Prompt fic...fun prompts!

Title: Well, That Wasn't What I Expected To Happen
Fandom: Elementary
Prompts + links to prompts: Embedded links in blue
Word Count: 310

“These shoes are made for walking, not running,” proclaimed Sherlock, as he bent, rather solicitously actually, over Joan, who had pulled herself onto a doorstep of a building on the side-street off of Park. “Don’t you think you should be trying to catch him?” said Joan testily, gesturing down the street after a figure in a black leather jacket, who was turning onto Park and disappearing in the throng.

Sherlock waved his hands as he settled on the stoop next to her and bent to peer at her ankle, which she was rubbing gingerly. “It’s no matter. We clearly had no inkling we would run into Mallory, or we would have been better prepared.” He gestured again toward her footwear. “This indicates to me that it will not be difficult to, shall we say, run into him again. In that future case, I might recommend, literally. Sprained, not broken, yes?” He looked up at her.

“Hmm, yes, thank god,” Joan groaned slightly as she moved to lever herself to a standing position. “Well, we just can’t sit here all day. Better get a cab home.” She squinted up and down the side street and looked a bit dismayed.

Sherlock stood abruptly. “Never catch a cab here, best get down to The Avenue,” he said briskly, and in one sudden move, half-bent and scooped Joan into his arms.

“Aacck!” Joan cried. “What are you doing? Please put me down, it’s just a sprained ankle." Resolutely, Sherlock proceeded down the sidewalk. “Tcha-tcha, Watson, patience. We must preserve your ankle, not to mention your designer footwear, for the morrow, when we will again venture out and attempt to flag down our witness. Until then…a taxi.” Having reached the corner of Park Avenue, he managed to wave imperiously at a fortuitously oncoming cab, while keeping a comfortable yet respectable grip on his detecting partner.

Harry Potter Fanmix

Hero - Mariah Carey
Abracadabra - Steve Miller Band
Rise Again - Aselin Denison
Roar - Katy Perry
You Want a Battle? Here’s A War - Bullet for My Valentine

Pocketful of Sunshine - Natasha Beddingfield
Open Your Eyes You Can Fly - Lizz Wright
Team - Lorde
Thank You for Being A Friend - Andrew Gold
Everyday People - Sly and the Family Stone
Remember the Name - Fort Minor

Missing scene fic

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.