Sherlock BBC Prompting Meme

"we get all sorts around here."

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Prompting: Part IX
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

+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 2000 and 4500 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 or written by someone, do not be afraid to offer up a second fill.

There's a link to this at the bottom of the post. I ask that if the part you wanted isn't up yet, just wait and one of the archivists will get to it, but please, once it is up, 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.
Do not be afraid to ask questions about how it works if you are confused! The mod would be happy to explain.

Your mod for this meme is snowishness. If you have any questions, concerns, comments about anything at all on the meme feel free to send a PM or contact me via the page-a-mod post.

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...
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!

Delicious Archive - Filled Prompts Post - Page-A-Mod
Check the Sticky Post to find a list of all the prompting posts.
Flat View of This Page
Love Post - Rant Post - Chatter Post
Sherlock RPF Request Post
Overflow Post

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On the topic of bees...

So I was showering, and two things popped into my head: "Huh, my shower sounds like bees." The next thought was "Oh shit, BEES."

There were no bees in my shower, but it gave me an idea for a prompt that I'm nowhere near confident enough to write myself. So here it is:

I know there have been some posted for beekeeping, but I have something slightly different. Split perspective - Sherlock is both dying and keeping his bees. And by dying, I mean at the Pool, with John trying his best to save him. In his own mind, Sherlock is years off, keeping his bees. Change it anyway you want, but what I REALLY, REALLY would love to see is Sherlock both living and dying, and not being able to distinguish which is real. Bonus for absolute heartbreak, even more if it's heart-breaking in a "River Song and the Library" kind of way. (Or a happy ending?)

Re: On the topic of bees...

In his own mind, Sherlock is years off, keeping his bees and growing old with John?

Re: On the topic of bees...

Second this prompt AND this addition VERY much.

Re: On the topic of bees...

I figured that was a given, lol. But yes. God yes to that addition, too.

Re: On the topic of bees...

I am in love with this prompt and may attempt to do it justice. May take a while, though, so if anyone else is zippier, please go for it!

Re: On the topic of bees...

omg yay! :D

Re: On the topic of bees...

I am so in love with this prompt you have no idea. Oh, my heart is already shattering.

Re: On the topic of bees...

Sherlock both living and dying, and not being able to distinguish which is real

something like the film Jacob's Ladder? that's what my mind jumped to.

Re: On the topic of bees...

Is it a bad thing that I've never seen that?

Re: On the topic of bees...

I've decided to give this a go tomorrow once I've finished my work. It's a treat I'm using to bribe myself through some otherwise unrelated writing slog. Such a haunting request!

Re: On the topic of bees...

The fact that you're going to fill this sort of makes my week, because I absolutely love reading your stuff. :D

Fill #2: Old Long Syne

Sorry I was greedy and kept this back to use as a challenge fic. Here's a (belated) second fill for this most awesome prompt.


“Since thoughts of thee doth banish grief, when from thee I am gone; will not thy presence yield relief, to this sad Heart of mine?” – Old Long Syne, James Watson (1711)


Optimistic bias. Knowing that the muzzle velocity of the Sig in his hand is roughly 335 metres per second, Sherlock’s rational mind concludes that there is no possible way he and John can make it to the water in the time it will take the bullet to traverse the distance between himself and Moriarty, make contact with the Semtex vest, and cause a catastrophic explosion. And yet, it is his indulgence in irrational hope that allows him to pull the trigger. A gentle squeeze ignites a tempest, and he sails backwards, swallowed by a storm of white light and pain.


He awakes lying in the grass under a cloudless Sussex sky. The bright sun warms his skin, and he raises a hand to shield his eyes. There was something he had meant to say. He raises himself on one elbow and turns to speak to his companion. The garden is empty but for him, and he cannot quite place the source of the hollow ache in his chest. He lowers himself back onto the cool grass and closes his eyes. A slight breeze stirs the leaves of a nearby laurel, and carries to his ears the distant hum of bees.


Flickering lights cast shadows around them; the pong of chlorine and ozone is heavy. John’s face enters Sherlock’s field of vision, blocking the light. Blood runs freely from a gash in his head, drips down his chin, seeps warm through Sherlock’s shirt. John’s words are drowned by the dull roar of the storm in Sherlock’s ears. He constricts the aperture of his focus very precisely to John’s lips, reads, “Sherlock, can you hear me?”

A hand flutters at his throat; then, rhythmic pressure on his chest.

“Stay with me, Sherlock!”

A puff of breath expands his lungs.

“Please. Don’t leave.”


Afternoon light floods the garden shed through the open door. He slides his hands into canvas gloves, noting with mild interest the topography of wrinkles and irregular brown spots. Funny, he doesn’t remember getting old. But then, here there is only now; the past lies in the hazy blue of the horizon in his mind. He is restless, anticipating, like a sailor ready to embark on the next leg of an adventure, or a child poised to turn the page to begin a new chapter of a beloved story. He dons hat and veil, and goes to tend his hives.


The walls cry out in agony under the strain of cracked concrete and mortar. John pulls away and looks up. His eyes are wide and his face constricts in a grimace of fear. He shakes his head slowly, mouthing words that founder before they can reach Sherlock’s ears. Sherlock cannot see John’s lips from this angle, but deduces from memory their likeliest utterance.

“Please God, let us live.”

Sherlock hears the creak and groan of twisting metal pierce jaggedly through the incessant roaring. John casts his body forward, a fragile but indomitable shield, as the world tumbles down around them.


The very air around him vibrates into a crescendo – an alate aria played by a million tiny strings for him, their impresario. His anticipation grows until his entire body pulses and thrums in time with the bee song. When the tune changes, he knows he is no longer alone. He turns and sees the figure of a man approaching – an old soldier, by the cadence of his step. The bee keeper smiles and lifts the veil from his face, clearing his vision. The past now lies open before him like a well-worn volume. He reaches out and turns the page.

Re: Fill #2: Old Long Syne

I'm torn between shouting nnooooo and cheering for you. That last paragraph is...beautiful.

Re: Fill #2: Old Long Syne

TEARS. Lovely fic, beautifully written.

Re: Fill #2: Old Long Syne

Oh. Oh my. I hadn't expected another fill, but MY GOD, this is beautiful. You are wonderful, and this tore at my heart. The last three paragraphs both destroy and rebuild, and I absolutely adore it. Thank you for writing it!

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