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Sherlock BBC Prompting Meme

"we get all sorts around here."

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Prompting: Part XI
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 mods for this meme are snowishness and marill_chan. If you have any questions, concerns, comments about anything at all on the meme feel free to send a PM or contact us 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.

I also urge you to consider warning not just for triggery prompts, but also for fills, because some people will be viewing in flat view.

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 - Delicious Prompt 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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"And then, if you would believe it, it turned out he'd shoved a fireman up his nose too," John went on. "To go after the cat."

Sherlock nodded, apparently deeply captivated by John's successful exploration of a three-year-old's psyche, when a voice from just behind them said, "Sherlock? Sherlock Holmes?"

Sherlock turned around. The speaker was--well, John had gotten used to Sherlock's clients often having a certain glamour, but this was ridiculous. She was a woman of supermodel proportions, green-eyed and auburn-haired, pearls at her throat and ears. John was fairly certain her shoes were worth more than one of his paychecks. Next to her was a man that resembled a beagle in evening dress, with a shrewd expression and a receding hairline. He looked extremely unhappy to see Sherlock.

"It is you!" she exclaimed, then looked embarrassed to have called out to him on a public street. She had one hand over her mouth. "I've often wished I could apologise for what I did to you. I shouldn't have--it was awful of me. You'd proposed, I'd accepted, but Charles--" she glanced at the man at her shoulder with a genuine and affectionate expression, and he returned it with a grimace, "--well, he was Charles." She looked at Sherlock again, who appeared to have frozen, and put her hand on his arm. And she didn't melt or set afire or anything. "I'm sorry, you probably never wanted to see me again, but I just--when I saw you, I had to say something. Please believe me that I never meant to hurt you."

"I believe you," Sherlock said quickly, and when John looked up at him, Sherlock seemed almost. . . pained. The expression on his face certainly spoke of some distaste, anyway. John gave himself a vicious pinch on the wrist. "Please, don't give it another thought."

She smiled and now patted his arm, before finally letting her hand fall away. "You were always so sweet. If Charles hadn't--" She glanced at Charles again, who gave her another one of those grimaces that John realised was supposed to be a reassuring grin. "Well, that's all in the past now. Have you. . . is there. . . ?"

Sherlock demonstrated some heretofore unknown (but strongly suspected) ability to actually read normal human social cues, because he shook his head.

"There will be," she said. "I'm sure of it." She leaned forward--at her height, in those heels, she didn't even have to tilt her head up very far--and gave Sherlock a peck on the cheek. She did not spontaneously combust, although from the look on Sherlock's face he might have preferred it if she had. "Thank you."

And then she was gone, with a sad smile and a wave. Sherlock stared after her with an undecipherable expression. John collected his jaw off the pavement. (Metaphorically. One can never be too careful about one's metaphors around Sherlock Holmes.)

"Who was that?" John queried, once they'd begun moving again, thankfully in the opposite direction of whoever-that-was and Charles.

"Madeline Chilcott," Sherlock replied curtly. "Or I suppose she might be Madeline Stuart now, but she was always very independent."

"Oh." John chewed over what he was about to say next. He didn't want to stir up any bad memories--although he wasn't sure there was a way he could possibly stir them up any more--but he was burning with the need to know. "And you were--engaged?"

Sherlock, oddly enough, opened his mouth, looked at John, and then shut it again. Then he said, "It was a long time ago."

"Ah," said John. Then, "I'm sorry. I won't bring it up anymore."

"Please," said Sherlock, and he sounded so relieved that John's heart went out to him.

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This is so awesome!!! I can't wait for the next! :)

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Hee! Loving this so far.

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You've got me hooked and now I need more.

fill 2/??

It made sense, John thought as he got ready for bed that night. Not really my area, Sherlock said, that first night, and the skittishness he'd shown at the prospect of John's (completelyimaginary and totally fictional) interest. The utter disdain he'd always shown for romance; the way he sneered and rolled his eyes at the tabloid headlines and soap opera storylines. Mawkish, he called them. Sentimental. Pointless. Dull.

No one was born like that. Sherlock hadn't just decided one day that he didn't need love, or affection, or romance. Once upon a time he'd felt very deeply, enough that he'd proposed to this woman, who'd promptly turned around and left him for doggish Charles, and it'd left a mark so deep that it'd barely scabbed over. John had seen it happen before.

And she was insane, wasn't she? Christ, just--just look at him! Sherlock was stunning, in mind and in body. And sweet, she'd called him, so she'd known a charming, gentler Sherlock, before her rejection had turned him hardedged and brittle. What did Snoopy have against that? Probably money, John sniffed, and punched his pillow several times, with more force than was perhaps strictly necessary.


"She was flirting with you," said John, after Veronica Smith's footsteps had receded down the steps.

"Was she?" Sherlock made himself horizontal and stared at the ceiling. "I hadn't noticed."

"When a woman sits close to you, and comes back from the loo wearing makeup, and wears progressively lower-cut tops around you, yes, she is generally flirting with you," John said patiently, and sat down in his chair. He picked up the newspaper.

"Really." A tiny line appeared between Sherlock's eyebrows. "How disturbing."

John put down the newspaper with a crackle. "You cannot be this clueless. You were engaged!"

Sherlock froze with both hands steepled over his chin.

John sighed. "Look. I'm sorry. I know I said I wouldn't bring it up again."

"Indeed," Sherlock said, a trifle icily.

"But you--it's just--one bad apple doesn't mean you need to throw out the whole barrel! There's plenty of other fish in the sea. And you said yourself, it was a long time ago."

"Ye-es," Sherlock said. "Years. Ago."

"There you have it," John said, with satisfaction. "No need to give up on the entire human race." And he brought the newspaper back up.

He had made it partway through an article about the protests in Cairo before Sherlock said, "Are you counseling me to forget my broken heart and wade into the social dance in pursuit of a romantic relationship?"

John lowered his newspaper. Sherlock was now sitting up on the couch, crosslegged. He looked honestly puzzled. "Yes," said John.


John had never heard Sherlock sound this mystified in his entire life, not even the time John had tried to explain to him the complicated social game that was the Christmas card list. He sighed. "Because it's not good for you. And because you're brilliant and gorgeous, and you don't need to be alone for the rest of your life just because some horrible harpy threw you over for a beagle. You could have a hundred women hanging off of you if you only knew that."

Sherlock's eyebrows shot up. "That's very kind of you, John, but--" Sherlock abruptly stopped, tongue against his teeth, and then finally concluded, "she wasn't a horrible harpy."

"Mates' code," John said, settling back into his chair. "She used you up and threw you away; I'm obligated to think of her as a horrible harpy."

"Ah." Sherlock sank back down onto the couch, hands now folded over his chest. "Well. In that case."

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I am loving this verra verra much.

Do continue...

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You're making me break my F5 button! Please more, as soon as you can. :)

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OP again: AWWW you are killing me with this. It's so sweet and hilarious. And sweet, she'd called him, so she'd known a charming, gentler Sherlock, before her rejection had turned him hardedged and brittle. OH JOHN, IF YOU ONLY KNEW.

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hoping for more, tracking this like woah

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"Would you like to get a cup of coffee?"

John almost choked on his own tongue, and he whipped his head around so fast it was amazing he didn't do himself an injury. Molly looked about the same as he felt, her eyes open large like a rabbit in headlights. Sherlock, for his part, was as distant and unruffled as ever, and did not look up from his examination of the victim's fingernails.

"Er, yes?" Molly squeaked. "Black, two sugars?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I meant a date, Molly. Or have you given up?"

"N-no!" Molly gasped. "I mean, yes! Let's. Get. A coffee. Now?"

"No, you're working now, and I believe it's generally frowned upon to depart in the middle of work for a date. But your shift ends today at. . . three, doesn't it? You can meet me at the Coffee Republic at the corner at, let's say ten after. That will give me enough time to see a man about a dog, and you enough time to freshen up, or whatever it is you do before dates." Sherlock let the hand drop back unceremoniously to the table. "I think I'm done here, if you would?"

"Yes, of course," Molly said, but it took her a few moments before she could collect herself enough to zip the bodybag back up and sequester the corpse away. John felt a bit faint himself.

On the way out, John asked, "Did you just--"

"Yes." Sherlock flung up one hand. His ability to get a cab at any time, any place in London was perhaps an odd superpower, but a useful one.

John wasn't sure what he wanted to ask. Why? was a stupid question, because Sherlock never did anything without purpose, he certainly never did anything that he didn't want to do, and it wasn't really any of John's business to begin with, now was it? Perhaps Why now? was a more accurate query. Molly had been throwing herself at Sherlock for as long as John had known them, and Sherlock had never displayed any interest before.

Fortunately, Sherlock was also psychic. "You were the one advising that I forget my broken heart. I believe you used the hackneyed phrase about there being other fish in the sea. Now get in the cab."

John got in the cab. There wasn't much else to do. "And Molly is. . . other fish?"

Sherlock hummed.


Sherlock tilted his head at John. John wondered if Sherlock knew what he was doing when he did that, the way it exposed the line of his jaw. Of course he did. Sherlock knew everything. "Sherlock, are you leading her on? Because that's not nice."

Sherlock snorted. "Hardly. She fancies me because I'm intelligent and outrageous and she sees me on average three times a month. Fifteen minutes at close quarters in a coffeeshop will change that. People like that television show about that arrogant bully doctor, but they would hardly want him as their actual doctor."

This entire conversation was so surreal that the only reasonable response was: "You watch House?"

"Melodrama and medical implausibility aside, I find him very sensible," Sherlock replied.

The date must have gone exactly as Sherlock predicted, because when next they saw Molly--two weeks later, when Sherlock needed to examine twins--she was professional and polite, and Sherlock did not repeat his invitation for coffee. It was sort of a relief, although John felt badly for her. She deserved better.

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HAHAHA! I love hearing John explain to Sherlock why he shouldn't give up on love. So many great words choices and interesting phrases. This is fantastic!

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OP here: Eeeeeeeeeeee! So good! POOR SHERLOCK, SO PAINED.

John collected his jaw off the pavement. (Metaphorically. One can never be too careful about one's metaphors around Sherlock Holmes.)

Hee hee hee hee. :D

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This is absolutely lovely, but can I just flail a bit at the House reference?


Okay, continuing. XD

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I generally don't comment on the early parts of fics (unless I'm actually following them as WIPs from the get-go), because the comments get tacked on in some seemingly random spot somewhere towards the bottom of the page, which is not at all conducive towards my silent yet noble quest to keep things neat and tidy. Yes, I am an odd one.

That being said, I am now foregoing my habitual commenting methods, because I felt the irresistible urge to tell you that this is probably one of my favorite lines ever: Sherlock demonstrated some heretofore unknown (but strongly suspected) ability to actually read normal human social cues, because he shook his head.

Brilliant! :D

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