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12 March 2015 @ 10:24 pm
Haven't done this one in a while...  
1. Pick a character (either a canon character or an original character) and ask me a question about him/her/it.

2. I'll answer the question with a fic snippet.


AU versions welcome as always.
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shadowfireflameshadowfireflame on March 13th, 2015 11:36 pm (UTC)
Fun! I'm curious about how the characters in daemon-verse bond with their daemons, like specifically what was a moment when Sherlock and Tzo showed each other affection or had each other's backs?
The Writer They Call Tayawanderingbard on March 14th, 2015 04:14 am (UTC)
Hope this is okay! Set shortly after Sherlock comes home Post-Hiatus.

Good to be Back


"Why are you smiling?" Sherlock demanded, as he tried to get his violin back in tune. Two years without being touched had done nothing good for it, but at least Mycroft had kept it in proper, humidity controlled surroundings until he came back for it.

"I'm not smiling," Tzophiya replied, putting her beak back in a straight line. "But it's...good, isn't it?"

"What's good?" Sherlock said.

"Being...back," she said. She turned in a circle on the coffee table to look around the living room. "It all looks the same."

"No, it doesn't," Sherlock said. "Mrs Hudson moved all the books around, and there's been some sort of leak next door that seeped into that wall, and it smells of marijuana for obvious reasons, and none of John's things are here. It looks nothing the same, you're an idiot."

Tzophiya ruffled her feathers at the insult. "I know all that," she said, primly. "But it's not different, is it? Then how you remember it? It's not all...wrong."

Sherlock took a glance around. "No," he agreed. "It doesn't feel odd to be back. It feels..."

"Good," Tzophiya said.

"Yes," Sherlock said. "Good."

He put his violin under his chin and did a few quick scales to test it out. Not bad. Still a little sour, but it would relax with some playing. He leafed through his sheet music. Tzophiya came over and plucked out a piece with her beak, tugging it free. He took it from her. Polonaise No. 1 by Wieniawski. It would do. He set the music on the stand, and poised himself to play.

Tzophiya sat on the music stand and swayed in time to his playing, tweeting along with the tune. He was out of practice, and she kept glaring as he hit the wrong notes.

"If you think you can do better, you should have settled as something with hands," he snapped. "And stop smiling! You're being sentimental."

"I am not," Tzophiya replied, sticking her beak in the air.

He took up the piece again. She flew over and landed on his shoulder. His eyes shifted to the side to look at her. She was smiling again. How insipid.

Still, Sherlock had to admit to himself, it was nice to be home. He cocked his head slightly and touched it to hers for a moment. Not long. There was no point in getting sentimental. Even if it was good to be back.
shadowfireflameshadowfireflame on March 14th, 2015 10:56 am (UTC)
AAAAH, omg, this is so perfect! Thank you so much! I laughed at the line that it smells of marijuana "for obvious reasons" and how Sherlock says Tzo can't criticize his playing because she didn't settle as something with hands! LOLOL!

If you're still taking prompts, could you do one along the same lines with Mycroft and Hisoka?
The Writer They Call Tayawanderingbard on March 14th, 2015 04:28 pm (UTC)
Identity Crisis


Mycroft supposed there was nothing particularly different about being at university than there was about being at sixth form college. He'd been in a shared house before; he'd certainly been away from home for school before. He'd lived in London before. There was no great reason why he should feel any sort of anxiety over it.

However, after a week, he did feel a little bit of...something unpleasant. He hadn't found his footing quite as easily as he normally did. There were a great many more students, and he felt as though he were very unimportant in the masses of them. He wasn't used to feeling unimportant. At primary and big school and college, he'd always known exactly where he was and whom he needed to speak to get anything accomplished. Here he felt lonely, he suspected. He'd never felt lonely before. He loved being alone. He relished in it. It wasn't a sort of lonely of missing company, it was a lonely of not knowing where he stood and who he was meant to be.

"Maybe you should go out," Hisoka said, from where she was sitting on the window ledge, spying on the street below.

"I don't want to go out, and neither do you," Mycroft replied.

Her tail swished back and forth off the edge of the sill. "That does not preclude 'should', just 'want'," she said. "There's a difference."

Mycroft put the political philosophy textbook he was reading aside. "Where do you suggest I might go?" he said.

She looked over her shoulder at him, blankness in her eyes. Apparently no suggestions were forthcoming. She heaved a soft sigh and leapt from the sill to the bed, landing ungracefully in a heap. She stayed where she lay, face in the blankets.

"I don't want to go anywhere," she said, her voice muffled.

"Then stop being silly," Mycroft said. He picked up his textbook again, and opened it on his stomach.

"I don't know what to do with myself," she said.

She slithered onto his chest, and curled up in a ball there, putting her tail beneath his chin.

"You'll figure it out," Mycroft said, giving her a gentle pat. "And so will I."
shadowfireflameshadowfireflame on March 14th, 2015 10:16 pm (UTC)
OMG, so perfect!!! The "gentle pat" line undid me. I love how understated their relationship is.

Thank you so much for writing these!!!
The Writer They Call Tayawanderingbard on March 15th, 2015 02:44 pm (UTC)
Thanks for the requests! It was a good exercise in getting some affection into my normally reticent little animals. :-D
Alli Bridges on March 15th, 2015 06:55 pm (UTC)
Hi, I just wanted to drop in and tell you how much I adore your stories. They always bring a smile to my face and brighten my day; and they are so incredibly well-written. Your stories are so refreshing in fandoms that loves their angst. I find lighter, happier stories more my speed. One of my favorite stories you've written is "Someone on your side", and I've always wondered if there was something more behind the little exchange between John and Mary:
"He gets really weird when he has emotions.” / “I know, I've met him.”
I'm wondering how Sherlock might interact with Mary, someone he hasn't known for very long, in such a situation. Does Mary have experience with Sherlock "having emotions"?
The Writer They Call Tayawanderingbard on March 16th, 2015 03:51 am (UTC)
Thank you very much! I'm glad you enjoy the stories. I try to make things happy as much as possible, as I don't care much for angst myself. I always try to leave things on a hopeful note.

Hope this is okay!

Care and Maintenance


Sherlock heard John's key in the lock, but it wasn't turned forcefully enough for it to be John who was coming in. John also didn't smell of Clair de Lune. Well, he did, but only because he rubbed up against someone who smelled strongly of it.

"Hello?" Mary called. "Sherlock?"

"What?" Sherlock called back.

"Nothing, I was just seeing if you here," Mary said.

She took the stairs up to the first landing, and stopped. Sherlock looked over his shoulder at her, waiting for her to deliver the news about Mrs Hudson, as she had obviously been sent to do. Mrs Hudson had tripped on the stairs and taken a bad fall, and John had gone with her to A&E.

"Did she break anything?" he prompted, when Mary just stared. The last text message he'd received was that she'd finally been taken for x-rays.

"No, it's just a sprained wrist and a bumped head," Mary said. "No concussion, no broken bones. It's a very mild FOOSH injury. She'll be out in a couple of hours, they're just monitoring her as a precation because of her hitting her head. John's sitting with her until they discharge her."

Sherlock felt some of the odd guilt he'd been experiencing go away, much to his relief. He couldn't figure out why he felt guilty, and it seemed ridiculous to feel upset about something without knowing why.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm mending the stairs," Sherlock said.

He thought that was fairly self-evident, given the wood, tool box, ripped up carpet, and the fact he was kneeling on the stairs with a sanding block in his hand. In general, he found John's fiancee to be clever, but clearly not clever enough to see what was in front of her.

"Oh," Mary said. "...all of them?"

"The ones that need mending, yes," Sherlock said. "There's been some disrepair while I've been away. No one was paying enough attention to notice that the house is starting to fall apart."

Including himself. He'd been back for a month now and dismissed the observation of the ragged edges on the stairs each time he observed it.

"Do you know how to do that?" Mary asked.

"I do now," Sherlock said. "There are plenty of tutorials on the Internet. I just ripped up the carpet and I'm sanding the edges, and tacking it back down again. It's not difficult. I started at the bottom. I'm almost done."

"How long have you been at it?" Mary asked.

"What time is it now?" Sherlock asked.

"Er, half one," she said.

"Then about eight hours," Sherlock said. "Why?"

"Just wondering," Mary said. "Your back is going to hurt tomorrow."

"Yes, I imagine it will," Sherlock said, impatiently. "Did you come for a reason?"

"John sent me," Mary said. "He thought you might be stewing."

"Why would I be stewing?" Sherlock said. "I'm just fixing the stairs. There's nothing wrong."

"Do you need a hand?" Mary asked.

"No," Sherlock said.

"Do you want some company?" she asked.

"No," Sherlock said.

"Can I make you a cuppa?" Mary said.

Sherlock considered that. "Yes," he said.

"I'll make you a builder's brew, that's appropriate," she said.

He scooted to the side of the stairway so she could pass him. She glanced down as she did and he could see her lips quirked in a confused sort of smile.

"It's a good thought, to fix them up," she said. "I'm sure Mrs Hudson will appreciate it."

"Whatever," Sherlock said. "Watch your step."
Alli Bridges on March 16th, 2015 11:10 pm (UTC)
Thank you! That was perfect. Excellent. I love it when Sherlock cares and attempts to appear otherwise disinterested.