impulsereader: (Book Art 1)
Sherlock fic

Welcome to London

I Prefer to Text

Security

Wrong

The Best Man, and the Most Human

Sherlock ficlets

Occluded Front

Modern Dance

Sherlock fic within the 'you can imagine' 'verse

The Scottish Play

The Address is 221B Baker Street

ACD Holmes fic

Sherlock 60 in 60 ficlets

Pirate Sherlock Fic

...initially he wanted to be a pirate.

Red Sky at Morning

Once Upon a Time fic

Knit Bone, Tempered Metal

Ficlet: The Blame Game

M*A*S*H fic

Ficlet: Mail Call

Ficlet: Metamorphosis

If you prefer to read on AO3...I'm there as well.
impulsereader: (Book Art 1)
“In the wild, polar bears are notoriously difficult to get to, to monitor and observe in any way.”

In polar bear news...
impulsereader: (Book Art 1)
I feel like I want to make this a weekly feature or something. There are things out there for sale that people have to be buying. If no one bought them, if there was zero demand, the market would correct itself by eventually pulling these objects from the shelves of stores, yes? I mean, I don't know much about economics but this is just common sense.

This has to be especially true of fresh food items because they have an actual shelf life. Even if you're not bothered by 'sell by' or 'use by' dates these items will eventually actually go bad and have to be disposed of because - even if I cannot understand why someone would buy it now - I'm pretty sure no one would purposely buy rotting food unless you needed it for a Sherlockian experiment of some kind.

What brought these thoughts into my head? Shrink-wrapped potatoes. Shrink-wrapped potatoes sitting next to and actually mixed in with the normal (dare I say naked?) potatoes.

I looked closely at one of the shrink-wrapped potatoes and determined that it had not been scrubbed clean before it had been dressed in its little plastic bag, sealed neatly, and slapped with a label identifying it as a potato. That eliminated the only possible reason I might be willing to pay more for this potato than the one right next to it.

Of course, the last time I asked this sort of question I learned that my entire grocery shopping strategy had evolved to account for the fact that I lived on the third floor for years and most people do in fact own enough canned goods at any one time to have to plan for moving them from house to house. So perhaps I'm just looking at it from an odd perspective and don't realize it.
impulsereader: (Book Art 1)
Sherlock didn’t answer right away. He rolled a sip of rich red vintage in his mouth and leisurely swallowed, closing his eyes to savour the taste. Finally, his eyes still closed, he said, “Several summers during my childhood Grandmere decided that she simply could no longer resist the charms which Paris had to offer. She would declare her intention to make the trip, and weeks of preparations would ensue. The house would become a whirl of tweeds and satins and trunks, because of course Grandmere would not be travelling by means of anything so prosaic as an aeroplane.”

He opened his eyes, though they were focused on the globe of his glass, half-filled with blood-red liquid, rather than on John. “She would never so much as mention me in relation to her trip, and she would never name an actual departure date; if questioned she claimed not to worry over such details. She used to say, ‘Oh, tosh, when it’s time to go to the boat Essie will bring my hat and my coat and off we’ll go’.” He sipped again, closed his eyes once more. “After she put on her hat and her coat, she would come find me and say, ‘Time to go, Sherlock’.”

“Let me guess, your parents always just happened to be elsewhere when this occurred?”

Sherlock’s eyes snapped open. “Precisely.”

“My regard for Grandmere continues to grow apace.”

“You should ask her about her involvement with the French Resistance during the war.”

John’s eyes widened. “She must have been just a kid!”

“Indeed. No one pays much attention to children.”

It took only a beat for John to catch on. “Of course, that made them the perfect messengers. Good lord.”
impulsereader: (MF Lemon)
Guys, [livejournal.com profile] quarryquest spoils me terribly. She took a lemon to 221B for me!

DSCF2907
impulsereader: (Book Art 1)
Hm. I seem to have let myself get a bit carried away. I swear I thought I had Sherlock and John actually announce an engagement in The Scottish Play, but it seems Sherlock simply announced they were a couple and John joked about setting a date. Then there's all that bit about John being welcomed into the family when the casting happens and the last line is about having a pre-nup. No actual engagement that I can find with a quick skim. Oh well, as a bit of a reminder since it's taken me sooooooo loooooong to actually write all this, here's the basic set up:

Sherlock smiled pleasantly, and with a calculated swing of his hips sashayed across the room. As he did, he declaimed, “How clever of you, Father; you’ve anticipated our happy announcement. I believe we’ve settled on ‘lovers’ as the preferred term, actually. How kind of you to ask.” He turned his gaze briefly on his brother and instructed with a sniff, “Do keep up, Mycroft.”

Mycroft didn’t even bother trying to hide his sigh.

And so, John thought, he was now playing gay for Sherlock’s entire family for the rest of time. Fantastic. He wondered how long it would take for the hints about grandchildren to start cropping up. “I imagine we’ll set a date just as soon as I’ve convinced Sherlock to register for something other than a Bunsen burner and a centrifuge. I keep telling him we desperately need a new electric kettle,” he threw up his hands in genuine frustration, “but he just goes on about blood and-,”

Hannibal pulled the pin out of the grenade.


And on with the tale...

*****

“Just admit it. This is your favourite part of the entire endeavour.” Sherlock glanced over at John who was making no attempt to hide his glee.

“I freely admit it. Sherlock Holmes balancing on a little stool in a dress is ample reward for all the hassle I’ve been put through this year.”

Read more... )
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I am ridiculously behind on my flist due to rl issues - apologies to all - but I am throwing this up because I owe many, many thanks to [livejournal.com profile] 221b_hound who offered wonderful encouragement and insightful suggestions as well as [livejournal.com profile] eanor who basically made me cringe when she asked if I’d run out of time and thrown together the last bit - seriously, I nearly dove underneath the couch - but she was right, it was crap. I fixed it (or at least I hope I did) - thank her if you enjoy this story at all.

Title: Seasoned Truths

Recipient: [livejournal.com profile] keerawa for this most recent round at [livejournal.com profile] acd_holmesfest

Author: [livejournal.com profile] impulsereader

Rating: PG

Characters, including any pairing(s): Holmes, Watson, Mary, Watson/Mary, Holmes/Watson left to the reader’s interpretation

Warnings: None apply.

Summary: A look at moments within five canon stories, some points of which may have been narrated less reliably than artistically for various reasons. But then, reliable is a relative term; don’t you agree?

Disclaimer: I’ve used canon text extensively within this story. None of the text which has been italicised was written by me, it’s all straight out of ACD canon, copied and pasted from the html docs provided by Project Gutenberg. Accordingly, I am using this space to express that both Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Project Gutenberg are, in my opinion, utterly brilliant.

##########


"You come at a crisis, Watson," said he. "If this paper remains blue, all is well. If it turns red, it means a man's life."

Read the story )
impulsereader: (Book Art 1)
A slightly mixed-up rainbow for your viewing pleasure.

impulsereader: (Book Art 1)
Hugh Stewart in his excellent booklet “Elements of English Country Dance” says: “Give weight: This is a common (despairing) cry”. Some people never seem to come to terms with it. If you're in a square set and you circle left, the men's hands are underneath and the ladies' hands are on top. The men push upwards and the ladies push downwards, so that there's some tension in your arms — you can actually feel that there's someone there. It's not an affectation; it's not something that you do because it looks pretty — it's sheer mechanics. It enables you to apply a force to the other person and thereby move them — while they're doing the same to you. The way to get a good circle (walked or slipped) is that you all give a slight pull to the person behind you. Try it. - colinhume.com

***

John frowned at the schedule because it was suddenly claiming that he had plans for that evening (right this moment, in fact) which it hadn’t done just that morning when he had checked it and it had instructed him to hand Sherlock his phone, a pickaxe and if he could find one, (a very rare qualification where his flatmate was concerned) a rubber stamp bearing the legend ‘Excellent!’. It had taken a stab at relating these instructions to their participation in the Production by tacking on the statement: Grandmother requested I ring her.

Even more alarming was the fact that the late-breaking activity was labelled: Dance Lesson. His first instinct was to go directly upstairs and pack a few things into a bag. A weekend in Dublin seemed an ‘Excellent!’ alternative. This action was forestalled by the ringing of the doorbell.
Read more )
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I’ve been meaning to put this out into the world for a long, long time, but ideally I wanted to send out an actual picture of it. Still, it just never seemed like a good idea to bring my camera to work and use it to take a picture of the display panel on our main printer (otherwise known as Darth Vader because it is black and flipping huge with multiple output trays and magical stapling abilities [come on, you know the suit had stapling capabilities]) which I am now intimately familiar with in that I have been unjamming the thing multiple times a day for about seven or so years now. I mean, how do you explain that to your co-workers? I need a picture of this grammatical atrocity because I don't think anyone will believe me...yeah, I'm going out to lunch now guys...bye!

{ahem} Due to an alert. The panel be illuminated.

For serious, guys, this is what the printer informs people pretty much all day long. It should drive me up the wall for many reasons, but instead it’s one of those things that right from the get-go I had to accept. There is nothing I can do, there is no tech support I can call which could possibly make the printer stop doing this.

Still, somewhere in the distant past, someone typed that out knowing that those words were going to be taunting office workers for decades to come.

Bitch.

Big plans for baking and getting the next interlude up before the weekend. Saturday is supposed to be nice so I’m contemplating finding something outdoorsy to do. Seriously, what is with the cold this year? I made myself stop wearing my winter coat this morning because otherwise I think I would have just kept doing it out of habit until roundabouts July. I’m blaming the cold for my desire to do nothing but hibernate the past month or so.

eta - sigh - I forgot the baking powder.
impulsereader: (Book Art 1)
Yeah, I'm totally late. But of course I taped it! It's England v. Wales and poor Douglas and Arthur are probably scheduled to be tipped a measly five hundred pounds each...(time travel, nostalgia, whatever...) ETA - holy cow, Wales won playing in Cardif - if only there was a fourth Birling Day to be told! Can you imagine the tips?

So I'm watching this and it's american football - without any padding or helmets. The players are wearing shorts. One guy has some blue headgear going on but it can't possibly be a helmet since everyone else is completely bareheaded.

I've got players in both red and white (because the flag's red white and blue [please note Wales is not uniformed per any of Arthur's rules and therefore I've no idea which they are]) and they're just now starting to look muddy after half an hour.

Please note that I know nothing about american football. I permanently swore off it when I was forced to play some form of it in high school and told I had to start with - and I quote - one down.

Please think about that for a second. Down is a negative term just on its own. Added to that, after a certain number of them you must give up your turn - it therefore proves to be the equivalent of an out (I understand baseball just fine - much simpler). Why do I need to start with one down? I haven't done anything at all wrong yet.

So - my real hope is that rugby has a more sensible scoring system than american football and this 'starting with one down' thing is some bizarre invention of our own as well.

One of the things that is striking me is the ball is being handed out of the tackles. Whereas in american football the player embraces the ball, holding on for all he is worth (in an effort to gain yardage?) as everyone within sight piles upon him - these guys are consistently shoving the ball out of the pile into a teammate's hands.

*

In another match - Italy won!!! (Mr Mandela is singing) possibly more later...
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Right. Laurence Fox officially has the same voice as Benedict Cumberbatch. OK, not the actual same since that would involve a shared larynx as well as other impossible things, but so close that both times I've run across him on the soundtrack of my television while I've been very busy typing, I've perked up my ears and thought to myself, "Not Mr Cumberbatch, but pretty much, yeah, very nearly the same voice."

Mr Fox is apparently very busy being married to and producing babies with Billie Piper (who has the worst posture in the world when she is not playing a part) in the English countryside as opposed to filming constantly and making it big in America; otherwise, their larynx (it's like deer, roll with it) are inseparable.
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I've started up Foyle's War and been rewarded with both David Tennant and Roger Allam all in the first series. :-) Oooo... plus Amanda Root in the next episode.
impulsereader: (Book Art 1)
Sherlock was, extremely thoughtfully mind you, making tea. He reached up for the box of tea bags and a sharp stab of pain from his presumably not-entirely-healed wound caused him to make a small noise. A small noise, it should be noted. John, however, apparently had the hearing of – well – something that could hear extraordinarily well; a dog, perhaps? Definitely an entry worthy of deletion until this moment.

In any case, Sherlock abruptly found himself no longer extremely thoughtfully making tea but sat down and fussed at.

It felt as if John had been fussing at him for days on end.

***
Read more )
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in the course of researching a story continue to amaze me.

They've made violin strings from spider silk. Isn't that awesome? My search was completely unrelated but now I'm tempted to write these in somewhere.
impulsereader: (Book Art 1)
The flat was quiet.

And the tea was cold.

*****

You tell me - because I haven't got a clue.
impulsereader: (Book Art 1)
I confess. Every single time I find Pretty Woman on television I turn it on regardless of how far along it has progressed. And I enjoy it. Every time.

I can only defend myself slightly by saying that after I've done so I pop in My Fair Lady to keep things balanced.

I cannot honestly say I then read Pygmalion as a follow up. That would be a bit too virtuous, canceling out my guilty pleasure in the first place. :-)

Score!

Feb. 15th, 2013 05:42 pm
impulsereader: (Book Art 1)
So since The Move I've been vaguely annoyed that I'm so much further from an El stop. I like to be forced to walk but it was nice to be able to walk to a stop really quickly if I was suddenly inspired to do something.

But today on my way home I realized that I can now take the bus to work! It would have involved a transfer and been rather ridiculous time-wise from the old place, but now it's just a straight shot! I am so excited about this I cannot even tell you - do you realize what this is??? This is a guaranteed 90 minutes of reading on days when I do this instead of drive! I looooooove public transport and I soooooo missed taking the train to work, and now I can take the bus which is almost as good. This totally balances being further from the train.
impulsereader: (Book Art 1)
So September reached new levels of potential slashiness, as pointed out by [livejournal.com profile] azriona in her lovely comment, and I was aware of this when I was writing it. I left all the potential in there. I didn't censor it even though I have no intention of following through.

My own personal view of J&S’s relationship is that they do love one another. I just don’t need them to have sex as a result. My post-Reichenbach John had a panic attack because Sherlock popped onto a roof without giving him any warning. Clearly this man cares about his friend and partner to the point of loving him. So I’m writing a love story minus the sex. They are brothers. They have chosen one another. Society doesn’t really have a category for this outside marriage – hence all the slash fic. As I believe I recall [livejournal.com profile] pargoletta pointing out in her review of Belgravia, they are in a relationship and the closest equivalent is probably Anne Shirley's concept of 'bosom friends' or 'kindred spirits'.
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