catko: (joe_s)
Title: More Than A Little Hope
Prompts Used: Words--beginnings, daring, decisions, garden, growth, rebirth
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Word Count: 617

Lestrade looked brightly around the lovely room and nodded appreciatively. "Can't thank you enough for the invite. Well enough, now that case is over, I feel like I got a new lease on life."
Read more... )
catko: (Buffy Finale)
The Case of the Half-Drained Vics
Prompt Used: code, disguise, gadget, reward, secret, undercover
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Sherlock BBC, Grimm
Word Count: 327
Note: Part of an ongoing crossover series in which Giles brings the Slayerettes to London after the fall of Sunnydale, and they get involved with the Sherlock crew. They're drawn into an investigation of a series of supposed serial killings which might be vampires, or might be something else entirely. Mycroft has come to the Watchers’ Council, as has his distant cousin, Sean Renard, lately of the Portland Police Department. Both sets of teams are zeroing in on the culprits of the multiple murders.

With Sherlock sniffing the door jamb, Buffy managed to pry open the rusted hatch of the battered door set into the stone wall at the back of the Tennis Club where the last, half-drained victim had been found, using a metal gadget she’d had, oddly but conveniently, in her purse. Sherlock’s eyes lit up and the two slowly wrenched open the door, as Lestrade and the others hurried over.

Willow, who’d been reading about the legend of the dearg-du, continued her litany as to how the myth entailed that the beautiful woman, killed by her lover, somehow had spawned a secret brood of blood sucking creatures, doomed to roam the night, sometimes in disguise, waylaying victims. But once the two had the door wide open, and the cold and clammy blast of air seeped out, even she was staring, like the rest, into the dark entrance.

“Well,” said Giles, clearing his throat and reaching into his jacket pocket, “Shall we?” With that, he brandished a small penlight, and advanced into the entry. Sherlock likewise produced a flashlight, as did Dawn from her pink backpack and Lestrade from his overcoat pocket. John looked askance, Willow alarmed, and Xander looked eager but rueful. “Don’t got a light,” he muttered, and John chuckled and drew him and Willow back. “What say we wait here, and let the rest go undercover,” he said mildly, then reaching to grab Dawn as she headed forth. “You too, love, not this time,” as she pouted but drew back obligingly.

“Yes, yes, best wait here,” agreed Giles, as he ducked to follow the others. "And don't forget the code," --waving his phone-- "In case we need to send for help."

"Fat lot of good that'll do anyone," grumbled Xander as he plopped down on the stone wall and fumbled in his backpack. "Crazy librarian forgets we've got no codes for Jolly Old England." With that, he pulled out a Heath bar and began munching contentedly. "But as we know, craziness has its own reward."
catko: (joe_s)
Doing drabbles off of phrases in other people's drabbles, so fun.

Read more... )
catko: (Mystrade)
Title: Mycroft at Les Mis
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Word Count: 310 (not including song lyrics)
Notes: Sherlock: Just my parents.
John: Your parents?
Sherlock: In town for a few days.
John: YOUR parents?
Sherlock: Mycroft promised to take them to a matinee of Les Mis. Tried to talk me into doing it.

“Everybody raise a glass/Raise it up the master's arse/Everybody raise a glass to the Master of the House!”

Mycroft pressed his fingers against his forehead and stifled a moan. This was truly a new low. The audience were laughing and whooping, not adding at all to the non-existent decorum of the situation. He slid his glance to his right, where the lights from the stage were beaming on his parents’ upturned, rapt faces. At any rate they seemed to be enjoying the raucous cacophony, had been throughout. Already his mum had squeezed his arm multiple times, cooing “Oooh Mikey, isn’t it grand!” or some other such platitude. And his father had actually been singing along! Damn Sherlock. Surely he could have taken up Mycroft's very generous offer to perform this interminable duty. After all, what else had he to do? Lie on his couch all day? Mycroft was the one who had, shall we say, better things to do. Such as balance the world's economy, restore peace in distant lands; stir up unrest in others, if he were to be honest?

Ah well, surely this couldn’t go on for much longer. He stole a look at his watch. Oh, good heavens, still more than halfway left to go, plus intermission. Intermission! His face brightened. Shepherding his parents through the lobby throng would be arduous but a drink? Yes, yes, a substandard watered-down scotch would be just the thing.

As the song and singer crashed to the end, again his mother pulled on his arm with excitement. "Aren't they a laugh! Oh, I do like this!" Ah, well. A few hours to make them happy, surely he could withstand this, and worse, which was no doubt what was yet to come. Schooling his features into as pleasant a smile as he could muster, he patted her hand, settled back in his seat, and turned his mental attention to calculating the potential deleveraging of the shadow banking crisis in China.

catko: (Sherlock)
...for a challenge at [ profile] gameofcards. I liked the prompts--they come from this tumblr. The picspam is all Sherlock BBC.

catko: (Sherlock Think)
...for [ profile] gameofcards.

Words Used: contract, boxing, fireman, motorcycle, tsunami, marble, smoke, bus
Title: Just Another Day at 221B
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Word Count: 519

“What the bloody hell happened here!?!” John expostulated, as he looked around the flat from the doorway. “Sherlock! The place looks like it was hit by a tsunami!” He strode into the room. “Sherlock! Are you here?”

Read more... )

catko: (Sherlock)
We got several clusters of prompts to write a fic: I decided to try to use all the prompts, in order. (They are italicized.) Fun!

Title: Night In
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Pairing(s): Sherlock/John pre-anything
Rating: G
Word Count: 569
Set # & Words Used: I used them all!

“Let’s not mess about with the law, Sherlock, yes? Why not just go file the report at the station? You’ll have to do it sometime,” John called from the kitchen. Sherlock barely flicked his eyes from the microscope. “If by ‘law’ you mean ‘Lestrade,’ John, I absolutely refuse to cater to his absurd strategy of containment.” He raised his hand in a dismissive wave. “You can’t know me at all if you’d think I would.”

John stood for a moment at the entrance to the sitting room, then strolled toward Sherlock, depositing a mug of tea on the table. “I’d say I know you as well as anyone does, despite our almost complete lack of…” His voice trailed off into a shrug. Sherlock looked up this time, cocking an eyebrow as he watched John take his seat by the fire, his hair glowing gold in the flickering light. Sherlock glanced out the window at the darkening sky, and decided to turn the tide.

Reaching under the table for the bottle of Scotch, he went and sat in the chair opposite John. “I simply can’t do any more close work this evening,” he said in a studiously idle tone. “My mind is awash with annoying facts and observations.” He placed long fingers over his eyes, then peered between them. “Talk to me, John. Tell me the mundane doings of your day; perhaps that could serve as a palate cleanser.” He lolled back in the chair, but his eyes were brightly fixed on the man opposite. “Yeah?” John shifted in his chair. “All right then, well, I did have a bit of a day with the cleaners, getting the woollen jacket done, good old thing.” Sherlock suppressed a grimace at the thought of said jacket, but made an encouraging sound. “Then, way home, would you believe, a cat stuck in a tree by the park, managed to coax her down, right enough.

“Picked up a package for Mrs. Hudson from her crony at the bakery—didn’t look like baked goods, curious—then had to stop a young mischief-maker throwing a pebble over the roof at the corner; helped a foreign chap read the bus schedule, trying to get to the university. Just your average London afternoon.” He nodded happily, drained his tea, and held out the mug toward Sherlock, gesturing toward the bottle in his hand.

Mundane indeed, but it occurred to Sherlock as he reached over to pour the Scotch, he would gladly, and most surprisingly, endure daily such tedium to see that smile on John’s face. Blinking slightly at this realization, he murmured, “Kind of you to be a guide to the lost, to those about to make a mistake, and such a general dogsbody to the City of London. Making sure everything is ‘right as rain.’ ” He tried for a slightly ironic tone, but even he could hear the fondness. John paused mid-swig and his eyes shone with surprise. “Well, then, ta, mate,” he said softly, raising his mug. “Not such a robot when it comes to nice feelings after all.” Their eyes locked for a few long seconds, then both looked away. “So, not going to the Yard, what’s on for tonight then?” asked John, reaching for the paper. Sherlock poured them both another splash of Scotch. “I was thinking about a quiet night in,” he said softly, as he set down his mug and went to get his violin.
catko: (Sherlock)
Title: The Proust Interview: Sherlock’s Skull
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Rating: G
Word Count: 372 (questions = ~100 words)

Hello, everyone, Marcelline Proust here, with another of our celebrity interviews. Today kicks off our series of Interviews with Inanimate Objects. As you must know, some of our most popular interviews were held at perhaps London’s most famous address. No, not Ten Downing Street, but 221B Baker Street! So we are back again to do another Proust interview with—The Skull!

What is your idea of perfect happiness? First off, I wish to lodge a protest. I am certainly not an "inanimate object." Well, true, I am not particularly animated in my current state. However, I was once quite animated, and must continue to have some aspects of animism, or why would my esteemed host continue to share with me his deepest musings and considerations? Being engaged in that activity, by the way, would qualify as my idea of perfect happiness. Erudite and intimate.
What is your current state of mind? Bony. Hahahah. Old skull joke, don’t mind me.
What do you consider the most overrated virtue? Having flesh.
What do you most dislike about your appearance? I miss my fine head of hair.
Which living person do you most despise? There was one time, dreadful fellow. Came to the flat for an appointment. Distinguished looking chap, and at one point during the proceedings he walked over to me—I’m thinking to pay his respects, like so many before him. Instead, he undid his flies and proceeded to relieve himself in the fireplace!
If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? Much as I enjoy my current state, it would be nice to be ambulatory again.
Where would you most like to live? While I admire my esteemed host, I do enjoy it when Mrs. Hudson brings me to hers. The smells of baking, the music, all much to my liking.
What is your most marked characteristic? My ever-present grin.
Which historical figure do you most identify with? Ugh, must I say “Yorick” of Hamlet, since nearly everyone who meets me feels they must invoke him and that trite quotation?
What is your greatest regret? That I didn’t have a greater appreciation for having a body.
What is your motto? Live well, die young, and leave a good-looking skeleton. That’s what I did!
catko: (clubs) [ profile] gameofcards. Sherlock BBC, Series 3. Can you guess which song I was thinking of for "lyrics?

Love Close Family Holidays Lyrics 
Dramatic Smile Dream Mystery Magic
06 dramatic 09 mystery 10 magic
11 fa 12 fav 13 fav 14 fav 15 fav
16 choice 17 choice 18 choice 19 choice 20 choice
catko: (clubs)
Holiday prompt fic for [ profile] gameofcards. All Mystrade!

Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Pairing: Mycroft/Lestrade, Mystrade
Rating: G
Notes: Prompt—“Christmas invitation (invited by the in-laws/family)” from [ profile] sa_brina86
Word count: 425

Mycroft deposited his umbrella and hat in their customary places in the entry, and brushed off some flakes of snow from his shoulders."White Chirstmas.... )
catko: (sherlock lestrade)
For a challenge at [ profile] gameofcards to pick something from Damn You Autocorrect as prompts for fics. I found three that were perfect for a developing Mystrade, hee hee.

Three Texts
Name: catko
Team: clubs
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Characters or Pairing: Mystrade
Rating: PG I guess
Warning/Notes: Three prompts, three chapters
Words: 834

Greg shoved his fingers through his hair and glared at the folder on his desk. Taking a deep breath, he reached instinctively for his mug of cold coffee, and just as he was about to take a no-doubt disgusting swig, was startled by a firm “Ahem!” at the door.

Looking up, blinking his eyes to clear them, he beheld a tall, lean figure, elegantly coiffed, dressed, and shod, holding in immaculate leather gloves two steaming paper cups, with the fragrance of—thank god!—very strong coffee.

He reached up to smooth his hair as he rose, groaning slightly at the stiffness. “Mycroft!” he said, hoping to sound natural, but instead sounding as he was, a tired, fed-up aging copper. “Wasn’t expecting you, what about your conference call?”

Mycroft gave a smile, somewhere in that magic zone between snaky and kindly, and moved toward Greg, set both cups on the desk and lowered himself into a chair. “Hello, Detective Inspector. You summoned me, did you not?” he asked smoothly, as he slowly removed his gloves, one by one, and simultaneously indicating one of the coffee cups.

Greg stood stock still for more than a moment, then, realizing he was staring, shook himself, and dropped into his seat. He reached out for the coffee and took a sip. The gloriousness of hot, well-brewed, high-quality coffee flowed through him. “Ta, ever so,” he sighed gratefully. “For this, and for coming, but me summoning you was more of a joke, really, didn’t expect you to show up. Even though you do know more about this case than I do.” He gestured dismissively at the stack of folders. “Anyway, my phone died right after I sent that text, didn’t see your response. And please. Call me Greg. We don’t need to stand on formality, we’re friends, after all.”

“Ah.” Mycroft set his gloves on the desk next to his coffee cup and reached into his breast pocket. Pulling out a mobile phone, he made a few movements, then, leaning forward further, turned the screen toward Greg.

Greg peered over, puzzled. Upon reading the line of texts, he felt a shockwave of panic. He looked across the desk, aghast. But when he saw the twinkle in Mycroft’s eye, he found himself laughing and laughing.
Text here.... )

goldfishGoldfish? Goldfish? Mycroft stared speculatively at the screen of his mobile. Of course it was patently ridiculous for Gregory to be considering doing anything with his hair, his beautiful hair. So could this banter be some form of code? Could he possibly know, had Sherlock mentioned anything about that absurd conversation they’d had, whatever had possessed him, goldfish, of all analogies to use. But if so…could Gregory be somehow hinting, referring to Mycroft’s position on not getting close to anyone, as some kind of-jibe? Perhaps he wants more, and fears Mycroft does not? Or, good lord, he is trying to tell Mycroft that he has no need for a goldfish either?

Mycroft found himself worrying the phone between his hands, uncharacteristically. He forced himself to still, to breathe deeply, and to consider rationally, as he would in any high-tension government negotiation or international crisis. Think, think. What would it be in Gregory’s nature to do?

They’d only been seeing each other for a few weeks, but from what he knew of Gregory, it wasn’t like him to run any kind of complicated word game. Nor psychological game. Certainly not. He felt a wave of relief pass over him.

And yet, that must mean…NO! he can’t be serious about coloring his hair. Thrusting the phone into his pocket, he swept up his coat and umbrella, and headed for the door. This insane idea must be stopped.

Greg pulled his sweatshirt closer and contemplated his phone. It would be a good warm up to check in with Mycroft, but he didn’t want to be a pest. Things had been going so great, so weirdly great between them, and he knew enough about his own feelings, and was a good enough read of others’, that he knew they were both caught in that zone of wanting more but being afraid to get it. He remembered this phase from past relationships, kinda fun, actually, the anxiety and anticipation. But in this case it’d come on fast and hard. Ever since that dumb handjob text had broken the ice, they’d become friends, then sex partners, and now…what? Close enough to think about each other between times? To have that sense of longing? To want more?

Ah, fuck it. He picked up the phone and started to text.
hit manHe was laughing yet again at the string of texts when the phone rang in his hand. Grinning, he answered. “Yeah? Is this the hit man I ordered? Or wait, is that hot man?”

A low murmur flowed into his ear. “You don’t know how right you are, Gregory,” the voice purred. “I propose you meet me at my place and I’ll show you.”

Greg’s eyes lit up as he jumped up to go.
catko: (clubs)
From a few months back, I forgot to post these prompt fics. Miscellaneous fandoms...
Mystrade, crossovers, bodyswap... )
catko: (Giles in London)
For a challenge at [ profile] land_deduction to do a crossover with either Elementary or Sherlock BBC. This is part of an ongoing crossover of mine that started being Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Sherlock BBC, but has since incorporated Grimm since I see a strong resemblance between the actors who play Mycroft Holmes and Sean Renard.

Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Sherlock BBC, Grimm
Characters: Mycroft Holmes, Sean Renard
Rating: G, some mention of violence
Notes: Part of this crossover ‘verse I write in where Giles brings the Slayerettes to London after the fall of Sunnydale, and they get involved with the Sherlock crew. They're drawn into an investigation of a series of supposed serial killings which might be vampires, or might be something else entirely. Mycroft has come to the Watchers’ Council, as has his distant cousin, Sean Renard, lately of the Portland Police Department, currently in England following a lead—among other things.
Word count: 506 (not including background)

Read more... )
catko: (Elementary Joan)
For [ profile] land_deduction...making graphics from quote-prompts--some from the shows/canon, some not. The gif one is based on the quote by Joan: "What's up with the nerd brigade?"

More here! )
catko: (Sherlock)
This was fun--to do some kind of social media piece with our favorite fandom characters. I chose a gossip/interview blog using the ever-popular Proust Questionnaire.

Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Words: 1009 (not including the questions)
Rating: G

Marcie Proust here with another of our wonderful Questionnaire series.
Today we’re here at the famed 221B Baker Street to find out all we can from an absolutely dynamic trio who’ve been involved in some of our most notorious criminal cases. So off we go!

Sherlock, John, and Mrs. Hudson )

catko: (sherlock lestrade)
Wow, this was so fun I almost couldn't stop. One day maybe I'll make a full deck; I had a lot of ideas for more!

For a challenge at [ profile] gameofcards from the always creative [ profile] partitioning.

Click for bigger...

Full size )

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