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17 June 2013 @ 04:59 pm
Unwritten Meme  
Stolen from the lovely joonscribble.

Tell me about a story I haven't written, and I'll give you 1-3 sentences of or about it. Possibly more.

Any fandom I've written for counts (listed in the sidebar), and crossovers are very welcome.
formerly lifeinsomniac: HalDominosjoonscribble on June 17th, 2013 10:19 pm (UTC)
Since we've been talking about it, the one where Q joins Sherlock's pirate crew.
The Writer They Call Tay: SHERLOCK: Sherlock shockawanderingbard on June 17th, 2013 11:48 pm (UTC)
I may expand this at some point, because I have bunnies, but for now:

More than Adequate

Sherlock stepped back to admire his work, and thought it was more than adequate. Not perfect, but it would do.

Trevelyan's face had returned to its normal colour now that he was done being hysterical. Sherlock didn't understand why he was so upset--he'd had to make his own patch, Trevelyan had a whole box of them just there for him to use every day. Why wouldn't he want to wear one?

Granted, it was the wrong colour, but Sherlock had fixed that with a marker pen. It was a non-permenant one, and smelled of liquorice, which he didn't think was very piratey, but there was nothing that said that pirates didn't smell of liquorice, so he decided it was fine.

"If you want to join my crew, I'm the captain, and you have to do what I say," Sherlock informed him.

"I always do that when we play, Sher," Trevelyan said.

"That's because I'm older," Sherlock explained.

"When do I get to be older?" Trevelyan asked.

"Never. Come on, I'll show you my map."
formerly lifeinsomniac: GhostSqueejoonscribble on June 17th, 2013 11:52 pm (UTC)
The cuteness has overwhelmed me!

"When do I get to be older?" Trevelyan asked.

"Never. Come on, I'll show you my map."

Sherlock got straight to the point even when he was a small child. It indeed must have been a dark day when Q finally caught onto the fact that he doesn't have to follow orders all the time.

The Writer They Call Tayawanderingbard on June 18th, 2013 12:03 am (UTC)
The cuteness has overwhelmed me!

Thank you! I do have a bunny now. I may expand upon the Adventures of The Dread Pirates Sherlock and Trevelyan.

Sherlock got straight to the point even when he was a small child.

I picture Sherlock as being the very definition of an enfant terrible.

shadowfireflame: Sherlockshadowfireflame on June 21st, 2013 10:19 pm (UTC)
Oh my goodness, this is so wonderful. "When do I get to be older?" stole my heart. :)
The Writer They Call Tayawanderingbard on June 21st, 2013 11:50 pm (UTC)
Thanks! The patch is for Q's lazy eye treatment--I decided he needed glasses because of strabismus. Thus making him an excellent member of Sherlock's pirate crew. I just realized I never made that explicit in the excerpt, because it was something Scrib and I were chatting about and I knew she'd know what I meant. :-D
Dusty: SPN. Dean + Lightsdustlines on June 17th, 2013 10:57 pm (UTC)
The one where John comes back from a trip to learn that Sherlock has broken a bone and hasn't told anyone about it in days because he has almost solved the case and it wouldn't be efficient to deal with medical care right now!
The Writer They Call Tayawanderingbard on June 18th, 2013 12:53 am (UTC)
No Rest

Stag-do weekends in other countries were not John's cup of tea, but when it came to old army buddies, exceptions were made. So were the prime conditions for a stonking hangover.

He trudged up the steps to 221b, looking forward to going to bed and sleeping until his head had got rid of all the cotton, and his stomach wasn't so very angry with him. One look at Sherlock made him stop in his tracks.

"Before you start, I'm fine," Sherlock announced, not looking up from where he was typing on his laptop.

He was pouring sweat, and white as a sheet, and very, very clearly, to use a medical term, 'wonky'.

John's first thought was overdose, but then he saw Sherlock's ankle, which had a bandage around it, and was not quite aligned how it should be. He hurried over to examine it, and managed to get the bandage off despite Sherlock's hard kicks from his other leg. There was an open wound, now quite infected.

"Sherlock. How long has your ankle been broken?" John asked, calmly.

"Approximately three days. It's fine, I set it myself, and I couldn't stop, I had it almost figured out, or I thought I did, but it turned out that I was slightly off in my calculations, and anyway going to the hospital would have ruined everything, and it was fine anyway, just a slight compound fracture, nothing to really be concerned about, and now I'm really very sure that I know the answer and--who are you calling?"

"999, you're septic," John said.

"I'm fine," Sherlock said. "I won't go with them, and you can't make me. Just give me a bit longer, I'm really quite fine."

John ended the phone call, because he was afraid of what Sherlock would pull to avoid getting in the ambulance. Running away wouldn't be good on that ankle, and he wouldn't put it past Sherlock to do just that. "I'll make you a deal," he said, speaking like he would to a child. "If your temperature is over 101.3, you have to go to the hospital. You can take your laptop. If it's under, I'll monitor you here."

"Fine, yes, fine," Sherlock said.

John retrieved an otic thermometer and stuck it in Sherlock's ear. He showed Sherlock the temperature. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at it, and then nodded.

"All right, but I won't wear my wellies."

God, he was raving.

"Okay, Sherlock. No wellies."
Dusty: ST-TOS. Kirk. Beauty of the Beholderdustlines on June 18th, 2013 01:01 am (UTC)
Eeeee!! This is adorable! I feel strange saying that, given the injury component, but wow, their interactions are so on point and believable. I love Sherlock's stubbornness, and I cracked up when you mentioned the wellies.

By the way, I was thinking of a foot injury when I wrote the prompt, and I am impressed by your mind-reading capabilities.
The Writer They Call Tayawanderingbard on June 18th, 2013 01:17 am (UTC)
My mum and I were just recalling the time my dad had a septic tooth and how mental he was, so I had that in mind when I read your prompt. My dad goes pretty insane when he gets a high fever. Even the dog was a bit concerned. :p He was fine, though, thankfully. So, Sherlock is my dad, and John is my mum, in this scenario.

By the way, I was thinking of a foot injury when I wrote the prompt, and I am impressed by your mind-reading capabilities.

Dusty: SPN. Future!Cas. Fade.dustlines on June 18th, 2013 02:04 am (UTC)
Yes, it's strange how infections can alter a person's mind! And hee! Animals can react so hysterically to people behaving oddly.


Yaaayyy!!! *dances*
aelfgyfu_mead: Dresdenaelfgyfu_mead on June 18th, 2013 12:02 am (UTC)
How about the one where Castle visits Chicago, makes himself a nuisance on a case, and starts concocting a wild story about Harry Dresden? Naturally, he can't help but spin it out in front of Harry. (Show or book Harry is fine; I've finally read the first book!)
The Writer They Call Tayawanderingbard on June 18th, 2013 01:11 am (UTC)
Yay! The first two books are okay, but third and after get really, really good once the main arc kicks in.


"So, I'm thinking, wizard private detective but an actual wizard, what do you think?" Castle asked.

Dresden did not seem as thrilled as Castle thought he should be. It was a brilliant idea. Maybe he just wasn't getting it.

"I mean, with actual magic. It'll be like urban fantasy. Sort of noirish. Hardboiled detective, but also an actual wizard, dealing with actual wizard cases."

Dresden still wasn't responding, though he was very intent on whatever weird drawing he was doing in the sand.

"About...what's a good magic name? No offense, but Harry would just seem like a rip-off of Potter. You'd need something dark and detective-y. Dirk? Clint? Maybe a bit too cowboy, there. Drake? Drake would work, you could have the double meaning with dragon. There should so be a dragon! Okay, I'm writing this down now and--"

The drawing in the sand suddenly burst into flame, and a spark landed on Castle's note pad, setting it ablaze.

"Ow! Ow! Hot!" Castle said. The note pad dropped into the flames of the drawing, burning to a crisp in seconds.

"Oops," Dresden said, with an apologetic, goofy smile. "Sorry, about that. Hope you didn't lose anything important."
aelfgyfu_mead: Dresdenaelfgyfu_mead on June 18th, 2013 02:21 am (UTC)
AHAHAHA! Totally in character, and very funny!
donutsweeperdonutsweeper on June 18th, 2013 03:17 am (UTC)
Tell me about the time Toot-Toot stole the donuts. (Or Diefenbaker if you'd rather do due South than Dresden Files)
The Writer They Call Tay: Dresden: wizard wizardingawanderingbard on June 19th, 2013 11:57 pm (UTC)
The Wrath of the Za Lord

The Za Lord stood, looking omnious and stern as he surveyed the scene before him.

Well, I was trying at least. The scene before me was some weird combination of ridiculous and disturbing, which, because I am the type of person I am, made me want to laugh hysterically. I was doing my best to hold it in.

There were wyldfae on a sugar high littered around my kitchen. Lounging, dancing, screaming, swirling. One was unconcious, having wrapped herself up in a Dunkin' Donuts napkin and collapsing. Another was spinning in mad circles, like a dog chasing its tail. Three more were currently adding the exclamation mark to the message 'Long Live the Za Lord' in jelly on my wall. Toot-Toot stood before me to answer for his crimes, looking contrite, but also unable to keep still, and so he was doing a sort of version of the Time Warp on my counter. Minus the pelvic thrusts, thankfully.

"Wesawtheboxanditlookedlikeaboxsoweopeneditandinsideweremanytinypizzas!" he reported, his words falling out of his mouth in a sugar rush. "WethoughttheywerefortheArmyandprovidedbytheZaLordsoweconsumedthemasrations. Weapologizeforanyinconvenience." He took a jump to the left and added. "Itwasthemostamazingthingever!"

I supposed something like a Boston Cream might resemble a small pizza to a wyldfae. I couldn't get mad. I didn't have time. I had a Lornak coming in fifteen minutes and no donuts to bargain with.

"Here's the deal," I said. "General, I need you to clean up the mess. Furthermore, I need to provide alternate, er, pizzas, for a guest. I will give you the address. I need them forthwith. Comply, and I may be merciful."

Toot-Toot did a snappy salute, and gathered up a group of semi-functional faeries to do the work.

"Wesavedyouone," he said, pushing over a powered munchkin.

"Thanks," I said.

I should probably have kept it to bargain with the Lornak in case of emergency. But what the hell, the Za Lord needs sustenance too. I popped in my mouth, and prepared for battle.
donutsweeperdonutsweeper on June 20th, 2013 12:00 am (UTC)
*flails wildly* This is wonderfuL!!!
The Writer They Call Tayawanderingbard on June 20th, 2013 12:04 am (UTC)
Wow, that was fast! :-D I'm glad you liked it!