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14 January 2013 @ 09:52 am
Stolen from donutsweeper

Tell me a story I haven’t written, and I will give you at least 1-3 sentences from or about it. Or more. It will probably be more.

(1) One prompt per person.

(2) Crossover prompts are allowed and encouraged.

(3) Fandoms Allowed: Anything you think I might know, including but not limited to: Sherlock, Castle, The Great Mouse Detective, Elementary, The Avengers, Cabin Pressure, Dresden Files, Merlin, basically anything on the sidebar or you think I know. I'll give what I can a go.

Prompts can range from something like "Sherlock, John and Sherlock steal a zebra", "Merlin/The Dresden Files, that one where Harry accidentally meets the real Merlin" or "Cabin Pressure, how Martin lost his captain's hat", etc.
donutsweeperdonutsweeper on January 14th, 2013 04:42 pm (UTC)
Doctor Who/Merlin, Tell me about the time the Doctor met Merlin but didn't believe it.
The Writer They Call Tay: Merlin: Thumbs up!awanderingbard on January 14th, 2013 04:56 pm (UTC)
Oooh, fun! Quick clarification: do you mean he didn't believe Merlin was Merlin or that he didn't believe how lucky he was to meet Merlin?
donutsweeperdonutsweeper on January 14th, 2013 05:39 pm (UTC)
I had intended it to be the former, but the latter sounds awesome! You choose!
The Writer They Call Tay: MERLIn: All wet from saving the dayawanderingbard on January 16th, 2013 02:07 pm (UTC)
Uh, I think this is Nine, here. But maybe not. I couldn't get a clear image in my head about which Doctor I was using. So feel free to imagine what you want to!

Something New

"What are you doing?! Get down!"

The Doctor had only taken two steps out of the TARDIS, before someone yanked him into a clump of bushes and tackled him to the ground.

"Are you mad?! Arthur is out hunting today, he'll see you," the someone said.

The Doctor's eyes regained focussed and he found a gawky young man sitting on his chest, peering over the bushes with wide-eyes.

Well, this was nice. It was always so much easier to just dive right into chaos as soon as he stepped out of the TARDIS, rather than having to wait for chaos to find him.

"Who're you, then?" the Doctor asked, with a friendly grin.

"Shhh!" the young man hissed. He held out his hand toward the TARDIS and his eyes turned briefly amber as he whispered, "Bemíð!"

Nearby, the bushes around the TARDIS bent and twisted to block it from view. A moment later, a group of men on horses rode in.

"Merlin?" the one at the head of the pack yelled. "Merlin, where are you?"

The young man stood up hastily. "Er, here," he said, waving his arms over his head. "I, er, thought I saw a... grouse."

The leader rolled his eyes. "We're not hunting for grouse, Merlin," he said. "Hurry up."

The horses rode out again, leaving 'Merlin' standing there, waving cheerfully. As soon as they were gone, he whirled on the Doctor.

"You're lucky I was here!" he said. "Arthur would have had you arrested. You can't go around using magic in public. It's banned in Camelot. You should be more careful."

Merlin offered the Doctor a hand and helped him to his feet. He murmured a word and the bushes around the TARDIS receded. The Doctor, for perhaps the first time in 900 years, was completely gobsmacked.

A boy named Merlin. A man named Arthur. Camelot. Magic. That was impossible.

But at least it was something new.

donutsweeperdonutsweeper on January 16th, 2013 02:29 pm (UTC)
Heee. Love it!
formerly lifeinsomniacjoonscribble on January 14th, 2013 09:19 pm (UTC)
Joan Watson and John Watson meet and commiserate over the difficulties of living with someone who is high maintenance. Neither ends up actually naming anyone.
The Writer They Call Tay: SHERLOCK: Watson giggleawanderingbard on January 15th, 2013 03:35 pm (UTC)
This is my third go at this. The two attempts, John and Joan wouldn't shut up and I couldn't get them over to the topic at hand. So I've started in the middle.

The Two J. Watsons

"...and there's honey, everywhere!" Joan went on. "Everywhere. It drips through the ceiling. Sometimes he brings the bees into the house, so it's just bzzzzzz all night long."

"It's better than body parts," John said. "I have body parts everywhere. There is currently, as we speak, three hands soaking in the bath. Actual human hands. For experiments."

Joan wrinkled her nose. "Okay, yeah, that's probably worse," she said. "Are you sure he's not a serial killer?"

"No," John admitted. "No, I'm not sure. But I don't think he'd get as much fun out of being a serial killer. He'd have to hide how clever he is. He needs people to see how clever he is."

"Yes! Yes! What's with that?" she said. "He does the stupidest things to prove he's right. It's a...a..."

"Compulsion," John said. "It's an obsession."

"Exactly," Joan agreed.

The tannoy in the airport called out a plane code. Joan made a face and downed the rest of her coffee. "That's me," she said. "I should go. It was nice meeting you."

"You too," John said, standing up with her. "Sorry about the luggage mix-up. You sure you have yours this time?"

"Yes," she said. "I drew a little symbol on the tag once we sorted it out. 'J. Watson smiley face'. This is definitely mine. I think."

John laughed. He hesitated a moment, and scribbled his e-mail address on a napkin. "Just in case," he said, handing it to her.

She smiled, obviously seeing exactly what he was trying to do. "Thanks," she said, putting the napkin in her pocket. "Good luck with your sister. I know it's hard, but people can turn themselves around. They sometimes just need a bit of faith."

John nodded. "I know," he said. "Thanks. Good luck with your client."

"I'll need it," she said, rolling her eyes. "Bye!"

"Bye!" he said.

He watched her hurry across the airport, for some reason, a bit sad to see her go. Then he picked up his own suitcase, marked 'J. Watson' (no smiley face), and went off to catch his flight to London.

formerly lifeinsomniac: SherlockChaseScenejoonscribble on January 15th, 2013 03:54 pm (UTC)
This is utter brilliance. I originally felt a little bad that I may have given you an impossible prompt but the way you worked in how the two Watsons would meet and why is perfect!

"Are you sure he's not a serial killer?"

"No," John admitted. "No, I'm not sure.

I loved this bit because initially I thought John was saying that no, Sherlock isn't a serial killer. But no, he's not sure if that's not the case! It's so wonderfully in character. But he's right. Sherlock would end up getting caught in a second because he wouldn't be able to keep it to himself that he committed that incredibly clever murder.
The Writer They Call Tay: Merlin: Thumbs up!awanderingbard on January 15th, 2013 04:36 pm (UTC)
Thanks! I actually had three different scenarios for getting them together, but the first two were too complicated, so I went for a simpler route. I'm glad you enjoyed it! It was great prompt that gave me far too much inspiration. :D
rodloxrodlox on January 15th, 2013 07:02 pm (UTC)
that or if he keeps quiet, the only suspects for that complex/convoluted murder would be Sherlock Holmes and Rube Goldberg.

super prompt and fic! congrats!
rodloxrodlox on January 15th, 2013 07:00 pm (UTC)
"I'll need it," she said,
'we both will!'

(and with bees!)

maybe his bee book will say dedicated to J.Watson²
donutsweeperdonutsweeper on January 16th, 2013 03:16 pm (UTC)
This works so well, and I like the little touch of the mention of Harry. :)
aelfgyfu_mead: Joan Watsonaelfgyfu_mead on January 17th, 2013 12:05 am (UTC)
Very nice!
rodlox: you're awesomerodlox on July 3rd, 2013 04:47 am (UTC)
still loving this.
rodloxrodlox on January 14th, 2013 10:31 pm (UTC)
Elementary/Dresden Files - the mini!Dresdens have to stay with Joan for a few days.
The other Weird Alaeron_lanart on January 15th, 2013 12:15 am (UTC)
oh yes please.
The Writer They Call Tay: Dresden: ready for actionawanderingbard on January 15th, 2013 03:52 pm (UTC)
Not in the Job Description

"I hope I'm not being put in charge of the kids because I'm a woman," Joan said. "Because believe me, I do not have a lot of mothering instincts."

"I am hurt that you would think that, Watson," Sherlock said, giving her his big-eyed detective look. "Obviously you've been elected because of the three adults present, you are the least useful to this investigation."

"So you think the wizard is going to be more help than I would be?" Joan said.

"He is a trained investigator, you are an apprentice investigator," Sherlock explained. "It's merely a matter of seniority. Don't take it personally. Besides, they're charming children. Not sticky at all. That's unusual. You'll be fine."

Joan glared at him. "You owe me big time," she said.

"Agreed," he said.

"Every two hours," she added, as he got ready to leave.

"Every two hours," he repeated.

Dresden came over to her, after saying goodbye to his kids. "Thanks for doing this," he said. "There's food in the kitchen, they'll eat whatever you put in front of them. Fay will help you find anything else you need. Mal naps around two everyday. Fay might lie down if she's tired, but don't worry if she doesn't. Uh... I think that's it. Don't invite anyone in. Keep them outside. If you get into trouble, Murphy's number is on the fridge."

Joan nodded. "Good luck," she said.

"Thanks!" he shot her a beaming smile, and went after Sherlock.

Joan turned around and found two young faces staring at her curiously. "So!" she began, in a cheerful voice. "What do you want to do? Where's the TV? We could watch a movie."

"We don't have a TV 'cause Daddy makes them 'splode," Fay informed her, matter-of-factly.

"Oh," Joan said. "What about a computer?" Fay shook her head. "Radio? No? Okay..."

Three days with two small children and no electronic entertainment. Yep. This was going to be a blast.

rodloxrodlox on January 15th, 2013 06:55 pm (UTC)
this is win win win.

>Besides, they're charming children. Not sticky at all. That's unusual.
I'm gonna guess Sherlock somehow ended up on diaper duty a lot before leaving England. :)

>'cause Daddy makes them 'splode,"
:) soooo much.

>Yep. This was going to be a blast.
that depends on if Dresden left his hockey stick. (that'd be a surprise if and when they do indoor sports)

thank you!!
aelfgyfu_mead: Joan Watsonaelfgyfu_mead on January 17th, 2013 12:06 am (UTC)
"Obviously you've been elected because of the three adults present, you are the least useful to this investigation."
Or possibly because there aren't actually three adults present. One, maybe two.
Astoundingly fond of avocados and rainy weather.: Sherlock_Heart+Mindguardian_chaos on January 15th, 2013 12:56 am (UTC)
Sherlock, John. John discovers Sherlock collects something completely frivolous, even -- or perhaps especially -- by Sherlockian standards. Sherlock may or may not be quite able to explain his collection.
The Writer They Call Tay: SHERLOCK: Sherlock cameoawanderingbard on January 15th, 2013 05:19 pm (UTC)
This was a great prompt! Thanks for sending it my way. :-)

Hunter-Gatherer Instincts

In retrospect, John probably should have noticed the bottle cap thing sooner. In his defense, Sherlock was weird. He had enough idiosyncracies to fill up a whole book on the subject, and it was hard to keep track of all his habits.

John had noticed he had a tendency to play with bottle caps, but he had a tendency to play with anything he could get his hands on. On occasion, he noticed Sherlock pocketing bottle caps, but John chalked that up to the 'I have touched it and therefore it is now mine' mentality Sherlock used with most objects.

It wasn't until John was attacked by an avalache of bottle caps before he understood the full extent of the situation.

Sherlock had sent him into his bedroom to get something from his closet. John had to stand on his tip-toes and overbalanced, knocking a large wooden box off the shelf. He managed to catch the box, but the lid flipped open, and suddenly hundreds of bottle caps were cascading over his head and sounding like hail as they bounced on the wooden floor.

John reacted like he was in a cartoon, carefully putting the box on the bed and backing away from the closet as though he could distance himself from the mess.

It didn't work.

"What--?!" Sherlock sputtered, as he entered the room to see the bottle caps everywhere. His eyes narrowed at John. "I did not ask you touch that."

John held up his hands in peace. "It was an accident," he protested. "I'm sorry."

He started clean up the mess, returning the caps to the box. Sherlock joined him, working in stony silence. He snatched most of them away from John's hands if they were working in the same area. It took them several minutes to find them all and get them safely home. Sherlock's jaw was set hard, but John couldn't resist any longer.

"So," he said, conversationally. "What's with the bottle caps?"

Sherlock glared at him. "Obviously I collect them," he snapped.

"Yeah, I figured," John said. "Why?"

"Collecting is a hunter-gatherer instinct," Sherlock said. "It's not uncommon for people to collect things."

"Yeah, but why bottle caps?" John pressed.

"They're easy to find," Sherlock replied, tersely.

John raised an eyebrow. "Really? That's all you're going to give me?" he said. "You have at least two hundred here, Sherlock. There must be more to it than their availability."

Sherlock hesitated, looking furious and embarassed. John tried to appear open and worthy of confidences.

"My father collected them," Sherlock said, eventually. "I don't know why. After he died, I found them in a drawer in his desk in the library. I took ownership of the collection and have added to it. That's all. Now, get what I sent you for, and stop touching my things."

He spun on his heel, leaving a stunned John alone in the room.

"Huh," he said to himself.

He got what he needed and went back to the kitchen, handing it over to Sherlock. Then he went to the living room and retrieved the cap from his beer on the table.

"Head's up," he called, tossing it over.

Sherlock caught it without looking, then examined it. He looked over to John, judging whether he was being teased or not. John shrugged. Sherlock smiled slightly, and stuck the bottle cap in his pocket.

rodlox: going to hugrodlox on January 15th, 2013 06:57 pm (UTC)

ah, and now he has blackmail material. (though at the risk of others going "you're lying - that's not weird enough to be what he's up to")

Astoundingly fond of avocados and rainy weather.: Sherlock_Heart+Mindguardian_chaos on January 15th, 2013 07:14 pm (UTC)
Asknsgdzjknfdzkjndzf!!!! Oh wow!! This is so perfect! It's so fully formed and great, ahhhh! I can't believe this is a prompt fic. Thank you so much for this. It's adorable, and tender, and friendshippy, and I am not at all coherent so I think I should take a breath and step back, heh.

You picked the best item to be collected, and I love John throughout the whole fic. You can tell he's aware he's stumbled across rich mocking fuel, and Sherlock knows it too, but that's not at all John's aim and, like he does best, he ends up surprising Sherlock in the end by not just NOT mocking him, but also joining in on the bottlecap hunt.

There are so many good lines in here, like this one:

On occasion, he noticed Sherlock pocketing bottle caps, but John chalked that up to the 'I have touched it and therefore it is now mine' mentality Sherlock used with most objects.


John reacted like he was in a cartoon, carefully putting the box on the bed and backing away from the closet as though he could distance himself from the mess.


"Collecting is a hunter-gatherer instinct," Sherlock said. "It's not uncommon for people to collect things."

Sherlock is just so Sherlock, full of unexpected fragility and bristly exterior, and John is so good, so effortlessly stepping through the bristly exterior to lay a soothing hair ruffle of affection to Sherlock's fragile side. I don't even know if that analogy makes sense. *coughs*

The backstory for why Sherlock collects the bottlecaps is also adorable, and it makes me sad to think that he probably expects people to laugh at him after confessing such a deeply personal thing. Sherlock, aww! Poor guy. I'm so glad he's got John around to defy his expectations and be human-like around. *G*

Lovely story! ^_^

Edited at 2013-01-15 07:15 pm (UTC)
aelfgyfu_mead: Sherlock and Johnaelfgyfu_mead on January 17th, 2013 12:08 am (UTC)
I was very dubious about this premise, but you made it work! Sherlock's defense is pretty funny—"hunter-gatherer instinct" indeed. Shiny things—he's got a little magpie in him! And just a hint of his personal life with the reference to his father.
aelfgyfu_mead: brilliantaelfgyfu_mead on January 15th, 2013 01:11 am (UTC)
Cabin Pressure: where Martin comes out on top, as happens all too rarely in the show.
The Writer They Call Tay: CP: Captain Martinawanderingbard on January 16th, 2013 12:36 am (UTC)

Martin stepped into the pub. He promptly tried to step out of it again, coming to a sudden, crystal clear revelation that this was A Very Bad Idea. It was too late. Douglas had already spotted him.

"Martin!" he greeted him, with a hard slap to the back.

"I-I really shouldn't have come," Martin said, trying to leave again. "I don't think this is my thing."

"Of course it's not, but all you have to do is sit there and say nothing," Douglas said. "We just need one more player to qualify as a team. You just have to sit at our table."

Martin looked over to the table, where the members of Douglas's pub quiz team sat. They looked like just the sort of people Martin would be terrible around. Not that he was particularly unterrible around anyone.

"Couldn't you have asked Arthur?" Martin said.

"I could certainly have," Douglas replied. "But as I mentioned, the requirements are to sit and say nothing, neither of which our fearless steward is particularly skilled at. If you don't know the answer, you won't say the answer. Arthur would answer, even if he didn't know the answer."

"So I'm basically just stupid enough," Martin said.

"No, you're just smart enough," Douglas said. "Look on the bright side. Besides, this is the championship. There's a £25 pound prize. If we beat those bloody know-it-all firemen, we split even."

"There's five team members," Martin pointed out. "That's only five quid each."

"And Martin, could you or could you not use five quid?" Douglas asked, enticingly.

Martin sighed and followed Douglas to the table. He was introduced, and immediately received a chorus of 'oi!'s' that gave him the distinct impression Douglas had spoken about him, and what he said had not been very complimentary. Martin forced a smile and took a seat.

The quiz began soon after, and Martin spent most of it in agony. It was too loud and he didn't know a single answer. There were a couple of rounds where each team member was asked a question and Martin did his best, but if it wasn't about aeroplanes, he didn't know about it. The only question he knew the answer to was about wind currents, and Douglas gave the answer before Martin could open his mouth.

Then the last question came. The teams were tied and this was the breaker.

"All right, bit of an odd one, this," the quizmaster said. "'Which fruit-bearing trees are evergreens?' Christ, Tom, d'ju write this one?"

'Tom' shrugged.

Both teams were conferring; Douglas's team arguing furiously with one another. Martin opened his mouth several times, but couldn't interject. Finally, he gave up, and just shouted the answer over everyone, too excited to stop himself.


The room came to a dead silence. Douglas was shooting daggers at him.

"I gave you two instructions," he began.

"And the championship goes to 'Veni, Vidi, Whisky'!" the quizmaster shouted.

Suddenly, Martin was in a scrum with three large men, all trying to hug him at the same time.

Douglas was not part of the scrum. He was staring at Martin as though he'd never seen him before. "Martin," he said, strangely calm amid the cacophony of noise. "You answered a question correctly. When you needed to. And it wasn't about aeroplanes."

"Nine years in a shared house with agricultural students," Martin managed to get out, between gasps for breath. The scrum had moved on to celebrating with the rest of Veni, Vidi, Whisky's supporters. "I've picked up a few things."

Douglas cracked a smile. A proper, actual smile. Not a sarcastic one, not a pitying one, not an evil one. An actual, real smile.

"Congratulations, Martin," he said. "You did something right."

Martin laughed. "I did, didn't I? Listen, I don't suppose you'd be grateful enough to give me first crack at the cheese tray next flight?"

"Let's not get carried away."

Edited at 2013-01-16 12:39 am (UTC)
aelfgyfu_mead: brilliantaelfgyfu_mead on January 16th, 2013 02:26 am (UTC)
I love it! Thank you!