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: (Book Art 1)
The dance lesson chapter begins in chaos. That works, but I have to corral it all in for the actual lesson. I don't, however, have enough room in the flat for said lesson.

So what do we think? Dance lesson at Bart's? The morgue is tempting but the acoustics would be pants and I'm not sure the work tables would be movable. The briefing room of New Scotland Yard? Other ideas are very welcome.

I've also realized I have enough characters involved that John can be spared the role of 'not exactly clueless but very definitely insecure student' in this installment. He won't be miraculously fantastic, but he can have some skillz and natural talent in this area.

Snippet

Jan. 28th, 2013 05:35 pm
impulsereader: (Book Art 1)
He blushed again. “Thanks. It’s a little odd; I mean, who has their portrait painted these days?”

She smiled up at him. “Because the boys of Baker Street are so famously conventional?”

John reached for her hand and tugged her to standing. “Ha, ha. I seem to recall you charging a man in an attempt to drive a spear through him once upon a time. And on our first date!” he added in a scandalised tone. “You were lucky to get a second after that.”

“If you could find an actually murderous girlfriend Sherlock might find her interesting enough to share you with her.”

“Never going to happen. I’ve basically accepted it. I’m happy enough with the mad bastard as things stand.”

From across the room, Sherlock announced, “The keyboard is now in working order.”

“And it’s a good thing too, since I believe we’re about to dance around our sitting room for the amusement of all our friends and relatives.”

Sarah’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”
impulsereader: (Book Art 1)
...because I'm going to let Sherlock say it.

*****

The litany of wrongs done to Tubby over the course of the week went on. He’d been found closed inside a refrigerator – especially dangerous because of his cold-blooded nature. One of the office staff had called to Mr Wiggins’ attention a subtle rearrangement of the paraphernalia adorning the desk on which the dragon habitually perched during his visits to the administration area – he solemnly vowed there had been a crude snare fashioned out of dental floss and a series of paper clips. Sherlock and John managed not to laugh – mostly.

By the time they arrived at Kew Sherlock seemed resigned. He instructed John to talk to as many of the employees as he could to get an overview of the latest gossip.

“And what are you going to do?”

“Make the acquaintance of Tubby,” came the scathing reply.

John giggled; Sherlock glared at him.

“Right. Going now.”

Sherlock turned to Mr Wiggins and instructed witheringly, “Take me to your lizard.”

Botticelli

Oct. 22nd, 2012 10:59 pm
impulsereader: (Default)
Throughout the Much Ado section of the story, Martin and Douglas will be playing a single round of Botticelli (which is much more sophisticated than wikipedia would initially lead you to believe [and which I would accept as the only possible legitimate use for twitter.]). I would very much like a selection of your favorite famous people from which to choose the ultimate answer.

Throw them at me - your favorite famous people, dead or alive, fictional or real - explanation optional, but it might be fun to share.

[livejournal.com profile] pargoletta - thank you for the tip on this, but still please consider Julia Child already taken...feel free to offer up anyone else, though.

And to start us off - here are mine:

John Lennon - I feel lucky to have lived for roughly two months on the same planet while this artist was also breathing.

Dean Martin - so often overshadowed, but such an amazing talent.  An unparalleled voice, a quick wit, and an unbelievable actor.

Elvis Presley - a guilty pleasure?  given the popular attraction of graceland, yeah, possibly.  My mom used to search out obscure singles on vinyl and then bring them home to be recorded onto 8 track - because records could be scratched, so 8 track was better?  I'm not sure I bought that, but subsequently I remember having to re-reel cassette tapes (with the careful application and rotation of a pencil) which had gone wrong and scrunched during play, so clearly she was correct that that wasn't the way to advance technologically...anyway, I love the 1968 comeback special (which I now have on CD) and am still annoyed that there was absolutely no one who could offer poor Elvis a guitar strap when he asked for one - how bleak is that?

Frank Sinatra - I cannot even narrow it down or try to justify this.  I challenge anyone to not be caught by any random song sung by  Sinatra.

And now I'm all weirded out by the fact that my favorite famous people are all musicians - and I'm so terribly incompetent with music!  Well, perhaps this is why I love them so very much, they bring music into my life when I myself cannot.  I"m thankful to anyone who brings me music.

Botticelli

Oct. 22nd, 2012 10:59 pm
impulsereader: (Default)
Throughout the Much Ado section of the story, Martin and Douglas will be playing a single round of Botticelli (which is much more sophisticated than wikipedia would initially lead you to believe [and which I would accept as the only possible legitimate use for twitter.]). I would very much like a selection of your favorite famous people from which to choose the ultimate answer.

Throw them at me - your favorite famous people, dead or alive, fictional or real - explanation optional, but it might be fun to share.

[livejournal.com profile] pargoletta - thank you for the tip on this, but still please consider Julia Child already taken...feel free to offer up anyone else, though.

And to start us off - here are mine:

John Lennon - I feel lucky to have lived for roughly two months on the same planet while this artist was also breathing.

Dean Martin - so often overshadowed, but such an amazing talent.  An unparalleled voice, a quick wit, and an unbelievable actor.

Elvis Presley - a guilty pleasure?  given the popular attraction of graceland, yeah, possibly.  My mom used to search out obscure singles on vinyl and then bring them home to be recorded onto 8 track - because records could be scratched, so 8 track was better?  I'm not sure I bought that, but subsequently I remember having to re-reel cassette tapes (with the careful application and rotation of a pencil) which had gone wrong and scrunched during play, so clearly she was correct that that wasn't the way to advance technologically...anyway, I love the 1968 comeback special (which I now have on CD) and am still annoyed that there was absolutely no one who could offer poor Elvis a guitar strap when he asked for one - how bleak is that?

Frank Sinatra - I cannot even narrow it down or try to justify this.  I challenge anyone to not be caught by any random song sung by  Sinatra.

And now I'm all weirded out by the fact that my favorite famous people are all musicians - and I'm so terribly incompetent with music!  Well, perhaps this is why I love them so very much, they bring music into my life when I myself cannot.  I"m thankful to anyone who brings me music.
impulsereader: (Default)
They are coming along splendidly, and this may be your last chance to request something specific as there are only a couple of completely open slots left. A vague description and tentative order appears below. If there's anything you are absolutely dying to see at Baker Street, weigh in now so I can be sure to get it in. As always, I aim to please!

1. SB & Shopping
2. MST3K
3. The first rule
4.
5. Mycroft is Don Pedro
6. The bottle
7.
8. Stranded and injured
9. Dance lesson
10. Delivery of portrait & rehearsal
11. Mrs Hudson
12. Costume fitting
impulsereader: (Default)
They are coming along splendidly, and this may be your last chance to request something specific as there are only a couple of completely open slots left. A vague description and tentative order appears below. If there's anything you are absolutely dying to see at Baker Street, weigh in now so I can be sure to get it in. As always, I aim to please!

1. SB & Shopping
2. MST3K
3. The first rule
4.
5. Mycroft is Don Pedro
6. The bottle
7.
8. Stranded and injured
9. Dance lesson
10. Delivery of portrait & rehearsal
11. Mrs Hudson
12. Costume fitting
impulsereader: (Default)
John made himself take a breath. Sherlock was right, of course. That didn’t stop him wanting to set out immediately instead of waiting. “I know it’s stupid, I just feel as if I need to do something.”

Sherlock racked his brain. “I’m still cold,” he blurted out finally. Belatedly, he realized that had been brilliant of him. “You need to stay and keep me warm,” he said with deeply smug satisfaction.

John stood, hands on hips, staring at Sherlock for a moment. His mouth quirked up into a smile. “You’re actually telling me that you want me to keep you warm with my own body heat, aren’t you?”

His partner shrugged. “It seems the most sensible course of action.”

John’s smile widened and he dropped his head, shaking it in disbelief. “My life just continues to get more ridiculous. Honestly, who does something like that in real life?”

*****

I now completely understand why the writers of the actual show are always throwing these inferences around like there's no tomorrow and someone just busted open a pinata. It's impossible not to.
impulsereader: (Default)
John made himself take a breath. Sherlock was right, of course. That didn’t stop him wanting to set out immediately instead of waiting. “I know it’s stupid, I just feel as if I need to do something.”

Sherlock racked his brain. “I’m still cold,” he blurted out finally. Belatedly, he realized that had been brilliant of him. “You need to stay and keep me warm,” he said with deeply smug satisfaction.

John stood, hands on hips, staring at Sherlock for a moment. His mouth quirked up into a smile. “You’re actually telling me that you want me to keep you warm with my own body heat, aren’t you?”

His partner shrugged. “It seems the most sensible course of action.”

John’s smile widened and he dropped his head, shaking it in disbelief. “My life just continues to get more ridiculous. Honestly, who does something like that in real life?”

*****

I now completely understand why the writers of the actual show are always throwing these inferences around like there's no tomorrow and someone just busted open a pinata. It's impossible not to.
impulsereader: (Teddies)
Title: The Address is 221B Baker Street
Author: [livejournal.com profile] impulsereader
Follows: The Scottish Play - these Baker Street interludes are a monthly peek into the preparations John and Sherlock undertake as they get ready to take on the roles of Benedick and Beatrice respectively.  Not every chapter will have Shakespeare, but most will feature some connection to Much Ado.
Rating: G unless noted otherwise at the beginning of individual chapters.
Length: Varies by chapter but generally fewer than 5k words.
Characters: Mainly John and Sherlock, but I'm pretty sure most of the crew will show up somewhere along the way.
Pairing: This 'verse is overwhelmingly gen with a side of Mycroft/Not Anthea.  ...though, technically, some members of the Holmes clan might be under the impression that John and Sherlock are engaged to be married; people will talk, you know.
Disclaimer: I neither own nor seek to profit from any aspect of this work.  Lines taken directly from Much Ado About Nothing are specifically taken from this version on Project Gutenberg.

Delightfully Britpicked by [livejournal.com profile] quarryquest and periodically inspired by all the very creative and wonderful LJ users on my friends list.

January - Resolution to the Silver Blaze case in which Colonel Ross is shown that Sherlock is no fake, and Sherlock goes to Waitrose to fulfill his Christmas promise to John.

February - John and Sherlock MST3K the 1993 film adaptation of Much Ado About Nothing.

March - Sherlock gives John his first acting lesson.

April - John is awoken in the middle of the night by Sherlock's violin.

May - Mycroft stops by for a visit. Shakespearean hijinks ensue.

June - A case courtesy of Mycroft provides a bit of a romp through Kew Gardens.
impulsereader: (Teddies)
Bit of housekeeping.  (Just this once.)

Title: The Address is 221B Baker Street
Author: [livejournal.com profile] impulsereader
Follows: The Scottish Play - these Baker Street interludes are a monthly peek into the preparations John and Sherlock undertake as they get ready to take on the roles of Benedick and Beatrice respectively.  Not every chapter will have Shakespeare, but most will feature some connection to Much Ado.
Rating: G unless noted otherwise at the beginning of individual chapters.
Length: Varies by chapter but generally fewer than 5k words.
Characters: Mainly John and Sherlock, but I'm pretty sure most of the crew will show up somewhere along the way.
Pairing: This 'verse is overwhelmingly gen with a side of Mycroft/Not Anthea.  ...though, technically, some members of the Holmes clan might be under the impression that John and Sherlock are engaged to be married; people will talk, you know.
Disclaimer: I neither own nor seek to profit from any aspect of this work.  Lines taken directly from Much Ado About Nothing are specifically taken from this version on Project Gutenberg.

Delightfully Britpicked by [livejournal.com profile] quarryquest and periodically inspired by all the very creative and wonderful LJ users on my friends list.

January - Resolution to the Silver Blaze case in which Colonel Ross is shown that Sherlock is no fake, and Sherlock goes to Waitrose to fulfill his Christmas promise to John.
impulsereader: (Default)
Later today I'll post the first Baker Street interlude, and as this snippet will atest, I am busy writing another half dozen of them. The story continues!

*****

Sherlock knew it would be childish, downright churlish in fact, to complain. It was his fault they were in this situation and he was quite lucky to have landed in it with a doctor who actually had some chance of putting things right. But he was freezing cold, and his body was suffused with pain, and he really just wanted to be left alone. John ‘having a look’ was bound to change the pain from throbbing to sharp and there seemed no hope at all that he would somehow magically become dry, warm, and back at Baker Street. Then again, seeming childish was usually not a deterrent to Sherlock. “I’m cold.”

John sighed. “I know, I’m sorry, I’m hoping the fire will help after a bit.”

“It hurts.”

“God, Sherlock, I know, I’m so sorry.” He paused. “It’s going to hurt more before I’m done.”

Fabulous. He’d been both childish and churlish and it hadn’t got him anything. Some days Sherlock despised being alive. A giddy inner voice assured him that soon, that might no longer be a problem.

John was removing the pad and the shock of cold that hit his wound as a consequence made him grit his teeth and he could hear his own indrawn breath hiss in the quiet of the long-abandoned room.

“Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?”

An astonished bark of laughter escaped Sherlock, and he cringed at the pain the jarring caused. “This is hardly the moment for running lines, John.”

More firmly, his trusty physician and lately Benedick prompted again, “Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?”

Oh, what the bloody hell, he thought, at least the response was appropriate. “Yea, and I will weep a while longer.”
impulsereader: (Default)
Later today I'll post the first Baker Street interlude, and as this snippet will atest, I am busy writing another half dozen of them. The story continues!

*****

Sherlock knew it would be childish, downright churlish in fact, to complain. It was his fault they were in this situation and he was quite lucky to have landed in it with a doctor who actually had some chance of putting things right. But he was freezing cold, and his body was suffused with pain, and he really just wanted to be left alone. John ‘having a look’ was bound to change the pain from throbbing to sharp and there seemed no hope at all that he would somehow magically become dry, warm, and back at Baker Street. Then again, seeming childish was usually not a deterrent to Sherlock. “I’m cold.”

John sighed. “I know, I’m sorry, I’m hoping the fire will help after a bit.”

“It hurts.”

“God, Sherlock, I know, I’m so sorry.” He paused. “It’s going to hurt more before I’m done.”

Fabulous. He’d been both childish and churlish and it hadn’t got him anything. Some days Sherlock despised being alive. A giddy inner voice assured him that soon, that might no longer be a problem.

John was removing the pad and the shock of cold that hit his wound as a consequence made him grit his teeth and he could hear his own indrawn breath hiss in the quiet of the long-abandoned room.

“Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?”

An astonished bark of laughter escaped Sherlock, and he cringed at the pain the jarring caused. “This is hardly the moment for running lines, John.”

More firmly, his trusty physician and lately Benedick prompted again, “Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?”

Oh, what the bloody hell, he thought, at least the response was appropriate. “Yea, and I will weep a while longer.”
impulsereader: (Teddies)
*Advise details of milk selection.*

John can just see Sherlock, tapping his foot impatiently, awaiting the response. He looked up at Sarah guiltily. “Sorry, it’s Sherlock.”

She tensed, caught her lower lip between her teeth for an instant. “John -,” she began in a warning tone.

“No, sorry, I’ll not go dashing off, I promise. It’s just -,” he paused fitfully, then finished in a rush, “He’s doing the shopping, and it’s just now hitting me what an awful and terrible thing I’ve unwittingly unleashed on the world by sending him to the shops.”

Sarah stared at him for an instant, then laughter bubbled up from the depths of her and she looked ten years younger and as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. “You got Sherlock to do the shopping?” she asked, her words punctuated with giggles.

John grinned and playfully protested, “It was his idea, I just gave him the list.”

Sarah’s laughter only grew. “A list! You gave Sherlock a list and sent him to the shops! Oh my god, this is wonderful. There’s bound to be an exploding Tesco any second. You should really phone round to the nearest A&E so they’re prepared.”
impulsereader: (Teddies)
*Advise details of milk selection.*

John can just see Sherlock, tapping his foot impatiently, awaiting the response. He looked up at Sarah guiltily. “Sorry, it’s Sherlock.”

She tensed, caught her lower lip between her teeth for an instant. “John -,” she began in a warning tone.

“No, sorry, I’ll not go dashing off, I promise. It’s just -,” he paused fitfully, then finished in a rush, “He’s doing the shopping, and it’s just now hitting me what an awful and terrible thing I’ve unwittingly unleashed on the world by sending him to the shops.”

Sarah stared at him for an instant, then laughter bubbled up from the depths of her and she looked ten years younger and as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. “You got Sherlock to do the shopping?” she asked, her words punctuated with giggles.

John grinned and playfully protested, “It was his idea, I just gave him the list.”

Sarah’s laughter only grew. “A list! You gave Sherlock a list and sent him to the shops! Oh my god, this is wonderful. There’s bound to be an exploding Tesco any second. You should really phone round to the nearest A&E so they’re prepared.”

Sit Rep

Oct. 7th, 2012 12:03 pm
impulsereader: (Default)
You certainly are a prepared lot! Thanks again to everyone for taking the time to detail your candles/torches/flashlights for me!

While I do see a pattern of sorts to the responses, I'm going to have to go with 'varies wildly' in the end. So Sherlock will not, magically, somehow know where to find the candles. The safety issue I cannot help in this case. Oddly, though I'm still writing in the 'you can imagine' verse where J&S are firmly of the epic bff breed, I'm typoing John into a treat, Sherlock is suddenly dropping to his knees in front of John, and now I have a roomful of dancing candlelight! None of this is actually romantic in context, yet somehow I keep looking at what I'm typing and thinking, 'hm. the shippers are going to have a field day with that.'

Have spent the morning tramping around downtown Toronto and am having a bit of a sitdown before setting off for what I hope will be a good cemetery. It certainly has a good name - Toronto Necropolis and Crematorium. Hopefully pictures later.

Sit Rep

Oct. 7th, 2012 12:03 pm
impulsereader: (Default)
You certainly are a prepared lot! Thanks again to everyone for taking the time to detail your candles/torches/flashlights for me!

While I do see a pattern of sorts to the responses, I'm going to have to go with 'varies wildly' in the end. So Sherlock will not, magically, somehow know where to find the candles. The safety issue I cannot help in this case. Oddly, though I'm still writing in the 'you can imagine' verse where J&S are firmly of the epic bff breed, I'm typoing John into a treat, Sherlock is suddenly dropping to his knees in front of John, and now I have a roomful of dancing candlelight! None of this is actually romantic in context, yet somehow I keep looking at what I'm typing and thinking, 'hm. the shippers are going to have a field day with that.'

Have spent the morning tramping around downtown Toronto and am having a bit of a sitdown before setting off for what I hope will be a good cemetery. It certainly has a good name - Toronto Necropolis and Crematorium. Hopefully pictures later.
impulsereader: (Default)
Though it is a weird, random sort of question. Do you keep emergency candles in the house, and if you do, where do they live during times of non-emergency? Not zombie apocalypse emergency, just power outage emergency.
impulsereader: (Default)
Though it is a weird, random sort of question. Do you keep emergency candles in the house, and if you do, where do they live during times of non-emergency? Not zombie apocalypse emergency, just power outage emergency.

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