Title: Percussive Therapy.

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)

Pairing: None.

Rating: PG - Guts.

Word Count: About 2000?

Summary: Written for this prompt on the kink meme. One day in the lab, Sherlock says something/does something/generally pushes too hard, and Molly loses it, and uses the riding crop to vent her frustrations on Sherlock. Whether or not John witnesses this display is up to you. Totally gen is preferred, crack almost certainly required.

Notes/Warnings: Not much, dead bodies on account of it being set you know, in a morgue.

( You could be forgiven for not seeing Molly Hooper... )

Title: Sherlock Holmes' Diary - March

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC), Bridget Jones' Diary

Pairing: Unrequited Sherlock/John

Rating: PG - Language or whatever I suppose.

Word Count: 10,000. Ish.

Summary: Sherlock Holmes keeps a diary. No one is supposed to know about it. He's pretty sure Mycroft does though, the fat nosy git.

Notes/Warnings: This is a fusion for Sherlock and Bridget Jones' Diary so there will be similarities. Many thanks to oxfordtweed for the hand-holding and going through this inch by agonising inch and not killing me and things. But! This is it! Since I'm following canon, I'm going to hang fire on April until the next series. Once again, thanks so much for the everything, I really appreciate it.

ETA Sorry for spamming/messing up flists. D=


January

February

March I

( March 15th. )

Happy birthday beansidhe_baby!

Balance
What people don't often realise, (usually dazzled by Sherlock, who moves like he's got quick-silver in his veins) is that John is just as dextrous. Sherlock once witnessed him carry up the stairs and into the living room three bags of shopping, one basket of laundry, one ice-cream tub full of cupcakes, two bills and the evening papers, three parcels, his shoes (stepped in something unspeakable outside) a pot-plant and Sherlock's violin. This causes no end of frustration for Sherlock, who despite his grace, still cannot manage much more than his violin, sandwich and a cup of tea. And John has banned him from trying, since Mrs. Hudson was quite upset not only at the sound of six foot plus of gangling detective and assorted load thumping down the stairs  atspeed at three am, but also at the stains on the ceiling, and the damage to her aspidestra, which she swears has never been the same.

Title: Sherlock Holmes' Diary - February

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC), Bridget Jones' Diary

Pairing: Unrequited Sherlock/John

Rating: PG - Language or whatever I suppose.

Word Count: 9,500. Ish.

Summary: Sherlock Holmes keeps a diary. No one is supposed to know about it. He's pretty sure Mycroft does though, the fat nosy git.

Notes/Warnings: This is a fusion for Sherlock and Bridget Jones' Diary so there will be similarities. Many thanks to oxfordtweed for holding my hand and kicking my arse as required and putting up with all the flail and just. Everything. It wouldn't have been written without you. Also presented with a very happy birthday to the rather lovely Raggedy Hipster. Hope it was gorgeous dear. Oh my god did I mention I got fanart??  How cool is that? I'm completely overwhelmed by the response this bit of silliness got, thank you all so much for dropping by and telling me you liked it.


January



( Part I )


Part II

The Trip (Rob Bryden and Steve Coogan road trip movie/TV series. It's better than it sounds) gave me my accent again. I sound like I belong in Roysten Vasey. Luckily everyone's in bed, so I don't have to explain to my mother why I sound like I belong in Oasis.

On the other hand, the movie made me feel nostalgic for the Old Country, but then very very sad. Bryden and Coogan have this sort of vitriolic friendship where they're constantly having a go, but they've known each other for eleven years and know each other back to front. I was watching this:



Which is basically me and my RL bestie: I'm usually the one trying to hop across on the stepping stones, though sometimes we switch, for fun. And then I thought: I guess after February we won't get to to be rude to each other, or eat lunch together, or judge each other or giggle and drink tea or get drunk together and have late-night tea. And it's like. I'll miss that. I never really thought about it, but I really will. England's a big deal for me, but I keep thinking about how I'm not going to sing crap music in her car going to uni on cold mornings, or order massive amounts of fast-food to start a hangover day. And yeah. I dunno. I'm weird at the moment. Probably it's going to be fine.