This is a wonderful piece of writing. Clearly you are talented. While sad you don't have more, I'm really happy that you created this. And if the plot bunny ever bites you, I'll be ecstatically happy and waiting.

Re: As OP... (Anonymous) Expand
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Re: A Little More (2/2) (Anonymous) Expand
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