Tag: ficlet

sarah-yyy:

writing-prompt-s:

During a bank robbery you’re surprised when the criminals seem to recognize you and retreat in fear. Only later do you learn that your high school sweet-heart now runs a global crime syndicate and has you placed on a “No Harm” list. You decide to pay them a visit after all these years.

“You’re…turning yourself in,” Zhao Yunlan repeats, staring at the guy who shot him in the arm during last week’s bank robbery. 

“Yes,” the man says earnestly. And then, in a rush, “I am so sorry for firing at you, Chief Zhao! I swear I didn’t mean to injure you! I’m a terrible shot! I didn’t think I would hit you! You have to believe me!”

Da Qing blinks at the man, incredulous. “So you came back to Dragon City to turn yourself in, even though you already fled the country, because you felt guilty?”

The man nods vigorously. “Yes! That’s the only reason! There are no other reasons!”

“Yeah, because that does not sound suspicious at all,” Zhao Yunlan mutters. “What happened to your face?” he asks, eyeing the bruises. He’s pretty sure the man had also been limping when Chu Shuzhi brought him into the interrogation room. 

“Nothing! No-one hit me or threatened to kill me slowly if I didn’t come back!” the man says in a hurry, and then winces. “Please don’t ask me any more questions, and just lock me up, I am begging you.”

Zhao Yunlan eyes him for a long moment. 

Although it doesn’t happen very often, this isn’t the first time something like that has happened. It is, however, the first time they’ve managed to bag someone so loose-lipped. There’s no reason why Yunlan can’t make good use of this situation and fish for some answers. 

“Does this have anything to do with…the Black Cloaked Envoy?” 

The man’s face turns pale. “I’ve already learnt my lesson, Chief Zhao. I will never forget your face, and I will never, ever, ever mess around in your jurisdiction again.” He drops to his knees. “Please don’t make him kill me,” he whispers, terrified.

blackmorgan:

The Wolf In The Tale ~ 221B

“Everything you have ever been told is a lie. We are born, not bitten and for every clever creature of us, we would rather be wise. We bow to no moon but time and when we take a mate, it is for life.”

John has never forgotten those words nor the choice he made on the moor that night.

Every time he oils the Sig, lays the bullets aside, he knows how close he came to taking the wrong life.

Mycroft asks him how he knew which wolf not to shoot and John says without hesitation, “The one with Sherlock’s eyes.”

The wolf across from him sips his tea. It’s suddenly all too civilized and John wonders what the brothers must have been like as boys, gangly, loping puppies ranging through the countryside.

Sherlock hastens proceedings, hurries Mycroft’s goodbyes; he wants John to himself tonight.

When he rounds upon his mate, there’s a feral gleam in his eye. Clothes have become a crime and there’s a new hunger to satisfy.

John bares his throat, lets Sherlock lick and bite. The victorious are insatiable and in the twenty-four hours since Baskerville, Sherlock has already bedded John twice.

Their third is just as fierce but neither would have it otherwise. Even the moon, bold through the window tonight, cannot tell man from beast.

Read on AO3

Tumult-In-The-Clouds’ lovely manip The Wolf Within got me thinking that there might have been more to the case in Dartmoor and Baskerville than we ever realised.

reapersun:

“You were in the rebellion.”

“Sorry?”

“The subatomic particles in your shoulder are damaged. Nothing on Earth could have done that to something like you. Only an elder could cause that kind of wound, although if an elder caused it then I’m very curious how you survived it. After healing, you fled, so obviously one of the independents, making the rebellion most likely. You can’t reshape yourself completely because of the wound, though you can addle humans enough that they don’t notice. You’ve had a lot of practice hiding on this world. But you must know that no matter what shape you take, you can’t disguise yourself from your masters, face to face. It’s a shame you’re alone here. You’ve forgotten how to look.”

“…L-look?”

“You can’t see me at all can you.”

“Who are you?”

“Sherlock Holmes. I see through everything and everyone. Normally there’s not much to see… But you’re a different case entirely, aren’t you, John Watson.”

————————————-

for alwaysanalyzing, for the Sherlock Secret Santa

I saw on your blog that you like Lovecraft so

an au where john, sherlock and moriarty are… well, i’ll let you interpret what’s goin on hehe~ i researched the mythos a bit for this but there’s always a pretty good chance I slipped up so feel free to call me out if something’s totally ridiculous :))

hope you like it!

cumberqueen:

IMAGINE THAT IS MYCROFT. And imagine this: You’re a young man. Waking up to this sight. You can’t remember what happened. You’re tied to a chair. As you finally look Mycroft in the eyes, he says: “So… I hear you’re dating my daughter?” 

Nice. Or, alternately:
“I understand you’ve had a very unhealthy interest in my brother.  Unhealthy enough, in fact, that he’s spent the last week in hospital.  Very sloppy work, however; more fervent than skillful.  I’d like this to be an instructive meeting; show you how to improve upon your technique.  I can assure you, you’ll spend much longer in a hospital bed when we’re done.  In fact, you may not leave it.”

Mycroft smiled pleasantly at his… guest.  “Isn’t that fortuitous? Now, if you’ve no objections-” Soft, muffled noises are all that make it through the gag.  “None? Ah, good – let’s begin.”

darthstitch:

tentacle-monster:

deducemysoul:

halloween’s for ghosts and monsters of course
sherlock must be experiencing some mental breakdown

when i realized the background’s like the Constantine hell scene it’s too late
i don’t want to draw a new one cuz i’m lazyyyy

THIS IS AMAZING!  NOW I NEED FICCERY, DAMMIT!  BRING IT ON, FICCERS!  THIS AWESOME ARTWORK NEEDS COMPANION WORDS!

GOD DAMN IT. FINE.  YOU GUYS WIN.

The Tumblr Crackficlets Epic Headcanon – Where the Shadows Lie

“How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?”  Granted, Sherlock had to admit that currently, the Truth was something out of Lovecraft’s worst nightmares but he’d never flinched from it and he wasn’t about to start running from it now. 

Also, it seemed that he was the only thing standing between these….Things and John and Sherlock would make damn sure that losing John Watson to supernatural horrors was Not. Going. To. Happen.  End of discussion.

“So basically, the truth is, we’re up against ghoulies, ghosties and long-leggedy beasties today instead of megalomaniacal mortal mad geniuses, yes?” John said with his typical air of long-suffering.  “Good Lord, deliver us.” 

“That would be convenient,” Sherlock offered dryly.  “I do, mind you, have a weapon on hand.”  Sherlock had been hoping he wouldn’t have to use the sword forged of blessed steel that he’d picked up during one of his summers staying at his Cousin Adrian’s haunted castle in Romania, but “hoping” and ruefully seeing the high possibilities of Certain Things happening were two entirely different things, in his long experience. 

“Right,” John sighed.  “Good thing I have some blessed silver bullets too.”

“Well, I think I see a werewolf or two in this crowd,” Sherlock pointed out helpfully.

John grinned at him.  “It’s not just for werewolves, you realize.  I’m not too bad with the odd bits of spell casting or two.  Didn’t think I’d ever have to use that again but I’ve kept my hand in.”

“John Hamish Watson,” Sherlock said in absolute wonder and delight.  He took a moment to snog his boyfriend, though it was with regret that he couldn’t take enough time to make sure that the darling man was snogged utterly silly, as was his usual practice. “You, a spellcaster?” 

John was a delightful shade of pink after that snog. “Have a few witches in my family – love Aunt Minerva’s blueberry muffins, you know.”  The Army doctor squared his shoulders.  “Now then?”

Sherlock nodded, a feral grin curving his lips.  “After you, love.”  The Enemy and His Minions were not going to know what was going to hit them. 

***

Note the First: Sherlock’s Cousin Adrian is Adrian Fahrenheights Tepes a.k.a. Alucard.

Note the Second:  John’s Aunt Minerva is Minerva McGonagall.  ‘Nuff said.  😛

irisqod:

atlinmerrick:

John bought it as a joke from the Camden markets, Sherlock mounted it on the wall over their shared desk, just below the moose head.

Well, after he got John to shoot a hole through an “O.” (A favor the good doctor granted only after much pestering and only after Sherlock made dramatic use of his weapon. If you know what I mean and I think you do *coughcough*.)  [X]

And I bet John yelled “Bullseye!” (both times. *coughcough*)

iamthecakefairy:

ibeggedformercytwice:

curlyboff:

nixiesaurus:

cocokat:

Very boring up here. 

No crimes in Heaven, apparently.

SH

—-

Met an angel called Castiel.

Was looking for a human body.

SH

—-

Have I told you about the Winchesters?

SH

—-

I miss you and your complaining horribly

SH

—-

Met Einstein! Was appalled at how little I knew about space.

SH

—-

John, your mother and father say ‘hello’.

SH

—-

I wish I could talk to you

SH

—-

God won’t let me visit Hell. 

But I’m bored. There are bound to be murders there!

SH

—-

If you end up here anytime soon I may have to kill you

SH

—-

Still missing you horribly

SH

—-

Was told you got married. “Mary Morstran”.

A woman even I might admire. Good Job.

SH

—-

People keep finding me here. Say that I solved the crimes surrounding their deaths.

Keep thanking me.

Somewhat annoying.

SH

—-

Really, John? You named your son “Sherlock”?

Someone is getting too sentimental.

I’m touched.

SH

—-

Met Mycroft. I’m not surprised he’s here a bit early.

Still as annoying as ever.

I miss when you used to punch him for me.

SH

—-

You’ve become so good at writing.

I miss you.

SH

—-

There are so many things I should have said.

Down There.

SH

—-

Sorry

SH

—-

I miss you

SH

—-

I love you.

SH

—-

Won’t you hurry up?

SH

—-

Don’t come too quickly, though.

SH

—-

Met with Mummy.

She cried. I don’t understand it.

SH

—-

I love you

SH

—-

Being an old man doesn’t suit you. 

You’re done fighting, John.

Come home.

SH

—-

Stubborn to the last, my John.

SH

—-

I love you anyway.

SH

—-

“Welcome home.”

Could you imagine one for MorMor, though?

You won’t believe this.  Down here, there’s a statue dedicated to me! -JMx

—-

It’s not very boring, here, I have to say. -JMx

—-

They’re letting me torture people, Seb!  It’s like a vacation resort! -JMx

—-

There’s a soldier down here, says he served in Kabul with you. -JMx

—-

Scratch that.  Says you killed him in Kabul.  Oops. Now I get the dishonourable discharge thing. -JMx

—-

The man in charge says he likes my Westwood. -JMx

—-

You really should stop drinking and smoking.  I think it’s ruining your organs.  Then again, that means you get here sooner.  That being said, keep up the good work! -JMx

—-

Actually, scratch that last one.  I forgot how good you looked in a sunset’s glow. -JMx

—-

Oh.  It’s terminal.  It’s only been a few years, Seb.  I told you to cut that shit out. -JMx

—-

I always knew you could handle pain.  I never knew that was only because I was there whenever it happened. -JMx

—-

I’m sorry you’re alone. I promise it’ll be over soon.  It spreads quicker than you could ever imagine. -JMx

—-

Just close your eyes. -JMx

—-

“Stupid, simple tiger.  You never did listen to me.”

NO

NO

NO

I WAS FREAKING NOT READY FOR FEELS. WHY DOESN’T SOMEONE JUST MAKE A MYSTRADE ONE AND KILL ME ALREADY.

Oh no. Why did you say it Curly? WHY? Now I feel obligated to kill you. 

That came out wrong. Sort of. 

I should have worn my vest. You were always nagging at me to do so. – GL

—-

It’s okay to cry, you know? Nobody would think less of you. – GL

—-

You’d like it up here, Mycroft. They run in properly. – GL

—-

A is worried about you. She isn’t the only one. – GL

—-

You need to get some decent coffee sent up here or something. For some reason even they can’t get it right. – GL

—-

You’re spending too much time at the office. You’ll kill yourself doing that. – GL

—-

I’m serious, Mycroft. You may be a Holmes but you’re a human first. – GL

—-

I finally found your brother today. He’s doing well. Don’t worry. I’ll look after him for you. Just like before. – GL

—-

You’ll give yourself a heart attack this way. – GL

—-

And you said grieving was a concept you didn’t understand. It’s been too long now though. Move on. I was only a bloody Yarder. – GL

—-

Please come and control your brother. He’s becoming too insufferable, even for me, and annoying Gabriel. Is that even possible? – GL

—-

I see you talked to Sally. Thank you. – GL

—-

I warned you. Didn’t I? A heart attack? You’re not ready yet. England still needs you down there. I think the Prime Minister nearly had a heart attack himself when he found out about you. It was amusing. Young thing looked so scared. – GL

—-

You’re back at work already? I could kill you. I can’t but I could. You’re meant to be resting, Mycroft. – GL

—-

Jesus. You really don’t care any more, do you? It’s not so great up here. Just please stop working so bloody hard. – GL

—-

You know working doesn’t heal the pain, right? – GL

—-

Oh now you’ve gone and bloody done it. I may be dead but I can still see you in that blasted hospital. – GL

—-

England doesn’t need you any more. I do. You can rest now, Mycroft.  – GL

—-

“I always said you’d work yourself to death.”

Well, we’ve got the set, now.  God, the first version hurt enough when this went around before, but now there’s a mormor version?  Oh, my heart…