goldvermilion87: (Default)
My final drabble for [livejournal.com profile] drabbles20in20 .  Author's choice.  WARNING:  Directly inspired by Skullcrusher Mountain.


My First (Real) Fangirl

 “I can’t believe that even you would do this, Sherlock. She is the Prime Minister’s daughter!”

“Lestrade, she had broken into our flat nine times, littered it with stuffed animal puppies holding her photograph, and hidden herself in my bedroom. Even John admits that drastic measures were required.”

“You, John?”

“Yes…  but I didn’t think you’d tell her that the food you were force-feeding her was puppy stew!”

“But that was the master stroke! She ‘adores’ puppies!  Do you know how difficult it is to obtain puppies in bulk from the RSPCA?”

“You…  I cooked… I’LL KILL YOU, SHERLOCK HOLMES!”

----

Further Author's Note:  Explanatory sequel forthcoming.

goldvermilion87: (Default)
My final drabble for [livejournal.com profile] drabbles20in20 .  Author's choice.  WARNING:  Directly inspired by Skullcrusher Mountain.


My First (Real) Fangirl

 “I can’t believe that even you would do this, Sherlock. She is the Prime Minister’s daughter!”

“Lestrade, she had broken into our flat nine times, littered it with stuffed animal puppies holding her photograph, and hidden herself in my bedroom. Even John admits that drastic measures were required.”

“You, John?”

“Yes…  but I didn’t think you’d tell her that the food you were force-feeding her was puppy stew!”

“But that was the master stroke! She ‘adores’ puppies!  Do you know how difficult it is to obtain puppies in bulk from the RSPCA?”

“You…  I cooked… I’LL KILL YOU, SHERLOCK HOLMES!”

----

Further Author's Note:  Explanatory sequel forthcoming.

goldvermilion87: (Default)
The fourth of five author's choice drabbles at [livejournal.com profile] drabbles20in20 .  This one was technically inspired by Rascal Flatts' What Hurts the Most, but it evolved so much that the connection is not at all obvious.



Watching You

“For the past four years you have behaved utterly irresponsibly.”

“Mm.”

“You are thirty-three and have never been regularly employed.”

“No, indeed.”

“I have your best interests at heart.”

“Highly laudable.”

“Mummy’s money will not be used to support you in this new endeavor.”

Sherlock sniffed.

“Until you have convinced me that this change is genuine, that is my decision.”

Sherlock closed his eyes.

“I hope that I will be hearing from you very soon.”

“I’m certain you will, big brother.” He remained perfectly still until the door closed.

He would strangle Mycroft one day. 

Or just prove him wrong.


goldvermilion87: (Default)
The fourth of five author's choice drabbles at [livejournal.com profile] drabbles20in20 .  This one was technically inspired by Rascal Flatts' What Hurts the Most, but it evolved so much that the connection is not at all obvious.



Watching You

“For the past four years you have behaved utterly irresponsibly.”

“Mm.”

“You are thirty-three and have never been regularly employed.”

“No, indeed.”

“I have your best interests at heart.”

“Highly laudable.”

“Mummy’s money will not be used to support you in this new endeavor.”

Sherlock sniffed.

“Until you have convinced me that this change is genuine, that is my decision.”

Sherlock closed his eyes.

“I hope that I will be hearing from you very soon.”

“I’m certain you will, big brother.” He remained perfectly still until the door closed.

He would strangle Mycroft one day. 

Or just prove him wrong.


goldvermilion87: (Default)
Third author's choice drabble for [livejournal.com profile] drabbles20in20 .  Song-prompt was a DARE from [livejournal.com profile] labourslamp.  And I approach my fanfic with the attitude of a middle school boy, so I wasn't able to say "no."   Link appended.


Scene

[John Watson and Bill Murray seated at a bar, talking, laughing, and drinking. A chime is heard. John picks up his phone and huffs irritably.]

BILL: Him again?

JOHN: Yes.

BILL: That makes what?… seventeen times in the last ten minutes?

JOHN: Yes. Wants me to go with him to Chelsea. No idea why.  Just says it could be dangerous.

BILL: Well I say if…

JOHN: [looking at phone]   Again?

SHERLOCK: [appearing out of nowhere] If you really didn’t want me to bother you, you could just turn your phone off.

JOHN: [sighing and standing up] Next time, mate.


--------


Telephone

Additional Author's Note for Lady Gaga:  If you don't want to be bothered, turn your phone off.  Just sayin'
goldvermilion87: (Default)
Second Author's Choice drabble for [livejournal.com profile] drabbles20in20.  Darkish, but the weird song-prompt was... well... you'll see.  And I'll append a youtube vid.  Thanks to [livejournal.com profile] labourslamp  for the song-prompt and for advice on this tricky drabble.  Set during the "Deleting" section of Operating System




Cougar

Sherlock’s hand trembled almost imperceptibly as he accepted a glass from yet another of the women admiring his carefully calculated charm, and his deductive prowess—his eighth free drink of the evening.

“So, what can you deduce about me, Mr. Holmes?”

He blinked at her.

“32… divorced...  but not before he bought those Ds.”

“He didn’t regret his investment,” she purred.

He sneered and started for the exit.

“Call me.”

“No.”

“Then I’ll call you. I’m lonely, Sherlock.”

“Sure...”

“Where can I call you?”

“You know my name… Look up the number.” 

He stumbled as the door closed behind him.


----------------


You Know My Name (Look Up the Number)


goldvermilion87: (Default)
Second Author's Choice drabble for [livejournal.com profile] drabbles20in20.  Darkish, but the weird song-prompt was... well... you'll see.  And I'll append a youtube vid.  Thanks to [livejournal.com profile] labourslamp  for the song-prompt and for advice on this tricky drabble.  Also, there is much headcanon background for this, but it has not been posted anywhere yet. 




Cougar

Sherlock’s hand trembled almost imperceptibly as he accepted a glass from yet another of the women admiring his carefully calculated charm, and his deductive prowess—his eighth free drink of the evening.

“So, what can you deduce about me, Mr. Holmes?”

He blinked at her.

“32… divorced...  but not before he bought those Ds.”

“He didn’t regret his investment,” she purred.

He sneered and started for the exit.

“Call me.”

“No.”

“Then I’ll call you. I’m lonely, Sherlock.”

“Sure...”

“Where can I call you?”

“You know my name… Look up the number.” 

He stumbled as the door closed behind him.


----------------


You Know My Name (Look Up the Number)


goldvermilion87: (Default)
Final food-related drabble for [livejournal.com profile] drabbles20in20.  I should never write when I'm hungry.



"Slows me down"

He closed his eyes as the juices filled his mouth. He did not analyze the seasonings. He was content to allow the medley of flavors to wash over him. (Beef not organic as advertised, but that hardly mattered.) 

He reached for his perfectly matched glass of red wine. (He should take more cases for restaurateurs.)  He inhaled slowly before tasting…

No! That car that just turned the corner! Was that his mark? No way to know. If only he’d observed! He’d have to keep watching the street, but this time without distractions.

He sighed, and pushed the tantalizing dish away.


goldvermilion87: (Default)
Final food-related drabble for [livejournal.com profile] drabbles20in20.  I should never write when I'm hungry.



"Slows me down"

He closed his eyes as the juices filled his mouth. He did not analyze the seasonings. He was content to allow the medley of flavors to wash over him. (Beef not organic as advertised, but that hardly mattered.) 

He reached for his perfectly matched glass of red wine. (He should take more cases for restaurateurs.)  He inhaled slowly before tasting…

No! That car that just turned the corner! Was that his mark? No way to know. If only he’d observed! He’d have to keep watching the street, but this time without distractions.

He sighed, and pushed the tantalizing dish away.


goldvermilion87: (Default)
Fourth food-related drabble for [livejournal.com profile] drabbles20in20.



Famished

“Why am I on the couch? What are you doing?”

“Because you fainted. And wondering when you last ate.”

“Five days ago.”

“FIVE? Sherlock!”

“You didn’t remind me to eat.”

“I was in Cardiff. How did you survive before I reminded you of these things?”

“I remembered to eat and drink. Now that I am burdened with a flatmate with nothing better to do than to remind me, I can put my superior intellect to better use.”

“But I’m not always here.”

“You should be. “

“Besides… I do have better…”

“Really, John?”

“I should’ve left you on the floor.”
goldvermilion87: (Default)
Fourth food-related drabble for [livejournal.com profile] drabbles20in20.



Famished

“Why am I on the couch? What are you doing?”

“Because you fainted. And wondering when you last ate.”

“Five days ago.”

“FIVE? Sherlock!”

“You didn’t remind me to eat.”

“I was in Cardiff. How did you survive before I reminded you of these things?”

“I remembered to eat and drink. Now that I am burdened with a flatmate with nothing better to do than to remind me, I can put my superior intellect to better use.”

“But I’m not always here.”

“You should be. “

“Besides… I do have better…”

“Really, John?”

“I should’ve left you on the floor.”
goldvermilion87: (Default)
My third food-related drabble for [livejournal.com profile] drabbles20in20 .  A bit different from my usual, I suppose, but I have to write 20 drabbles,  so why not?




Simple

Time of death 11:20PM. Severe rash. Swelling of the throat. Anaphylaxis. 

No peanut products in the kitchen. Peanut allergies. Scent of peanut oil on his lips confirms. 

Slippers have clearly been on his feet since 11:20AM. He was exposed while in his house. 

Faint traces of lipstick around his mouth indicate recent exchange of saliva.  Source of exposure. 

He has a practice epi-pen, but no epi-pen in his kitchen, and no mobile phone or epi-pen among the items he threw from his briefcase. Both removed by someone who knew where he kept them. 

The victim was murdered by his lover.

 


goldvermilion87: (Default)
My third food-related drabble for [livejournal.com profile] drabbles20in20 .  A bit different from my usual, I suppose, but I have to write 20 drabbles,  so why not?




Simple

Time of death 11:20PM. Severe rash. Swelling of the throat. Anaphylaxis. 

No peanut products in the kitchen. Peanut allergies. Scent of peanut oil on his lips confirms. 

Slippers have clearly been on his feet since 11:20AM. He was exposed while in his house. 

Faint traces of lipstick around his mouth indicate recent exchange of saliva.  Source of exposure. 

He has a practice epi-pen, but no epi-pen in his kitchen, and no mobile phone or epi-pen among the items he threw from his briefcase. Both removed by someone who knew where he kept them. 

The victim was murdered by his lover.

 


goldvermilion87: (Default)
Drabble for the prompt "middle" at [livejournal.com profile] drabbles20in20.  I couldn't resist writing it...  And for all those who are either too young or not American, I have embedded a version of the commercial that little Sherlock saw. 






Dear Sir or Madam,

I preformed an experement for your advertesment I saw on holiday in New York about how many licks it takes for a tootsie roll pop, so you could know. I closed papers with the datas.

Some of the papers are not done, which is not ideer ideel. That is because Lexie, Nick, and Jack were bored. But Mycroft says that a good scientist keeps all the data.

It was a fun experement

Sinceerly,

Mr Sherlock Holmes

PS: I aplogize that the closed papers are sticky. I told everyone to wash their hands, but Harry did not.




goldvermilion87: (Default)
Drabble for the prompt "middle" at [livejournal.com profile] drabbles20in20.  I couldn't resist writing it...  And for all those who are either too young or not American, I have embedded a version of the commercial that little Sherlock saw. 






Dear Sir or Madam,

I preformed an experement for your advertesment I saw on holiday in New York about how many licks it takes for a tootsie roll pop, so you could know. I closed papers with the datas.

Some of the papers are not done, which is not ideer ideel. That is because Lexie, Nick, and Jack were bored. But Mycroft says that a good scientist keeps all the data.

It was a fun experement

Sinceerly,

Mr Sherlock Holmes

PS: I aplogize that the closed papers are sticky. I told everyone to wash their hands, but Harry did not.




goldvermilion87: (Default)
A pair of drabbles for [livejournal.com profile] drabbles20in20.  First for the category "heroic" and the second for the prompt "minute."



In the Nick of Time…

He turned off the doctor’s voice that started to describe the effects of blunt force trauma to the head… and the possibility of brain damage or death… 

Instead he shouted in his best soldier’s voice to get the attention of the huge man with the club, and took aim. Threat neutralized. Garland hadn’t been a very nice man.

He pulled the blind-fold off the figure slumped in the chair, and began examining the battered head for serious injuries.

“John, I had everything under control! He was about to tell me who hired him!”

He rolled his eyes.   “You’re welcome, Sherlock.”

 

…Or Not?

He relaxed his neck. Garland was striking with angry imprecision, so even blind-folded it was simple enough to hear the trajectory of the blows, and increase impact time to avoid severe cranial injury while he waited for the inevitable gloating confession.  Within fifteen minutes it would be captured on his well-hidden recording device, and he could plan his escape.

Suddenly—Shouting. Gunshots. The thud of a dead body hitting the floor.  

Someone had removed the blind-fold and was gently feeling his skull.

“John, I had everything under control! He was about to tell me who hired him!”

“You’re welcome, Sherlock.”


goldvermilion87: (Default)
A pair of drabbles for [livejournal.com profile] drabbles20in20.  First for the category "heroic" and the second for the prompt "minute."



In the Nick of Time…

He turned off the doctor’s voice that started to describe the effects of blunt force trauma to the head… and the possibility of brain damage or death… 

Instead he shouted in his best soldier’s voice to get the attention of the huge man with the club, and took aim. Threat neutralized. Garland hadn’t been a very nice man.

He pulled the blind-fold off the figure slumped in the chair, and began examining the battered head for serious injuries.

“John, I had everything under control! He was about to tell me who hired him!”

He rolled his eyes.   “You’re welcome, Sherlock.”

 

…Or Not?

He relaxed his neck. Garland was striking with angry imprecision, so even blind-folded it was simple enough to hear the trajectory of the blows, and increase impact time to avoid severe cranial injury while he waited for the inevitable gloating confession.  Within fifteen minutes it would be captured on his well-hidden recording device, and he could plan his escape.

Suddenly—Shouting. Gunshots. The thud of a dead body hitting the floor.  

Someone had removed the blind-fold and was gently feeling his skull.

“John, I had everything under control! He was about to tell me who hired him!”

“You’re welcome, Sherlock.”


goldvermilion87: (Default)

Drabble for the genre prompt "historical" at [livejournal.com profile] drabbles20in20.



 

Happy New Year

It had been impossible to get a cab. 

He thought of the milling idiots drunk on alcohol and the absurd hope that this year would be better—because it was the “new millennium” (as if the fact that the number of the anniversary of an inaccurately determined birth year was divisible by one thousand were significant… as if this even were a new millennium). They’d all wake to the same headaches, and the same dull reality. 

And they’d made him late—thereby ruining an experiment that he’d been running for three months.  

He sighed as the needle penetrated his skin.


goldvermilion87: (Default)

Drabble for the genre prompt "historical" at [livejournal.com profile] drabbles20in20.



 

Happy New Year

It had been impossible to get a cab. 

He thought of the milling idiots drunk on alcohol and the absurd hope that this year would be better—because it was the “new millennium” (as if the fact that the number of the anniversary of an inaccurately determined birth year was divisible by one thousand were significant… as if this even were a new millennium). They’d all wake to the same headaches, and the same dull reality. 

And they’d made him late—thereby ruining an experiment that he’d been running for three months.  

He sighed as the needle penetrated his skin.


goldvermilion87: (Default)

Drabble for the category, "humor" at [livejournal.com profile] drabbles20in20 .


The Expendables

“I blame you for this, John.”

“I didn’t ask you to come.”

“I was bored.”

“You insulted Arnold Schwarzenegger, Sylvester Stallone, Mickey…”

“I merely intimated that watching superannuated pseudo-actors kill and maim is no demonstration of masculinity.”

“Loud enough for everyone in the theatre to hear.”

“Not as loudly as they called my masculinity into question.” 

“You started the brawl, anyway.”

“No. I am far too secure in my masculinity to resort to fisticuffs to defend it.” 

“I’m glad you are, Sherlock.”

“And this black eye is still your fault! It’s going to be nearly impossible to conceal…”

Very glad…”


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