prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
Rating: PG
Tags & Warnings: magical realism, fantasy, magical circus
Notes: Written for a Tumblr prompt from thatworldinverted




By daylight, the palomino and the black stallion can be found side by side on the carousel, transfixed in place via metal poles through their backs as they ride in endless circles for the delight of children.

At night, after the crowds have gone home, Sherlock and John stroll, shoulders bumping, through the sulphurous haze of the sodium lamps on the abandoned midway. When they pass the chuckling mechanical fortuneteller, John stops Sherlock with a touch to his shoulder and heads over to drop in a token.

She does her chortling dance over her crystal ball, and drops a ticket into the chute. 954876, it reads.

"You don't have to stay," John says, just like every night.

Sherlock gently pulls the ticket from John's fingers and drops it in the rubbish bin. "You owe this debt for my sake, John. I won't leave you to pay it alone." He wraps his arms around John and pulls him close, and keeps him there while they walk through the tattered magic of the circus after-hours.

In the morning when the box office opens, the black and the palomino are back on the carousel. The next night, John consults the fortuneteller again.

953436 revolutions to go.
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, ensemble
Rating: PG (this chapter)
Warnings: This story is slash, though by that I mean it's basically their canon relationship with occasional sex added on.
Notes: Yep, still writing this! The result of yet another prompt on the Sherlock kink_meme. The Man who Sold the World - because linking David Bowie is never gratuitous. Though the same can't be said for that Ziggy Stardust image they pasted to that video. Just...listen, don't look.
Beta Credits: Teahigh and Lifeonmars for restoring sanity.

If you remember getting exploded in 2010 and now it's 2007, does that make you dead, insane, high, or a time traveller?




“A favour,” Mycroft repeated as though the words were new to history. He spun his umbrella on its point. “Twice in one week. Are you quite certain you’ve contracted no terminal illnesses I should know about?”

Sherlock deflected the sarcasm with a curl of his lip. )

Parts: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | TBA
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
Rating: PG-13
Tags and Warnings: mild slash, Sherlock is a fairy, supernatural themes, folklore, violent dream imagery
Notes: Special shout-out to hiddenlacuna, mydwynter, and dee-light, for the mad brainstorming session which formed the foundation of this chapter! This, people, is the fruit of their magnificent brains.




John’s lost his horse. His big black warhorse, who followed him through so many battles and fought at John’s side; he’s drowned in the swamp, and John has nowhere to go. He can’t be a soldier without a horse. He shuffles through the dusty city in his long brown coat, and asks for work from the men holding wheels on the street corners.

He’s not a soldier anymore, and he can’t be a doctor, not with his horse’s blood on his shaking hands. It’s all he can do to feed himself, and the crows that come to visit. Always feed the crows. They carry luck in their beaks and decide how much they want to give you.

They seem so familiar... )

Parts: One | Two | Three | TBA
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
Rating: PG
Tags and Warnings: ambiguous gen/slash, Sherlock is a fairy, supernatural themes, folklore
Notes: Beta shout-outs to hiddenlacuna, dee-light, and lapotter! I couldn't have done it without you, guys! (I mean it, I couldn't have.)

‘Power point’ is British for ‘electrical outlet.’




It’s well after dark by the time they reach the edge of town. A half-moon is out, for all the dubious good it does; it doesn’t illuminate so much as it deepens the shadows over all the deadliest bits of landscape. One might think that wandering the moonlit Welsh countryside with a man who’s really a fairy would be atmospheric, but mostly it’s just painful. After nearly breaking his legs three times, John’s fished his torch out again, but Sherlock doesn’t seem to need it.

He breaks into a run before John can even make out what he’s seen, and then does a flying leap to land out in the middle of the road John hadn’t realized they’d reached.

Sherlock stomps his feet on the blacktop. )

Parts: One | Two | Three | TBA
prettyarbitrary: (Default)
Characters: The Master (Jacobi), Romana
Rating: PG (light language, allusions to war)
Tags and Warnings: Time War
Notes: I forgot I had this! I wrote it before "The End of Time" ever aired. I like to think it might've happened before the Time Lords got desperate enough to go wake up Rassilon.

The Doctor and the Master: together they could do anything.




"Don't bother playing coy. I know him, better than you. I know where he is." The Master pivoted his chair to face the enormous window taking up all of one wall. "He's out there," he muttered into his steepled fingers, looking out into the star-dusted blackness. "Fighting. Staining his hands with blood. He's out there, killing for Gallifrey because it's the right thing to do, even though he hates this place as much as I do."

He spun to face the room's other occupants, the Supreme Council arrayed against him as though he were on trial rather than one of their generals. "You're afraid of what I'll do to him. Trying to 'protect' him from me... He never needed protection from me; you're the ones killing him by inches! Every life he takes might as well be his own. You could say something, take the burden from his shoulders, remind him who sent him to start all this in the first place, but you won't. You're destroying him deliberately because he's your fallback plan, and you need him ready to do what must be done. It all rests on him, really, doesn't it? Doesn't it always? The Time Lords can't do anything for themselves! You're all just as useless as the day you drove us both out, and now here we are fighting your damned war for you, saving the universe from your mistakes because you're too worthless to manage it yourselves."

The woman in the centre blanched as though his words had been aimed at her. The Master lunged to his feet, leaning forward against the combined pressure of the High Council's stares. "You want victory? Give me the Doctor! Together we can win this. Together we can do anything! Set us loose, unleash us, throw open the gates of your power to us, and we can do more than win this war for you. It need never even begin. Every loss, every destruction, the creation of the Daleks, we can undo them all! You know that with he and I working together, there is nothing that could stand in our way!"

"Yes," agreed the Lady President. "It's the one thing that frightens me more than the Daleks."
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, ensemble
Rating: PG (this chapter)
Warnings: This story is slash, though by that I mean it's basically their canon relationship with occasional sex added on.
Notes: Yep, still writing this! The result of yet another prompt on the Sherlock kink_meme. The Man who Sold the World - because linking David Bowie is never gratuitous. Though the same can't be said for that Ziggy Stardust image they pasted to that video. Just...listen, don't look.
Beta Credits: My firstborn child to gelishan, airynothing, mamishka, and hiddenlacuna for helping me beat this monster into submission. I hope you guys don't mind sharing stock in souls.

Glossary for this chapter:
Fireteam: the basic unit of the modern British (and American) army. It’s comprised of 3-4 soldiers and can work independently or with other fireteams as part of a section.
XO: Executive officer, aka second-in-command (also 2IC)
CO: Commanding officer
ACMT: Annual Combat Marksmanship Test. British troops are tested every year on their skill with firearms.
Decocker: Some pistols (like the Sig Sauer P226) have this rather than a safety. Mechanically, they do different things, but for firing purposes, the difference is that you can still fire a gun with a decocker engaged; the trigger just takes more effort to pull, and is therefore theoretically ‘safer.’
ATMP: ‘All-Terrain Mobility Platform’ – basically a six-wheeled, all-terrain flatbed truck for trundling people and stuff around.

If you remember getting exploded in 2010 and now it's 2007, does that make you dead, insane, high, or a time traveller?




John watches the gun sink like the setting sun. Until the last instant, he doesn’t know. Either Sherlock has a plan, or they’re about to die together. It’d be a leap to say he’s content with that, but this will do. Every man has to die.

The moment is caught in amber. )

Parts: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | TBA
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
Rating: PG (mild language)
Tags and Warnings: ambiguous gen/slash (I haven't decided yet), Sherlock is a fairy, supernatural themes, folklore,
Notes: Written for a kink meme prompt.

A tale about the shaping of friendships and the naming of things.




Fairies are a myth. You’re mad. )

Parts: One | Two | Three | TBA
prettyarbitrary: (Default)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Jim Moriarty
Rating: PG-13 (russian roulette)
Tags and Warnings: slash-ish? In a non-con gropey sort of way (GTFO, Jim). Russian roulette, our boys are kind of crazy, Moriarty is a creeper. The odds are actually better than you'd think.
Notes: What's wrong with you, of course it was written for a kink_meme prompt.

Jim won’t rig the game. He’d never risk spoiling this kind of fun.




It was John’s fault in the first place. He was the one who’d picked up the fallen revolver. “You’re so fond of games,” he’d said, eyes burning, and spun the cylinder. Jim had felt his pupils blow wide at the ‘click’ of the hammer and Sherlock’s flinch.

They play the game rarely. Conditions have to be just right: only when they’ve got a good head of hate going and Sherlock’s come close enough to losing recently to feel the bite. When Jim has cracked him open and set him burning in the knowledge that all his intellectual superiority can’t shelter what he holds most dear. When nothing in the world sounds quite so appealing or worthwhile as pointing a gun at each other’s heads and taking a shot at ending it all right on the spot.

Every relationship needs its pressure valve. )
prettyarbitrary: (Default)
Characters: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, Irene Adler
Rating: G
Tags and Warnings: Gen-ish, geniuses outsmart themselves, BAMF John, spoilers for "A Scandal in Belgravia"
Notes: The prompt in question.




No one ever asks John.

They don't want to know what he sees. They don't want to know what he thinks. They only ask his opinion when they already know he has the wrong answer and there's a point to be made from it. They—‘they' having expanded over the years to encompass not only Harry but also his adviser in med school, his commanding officers, Sherlock, Mycroft, various co-workers, some employees of Scotland Yard, and now from the looks of it Irene Adler wants in on the action—order him about, casually suborn his life, scathingly point out the large mathematical difference between their IQs and his when he gets so uppity as to try to weigh in on a conversation, and they sure as hell don't tell him anything.

By and large, John doesn't care. Hell, most of the time they're right, at least when it comes to the Holmes brothers. He seldom sees anything they don't. And John's self-esteem sure as hell doesn't depend on what other people think about him or, good god, Sherlock would've driven him to suicide by now. Which is a lesson he'd share with Molly if she'd only listen.

But sometimes... )
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, ensemble
Rating: PG (this chapter)
Warnings: This story is slash, though by that I mean it's basically their canon relationship with occasional sex added on.
Notes: The result of yet another prompt on the Sherlock kink_meme. The Man who Sold the World - because linking David Bowie is never gratuitous. Though the same can't be said for that Ziggy Stardust image they pasted to that video. Just...listen, don't look.

If you remember getting exploded in 2010 and now it's 2007, does that make you dead, insane, high, or a time traveller?




The violin was crying for mercy by the time Lestrade came knocking. Sherlock saw no reason to bestir himself. The inspector had the spare key. Not that Sherlock had given it to him, but he hadn’t raised too much stink since the arrangement came in handy when he wanted to hear from Lestrade without letting him think he was welcome.

Lestrade stopped in the threshold. “Jesus wept! This place looks like a bomb hit it. You have another break-in you didn’t tell me about?”

Sherlock lowered the violin and followed Lestrade’s gaze.

It was true. The flat was a wrecking zone. )

Parts: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | TBA
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, ensemble
Rating: PG (this chapter)
Warnings: This story is slash, though by that I mean it's basically their canon relationship with occasional sex added on.
Notes: The result of yet another prompt on the Sherlock kink_meme.
1: Credit to [livejournal.com profile] ningen_demonai for the idea that Bill sometimes “unobtrusively asks how people are doing by inviting them out for drinks.”
2: Tell me you don’t see it! “Take Me Out” - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xZGcw9HHOkU
3: Quick glossary:
NCO - Non-commissioned officer. Sergeants, corporals, etc.
3 Para - 3rd Battalion Parachute Regiment. One of the two Parachute battalions that makes up the core of 16 Air Assault Brigade, Britain's elite rapid-deployment Army force (aka the UK's answer to the US Army Rangers). 16 Close Support Medical Regiment is the RAMC group permanently attached to the 16 Air Assault Brigade.
Platoon - a military group consisting of 25-50 soldiers, who subdivide into smaller teams called sections.
Operation Achilles - largest NATO op of the war, held in early 2007 to reclaim Helmand Province from Taliban.

If you remember getting exploded in 2010 and now it's 2007, does that make you dead, insane, high, or a time traveller?




John woke up to find the sleeping area nearly deserted. Only one of his team’s surgeons was there; a medium-sized fellow with a pianist’s hands who went by the moniker of ‘Magic.’ His real name was Colin Brownlowe, and the nickname had nothing to do with medicine. He was the best poker player John had ever met till he’d moved into Baker Street.

Not that he’d ever seen Sherlock play poker. But one could imagine. )

Parts: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | TBA
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, ensemble
Rating: PG (this chapter)
Warnings: This story is slash, though by that I mean it's basically their canon relationship with occasional sex added on.
Notes: The result of yet another prompt on the Sherlock kink_meme. The Man who Sold the World - because linking David Bowie is never gratuitous. Though the same can't be said for that Ziggy Stardust image they pasted to that video. Just...listen, don't look.

If you remember getting exploded in 2010 and now it's 2007, does that make you dead, insane, high, or a time traveller?




It was February of 2007. Sherlock was in a not-yet-burnt-out building in Bethnal Green. He was watching Detective Inspector Lestrade, a few years younger and a little less grey, haul away a man who had just attempted to kill him.

Lestrade strode back in from the hallway where he’d been talking to a sergeant (not Donovan, she was still a Detective Constable). “Think that about wraps it up. Any parting shots before we clear out?“

Fire was such an unpredictable entity. It could destroy one side of a room and leave the other untouched. The tea mug in his hands was one of the things he’d salvaged from the blaze. John used it all the time. Try as he might, Sherlock could not get the facts to correlate.

“When did you hear from John last?” )

Parts: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | TBA
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, ensemble
Rating: PG (this chapter)
Warnings: This story is slash, though by that I mean it's basically their canon relationship with occasional sex added on.
Notes: The result of yet another prompt on the Sherlock kink_meme. The Man who Sold the World - because linking David Bowie is never gratuitous. Though the same can't be said for that Ziggy Stardust image they pasted to that video. Just...listen, don't look.

If you remember getting exploded in 2010 and now it's 2007, does that make you dead, insane, high, or a time traveller?




The thought of stewing in his tent, surrounded by his fellow soldiers gabbing and faffing about, clawed at John’s throat. He needed somewhere he could think. With a population of thousands, military personnel and otherwise, Camp Bastion had no such thing as a quiet place, but he recalled some places where people would leave him alone. That was how he wound up sprawled on top of an empty shipping container, watching the burning blue horizon and wondering—not whether he was losing his mind, but how.

It was 2007, and he was a surgeon stationed at Camp Bastion in Helmand Province. It was 2010, and his life was wild with adventure and a magnificent madman. )

Parts: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | TBA
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, ensemble
Rating: PG (this chapter)
Warnings: This story is slash, though by that I mean it's basically their canon relationship with occasional sex added on.
Notes: The result of yet another prompt on the Sherlock kink_meme. The Man who Sold the World - because linking David Bowie is never gratuitous. Though the same can't be said for that Ziggy Stardust image they pasted to that video. Just...listen, don't look.

If you remember getting exploded in 2010 and now it's 2007, does that make you dead, insane, high, or a time traveller?




Chapter 2

Sherlock came to—misleading, it felt more like a change of state than waking up—hanging upside down over the back of the sofa in his old Bethnal Green studio. He was at a loss as to how he’d got here, or indeed how the place existed, but first order of business was incapacitating the intruder who’d just bowled him over.

He reached up to snatch the portrait off the wall )

Parts: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | TBA
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, ensemble
Rating: PG (this chapter)
Warnings: This story is slash, though by that I mean it's basically their canon relationship with occasional sex added on.
Notes: The result of yet another prompt on the Sherlock kink_meme. The Man who Sold the World - because linking David Bowie is never gratuitous. Though the same can't be said for that Ziggy Stardust image they pasted to that video. Just...listen, don't look.

If you remember getting exploded in 2010 and now it's 2007, does that make you dead, insane, high, or a time traveller?




Chapter 1

An impact like a full-body fist. The first air-splitting crack before deafness drowned the full thunder of the explosion.

Bomb.

Sherlock.

Sherlock. Bomb.

Clawing his way up from the dark, John knew he was in flashback even before consciousness registered. Male sweat and desert dust and a thousand miles of ancient resin-laced wind washed the angry stab of chlorine from his sinuses. The heavy canvas cot supporting his body, the smooth weave of his fatigues pressing into his skin, were such bright points of sensation that it seemed only natural to find his old barracks when he opened his eyes.

But it was all wrong. He’d just been in an explosion. With Sherlock. In London. )

Parts: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | TBA
prettyarbitrary: (Default)
"Don't bother playing coy. I know him, better than you. I know where he is." The Master pivoted his chair to face the enormous window taking up all of one wall. "He's out there," he muttered into his steepled fingers, looking out into the star-dusted blackness. "Fighting. Staining his hands with blood. He's out there, killing for Gallifrey because it's the right thing to do, even though he hates this place as much as I do."

He spun to face the room's other occupants, the Supreme Council arrayed against him as though he were on trial rather than one of their generals. "Afraid of what I'll do to him... Trying to 'protect' him from me... He never needed protection from me; you're the ones killing him by inches! Every life he takes might as well be his own. You could say something, take the burden from his shoulders, remind him who sent him to start all this in the first place, but you won't. You're destroying him deliberately because he's your fallback plan, and you need him ready to do what must be done. It all rests on him, really, doesn't it? Doesn't it always? The Time Lords can't do anything for themselves! You're all just as useless as the day you drove us both insane, and now here we are fighting your damned wars for you, saving the universe from your mistakes because you're too worthless to manage the feat."

The woman in the centre blanched as though his words had been aimed to draw her blood. The Master lunged to his feet, leaning forward against the combined pressure of the High Council's stares. "You want victory? Give me the Doctor! Together we can win this. Together we can do anything! Set us loose, unleash us, throw open the gates of your power and give us our heads, and we can do more than win this war for you. It need never even be. Every loss, every destruction, the Daleks, we can undo them all! You know that with he and I working together, there is nothing that could stand in our way!"

"Yes," agreed the Lady President. "It's the one thing that frightens me more than the Daleks."
prettyarbitrary: (Default)
Characters: Gerald Tarrant, Damien Vryce
Rating: PG-13

Notes:  Set during Black Sun Rising after the group arrived in the Rakhlands.

The missing scene from Black Sun Rising: the night they bonded. )

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