goldvermilion87: (littlejohn)
Here is all my fan fiction (with a smattering of poetry and essays) organized by fandom for convenience.

Everything is gen. All works are complete unless I state otherwise.


Pedantic Fanfic Author Note )

          Operating System Universe
goldvermilion87: (Default)
Well, the chances of my doing this whole thing are in the slim-to-none category, but it can't hurt to try, right!  And who knows, maybe I will finish by...the time the next season is over?  I dunno. 
031.Sunrise.032.Sunset.033.Too Much.034.Not Enough.035.Sixth Sense.
091.Birthday.092.Christmas.093.Thanksgiving.094.Independence.095.New Year.
096.Writer‘s Choice.097.Writer‘s Choice.098.Writer‘s Choice.099.Writer‘s Choice.100.Writer‘s Choice.
goldvermilion87: (littlejohn)
A drabble for [ profile] capt_facepalm.

25 July 1880

It is with bitter amusement that I recall the summer in which gypsies camped in the field by the tall oak. I wanted to live with them and be free of my pinching shoes and strict schoolmaster! To move from place to place at my whim. But Mother said it was a life of disease, and hunger, and we would miss home.

I would beg her forgiveness for my foolish attempts to run away now, if I could.

What horror must it have been for those gypsies without even the conveniences enjoyed by victorious Britons in Her Majesty’s Armed Forces?
goldvermilion87: (littlejohn)
Read this story by [ profile] eanor RIGHT NOW.


Mind Heist

(That was so worth the trouble it gave you, my dear!)
goldvermilion87: (Walla Walla)

Attention, Ladies and Gentlemen, Fort Walla Walla has now closed.  Please make your way to the nearest exit,

[door being locked, followed by a toilet flush]

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN [on the phone]:   Come in, M.  This is double oh-seven.  The—

DOUGLAS [on the phone]:  Yes, Martin.  You just managed to elude capture by a seventy-year-old lady who volunteered to knock on the loo door and ask if everyone had left.  How are your brilliant powers of deduction helping you find Arthur?

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN:  Douglas, not now.  I've got to…Douglas! There's a hat here, in that roped off area—

DOUGLAS: Martin, there are hats—

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN:  No!  It wasn’t there before!  I saw!  It’s Arthur’s!

DOUGLAS:  Arthur didn’t bring his—

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN: The coonskin cap!  He…he bought it, in the shop!  He must still be here!

DOUGLAS [very threatening voice]:  Well, you keep working.  And let me know when you’ve deduced his location. 


[phone off sound]

Fine.  I will.


[door; car starting]

JOHN:  Besides, there was no reason to talk about aeroplanes.

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK:  I couldn't think of anything…

JOHN: Aeroplanes! I think she thought—

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK: Oh no!  You think she suspected?

JOHN:  No, she thought you were mad.  [pause] Not…that Sherlock isn’t mad, just…it was different mad…I don’t think we got any useful information from her.

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK:  Th-the shelter!  She told us about the shelter

JOHN: Yes, the shelter that we already knew about from the article…Sherlock probably would have gone on about the bite marks on her arm.  You spilled tea all over it.

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK: Well…the bite marks?   We saw the bite marks?

JOHN:  A crazy cat lady with bite marks on her arm…honestly, I’d have been shocked if they weren’t there.  Now when we get to St. Francis Animal Centre, I’ll do the talking.  You just…pretend you’re the most important person in the room.

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK:  I told you already, I don’t have to pretend!  I’m the captain!

JOHN:  Yes, anyway…Don’t touch anything.  And you’ll do fine…You did do well with the allergies.  The medicine must be working.


JOHN: Eugh! No!  Not the…now I’m going to have to get that dry-cleaned, you know.


ARTHUR:  No!  That’s not how it works!  You have to dig your way out with a spoon!

[ringtone: Say you love me every waking moment, turn my head with talk of summertime…]

ARTHUR: Hey guys! Bill! I can't reach my phone. It could be important!

BILL: Where is it?

ARTHUR: In my pocket.

BILL: I'm not reaching into your pocket!

[ringtone: Say you love me every waking moment, turn my head with talk of summertime…]

SAM: Just get it, Bill. I don’t want to hear it!

ARTHUR: Douglas says it’s the most beautiful sound to be made by human beings.

[ringtone: Say you love me every waking moment, turn my head with talk of summertime…]

SAM:  Bill, answer it!

BILL: Fine. [fumbling] Here, I'll hold it for you.

ARTHUR: Just a little closer to my face, please.

BILL: Okay.


BILL:  Aaugh!


DOUGLAS:  Leaving aside the fact the offensive suggestion that Andrew Lloyd Webber writes opera, did it ever occur to you that I can’t hear your ringtone?


DOUGLAS No!  Don’t buy it!  [aside]  Why am I even doing this…[sigh]  Arthur, are you alright?


DOUGLAS:  Why did I…Can I talk to Sam or Bill?


SAM:  Gimme the phone!  Hello?

DOUGLAS:  Hello, sir.  I am Douglas Richardson, and Arthur is a friend of mine.  What do you want with him?  If you are punishing him for his crimes against good taste, I understand.  But you don’t sound cultured enough to be doing that. 

SAM:  Huh?  [loud whisper]  Bill, I don’t get this guy.  He has some sort of accent.  Can you understand him?

BILL:  Dunno.

SAM: I’m putting him on speaker.  [speaking normally]  If you don’t give us what we want, we’ll kill him.  Meet us at Westfield Mall, and bring your other friend—the detective.  Hand him over, and we’ll let this guy go.  Oh, and give us five hundred dollars, too, or he gets a knuckle sandwich.  Each.

DOUGLAS:  Shall we see you there in three hours, then?

SAM:  Yeah.


BILL Shut up!

DOUGLAS:  Oh, at the fort, you say?  Never mind, then!  I’ll see you a lot sooner, Arthur—I’m sure our friend the detective is planning your rescue as we speak…Goodbye!

ARTHUR:  You can put the phone back now, Bill.


JOHN: You shouldn't have asked to see the body. She was crying already!

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK: Isn't that what Sherlock would have done?

JOHN: Yeah…but…couldn't you have been more yourself? There is only so much crying I can take in a day!

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK:  But how…that’s not f—

[walking feet]

LESTRADE:  So what have you got for me?

JOHN:  Oh!  Er…dead end.  They put the cat down.

LESTRADE: You mean he hasn’t explained to you how this is all secretly important?

JOHN:  Well…

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK: I did!  I did, but…he was too thick to understand it.

LESTRADE: Yes, Sherlock.  For once I wasn’t talking about you, though…[whispering] This is even worse than that time he pretended he'd gone deaf for three days after that explosion just to see what we'd do.  At least then we could see him.

JOHN:  Well, all I’ve got is that it’s vicious.  They had to put it down when it escaped an apparently escape-proof shelter and killed a pair of chinchillas in a house the street over.

LESTRADE: [snicker]

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK: It was horrible!  I mean, I mean, losing the trail like that, not the poor chin-

[phone buzzes]

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK [continuing]:  Yes, what is  [cough]  You what?…Suing?  But…but I didn’t…Arthur had the fire extinguisher…I will!  I’ll take care—Carolyn, please…Yes, I understand but…okay, I’ll be there .  [phone off.  very distressed]  I’m sorry John, Inspector.  I just…I can’t…

JOHN: It’s all right, Sherlock.  You do this all the time, remember?

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK:  No, I can’t pretend any longer.  I- I’m going!

JOHN: Sherlock, don’t!   This is for your own—Oh, sh—Sherlock!  Come back!

LESTRADE: Long day?

JOHN:  He can’t be on his own.  I’m going after him.  Sorry!


SHERLOCK AS MARTIN:  He’s in the fort, but how am I going to get him out?  Need a plan…planning now…

DOUGLAS:  Sherlock!  Nice to see you’ve at least deduced where he is.

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN: You told me where he was.

DOUGLAS: Yes. You can't detect sarcasm either, I see.

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN: Besides, I'm not Sherlock!  I'm Martin!

DOUGLAS:  Yes, well, the men who captured Arthur would beg to differ, so that little dissimulation is moot now.   We need a plan, and we need it—



DOUGLAS:  It’s just your phone, Martin.  Answer it! 

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN:  H-h-hello!  Martin Crieff speaking.

JOHN [on the phone]:  Sherlock, I've lost Martin.

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN:  Wait, how can you have lost Martin? I'm right here!

JOHN: Sherlock, it's fine, I'm in the loo, so no one can hear us.  Just tell me what to do. He's blown his cover!

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN:  But you don’t understand, I’m Martin!

JOHN:  Sherlock, there’s no time for this right now. I’ve told you.

MARTIN:  [whispered]  It’s John!  What should I—

DOUGLAS:  Good evening, John—or should I say morning, for you.  This is Detective Hardy, speaking for his colleague, Detective Laurel.  I might add that I am apparently the more competent of the two, a fact which I hope you will place in your blog.

JOHN: At this point, I just might.  Look, Douglas, Martin got a phone call—

DOUGLAS:  From Carolyn?  Yes, I received one on my way here.

JOHN: Yes, and then—

DOUGLAS:  There was a death on our plane a few years back.  They have just now decided to sue MJN.

JOHN:  That would explain the running off.

DOUGLAS:  He ran off?

JOHN:  He said he couldn’t do it anymore.

DOUGLAS:  Carolyn has insurance—we can’t fly without it.  It’s not a big deal.

JOHN: But why would they sue you now?  And shouldn’t Martin know that Carolyn has insurance?

DOUGLAS:  Never underestimate Martin’s ability to panic at precisely the wrong moment.

JOHN:  Yes, I’m starting to see that. This babysitting—I just want to go home and make a cup of—Oh sh—Sherlock told me to look after the cat. I completely forgot about it. 

DOUGLAS:  I’m sure it will survive on its own for a few hours.

JOHN:  Yes, so why—Douglas! What if it’s the cat?

DOUGLAS:  What if it is the cat?

JOHN:  Sherlock doesn’t care about animals.  There must be something…

DOUGLAS: The lawsuit!  Hybris Industries are suing us for negligence in the death of its employee.  They are in weapons manufacture…and I've heard nasty rumors about them before.

JOHN: You don't think the cat…is a weapon, do you?

DOUGLAS: It's a cat. It is a weapon.

JOHN:  Well, we can leave that to Sherlock.  The point is that Martin has run off, and there are still men—possibly very dangerous men—out looking for him. I'm going to try and stop him before anything happens. Where do you think he ran to?

DOUGLAS: Oddly enough, he may be going straight towards Hybris Industries.  As I said, he panics.  It leads to poor decision-making.

JOHN: And even if he isn’t, those men might take him there.  If we’re right about the cat…Well, it’s the best lead we’ve got, so that’s where I’m going.  Tell Sherlock from me that he's a berk.

DOUGLAS: With pleasure.

[phone off]

DOUGLAS:  I hope you’re pleased we managed to deduce that, Martin.

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN:  Of course I am!

DOUGLAS:  The question is why you didn’t tell us sooner and stop Sherlock—who, by the way, is a complete berk—from endangering himself.

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN:  Look, Douglas, there’s something I need to tell you…


JOHN No, Lestrade, I’m not waiting for backup—Martin doesn’t know what he’s getting into, and by the time you can respond—

[someone talking on phone]

Yeah, I know.  Just get here as soon as you can.  I’m sure I can handle it until then.

[muffled shouting and blows]

JOHN: I hear—hurry!

[Door kicked open.  Sound increases in volume.]

JOHN: [shouting]  Everyone drop your weapons!  You’re surrounded!

THUG 1 Keep working on that one. This one’s mi—


[A series of indistinct scuffling and punching noises follows, among which, in order, the following can be distinguished:  a gun clattering to the ground, a switchblade being opened, a body hitting the floor, and a body being slammed against the wall.]

JOHN AND THUG 2: Nnnngggggh…

[a gunshot, followed by a long pause]

JOHN:…Martin?  Where did you get that gun?

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK Honestly, John, you have terrible timing.


SHERLOCK AS MARTIN AS SHERLOCK: Nice work on the ringleader, though.

JOHN: What the…

SHERLOCK: As soon as I saw that pitiful excuse for an airline pilot I knew there was no way he could pretend to be me with any effectiveness.  So I stayed here and pretended to be him.  You should be ashamed that you didn’t notice, though it only proves once again that you and Lestrade always see, but never observe.

JOHN:  Shut up, Sherlock. 

SHERLOCK:  It’s true.  I am almost shocked that you didn’t notice that I am several inches taller than that first officer—

JOHN Captain!

SHERLOCK Than Martin Crieff.

JOHN: Then who was texting me all this time?  That’s not your phone!

SHERLOCK Martin—but only on my express orders.  How did you find out that I was here?

JOHN: I called you—well, Douglas—about the lawsuit.  It’s where Martin would’ve gone.

SHERLOCK I’m astonished that you found this location.  I know my brother thinks Douglas is at least somewhat intelligent, but the sheer importance of this case—No, you still don’t know, do you?

JOHN:  You—

[sounds of more shouting and running]


SHERLOCK:  You sent for him, too?


ARTHUR:  WOW, chaps!  That was brilliant!

DOUGLAS:  Yes, the fact that your “friends” released you voluntarily when Martin’s shouting alerted them to the fact that Martin was not, in fact, Sherlock, does, indeed, make Martin and me brilliant.

ARTHUR:  Yes, that was WONDERFUL acting, Sherlock!  I can call you that now, right?

MARTIN:  I told you, Arthur, I’m not actually Sherlock!  We didn’t really switch places!

ARTHUR:  Well, it was brilliant, anyway.

DOUGLAS:  I was shocked at how eager Bill and Sam were to let you go—well, no, not terribly.

ARTHUR:  So was I!  We were having fun together!  They let me stay in the museum prison and everything!  [continues chattering]

DOUGLAS:  I was hoping they’d be willing to pay a ransom.

MARTIN:  Yes, well, some of us are willing to help their friends without pecuniary incentive, Douglas.

DOUGLAS:  Did you just use a five syllable word, Martin?  You should pretend to be Sherlock more often!.

ARTHUR [who has been chattering on in the background throughout Martin and Douglas’s fight]:  And they weren't going to do it properly, you see. But I told them, if this is a kidnapping, we ought to do it right! And they agreed, eventually, so I was so glad I had my spoon from my ice cream.  And they had to use their hands.  And then we played Old Yeller and I didn’t want to shoot Sam but I had to!

DOUGLAS: Very eager to let you go.

MARTIN:  So, what’s the plan now?

DOUGLAS:  You’re the one with Sherlock’s mobile.

MARTIN:  Oh, right!  Let me see…well, obviously we should head back to London. Carolyn’s there, and—oh, how are we going to pay for all those fees?

DOUGLAS:  Actually, I think I have a plan…


[sounds of voices behind a door]

MARTIN:  Remember, I only said you could come with me if you promised not to embarrass me.  So don’t ask John for his autograph—or at least wait until a better time.  And try not to shout very loudly.  And—


MARTIN:  [groan]

MYCROFT:  I didn’t know you were so famous, John.  It’s fortunate that I was not injured when your fan came through the door.

SHERLOCK:  No it isn’t.

MYCROFT: Really Sherlock, I—



MARTIN:  I'm flattered, Arthur, but I don't really want John’s autograph

ARTHUR: No, no, that's me!  That's my secret crime fighting identity!

SHERLOCK:  You and John would get along, then.

JOHN [hissing]:  Sherlock!

MYCROFT:  Well, I do know who you are now.  Douglas has spoken about you.  I am sure you appreciate that he is an excellent captain…

MARTIN:  [splutter

MYCROFT: …but I never understood why he went in for this aeroplane flying.   A monkey could do it!


MYCROFT: Do give him my best!  And tell him that if he does get bored, the British government could still use him.  Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be taking the caracal into custody.  Oh, and don’t worry about any losses you suffered during this expedition.  You will be reimbursed.

[door shuts]

JOHN:  Anyway, now that he’s taken the cat:  I think I missed the part where Sherlock explains everything and tells us why we were all so incredibly idiotic not to think of it ourselves? 


SHERLOCK:  [clears throat


JOHN:  [snort]

MARTIN:  Be quiet, Arthur!

SHERLOCK:  Well, clearly, those men outside were after Martin, because they had not followed me home.  And they appeared when he did.  But they wouldn’t be after an incompetent airline pilot, so it had to be the caracal, which I admit had piqued my curiosity to begin with—very rare animal in the UK.  Its weight was off, too—I suspected tampering, though I didn’t know what.  Its vomit—

JOHN: You made that cat vomit on purpose!

SHERLOCK:  Yes, and my tests on the vomit revealed unusual enzymes in the saliva.  But even before I did my chemical analysis, my suspicions were confirmed:  The previous escaped caracal who had lived with the old lady was too aggressive—even for a cat.  There are a number of different military operations attempting to genetically modify animals for better effectiveness in the field.  Hybris Industries does research in that field, so, when I learned they were planning to sue MJN air, it was the simple conclusion.

JOHN:  And the interviewing, and making young women cry was just for your amusement, of course.

SHERLOCK:  She wasn’t actually chatting you up when we arrived, so no need to defend her. I had to throw the men from Hybris Industries off the scent.

MARTIN:  So…why did you send us back to Walla Walla?

SHERLOCK:  More red herrings for the corporation.  Also, my brother paid for it.

JOHN:  Ah.


JOHN:  Erm…

MARTIN:  He will eventually.  I think…I think we should just…

[Door opens.  Sounds of feet on stairs and Arthur’s voice never quite stopping.]

JOHN:  Whew. 

SHERLOCK:  That went pretty well, I think.

JOHN:  And this time I had the fan club.

SHERLOCK:  One person.  And a more than usual idiot.  Don’t let it get to your head.

JOHN:  Shut up.

SHERLOCK:  Aye, aye, Captain.  [pause]  So, curry?


CAROLYN:  Well, well—congratulations, boys—you managed not to bankrupt MJN.  This time, at least.

DOUGLAS:  Does that mean we’ll be getting a bonus?

CAROLYN:  That means you will not have to allow all 200 of these crested ducks to ride in the cabin with you.  The hold is fixed, and if we are very, very lucky, Gertie will no longer smell of onions by next Tuesday.

DOUGLAS:  Yes.  Well, no thanks to Martin, who has the singular misfortune of resembling Sherlock Holmes.  Or Arthur, who has the singular misfortune of being himself.

ARTHUR:  Hey!  I think it’s GREAT to be me.

DOUGLAS:  Precisely my point.  No, you all have me to thank that Mycroft even paid us for the expense in the first place.

MARTIN:  How?  You weren’t even there!

DOUGLAS:  I called him, of course.  He’s an old friend from Eton.

MARTIN:  Of course.  How is it that you know everyone, Douglas?

DOUGLAS:  Because, Martin, it is a little known fact that the Richardson family has a strain of telepathy.

ARTHUR:  Wow!!  Is that like…mind powers?!

DOUGLAS: Yes, Arthur.  Mind powers

ARTHUR:  Do you hear that?! Douglas has MIND POWERS.  SECRET Mind powers.

MARTIN: They're not secret anymore.

ARTHUR:   Oh…Still, it's only us, and we're like family.

DOUGLAS:  No.  We're not.

ARTHUR:  Oh, right!  Because we have Sherlock Holmes on board with us, right?


ARTHUR:  Don't worry, Sherlock. Your secret will be safe with me!

MARTIN:  [groan]


That was Cabin Pressure by John Finnemore, it starred Stephanie Cole as Carolyn; Roger Allam as Douglas; Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock, Sherlock as Martin, Martin as Sherlock, Sherlock as Martin as Sherlock, and Martin; Martin Freeman as John; and John Finnemore as Arthur.

It also starred Mark Gatiss as Mycroft, Rupert Graves as Lestrade, Oliver Porter as Bill, William Henry as Sam, and Lara Pulver as the Starbucks Barista.

The producer was David Tyler and the program was a Pozzitive Production for the BBC!

goldvermilion87: (Walla Walla)

[door opens]

JOHN: Sherlock, the next time you make a shopping list this long I'm making you…Who the…

SHERLOCK: Ah—John, put one of the packs of lightbulbs in the freezer.

JOHN: Yes, yes in a minute…Sherlock, who is that?

SHERLOCK: This is Martin Crieff—an airline pilot, judging by his left thumb.  First offi—

MARTIN: Captain—Don't you see the stripes?

SHERLOCK:   First Officer, since this is clearly a costume from a fancy dress shop.  A captain would have worn his real uniform.

MARTIN:  I AM the captain—this is a captain’s hat!

JOHN: Are you related?  You both look—

SHERLOCK: He came here with a ridiculous question, and he's just leaving now.

JOHN: Actually, Sherlock, that might not be a good idea.  He really looks like you…what if the men think he’s—

SHERLOCK: The men?

JOHN: Sorry, I forgot…There are at least three men loitering near our door.  Probably waiting for you.

SHERLOCK: In that case, Martin!

MARTIN: Y-yes?

SHERLOCK: Let me see that cat.


Cabin Pressure, by John Finnemore, starring Stephanie Cole as Carolyn, Roger Allam as Douglas, Benedict Cumberbatch as Martin, and John Finnemore as Arthur.

This week, Walla Walla!


[*bing bong*]

DOUGLAS [over the PA system]:  Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen.  First Officer Douglas Richardson here with a weather report.  Rather sadly, though unsurprisingly, the weather here in London is much the same as it was in Walla-Walla—fog, mist, and a high chance of showers.  No signs that it will be clearing up for several hours at least.

[*bing bong*]


[*bing bong*]

DOUGLAS:  Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.  I’m afraid I’m not chive talking when I tell you that there’s a leek in the gas tank and we’ll have to make a brief stop on root to Vidalia, Washington.  We have shallotted to us—

[flight deck door opens]

Hullo, Martin. Any luck with the Augean stables?

MARTIN [breathing heavily]:  You know, it’d go a lot faster if you were helping.  [sneeze]

DOUGLAS:  Nonsense, Martin.  If I were helping you, who would be guarding the last of our precious cargo?  Handkerchief?

MARTIN [congested]How precious could a few more bags of these blasted onions be?

DOUGLAS:  They’re sweet Vidalia onions, Martin, and Mr. Hellman did hire us to get all 500 pounds to London.

MARTIN:  And who’s going to steal them from the cabin, anyway?  You could at least take a look at the hold door while you’re refusing to help us, so we don’t have to take another trip with the cargo clogging the aisles.

DOUGLAS: And your sinuses?

MARTIN:  I already told you, I’m fine!  I’m not—

DOUGLAS:  Oh!  Did someone say you were a bad pilot?

MARTIN:  No, I have allergies.

DOUGLAS:  To sweet onions?

MARTIN:  No, I don’t know what’s causing them, but that’s definitely why I’m crying.   Anyway, I came in here to tell you that Arthur and I got them all off the plane, so you can stop pretending to fill in your logbook.  Hand me my bag, won’t—hang on, what's that? 



DOUGLAS: Do you make a habit of carrying large cats in your carry-on?  My smuggled orchids were positively tame in comparison.

MARTIN: No! [sneeze] Douglas, I didn't put it in there.

DOUGLAS: Then, Martin, I'm afraid you must have the wrong bag.

MARTIN: Of course I have the wrong bag! And after I put two whole packages of Benadryl in it! That’s five pounds!

DOUGLAS:  Come to think of it, your rucksack did rather resemble our passenger’s, didn’t it?

MARTIN:  This must be his!

DOUGLAS:  Yes, since your name isn’t Douglas Livingstone…though that might be an improvement.

MARTIN: You just say that because it's your name!

DOUGLAS: No, I just think it sounds like a good name for a pilot. "Captain Livingstone, I presume?"

MARTIN: [strangled noise]


MARTIN: That’s not important.  He has my bag!

DOUGLAS: And more importantly, you have an allergy to cats.

MARTIN: Yes, thank you for clearing that up, now—

DOUGLAS: Unlike your nose?

MARTIN:  Douglas!

DOUGLAS:  So, I suggest you call the number on the bag and remedy the situation.

MARTIN: Ah, yes, of course.  One moment.

[phone rings]

H-hello, this is Capt…Mar…Captain Cr…Captain Martin Crieff, yes.

[indistinct mumbling]

I-I was flying the aeroplane.

[indistinct mumbling]

The—we just came from Washington…?

[indistinct mumbling]

S…Sorry, is this Mr. Livingstone?

[indistinct mumbling]

Oh! Oh…I'm…I’m so sorry. Please believe me that I had no…I mean we, that is, I didn't know

[indistinct mumbling]

I mean yes…yes. wrong number. Hehehe! I would never call you for myself, you know I…

[phone hangs up]

I'm…I think she hung up on me!

DOUGLAS: Imagine my surprise!  Well, in that case I'll try directory inquiries…I don’t know if I could bear to watch you do that again.  Out of curiosity, whose number did you dial?

MARTIN: Erm…Stacey from Topshop.

DOUGLAS: Ah, that would explain it. Oh, yes.  Hello. Can you give me the number for…23 Privet Drive, Hackney?…No? Thank you.

[tramping feet]


DOUGLAS: Yes, Arthur, the Metropolitan Police frequently buy large quantities of produce from overseas.  They like to keep tabs on the quality of imported food.

ARTHUR: Really? That's brilliant! I can't wait to meet a real detective when they come to pick them up.

MARTIN: I don't think you will, Arthur.

ARTHUR: Do we have to take them there?

MARTIN: No, I don't think that Scotland Yard ordered the onions.

ARTHUR: But why did they answer then?

DOUGLAS: Arthur, why on earth would the police want onions?

ARTHUR: You just said so that they could keep tabs…

DOUGLAS: [dramatic sigh] No, Arthur, I think that was a false phone number. I don't think anyone is going to pick up those onions.

ARTHUR: Oh! [pause] Skip, I didn't know you liked cats!

MARTIN: No, I don’t like cats. In fact, I'm very allergic to cats.

ARTHUR:  Then why do you have a cat?

MARTIN:  I don’t have a cat!

ARTHUR:  What’s that, then?


ARTHUR: Douglas? Why is there a cat?  Why are his ears so long?  Did you bring him? Is he the airline pet?

MARTIN: No, I'm aller—

DOUGLAS: That's a marvellous idea, Arthur, but I'm afraid we'll have to find something less hairy.


MARTIN: [more strangled noises]

DOUGLAS: Well, I’ve looked him up on my phone -- this cat is a caracal.  Quite rare.  So, if no one has a better idea, I’ll just sell him to an exotic pet fancier. Which might begin to cover the cost of this trip, as I'm afraid Carolyn might not be getting paid after all. I hope you like onions, Arthur?

ARTHUR: Can't we keep him?


ARTHUR: We should find out who he belongs to.

DOUGLAS:  Whoever he belongs to has just cheated your mother out of a lot of money.

MARTIN:  I have to call Carolyn.

DOUGLAS:  I wouldn’t do that if I were you.

MARTIN:  No, I should get it over with.

[phone rings]

Hello, Carolyn.

CAROLYN: What is it now?

MARTIN: Well…a slight problem…

CAROLYN: Martin, never once has a problem of yours been ‘slight.’  What did you do?

MARTIN:  I haven't done anything! [sneeze]

DOUGLAS:  Bless me!  Is that a cat, captain?

MARTIN  [hissing]:  DOUGLAS!

CAROLYN:  I assume, having just arrived from out of the country, that you are about to inform me that Douglas is pulling my leg and there are no animals on board.  [pause]  Except maybe Arthur at mealtimes.

DOUGLASDouglas has never pulled your leg in his—

CAROLYN:  I’m in no mood, Douglas.  Martin!

MARTIN: S-sorry, Carolyn, but our passenger left a cat on board and his numbers don't check out and he may have just cheated us out of…well…I don't know if he's going to pay.

CAROLYN: And if he doesn’t pay, I’m sure you’ll be delighted to bear the cost yourself?

MARTIN:  Well…I don't…

DOUGLAS:  I think that was a rhetorical question, Martin.  The more important one, I think, is what do we do with this cat.  From America.  That was not declared.

CAROLYN:  You’re the ones who decided to take the cat on board, not me.  I fail to see how this is my problem.

DOUGLAS:  But you can hardly fail to see, Carolyn, that this is your airline.

CAROLYN:  An airline that you work for!  Tell me, Douglas, does Customs have a policy concerning dead cats?

DOUGLAS:  I am not sure that customs looks smilingly on companies that transport fauna, living or dead, if it is undeclared.

CAROLYN:  Well, we can’t afford another customs violation.  If they catch so much as a whiff of this—

[Martin sneezes]

—this company will be short two pilots and a steward.

MARTIN:  Carolyn!

CAROLYN: I’m serious, Martin.  If that cat is still around tomorrow, you are all fired.

ARTHUR:  Mum, they—

CAROLYN:  Even you, Arthur.

ARTHUR: But Mum, you don’t even pay—

CAROLYN: I put a roof over your head and I don’t have to if I don’t want to.  That is FINAL!

[phone goes dead]

DOUGLAS:  So, about that chap I know who sells exotic pets…

MARTIN:  No, we'd get into even more trouble!

DOUGLAS: Martin, really—

MARTIN: No—I forbid it, as your captain!

DOUGLAS: Well, then, Captain, do you have any better ideas?

MARTIN:  I…maybe we could…no that wouldn't…but then of course…

DOUGLAS: I rather thought so. 

ARTHUR:  [stifled excitement]

DOUGLAS:  I’m not even asking you, Arthur.

ARTHUR:  But Douglas!  I have a brilliant idea!

DOUGLAS:  If by brilliant you mean—

ARTHUR [speaking over Douglas]:  Martin, there's this BRILLIANT chap; he solves mysteries and chases bad guys and all sorts of things…Oh! you should read his blog.  This chap—He could help you! 

DOUGLAS: Arthur, what are you talking about?

ARTHUR: The Blog! He’s a doctor from the army…and he has a friend…what was his name…

DOUGLAS: Listen, Martin. Give it to me, and I’ll get rid of it for you and we’ll make something of it along the way.

ARTHUR: I KNOW!  It was JOHN WATSON!  And his friend…he has a weird name…You have to go and ask and then you might even get on his blog!  Douglas, let me have your phone, and I’ll show you! 

[several moments of clicking]

Douglas, how do you get to the "o"?

DOUGLAS:  Let me see that.  Are you even on the internet, Arthur?

ARTHUR:  No, hang on, I've got it—wait, who's Sophia, and who's “Chou Chou”? Did you get someone else's text?

DOUGLAS:  Give that to me!  I'll find it!  Okay, tell me the name, again.  But less eardrum-perforatingly loud this time, please.

ARTHUR:  It's just called John Watson's blog…

DOUGLAS [clicking] :  This?


DOUGLAS:  How is this man going to help us?

ARTHUR:  Well, his friend.  I think his page was called science and seduction or something.  I can't remember.  But John's blog is BRILLIANT!

DOUGLAS:  Yes we've established that the blog is brilliant…but not helpful.  Where—

ARTHUR:  Just look at…oh!  That's the chap.  Sherlock Holmes.

[pause with sounds of clicking]

DOUGLAS: Actually, Martin, this does look promising.  I think you should take the cat to him.

MARTIN:  Why do I have to?


DOUGLAS: No, Arthur, you won't.

ARTHUR:  Why not?

DOUGLAS:  Because we have to convince Holmes to take a ridiculous case about a cat and I'm not sure you'll be eloquent enough if you even stop talking to Watson at all.


DOUGLAS:  And while, admittedly, you are no orator, Martin, you were the captain when the incident happened.  I already gave you my solution, and you rejected it.

MARTIN:  Yes.  I am the captain and I’m sure Mr. Sherlock Holmes will recognize a real airline captain when he sees one.

DOUGLAS:  Undoubtedly…


JOHN:  So…you’re doing what?

SHERLOCK: We’re switching places so that I can go back to Walla Walla and examine the scene of the crime myself. 

JOHN:  Is that a good—

SHERLOCK:  Even you noticed the resemblance, John.  It will work perfectly.  He’ll do his best to impersonate me, and—

JOHN:  Are you really sure you can handle that sort of blow to your image?

SHERLOCK:  He may be an idiot—

MARTIN: What?  I—

SHERLOCK: —but I’m sure you will be able to manage him.

MARTIN: I’m an airline—

SHERLOCK:  Do shut up, Martin.  I would never say that I was an airline pilot, so start to practice not mentioning it now. 

JOHN:  But he might mention being the world’s only consulting detective once or twice.  You could start practicing that…

SHERLOCK: I will be able to identify the source of the feline, as well as the identity of the tail you seem to have picked up, Martin.  This case should be closed within 24 hours.

JOHN:  Great.  Anything else?

SHERLOCK: Oh, and be careful with him.

MARTIN:  I can take care of my—

SHERLOCK:  The cat, you idiot. Now start at least pretending to try to act like me, and we’ll switch off.

MARTIN: Won’t you have any trouble acting like an air—



MARTIN AS SHERLOCK:  I’m…I’m not texting too much, am I?

JOHN:  No, it’s—it’s not that.  He texts all the time, but he doesn’t peer down at his phone like that.

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK:  I’m so sorry…it’s the cat.  My eyes…she’s making them all watery.

JOHN:  Here, Sherlock must have some Benadryl around here somewhere…[rattling of medicine bottles]  Ah…well, he opened it, but it looks safe.  Worth taking.


[rattling of bottle]


JOHN:  You can get your own…I mean, the safe glasses are in that cupboard right over the microwave but don’t touch anything on that—You know what, I’ll get you some water.

[running tap]



JOHN:  UGH!  What the—is this…Sherlock!  What did you feed this cat?

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK:  I- I didn’t.  I mean.  Well he looked hungry and I saw…in the refrigerator and—

JOHN:  From THAT refrigerator?  Meat?

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK:  Yes, it looked—

JOHN:  Martin, there is—

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK:  You should say Sher—

JOHN:  I KNOW!  But NEVER eat anything from that refrigerator unless you’ve put it there yourself or you’ve asked me first.


JOHN:  [under his breath]  I guess I have to clean—

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK:  No, John!  I’ll get it.  I can—[sounds of stumbling and knocking into beakers and opening drawers]

JOHN:  I—Fine.  Thank you.  But just—well, in the future, I mean—Sherlock probably wouldn’t…

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK: Wouldn’t what?

JOHN: Never mind.


ARTHUR: Wow!  This is brilliant

DOUGLAS  [tiredly]:  Yes.

ARTHUR:  We have MARTIN with us!

DOUGLAS:  Remember what I told you about…I hate to call it “winking”…

ARTHUR:  Of course, but you know…He might introduce us to his friend

DOUGLAS:  Yes, Arthur—you do know that it’s better that we not talk about this?  Or maybe not to talk at all?

ARTHUR:  Of course.  Silence is my middle name.

DOUGLAS:  And I suppose “genius” is your last?

ARTHUR: Arthur Silence Shappey.  Genius.  Yep, that’s me.

DOUGLAS:   [Dramatic sigh]

ARTHUR:  DOUGLAS!!!!!!!  LOOK AT THIS!!!!! A FORT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Do you think that MARTIN will want to go?  There could be a mystery there! 

DOUGLAS:  Yes, Arthur, that’s a fort museum.  There isn’t actually a fort there.

ARTHUR:  A museum!  I love museums!  I bet MARTIN does too.

DOUGLAS: Well, Arthur, no one’s stopping you from going to a museum…

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN [panting]: I am.  Arthur, we’re doing what Sherlock said and not causing any unnecessary trouble.

DOUGLAS: This from the fellow who just got detained by Customs for four full hours?

ARTHUR: Do you think they figured out you were MARTIN?


ARTHUR:  Yeah, but…you know…

DOUGLAS:  Anyway, I’m going to a Starbucks or something.

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN:  I thought you hated Starbucks?

DOUGLAS:   Yes, but at least I know what it is.  I don’t trust anything else out here in the wilderness.

ARTHUR:  Oh look, there’s one near the fort!

DOUGLAS [quietly]:  Did you teach him how to use a GPS, Martin?

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN:  No.  And Arthur, we’re not going to the fort!

ARTHUR:  Ooh! 

DOUGLAS:  You know, you could go there by yourself.

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN:  No, he can’t!  I actually want to go home, Douglas!

DOUGLAS: You can’t until everything’s been resolved.  You said so yourself.

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN: When did I—oh!  Right.  I did.

DOUGLAS:  Well, if you want to go with him, we’ll hire a car.  You can drop me off at Starbucks. 

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN:  [sigh]  Fine.  Come on, partner.


[sound of door opening as well as sound of someone bouncing up and down]

JOHN:  All right, the cat’s upstairs, so you shouldn’t have to worry about…what the…

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK: The fuselage of the aeroplane is a long, thin body, often cylindrical, and usually with tapered or rounded ends to make its shape aerodynamically smooth.

JOHN:  Why are you…?

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK: A vertical stabiliser is  a vertical surface mounted at the rear of the plane and typically protruding above it. The vertical stabiliser stabilises the plane's yaw and mounts the rudder which controls its rotation along that axis.

JOHN: Stop jumping!.

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK: I don’t…I mean…I—I think I must be having an allergic reaction to the er—

JOHN: [sigh] Side effect of the Benadryl.  Just get off the sofa, okay?

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK:  A horizontal stabiliser or elevator, or tailplane, is mounted at the tail of the plane, near the vertical stabiliser. The horizontal stabiliser is used to stabilise the plane's pitch and mounts the elevators which provide pitch control. A fixed portion of the elevators may be omitted in which case it is termed an all flying tail.

JOHN:  Martin!

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK:  Some planes use a front-mounted canard instead of a rear-mounted—S-sorry, I just can’t seem to focus long enough to…

JOHN: No, it’s…it’s fine.  Sort of like Sherlock actually…though, maybe if you talked a bit more about death.

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK: Never stand behind a jet engine?

JOHN:  No, not really…Mortality statistics, maybe…

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK: So, if I’m acting like Sherlock, maybe I should take more Benadryl later?

JOHN: That might be a good…

[sound of body hitting the floor]

JOHN: Yeah, never mind…you just…sleep it off…


ARTHUR:  That was BRILLIANT!  Let’s go through again!

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN:  Arthur…look, we’re in the gift shop, don’t you want to—

[sound of running feet]

ARTHUR [from farther away]:  WOW!!!

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN: I was going to say “find a cup of tea,” but—


SHERLOCK AS MARTIN:  Arthur, it’s Bungalow—

ARTHUR: I’m getting one! 

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN: Fine, Arthur, just let me answer this text…

ARTHUR:  Hey, Skip!  Do you want some ice cream?  Like what you get in the cinema, but WE AREN’T IN A CINEMA!

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN: Er…well…what kinds are there?




SHERLOCK AS MARTIN:  Eugh!  Arthur, just—Just get me vanilla!

ARTHUR:  Righto Yeehaw Skip!

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN: Now if I can just find the “send” button…

ARTHUR:  Hey, Skip—remember the time we were off without Douglas and you let the air out of the tires under the bridge?

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN:  What?  No, I—stupid phone…

ARTHUR: Oh, right, MARTIN!

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN:  I have explained to you that that isn’t winking, right?

ARTHUR:  Wow!  You’re good, pardner!  Have y’all self ya’ll some y’all ice cream!

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN: Arthur, this tastes horrible! I said I wanted vanilla.

ARTHUR: I know but I saw this kind, and it sounded much

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN: Arthur, you can’t mean…

ARTHUR: I mean, Imagine! If there really were blue bunnies! It’d be BRILLIANT!  And look, it comes with its own little spoon!

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN: [groan]  Well, I’m going to—


SHERLOCK AS MARTIN:  Seriously, Arthur.  I’m going to find the loo!

[fading sounds of ARTHUR GLEE!]


JOHN: Yes…yes…okay we'll be right in.

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK: What was that? Who…where are we going?

JOHN: That was Lestrade. We're going to New Scotland Yard because he has some information. Now, Martin, Lestrade knows about this, but no one else does, so you're going to have to be…well…just be mysterious and rude and…Sherlocky

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK: Yes, yes, of course. How do I…

JOHN: For starters, don't be as quick to say "yes." And insult them. A lot.

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK:  I’m sure I can—

JOHN: I'm sorry Martin, but you’re too nice.  You're going to have to try to be a bit more of a git.  Act like you think you're the most important person in the room!

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK: But I'm used to that!  I'm the captain.

JOHN: Yes, well you don't really act like it.


JOHN: Martin. This is serious! [pause] Also…when you walk by mirrors, be sure to peek at them.

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK: I don't do tha—

JOHN: No, Sherlock does. I've seen him.



BARISTA AT STARBUCKS:  A pilot?  Then you must be the captain!

DOUGLAS:  Yes, that would seem to be the logical conclusion, mademois—

[phone rings]

DOUGLAS: One moment…Hello, Martin.  You have impeccable timing. 

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN:  Douglas, I’ve lost Mar—I mean Arthur!!!!

DOUGLAS:  How do you lose a grown—


DOUGLAS:  Have you tried calling very loudly?


DOUGLAS:  Look,  I’m sure he’s just playing Cowboys and Indians or some other equally puerile American—

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN: I’ve been through the museum twice over, the gift shop three times, the men’s toilet.  I was going to try the lad—

DOUGLAS:  Yes, yes, I see your point.  Clearly I’m going to have to come over and sort it out. 

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN:  No, that won’t be necessary—I have everything under control.

DOUGLAS:  Which is, presumably, why you called.  [whispering] Martin would almost certainly have been stupid or unlucky enough to lose Arthur.  So, bravo for that.  But if you think you can get away with this just because you're in character! You do know I could make your life quite miserable if I called any of your relations…Sherlock?

SHERLOCK AS MARTIN:  Do…er, do you want me to find him, then?

DOUGLAS:  Obviously.  Call me when you’re done.


[sounds of papers falling]

JOHN:  Sherlock! 

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK:  I’m so sorry!  I’m so, so…Here, let me help…

[sounds of other stuff falling]

JOHN:  No it’s fine.  It’s fine, just help me with these…Oh!  Look at this picture.  Sherlock, isn’t that the cat…

ARTIN AS SHERLOCK: Y-ye-no, it's a different cat. Ours is back at the flat

JOHN: I meant the breed.

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK:  Yes, of course, the Calarac…

JOHN:  [whispered] CARACAL!

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK:  Yes, the very caracal we have at the flat.  What are two of them doing—

JOHN:  [whispered] Just…stop talking, Sherlock wouldn’t…

LESTRADE: [loudly to cover up]  Picture was taken two days ago; woman in Tower Hamlets was fined for unsanitary living conditions due to too many cats.

JOHN:  Really…You know, this is an unusual breed.  Can I just…

LESTRADE:  Take as many pictures as you like.  At least I don’t have to explain missing evidence…

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK: So…what did you bring us in for? [pause] Whatever it is I’m sure it’s pathetic…

LESTRADE:  Sherlock, we’re not…

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK:  Sorry!  I mean…I didn’t mean…

JOHN: [whispering]  No, you were doing well.

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK:  I mean you’re all stupid!  And I’m not. 

JOHN:  [whispering]  Could you be a little…oh, this will never fool anyone!

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK:  What are you on about, you imbecile!  I should never have…

[text alert]

JOHN:  [loudly]  Sherlock!  What about the cat?  You seemed interested in that?


JOHN:  Could you look up from your phone for one minute and…

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK:  Yes, so, as you brainless bunch might have noticed, this cat is clearly not the normal cat-lady fare.  So…we should go to…Where is this lady, Lestrade?

LESTRADE: Winterfield Apartments, in Tower Hamlets.  I’ll text you the address.

MARTIN AS SHERLOCK:  So we should go there, and interview her.  I won’t be needing you Lestrade.  Or any of your brainless…policemen…people?  Policepeople…Anyway, John and I…

JOHN:  Let’s just go, then?

[door shutting]


goldvermilion87: (Default)
Here is all my fan fiction  (with a smattering of poetry and essays) organized by fandom for convenience.

Everything is gen.  All works are complete unless I state otherwise.

List under the cut )
Pedantic Fanfic Author Note:  I am slightly (read: freakishly) obsessed with keeping my own headcanon, and consequently the stories I write in it, internally consistent as well as consistent with actual canon.  I have written several stories, however which are not internally consistent, and which I am not willing (or  able) to make so.  So I have split my Sherlock stories into My Sherlock Universe and Outliers. (I'll come up with some clever non-totally-stupid name for my headcanon universe eventually...)  The outliers were either written before I had my own headcanon well established, were an interesting AU concept, or were pure crack.    :-) 
This is as much for my own benefit as it is for the benefit of any readers. 

My Sherlock Universe

1 April, 1983
And So Hold On
Comments on a blog entry
The Expendables
From this day forward
Happy New Year
How many licks...
I Should've Known Better

In the Nick of time... ...Or Not
One Eye in the Mirror
One Step AheadWhere Dreams Come True (collaboration with [ profile] labourslamp .  WIP)
Another Christmas Dinner
Bally 221B
The Frailty of Genius
 Basil the Warrior? (Great Mouse Detective fic)
Famous Last Words
Noddy Boffin, Private Ear
Not Always Greener (Limerick)
Second Time Pays for All  (Part of a 5+1 collaboration spearheaded by [ profile] capt_facepalm.)
tic(k)s   (poem)

Five times Spock did NOT want a pet, and one time he did
Game Night
Mission Aborted (Limerick)
Mostly Harmless
New in Town
Or could it?
The Star to Every Wand'ring Bark (WIP)
A Study in Friendship
Why doesn't this update when I re-upload from lj?
goldvermilion87: (Default)
Thanks [ profile] litlover12 and [ profile] capt_facepalm for EMERGENCY beta help!

L'esprit de l'escalier

“Come on, Keel!”

“But…”  He looked longingly back toward the lake.  “Rye… You know what Sh—“

“Bob said that he heard someone found an old… ped?… that they used to have to carry around before–”

“Eye-pad.”  Keel looked smug.

“Bob said they–”

“Bob says people used to talk to people through wires.  He doesn’t know anything.”

Rye looked sullen for a moment, but then he grinned.  “This is where Bob found those coins – real metal ones.  From before the war.”

Keel looked at him suspiciously.  “Okay…  But remember it’s your idea.  If we get in trouble…”

“We won’t.  Come on!”

Rye ran up the rickety stairs (one step missing) and Keel followed slowly.  It was their third house in the deserted district – one of only five still standing on that block.  As usual, the room at the top was mainly full of burned furniture – the kind of you’d see in in piles in the park, being picked over by old people.  The boys looked around. 

There were a few odds and ends in the corner.  Rye started rifling through them.  He found a fork and a piece of curled metal.  And a sword?   Bob hadn’t even found one of those!  He pulled away the wood and soot, but it was just a disappointingly round tube of light metal. 

“Any coins?”

“Nope.”  Rye looked over to where Keel was pulling at the metal door of the cooking station – the old kind that had fires and was really dangerous, Bob said.  Once they found a big pan and some sort of bone they’d never seen before in an old cooking station. 

The metal door came open with a crash.  “Eugh!  They… Bob never said…”  Keel stopped talking and stared into the cooking station with horror.

Rye walked to him and looked in, too.  A skull – a human skull – was sitting in the oven.  “Cool!”  He grinned.  Keel was edging back towards the door. 

“I’m going back home.  If we touch that we’ll be in so much trouble!”  He started down the stairs.  “You coming?”

Rye looked behind him to see that Keel was really down the stairs and then popped the skull into the large rucksack on his back.  He wanted to look at it later because… Well, it wasn’t every day you found a house that had been owned by cannibals.

goldvermilion87: (Default)
I wrote this for sherlockmas, and had to hide it back in my f-list. 

goldvermilion87: (Default)
Retirement era 221B ficlet

The Buzz

“Three weeks now and you’ve still not seen him?”

“No.”  George took another deliberate bite from his biscuit.

“Susan says they both came in for breakfast one morning.  He hardly ate a bite, but drank five, six cups of coffee, she says.   One of those horrid earwigs climbed on the table.  Susan was bringing a cup of coffee and nearly fainted, she says.  He picked it up in his hand and let it run all over the table.  John didn’t even notice.  Just kept eating.  Imagine!  On the table!”  Maggie shuddered.

“Well,”  George considered his tea before taking a sip.


George drew a carefully folded paper from his pocked, unfolded it, smoothed out its creases, and then passed it to his wife.

“George, what is this?   This will not be your new hobby.  We agreed on cars when you retire!  Why did you buy that old Triumph if not to…”

“From the other one – with the leg.”


George shrugged.

“That’s his name, George.  But why did he give it to you?”

George was walking slowly towards his overstuffed chair.  “Didn’t want him to see.”

“I suppose… Tess says he was a detective inspector in London – famous, she says.  And of course, if you picked up earwigs, George, I know I would not be giving you any ideas about bees!”
goldvermilion87: (Default)
Now in my Sherlock headcanon, Sherlock called Mycroft "Crofty" when he was little.

Which is timely, since I am in the midst of a story about wee!Sherlock for [ profile] sherlockmas.  :-D
goldvermilion87: (Default)
Several months after the trip to Disneyland Paris an email was sent from John's account to every single person in his email address book.  It contained only these pictures:

Email under the cut )
goldvermilion87: (Default)
Guess the crossover!   (Also includes inside joke for those who follow Would I Lie to You? religiously.  Which ought to be all of you.  Just sayin'.)  Also, thank you [ profile] capt_facepalm for the invaluable titling help.  AKA:  Giving me a title.

A Couple of Flakes

“Flake, please.”

One of the men in the van pulled out an ice cream cone, while the other leaned against the back wall and closed his eyes.

“You wouldn’t…” The customer lowered his voice conspiratorially.  “You wouldn’t give me… two flakes, would you?”

The man serving the ice cream nodded his head, but the other said “No!” quite loudly without opening his eyes.  The first just rolled his eyes and picked up another flake... and cursed when it snapped in half.

The customer grinned.  “Having an ice cream van must be brilliant!  Do you drive all over the country?”

“I don’t know, we only just bought it.”

“BRILLIANT!  We almost bought an ice cream van once.  I would love to be in a van with ice cream all the—”


“Sorry chaps, that’s my mum.  Thanks!”  And he dashed off.  “COMING, MUM!”

“Well, that’s three customers now.  Enough data yet?”


goldvermilion87: (Default)
Gift fic for [ profile] kcscribbler at [ profile] holmestice.

For You I'll Try

“We hoped you might be interested in—”

“The bite on her neck? Dull. You called me out at three in the morning for this, Detective Inspector?”

“Well we thought—”

“Thought? None of you think! We are at the midnight showing of Breaking Dawn! What else could this be if not the work of overzealous Twihards?”

“Overzealous what? Twi—?”

Twilight fans. Keep up! Obvious. But I may as well close the case since I’ve travelled all the way here. If I start interviewing the audience now, I’ll have this solved before morning. Send them to the projection room.”

“No, Sherlock. I’m not leaving you alone with anyone.” Dimmock considered for a moment. “But I’ll let you lead… if you like?”

Sherlock snorted.

“And you are absolutely positive that you did not drink her blood? Look at the picture! This isn’t your handiwork? It doesn’t look familiar?”

“I — I don’t…” The girl sniffled.

Dimmock looked at Sherlock and cleared his throat. “Erm… are you sure this is a line of questioning…”

“Yes. So, Lauren, the last time you participated in any sort of vampiric—”


Sherlock turned to the man stood in the doorway. “John! Late as ever! But it is fortunate you are here. I was just questioning Miss Lauren about…”

“Questioning her?”

Sherlock blinked. “That is… asking her if she would like to leave now since I have all the information that I need.”


Dimmock handed the sobbing girl a handkerchief as she walked out the door.

John rounded on Sherlock. “A twelve year old girl, Sherlock? Really?”

“Evil is not limited to…”

John glared.

“But I’m done interviewing people here. I will text you in the morning, Detective Inspector.”

Dimmock stared after them as they exited the theatre.


“IT’S EDWARD!!!!!!!”

Girls everywhere. Screaming. Taking photographs and videos on their iPhones.

John tried to shove past. Sherlock didn’t try very hard.


Sherlock grabbed a proffered number before John managed to pull him into the taxi. Sherlock smiled and waved to the girls outside the window until John grabbed his collar, and shook him.

“How many times have I told you, Sherlock, never to make pronouncements about a case.”

“John, it’s obvious! It really is! I solved the case on my own — I saved you a boring case! A murder victim with a bite on her neck at a Twilight film opening? Any idiot could see that…”

“The victim was killed by blunt force trauma, not exsanguination!”


“Draining of blood. Vampires. No one had sucked her blood. And you, Sherlock — You will not even say the word ‘idiot’ unless you are referring to yourself or performing a line I’ve written for you. You may be a good actor, but you’re a rubbish detective. Don’t forget it!”

“Dimmock is a rubbish…”

“Compared to you, he is a genius.”

Sherlock huffed and stared out the window for a few moments. Then he tensed, and turned with wide open eyes. “But I’m with you all the time, John. You’re a brilliant detective. I think it’s rubbing off on me.”

John coughed “Yes, well… still…” He took his turn staring out the cab window before he continued. “But only an idiot would have come to a Twilight showing with glitter all over his face. Why do you have glitter on your face?”

“It was for an experiment!”

“We both know that you never experiment.”

“I was looking for something.”

“You were looking for the cigarettes? The ones I confiscated!”

“Well it’s your glitter.”

“I thought I told you to stay away from my things.”

“Why do you have glitter anyway?”

John cleared his throat. “For an experiment. You’re paying the cabbie, by the way.”

Sherlock was humming to himself as he started the kettle.

“What are you so happy about?”


“You didn’t…” John walked into the kitchen and stared hard at Sherlock. “You didn’t find the cigarettes?”

“No, of course not. You hid them. I was just browsing YouTube.”

“Cat videos?”

“No, actually. You might be surprised to learn this, but I’ve become a very popular man.”

“We’ve gone over this, Sherlock. I am the one who is popular. You are just my face — my stand-in!”

“This time the face is working for itself. Look!” Sherlock turned the laptop toward John.

“Is that… is that you at the cinema?”

“Yes. I’m quite popular. I got four numbers at Tesco this morning.”

“Sherlock! Those girls are too young for you!”

“No, no. Nothing like that. Twimoms, John. Twimoms.”

“I don’t…” John grimaced. “Sherlock, how…” He walked out of the kitchen. “Why do I bother?”


Sherlock shoved something into his pocket.

“Was that… were those fake teeth?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do. Now give them…”

“That’s the doorbell, John!”

“Fine. Sherlock. This is a very important witness to our murder. His name is Howard Jones. He has read the Twilight series seven times. He is failing Maths and Chemistry. His girlfriend’s name is Melinda McGovern. And he ate a McDonald’s double cheeseburger meal just before he came here. Do your most supercilious version, yeah?”

“I need the explanations!”

“We don’t have time. Ad lib! That’s the only way you ever made it through a stage performance, right? He’ll never know that you’re talking complete rubbish.”

There was a knock at the door.

Sherlock sank into a chair, cleared his throat, and began speaking in a deep voice, “Come in, Howard.”

Howard shuffled into the room, and stared out the window.

“Thinking about that cheeseburger, Howard?”

Howard jumped and turned to Sherlock. “H-how?”

“Obvious from the smudge on your cuff and a slight trace of ketchup around your lips. Any idiot could see from the color that it was from the McDonald’s between here and your house.”

John rolled his eyes. Howard gaped at Sherlock. But he collected himself and began staring out the window again.

“So, why are you here, Howard?” Sherlock looked at John.

Howard looked back to Sherlock. “You know! You sent me that te—“

“Ah the text. That makes sense. You remember the text, John?”

“The one that said ‘I know what she did’?”

“Yes, that one. You are here about that text, are you Howard?”

“Yes, I am.”

“So you know I know what she did. Now that you know what I know what are you going to do to make sure that no one knows what I know?”

“So… You know?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well, tell me what you know, then!”

Sherlock turned to John. “I just told you this morning, didn’t I, John?”

“We know that your girlfriend, Melinda, killed Julianne.”

Sherlock nodded sagely.

“Because Melinda thought you liked Julianne. Isn’t that right, Sherlock?”

“Yes. Obvious.”

“And for some reason that I’m sure Sherlock will tell you, you are pretending you were the murderer.”

The boy stared at Sherlock. “H-how did you know that?”

John gritted his teeth. “Yes, Sherlock. How? You didn’t explain it this morning.”

“Erm…” Sherlock glared at a spot above John’s shoulder as he rattled off, “Well, it’s obvious from your stance and from the way you hold your right had that you aren’t a murderer. And the way you jumped when John said ‘Melinda’ proves that what I told him this morning is absolutely true. And the cut of your trousers shows that you like violent women. So clearly your girlfriend is the murderer. Am I right?”

Howard looked into the middle distance, and put his hand over his heart. “No. You’re wrong. I don’t want to be a monster. But I am. And Julianne… she smelled so appallingly luscious. Her number was up the first time I met her.”

“Sorry, what?”

“I was a lion. I fell in love with a lamb!”

“I-I don’t… I can’t…” Sherlock stopped.

“Sherlock, are you crying?” Neither Sherlock nor Howard acknowledged John. After a few minutes of silence he cleared his throat. “Well… Sherlock has proof that you did no such thing, Howard. And we’ve already called Detective Inspector Dimmock, so you might as well tell us what really happened.”

Suddenly, Howard burbled, “I… Yes. Yes! Melinda truly believed that she cared for me more than I cared for her. But she doesn’t! Melinda is exactly my kind of heroin. I never looked at Julianne. But Melinda decided to fight for me. She… she wanted to scare Julianne off, but there was a fight, and Julianne hit the back of her head. Melinda thought if we made something like a bite mark on her neck, it would look like vampires had done it, and throw you off the scent. Mr. Holmes, you have to believe that no one wanted anyone to be dead. And now… It’s like Jacob and Edward all over again. But worse! Because then no one died.”

“Actually, if I remember correctly quite a few people—“

“Shut up, Sherlock!”

“Sorry, John.”

“Howard, if you would continue?”

“There’s no more to say. But I will take the blame. It is for her sake. I would do anything to protect her — even give up my own life.”

Sherlock was nodding his head.

“No, you won’t!”

Sherlock gasped.

“Really Sherlock?”

“Please don’t tell the police, Mr. Holmes.”

“Of course I won’t. I would never—”

“Yes, he will! Sherlock, you will be informing the police of the truth.”

“I — Yes. Yes, I will.”


Howard started crying.

“John! Look at this.”


Sherlock pointed to his computer, opened to a blog, “Dazzling Devotion.”

“Howard wrote a blog about the case?”

“It’s received almost ten times as many hits as your post — ‘The Unsuccessful Vampire’ you called it? Appropriate, don’t you think?” He grinned.

“Shut up.”

“Admit it, no one really wants to read your — John!” Sherlock’s face fell. “Look at the comments he’s getting from those girls! ‘Marry me!’ ‘I want to have your babies!’ ‘XOXO’. How did… Howard was hideous! Coming after me made sense, but after that… And the pictures. Look at that one. What self-respecting… that can’t be — Lisa?!?! I thought we were going out this evening!” Sherlock slammed the lid of his laptop down. “I can’t… I’m done with Twilight and Twihards forever!”

“That’s a relief… though I hate to think what you might do the next time you are desperate for a girlfriend…”

“Ah! Thank you for the reminder!” Sherlock was grinning again. “You have no grounds to twit me about that. I may not be the investigative genius that the world thinks I am. But I’m not entirely useless.”

“Oh?” John looked wary.

“Yes, John. I’ve solved something all on my own — the mystery of the glitter can.”

“You did?”

“Yes. I looked through your phone.”

“What? It’s password—”

“No, you asked me to send a text this morning. I returned my phone instead.”

“Oh. I wondered why no one called today.”

“So the glitter is from that teacher — Jeanette? You were helping her make Valentine’s Day cards for her students.”

John turned very red.

“I didn’t know that you liked handicrafts.”

“I was just trying to be helpful!”

“No, you were desperate. How did that go for you anyway?”

John had turned very red. “How did it go? How did it go? Do you remember when I was on a date two weeks ago and you walked into the restaurant asking for my help because you had a bill collector on your tail and you needed money?”

“Erm… vaguely?”

“Yes. Do you also remember that the girl left with you?”


“Yes.” John stomped into the kitchen.

“Yes… well then… John? I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

“It’s always a bad time, Sherlock!”

“Yes, well, you should know that a Sarah Sawyer has been texting you all day. And also that you may have invited her to see Breaking Dawn this evening.”

“I did what?!?”

“John! Just… Before you do anything rash. Here are the tickets. She said yes!”

Author's Note: This is a Sherlock / Without a Clue fusion. All credit goes to the copyright holders of those two SH adaptations. Title from that hilarious song by Bruno Mars.
goldvermilion87: (sherlock in disneyland)
You have all probably forgotten this fic by now, but I made these pictures to accompany it, and now I am finally posting them! I did all the editing on pixlr.  It was a blast!  :-D

What we did on our holiday 

Sherlock.  John.  Disneyland Paris.

From Act I: 

MYCROFT: Just one more thing. According to my sources you once fancied yourself an amateur photographer. You will find a camera in your bedroom when you get home. I am expecting photographic evidence that my brother has indeed spent two days in Disneyland.

JOHN: Fine.

See the rest under the cut )
goldvermilion87: (Default)
Written for [ profile] watsons_woes challenge 022. An AU challenge where one changed decision sets up for a hurt/comfort scenario. I love writing properly Sherlockian hurt/comfort!

What Hurts the Most

“I don’t think so… do you?”

John looked at Irene for several seconds before he let out a grim snort, shook his head, and followed Sherlock out of the Power Station.

“So, she’s alive, then?  How do…”

“Yes, thank you for telling me.  I’d never have known otherwise.”

John cleared his throat.  “I just thought you might…”

“Want to talk about it?” Sherlock sneered.  “All lives end, John.  Caring is not an advantage.  You know I am logical and reasonable and yet…”

“Yes.  Fine.  We’re here now. I won’t bother you about—Sherlock!  I didn’t bring my wallet!  You need to pay him!”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and reached into his pocket. Suddenly he froze.


He handed his wallet back and approached the door.

“Sherlock, what—”

He held up his hand.  “There’s someone here.”

John crouched inside the kitchen door and waited for the signal.  He could hear everything clearly through the open partition. 

“I dislike being outnumbered.  It makes for too much stupid in the room.” John rolled his eyes. 

He heard the outer door slam behind the two men.  It was almost time.  He stood up straight and stepped toward the living room and then…


Neilson spun around at the sound from the kitchen, gun ready.  Sherlock rolled his eyes.


And Neilson was down in seconds.

Mrs. Hudson ran towards the sound of cursing, while Sherlock hoisted the unconscious agent onto the seat she had just vacated. 

“John!  John are you alright?”

“No, I’m not!”  I’ve got…” he broke into another string of curses. 

“Language, John!”  Sherlock walked into the room and his let out one barking laugh.  “What did you—”

“Don’t you sodding laugh!  It was – AGH!”

“Here, Sherlock dear, help me get him up.”

Sherlock shrugged, stepped over the belt of shattered glass and held out a hand.  John glared at him, but took it anyway, and pulled himself up.

“OW!”  More cursing.

“Yes, yes, doctor, you just let it out.  Did Sherlock leave something on the floor?”

“Yes!  It was that…  Now you decide you’ll play squash with me, Sherlock?”

“Yes, John.  Being sarcastic will make you feel much better. 

“Well, why–”

“All sport is boring. You know I will never–”

“Then why was my squash ball on the kitchen floor?!”

“You see where you are going, but you don’t–”

“You aren’t answering my question.  And maybe I would have seen it if I hadn’t been staring at the chemistry set that was about to make contact with my–”

“You had no reason to see the chemistry set until after you slipped.  And that was an important experiment!  Hours of work!  Idiot!”

John straightened a bit – then winced.  “Sherlock.  It wasn’t anything toxic?”

“What?  No you’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, I’m sure that...”

“Boys!  Would you stop fighting!  You still look like you’re in pain.  Help me get him to the chair, Sherlock!”

John shoved her hand off.  “No!”

“John, let me see if you’re hurt.”

“You were just tortured!  I should be helping you.  You need rest.  You should get out of the city for a bit.”

“Don’t be an idiot, John.  Mrs. Hudson belongs here.”

“Yes, he’s right, you know.  I was pretending a bit.”

“May I have it, then?”

“Of course.  You left it in the pocket of your second best dressing gown, you clot!”

John gawped at Mrs. Hudson as she passed Irene Adler’s camera phone to Sherlock.

“Really, John.  I’m surprised at you.  You’ve known Mrs. Hudson for nearly a year!”

“Yes but I didn’t…” He hissed.  “Well I’ll just leave you to your mutual admiration society, then?”

“No, John!  We need to get you to a chair.”

“No!”  John stumbled forward a few steps.

Sherlock smirked and Mrs. Hudson gasped. 

“Oh you poor dear!  That’s a lot of glass!”

“A bit less than seven eighths of a graduated cylinder, I’d say.”

“Shut up, Sherlock!”

John lay face-down on the couch. 

“I’ve taken the larger pieces out, but this would be much easier if you would just take your trousers off.”

“It would be even easier if he took his pants off, Mrs. Hudson.”

“Shut up, Sherlock!”

“I’m trying to be sensitive.  It wouldn’t hurt you to try as well sometimes, dear.”

“I want Sherlock to leave the room.”

“I need him to help.  I’m sorry, John.”

“It’s not that bad, Mrs. Hudson.  I’m sure whatever is left won’t hurt—”

“Not your best idea, John.”

John craned his neck to look at Sherlock.  “I thought you said it wasn’t toxic.”

“Not too toxic.”

John groaned.  “Mrs. Hudson are you sure you want me to…”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Fine, then.  Just… does he have to watch?”

“No problem.”  Sherlock punched the agent, who had just begun to blink his eyes, back into oblivion.

“It doesn’t look like it needs stitches.  Just something to prevent infection.  Sherlock?”

Mrs. Hudson dabbed the liquid Sherlock handed her onto John’s bottom. 

“Agh!  That stings.”

“Don’t behave like an infant, John.”

“I’m not...”

“Good as new, John.  You can pull your trousers back up.”

John started to reach for his pants when he heard a sound.

“You did not just take a picture, Sherlock!”

“Useful data, John.  You wouldn’t put your dignity above bringing murderers to justice, would you?”

John held out his hand imperiously.



“One picture.  For cases!”

John closed his eyes and dropped his head back onto the couch cushion.  “Okay.  As long as you’re the one cleaning up the mess in the kitchen.”


Sherlock almost looked guilty as he dropped his camera into his pocket.  John glared at him from behind the shower curtain.

Why are you still trying to take pictures of my bottom?”

“Data, John.  Who can say when it might be relevant?”

“Sherlock, you do not just come in here while I am…”  He stopped.  His eyes narrowed.

“Sherlock, you’ve seen wounds heal before.”

“Of course.  Not exactly like…”

“No.  There is no reason for you to be interested unless… Sherlock, come back here!”

Sherlock peeked back into the bathroom.

“Sherlock, what did you give Mrs. Hudson to put on my bottom?!?!?!” 

“Text from Lestrade.  Case.  I’m off.”  He slammed the door just in time to stop a very wet, and very angry John Watson from throttling him.


Jun. 11th, 2012 10:49 pm
goldvermilion87: (Default)
I reopened a Sherlock casefic that I tabled last year.  I have time now that it's Summer.

But to my horror, I found this sentence:

“Sherlock, you have yet to explain to me why you want to go to America.  What is it about Joe’s gossip that has suddenly moved you to action?”

This is why I need to take time away from a story -- so I notice the horrible voices I am inflicting on the characters.

And also so I can have a good giggle.


goldvermilion87: (Default)

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