prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, OCs
Rating: Mature/R
Tags & Warnings: Vampire John, Angel Sherlock, Religious Themes, Demons, Vampires, Angels, Fallen Angels, Unhappy Ending, Revenge, Hell, Spiritual Corruption, John's life being all terrible all the time
Notes: A prequel to Graceless by belladonna_q, with her kind permission.

John learns, with clawing, bloody slowness, how to fend for himself. He learns the capacity to love wasn’t taken from him, or the need for it. He learns what it is to starve. To need things that aren’t given to him.

Hell is not a place, but a state. )
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Greg Lestrade, John Watson (mentioned)
Rating: G
Tags & Warnings: Historical AU (Great Depression), Boxing,
Notes: Any resemblance to Simon & Garfunkel's "The Boxer" is entirely intentional.

The wind off the Hudson is bone-cuttingly cold. The New York City winter can bleed a man if he’s not careful. It would remind Sherlock of London, if he ever let himself think of London.

Fortunately he’s found enough pain and distraction on the boxing circuit. He doesn’t need any more.

He tugs the collar of his wool coat closer around his neck and lets himself into his manager’s office. The man’s at his desk, silver head bent over a sheaf of papers which make a run for it from the gust of frigid air that follows Sherlock in.

Lestrade slams his hand down on them before they can escape, and looks up with a scowl. )
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: Wolfwood, Vash (hadn't shown up by the point I ended at)
Rating: PG-13 (violence, language)
Tags and Warnings: Wolfwood resurrection fixit fic

Notes: Dug this old thing out of my WIPs folder while doing a meme. It's...actually really good, considering I wrote it four or five years ago.

Inspired by Rebo’s “Shades of the Past”, written lo these many years ago but still extant on God help me, I usually avoid even trying to read these, but her story gave me a bona fide idea for my own “resurrect Wolfwood” fic. If you’ve read hers, the first few chapters will look somewhat similar, mainly because both consist of Wolfwood wandering around alone on a gun-happy desert planet. I am, however, heading in an entirely different direction.

This story is based on the manga, where the characters have room to be deeper, more nuanced, and more conflicted and the plot spins out to a more spectacular conclusion. If you’re not familiar with the differences…well, the important points are that Vash and Knives are thoroughly noticeable by the end of the manga, literally warring in the heavens. That Plants can burn through their energy and die if they use it too fast (such as by warring in the heavens). And Zazie the Beast is given more explanation than a simple brush-off as “a demon.” It is, in fact, a member of the planet’s native sentient race. But most of the things that matter are the same in spirit if not in particulars.

This story is gen. That means there won’t be shonen-ai, but one of the things I want to do here is explore the powerful connection that exists between Vash and Wolfwood, so don’t be surprised by some powerful emotional undertow. Consider it UST if you like. In many ways, it’s similar. I think sex often gets substituted for more complex emotional tensions because frankly it’s easier to resolve—a cheap high, if you will. I don’t plan for this to be easy, tidy, or cheap, but it will be intense.


Chapter 1: Prologue

The desert breathes. )
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Sherlock and John as cowboys, because of teahigh.

prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)

There is a stupid meme going around Tumblr in which John is an adorable little bat. The purpose of this is basically to have an excuse to draw John as an adorable little bat. Anyway, he's really damn adorable and I wanted an excuse to put in some practice on Sherlock's face, so here you go. Based on that old myth about how a bat will get stuck in your hair and then you'll have to shave your head bald to get him out.
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Assorted very small OCs
Rating: PG
Tags and Warnings: Adventure, Fluff, Cute urchins

Sherlock’s work gets them into a lot of strange situations, but up to his armpits in cute little orphans is not a place John ever expected to find himself with Sherlock.

They’re sitting across from each other on beds in an orphanage dorm, surrounded by the small occupants of the room, under Sherlock’s insistence that these children hold the key to solving their current case. If anyone ever found them here, they’d both go to prison for a thousand years, pointedly locked in with a large, tattooed serial offender suffering from chronic loneliness. But between their surprise entrance through a second floor window and Sherlock’s general...Sherlockness, the kids are quite prepared to buy into the story that they’re ninjas here to hunt down their rogue ‘ninja brother.’

Between the crowd of urchins and Sherlock with his rakish hair and voluminous coat, John feels like he took a wrong turn into a Dickens novel. )
prettyarbitrary: (Default)
Characters: John Watson, the cabbie
Rating: PG
Tags and Warnings: AU for A Study in Pink, punny titles
Notes: Written for a Tumblr prompt from persian-slipper.

John doesn't stop for Stamford. Instead, he takes Jefferson Hope's cab home.


For a moment, in Piccadilly, John thinks he hears his name being called. It rouses him briefly from the brooding slosh of his own thoughts, but ‘John’ is a common name, after all. He puts his head back down and doesn’t stop. These days, it’s too hard to get up the momentum to move forward again.

By the time he’s finished running his errands, his leg’s screaming like twisted shrapnel and his right shoulder is on fire. Bloody cane. And of course, no cab sees fit to stop for him. After about ten minutes of trying, John resorts to guilt trips, waving his cane to flag one down. Maybe pity will move them where the uninspiring financial promise of a second-hand coat fails.

When one pulls over for him only a minute later, he represses an impulse to use that cane to knock a dent into the bonnet. He doesn’t need pity. He’s not fucking weak. He got shot and he’s alive; he’s stronger than he’s ever been. He’s only short on things to live for.

But he still can’t walk another block, so he gets in anyway. )
prettyarbitrary: (Default)
This is a bit of ridiculousness I wrote for somebody, somewhere. It's not even a real fic, but I want you to have it, Internet. It seems like your kind of thing. <3


"John, hey!" Rory said when they crossed paths by the coffee machine. "Haven't seen you lately. How's the love life?"

The way John snorted might've been more appropriate if someone had asked him how his latest traffic accident had turned out. "I'm dating a beautiful redhead and running after an offensively tall madman with insane hair and a brain that sometimes makes me want to hit it with a cricket bat in hopes it'll teach him how to talk like a human."

Rory froze. "Oh god. Are from the future? Did I shrink? Our hair is the same color. Oh my god, we have the same nose!" He looked around to see if he could spot the places where the universe was probably crumbling.

From behind him, John snapped, "Oi! Did you just call me short?!"
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes (sort of)
Rating: PG-13 (death)
Tags and Warnings: Major character death. Deathfic. Trigger warnings for grief.
Notes: Written for the gift exchange, for a prompt from TheMuchTooMerryMaiden (aka toomerrymaiden on Tumblr). I...nominally held to it.

Massive, Mount Everest, tectonic-plate-sized props to my betas, thisprettywren, persian_slipper, and gelishan, without whom this flat-out wouldn't have gotten written. The word 'stalwart' is not sufficient to describe them.

Before you murder me for what you're about to read: you can find the sequel/companion piece, Final Hours on bendingsignpost's LJ.

In the end, John knew exactly where things had started to go wrong.

He doesn’t always need the cane, but he carries it because sometimes, when it gets cold, his right leg buckles. Gone are the days when it was psychosomatic. These days it’s arthritis.

It’s threatening rain today—in London, what a shock—and the knee has things to say about that, but John’s resisting the cane anyway. He’s 65, damn it, he’s not feeble. He can walk perfectly well, run when he needs to, carry things for the landlady.

So when he hears a woman cry out down a side street, nothing’s stopping him from running to her aid.
So when he hears a woman cry out down a side street, nothing’s stopping him from running to her aid. )
prettyarbitrary: (Default)
Characters: John Watson, Molly Hooper
Rating: G
Tags and Warnings: Discworld references. John being flirty?
Notes: For a Tumblr prompt from 4seiji: I’m in the mood for some funny/fluffy/cracky gen John & Molly Bonding Over Something (that may or may not be a certain self-proclaimed sociopath). Bonus points if it’s actually NOT Sherlock!

Molly was in the midst of cleaning her tools when John came slamming into the morgue, slightly out of breath. )
prettyarbitrary: (Default)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Jim Moriarty
Rating: G
Tags and Warnings: Humor, Crack, Defacement of literary works. Reichenbach the ACD way, Only with crack did I mention? And also coffee.
Notes: Here's the prompt.

They stood on the brink of Nature's open maw, two shadows in the eternal whose terrible rivalry could end in only one way.

Moriarty took a step closer, and another. Sherlock watched him stonily, ready to see this to the end.

A little out of arm's reach, Moriarty stopped, then leaned sideways, craning to look down the chasm at his enemy's back. He grimaced. "That's a very long drop."

Yes. )
prettyarbitrary: (Default)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Dupin the Parrot. Guest-starring Lestrade
Rating: G
Tags and Warnings: gen, humor, fluff, parrot!
Notes: Written for a prompt. Fact-checking services provided by Lucky the Quaker Parrot.

Sherlock acquires a pet that's the Sherlock of the animal kingdom, and John finds himself at war.

Dupin had found John’s shoes.

John had been so careful to keep them out of the bird’s line of sight. He didn’t know what had clued the little feather duster in. That bird was almost as observant as its owner. And now John’s best Oxfords were…well, he sure as hell wasn’t going to be wearing these on any more dates.

Maybe the leather finish was toxic to birds. Could he be that lucky? )
prettyarbitrary: (Default)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
Rating: PG-13 (PTSD, wartime violence to children)
Tag and Warnings: gen, PTSD, flashbacks, wartime violence to children. Spoilers for Hound.
Notes: The prompt.

John still knows where he is, in a dimly-lit lab out of a Michael Crichton novel, but damned if that rattling noise doesn't remind him of gunfire in a hot zone, and the spots flooding his eyes are sun on the desert, burning his retinas.

It starts with the lights and the noise. John still knows perfectly well where he is. Where else would he be but in a spooky laboratory out of a zombie shoot 'em up game, chasing ghosts for Sherlock? But he can feel something shaking loose in the corners of his mind. Something familiar. For some reason it makes him think of nightmares. His pulse jumps but he's not sure why.

Or maybe he is, because that noise is hideous enough to give a bloke a stroke. What is this, some sort of sensory overload experiment? Crank up the lights and sound till some poor animal loses its mind and goes into neural collapse? John feels like he's about five minutes away from it, himself, and it's pissing him off. Studies about the varied and alarming psychological effects resulting from different pitches of sound flood his brain, but never mind, Watson, a few minutes won't kill you. Just leave. Maybe it's creeping him out but he's more likely to go deaf first than...what? He doesn't know. Vague childhood phobias roll over in the back of his mind. Closets lose their terror when you've seen first-hand what a botched beheading looks like.

Only when the door doesn't open...for a second he knows 'they' did it. )
prettyarbitrary: (Default)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes
Rating: PG-13 (sociopathic Sherlock)
Tags and Warnings: gen, dark, criminal psychology, sociopathic Sherlock
Notes: You can find the kink meme prompt here.

It was hard, being brilliant. Sherlock tried not to whinge about it; it proved irritatingly distracting to those of lesser intellectual abundance. Sadly, however trite, it remained no less true that they weren't equipped to understand.

It wasn't enough to be merely good at something when you had it in you to be the best. When you were this brilliant, being the best at one thing wasn't enough. You had to find out just how far you could go.

The problem was, he was too good. )
prettyarbitrary: (Default)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
Rating: G
Tags and Warnings: Gen, humor, the establishment of weird Christmas traditions, Uh...spoilers for the status of Santa Claus's existence?
Notes: Naturally, a prompt.

In which Sherlock and Santa have an adversarial relationship, and John invents a new holiday tradition.

John liked Lestrade’s crew. He was comfortable around them, for one thing; police and soldiers lived in similar worlds in some respects. For another, they really knew how to throw a holiday party. The eggnog was homemade, the music was live, courtesy of the CID’s very own barbershop quartet, he didn’t think it was his imagination that the girls from Intake were plotting to catch him under the mistletoe, and this was the first chance he’d had to dance since the case of the disappearing night club logos.

After a couple of turns about the floor with Sally, who turned out to be an excellent dancer, he headed back to Sherlock, whom he’d caught spectating with a wide, amused grin. “She had better not become the next Future Ex-Mrs. Watson, John, or you and I are going to have to revisit the terms of our arrangement.”

John sneered companionably at him. )
prettyarbitrary: (Default)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mycroft Holmes
Rating: PG-13 (language, offscreen torture)
Tags and Warnings: gen, offscreen torture, evil!Croft, emotional blackmail, h/c, poor John, poor Sherlock, this is a dark and ugly scenario
Notes: The kink meme prompt that prompted this. Poor Mycroft. I feel sort of bad for making him into this sort of bad guy, but I could see him having this sort of ruthlessness in him.

Whipping boy: historically, a child assigned to befriend a young prince, and take punishment for the prince's misbehaviors in his stead. Mycroft is intent on finding a way to make Sherlock listen.

Assault Mycroft, or go to John? In the red haze shrouding the world, the choice seems impossible. )
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
Rating: PG (on-screen death)
Tags and Warnings: Major character death, SAD SAD ALL THE CRIES, No happy endings! Seriously, only read this if you want to be depressed.
Notes: The kink meme prompt that prompted this.

In ten minutes Sherlock will live in a world with no John in it. Ten minutes is how long they have for everything.

John's respiration sounded terrible, like a bellows with a hole in. Sherlock had heard that sound once, when he'd visited a blacksmith's shop. There'd been a fight. A shovel had ruptured the bellows. It had sounded better than John's lungs, because the broken wheeze of the bellows hadn't made Sherlock want to vomit.

"I thought." John laughed a little, with what breath he could spare. Stop it, Sherlock wanted to beg. And, Please, don't stop laughing. Don't let it be your last. "I thought Afghanistan."

"I thought Moriarty," Sherlock admitted, bowing his head down alongside John's till their hair wove together.


Sherlock nodded. "When you grabbed him, my heart stopped. I thought you were a dead man."

Should've run, you fool. )
prettyarbitrary: (Default)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Inspector Lestrade, ensemble
Rating: PG (more face-punching)
Tags and Warnings: gen, post-Hiatus, still no spoilers, angst, fluff, h/c, Lestrade gets a word in
Notes: A follow-up to Still Two Days Till We Say We're Sorry. Because someone said, "I'd love to see what Lestrade does!" Sure thing, reader!

Assassination attempt at 224 Baker Street. 2 am tonight. Bring backup. -- SH

It was John Watson's mobile number. )


prettyarbitrary: (Default)

October 2015

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