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Harry Knows BestJohn's in Waterstones Piccadilly when he gets the text. He's trying to decide on a Christmas present for Mrs Hudson. She'd expressed an interest in the new Nigella Lawson cookbook, but Jamie Oliver was on offer and he'd seen her get teary during an episode of his American series, when he was dressed as a pod of peas and being mobbed by children in a playground. Usually this would end up with the man being put on a register, but on celebrities it is apparently charming to be covered in kids. "Such a lovely boy..." she'd said, her eyes sliding towards Sherlock, who was attacking a cushion so he could study the scatter pattern of feathers when
Curl Up and Dye SxJIt should be amusing actually, John thinks to himself. Had he really just not let himself notice? He'd been living with a man who forced him to notice things, who got disappointed in John when he couldn't see something that to Sherlock was just so bloody obvious it didn't even need one whole brain cell to notice it, work out what it meant and file it away. He had a feeling that if Sherlock had even the first inkling of what John was thinking now he'd get that look on his face which Mrs Clarkson would get when he handed in an essay on Alexander Pope late, riddled with spelling mistakes. "Really, John you must try harder next time."
I'm Slowly Turning Into YouThe bus was crowded. It was crowded and noisy and he had forgotten his book. Hopeful, he took his iPod from his pocket. Damn, the battery was dead. Had he forgotten to plug it in last night? No, he hadn't forgotten, but Sherlock was using his laptop and he had been too tired to fight him for it.
He was bone tired tonight, too, and feeling more than a bit stroppy because of it. There was a particularly virulent upper respiratory bug making the rounds and it had managed to cut the surgery's staff by a third over the last few days, leading John to step in and pick up extra shifts. Good for the paycheck, bad for getting enough rest, and he was f
We Got Lost - Pt1Sherlock Holmes :: finalproblem
We Got Lost (Part 1)
It took me a very long while to realize. Too long. And when I did finally realize, I figured I was just insane. There was no other logical explanation.
It started out pretty slowly At first, it was just that I couldn't get enough of his cases and all the excitement that went with them. I was about as eager for a new mystery as he was.
I wanted all my time to be spent with him, out tracking down criminals and unraveling complicated schemes and plots, and though I was too wrapped up at the time to notice, I had slowly began to drift away from Sarah. I started to decline her in
Cupid. Mike Cupid. SxJAlright, this was an absolute piss take. The higher ups had gone mental, maybe it was something to do with the bad winter or the economic downturn or sodding X-Factor but someone had clearly gone loopy. And now Mike was paying the price.
It had been a normal Tuesday morning. A sudden lurch into consciousness as the alarm made that tinny invasive beeping sound, followed by the usual morning routine of staggering to the bathroom and performing the daily ablutions. Gargling his Listerine Mike had the sudden feeling that it might actually be a good day. His teaching duties were fairly light, he'd done most of his marking, seminar and lecture pre
Sherlock, John, and BirdsSherlock Holmes was having one of those days. The world was bright and cheerful outside, the birds were chirping, John had just come back from doing the shopping for the week and was putting away the groceries next to the eyeballs, and Sherlock couldn't concentrate because...
"There's too much damn noise!" He rubbed his head furiously and put his head in his hands rubbing at his temples. He had one massive headache.
"Oh Sherlock, would you just wait a minute, I'm almost done. It's not like I want to be doing this you know."
"It's those stupid birds out the window," He gets up, and makes a face "with their flitting about chirping and maki
The Inexplicable Contest One day, a very ordinary, unassuming day, God and Satan sat together on the edge of the world, watching the Earth with something mildly resembling dissatisfaction. The world was, if it can be so, at peace. Neither good nor bad, stuck in limbo in between. Both were distressed, as the world must be leaning toward one or the other, or life would simply be too boring. And so, the Lord of Heaven, and the Prince of Darkness decided, for the sake of the world, a contest was in order. Each would create an angel, and the angel on completion would be placed in England. The citizens of London would decide which was the better man.
And so the Dev
Gueule De BoisJohn's arms stretched out luxuriously as he rolled over, making a little 'num num' noise as he settled up against the body on the bed next to him. The body in question was awake, hand shoved under his pillow, and his eyes widened at the contact.
Something in John's sleep-clouded brain clicked, and his eyelids opened with a snap.
"Why are you in my bed,"
"I was about to ask you the same question,"
"But..." John twisted his head, looking behind him at the curtained window that looked not at all familiar, squinting in the bright sunlight that filte
Incant and Deduct 7A moment of rather baited silence hangs in the air after that particular revelation.
"James. That is impossible." the headmaster states in a voice that is both soothing and balks no argument.
"It is! He said he was James and I should call him Jim and that he'd help me." Boscombe's glasses have practically fogged up as he looks at the headmaster beseechingly
"I assure you, James there is no boy at this school called James Moriarty." the headmaster says.
Sherlock's head whips round to the headmaster as Boscombe gasps. The old man's expression betrays nothing, but the skin around his eyes is tight, as if he is pained by somethin
I See EverythingThere! There it was again, dammit. He had made some grand deduction and John had smiled, had lit up like a frigging candle, and he felt that odd warmth bloom up in his chest. He turned away and began ranting about some patently obvious clue everyone else had missed, the tips of his ears prickling with heat as he prayed fervently that no one noticed.
John could see him, really see him, and it left him unsettled.
Later, examining this bizarre sensation, he realized that there hadn't been many times he had experienced it and he thought that was a thing he should be grateful for. Because when it did happen, it always left him feeling naked, and
The Best Man He Ever Knew P3When John woke, the first thing he registered after rubbing his sleep-blurred eyes into focus was that he was not in his room. Automatically, he was on full alert, his hand going for the pistol at his sidethat wasn't there. Calm down, he thought. Breathe.
"Good morning to you too." A deep voice next to him muttered dryly.
John just about jumped out of his skin.
He looked up to see Sherlock leaning against the headboard, hands linked behind his head, smirking at John's bewildered expression.
"Sherlock? Whathow "
"You fell asleep last night. I knew you hadn't been getting much sleep lately, so I thought it was best to
Anger ManagementAs always, he was in a state of concentration. His fingers were pressed together in a steeple, and his violin lay neatly across his lap, its presence ignored for the time being. His grey-blue eyes were closed and his mouth was a single, apathetic line that conveyed how deeply lost he was in this trance-like moment of calm and contemplation. The flat was completely silent- the television was off, the laptop unplugged and shut down, and there wasn't even a tinkling of porcelain cups and plates. Mrs. Hudson was more of a housekeeper than she would like to admit, cleaning up the boy's dirty laundry and ever-growing pile of washing up whenever it
Cierra, 2005seven year-old prey
for juvie girls
eleven and thirteen
with sloppy hair
and sloppy clothes,
bragging about broken noses
bloody faces, and the places
they were forced to go
as though it even mattered to me
in the wake
of a seven year old crying
because iron plated hearts
don't know how / don't care to stop
forgotten little girl
i took her in at 12
when the nurses and the techs
could not break us apart
little girl with a broken heart, she
told me that her parents
didn't want her
why are you so nice to me
she asked when i talked down the angry giants,
and i said aloud, i said to her
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`ChewedKandi has certainly gone out of her way to keep the vector community on the right path. Always making sure that her talents are infinitely scalable, Sharon has put her bezier curves to excellent use, and firmly anchored herself as an inspirational leader. We're absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for June 2013 to `ChewedKandi. Congratulations, Sharon! Read More