Beeblock – SH & JW – From a prompt by Mystradedoodles

John wasn’t very good at texting; in fact, his speed in texting was somewhere between his typing skills and glacial advancement.  It wasn’t entirely his fault, since he hadn’t done much texting in his lifetime, and hadn’t ever owned a mobile with unlimited texting before—thank you, Sherlock—although it had taken John two weeks to notice his account had been upgraded.  When John had broached the subject, Sherlock had shouted, “Bloody finally!” and lobbed John’s favourite union jack pillow at John’s head.  

John had caught the pillow and laughingly buffeted Sherlock’s upraised knees a couple of times, calling him a sneaky wanker and then dropping the pillow on the chuckling detective’s stomach, saying smilingly, “No, actually, Sherlock, thanks.  Although, I probably should—“

Sherlock had interrupted him by flinging the pillow at him again, intoning loudly, “No!  You are not paying me back.  Go make tea or something.”  When John huffed in good-natured annoyance and tried again, he didn’t get one word out before Sherlock bounced off the sofa and strode to his violin case.  “Surrender gracefully or I shall play… what did you call it?  The cat-gutting symphony number 666?”

Beeblock – MH & GL


Finding the man was in his office at the Yard and stationary, Mycroft rang Gregory after asking Alice to fetch them both some lunch.  The look she gave him made him sigh and roll his eyes before spinning his chair to put his back to her as the phone rang and she exited his office.

“Lestrade,” Gregory answered, sounding frustrated and very probably angry.

“Gregory,” Mycroft said evenly, remaining neutral until he knew what was happening, ears keen for background information as well as any of Gregory’s tells.  “I hope I haven’t phoned at a bad time.”

“Hullo… yeah, well, as a matter of fact—” Gregory started to work up to asking him to call back—not angry, but definitely frustrated and unhappy about something; however, the voice in the background interrupting him answered most of the questions Mycroft might have asked.

“Tell him to bugger off; you’re busy!”  Sherlock’s tone actually was angry, and a bit thick, which set off alarm bells in Mycroft, because it was the sort of heaviness his little brother’s voice took on when he was extremely upset—on the verge of tears upset.

Lowering his voice instinctively, sitting more upright in his chair, Mycroft let his concern show as he asked, “Has something happened?”


Opening the door, Greg wasn’t sure why he expected Mycroft’s driver to have come up to fetch him, but he had; so, seeing Mycroft there, looking even more dapper than his usual meticulously bespoke self was… okay, mildly startling.  But startling in a good way.

“Oh, well, hullo there,” Greg said, feeling thrown and a bit like a pillock.  Mycroft wore a black overcoat, gloves, and a neatly-tucked scarf in a red so deep it was almost black.  He looked… relentlessly posh and… right, Greg pulled that thought short with a determined yank; God help him, if he allowed those kinds of thoughts to happen between his ears!  Mycroft, the canny bastard, would somehow know.  

Mycroft’s eyes, a bit bluer than his younger brother’s, swept over Greg with all the laser focus anyone might expect of a Holmes, tilting his head fractionally, the hallway light glinting auburn on his perfectly-groomed dark brown hair.  “I need not ask if you’re ready,” he murmured in an approving tone, one corner of his mouth quirking the tiniest bit.  “Shall we?”

Beeblock – Pirate AU – SH & JW – From a prompt by PrettyArbitrary

Newcomers to the island’s best tavern (of two)—Hudson’s Haven by name—were still regaled with the story of the first grand clash between the Bartholomew’s Captain Holmes and the Northumberland’s Captain Watson: how the dashing dandy Holmes’ usual sharp witted manner and too-canny way of seemingly pulling others’ secrets from thin air snapped the supposedly-legendary patience of the brave and noble Watson. 

The story always dwells with relish upon the duel they fought, those two (in)famous pirates, which wended around Hudson’s before spilling out onto the street and flit-flash-clashing through half the market before reaching its infamous end.  Some of the details get jumbled, the direction the fight took, the clothing of the combatants, and so forth, but the fact that everyone remembers clearly is how an uncouth and foolish bystander—perhaps thinking to be helpful, since Captain Holmes had been calling the island his home from home for years and protecting it thusly—tripped Captain Watson in the midst of a flurry of action.  Captain Holmes’ sword, already in motion and too far to be properly turned aside, drove into Captain Watson’s shoulder and pinned him to a rack of hanging meat in one of the market stalls.  Calling a halt to the duel, Holmes pulled his sword free and quickly gave the too-helpful man a slash upon both cheeks and an ‘x’ upon his chest, marking him as a fool and a blackguard for interfering in an honourable duel. 

The capper to that story is, of course, that Captain Holmes took Captain Watson upon his own ship when the wound went septic, and tended him until Watson was healed.

Random made fic for me. ;_;


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