Impulsively Reading Since...

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... )

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 )

“You are absolutely not allowed to die on me, Sherlock. I refuse to play Benedick opposite anyone else.”

“Christ, John, I can hardly die with my doctor right beside me; unless you’re changing your own verdict and admitting to incompetence in that area?”

It was a decent attempt at condescending if not witty, but John could hear the pain in his partner’s voice and his worry ratcheted up a notch. A doctor he may have been, but they were stranded God knows where in the middle of the Scottish Highlands, they were on foot, it was swiftly getting dark, the temperature was already turning chill, and Sherlock was bleeding like a stuck pig. There wasn’t much even a very good doctor experienced in dealing with battlefield conditions could do in their present circumstances. He wasn’t even happy allowing Sherlock to move, but leaving him lying on the ground applying pressure to his wound as he slowly bled to death didn’t seem a truly viable fucking alternative.
( Read more )

It was morning, and the sitting room of 221B was uncharacteristically both silent and flooded with sunlight. Clad in pyjamas and dressing gown, Sherlock, of course, couldn’t see himself (or rather wouldn’t seek out his reflection unless prompted) but the abundance of natural light made him look ghostly, ethereal. His pale skin glowed and his eyes were no colour at all. This apparition sat, long fingers and slim hands steepled under his chin as he contemplated the dainty, decorative bottle which he had nicked out of his family’s attic the previous December.

It was sealed.

It was sealed with lead.

He found he was a little bit frightened of what it might contain.

The fear was what made it exciting.

( Read more... )

Title: Modern Dance
Author: impulsereader
Rating: G
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Character(s): Sherlock and Irene
Summary: They visit Quaid-e-Azam’s Mausoleum in Karachi. Because when you are Sherlock Holmes that is what you do after you save this particular damsel in distress.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 206
Author's Notes: Written for the December Drabble Exchange a great_tales fo goldvermilion87 in response to the prompt - Tell a story by describing the setting. Description and pictures of the setting are linked to at the end.

"Come away! her dancing says. Come out into the splendid perilous world! Come up on the mountain-top where the great wind blows! Learn to be young always! Learn to be incessantly renewed! Learn to live in the intemperate careless land of song and rhythm and rapture! Say farewell to the world you know and join the passionate spirits of the world’s history! Storm through into your dreams! Give yourself up to the frenzy that is in the heart of life, and never look back, and never regret! You shall become sweet and mad as a lover … - Robert Edmond Jones, in "The Gloves of Isadora" in Theatre Arts, Vol. 31, Issue 10 (1947)

*****

The building awaits their arrival as they walk through the parkland surrounding it.  They move towards it at a leisurely pace, admiring its graceful Moorish arches and the tessellation of its outside walls, a binary honeycomb; a stark beauty even he can appreciate.  All is crowned with a majestic dome.

Grass morphs to marble and they are surrounded by the siren song of water droplets dancing through the air; moving together, this man and this woman, though they are not joined by clasped hands.

He remains all elegance but she turns clumsy when they fold in two to slip shoes from feet.  This gambit garners her the amused quirk of his brow rather than his steadying hand.  She smiles and flutters her lashes in counterpoint.

As they climb the steps to the doorway they provide a striking and dramatic contrast (not so very unusual for these two); each of them walks in darkness and joined together this couple is a portentous shadow cast against the facade of the lustrous white palace of the dead.  We misbehave writ large in silhouette for all the world to see and fail to comprehend.

Once inside they descend; this woman and this man, moving together, though they do not touch.

Fin.

*****

Images of the building courtesy of google here: https://www.google.com/search?q=Quaid-e-Azam%27s+Mausoleum&hl=en&client=firefox-a&hs=CQR&tbo=u&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&tbm=isch&source=univ&sa=X&ei=lerQUIOWK4S0ygG-2IH4BQ&ved=0CEIQsAQ&biw=1016&bih=375

I have not visited personally, but per the internets: The Mazar issurrounded by trees, and a garden laid in the format of Islamic art, with fountains all around it. You have to climb several steps to reach the top (shoes have to be removed before ascending), and the tomb is
inside the Mazar. The actual grave is several meters below the marble tomb - as reported by this actual (virtual) tourist: http://members.virtualtourist.com/m/p/m/163fc3/

“The new newsletter is out.”

Annoyed at the interruption, Sherlock didn’t even try to keep the tetchiness from his voice. “What are you on about?”

“Grandmother just sent out this month’s Production newsletter, you prat. Do you think I’d be telling you I just got an inside line on Top Gear’s latest news?”

Mention of the Production immediately chased away his irritation. “What does it say?” He got up to read over John’s shoulder.

“We’re supposed to know our lines by now.”

Sherlock snorted in derision. “What else? Anything helpful?”

“What exactly would be helpful aside from my suddenly being possessed by the spirit of Laurence Olivier?”

“Olivier never played Benedick.”

“This, you retained.”
( Read more )

It was unusual for the strains of Sherlock’s violin to wake John in the early hours of the morning now. This wasn’t because Sherlock played more often during the more appropriate hours when Apollo graced London with his light; it was because John had long since grown used to his playing when Diana reigned ascendant. Generally, this no longer woke him.

When he was pulled from a particularly deep sea of dreams in the small hours of an April dawn, though, he could not identify any other reason why he might be awake rather than still asleep.

( Have a mug of late night tea with John and Sherlock )

Title: A Consummate Actor
Canon story: The Second Stain
A/N: It's such a great moment when Holmes springs into action here. It was fantastic in the Granada episode as well. It's also a nice subtle moment when Holmes uses his ability to disguise himself in a slightly different capacity.

*****

Of course I was curious what had sent Holmes into such a state, scrabbling frantically at the floorboards. However, I had already learned it was best to obey, and obey quickly, the orders being snapped at me. Explanation could be expected later. It was all I could do to hide my grin just an instant afterward. Bored to death indeed!

*****

Canon Story: The Reigate Squire(s) / Problem
Title: Staggering Relief

*****

This is all he has been hoping for.

-----

The complete panic which had affected him once he understood Holmes had sent for him, must be in so bad a state that he admitted to needing his Watson; the emotion might have paralyzed him, except that instead it set him instantly into action. Anything to reach Holmes.

*****

Title: Stairs Leading Home
Canon Story: A Scandal in Bohemia

*****

I knew there were seventeen steps. I cannot explain why I denied knowing. Perhaps it was simply falling into an old habit to allow Holmes to enlighten me; perhaps, indeed, I had missed his doing so more than I realized. Or perhaps it was because I did not know how many steps led to the door of my own establishment.

*****

Title: Dancing with the Good Doctor
Canon story: The Man with the Twisted Lip
A/N: Special thanks to chess_ka and azriona. I was inspired by your 60s for this story. Also to debriswoman because it isn't verse, but it wasn't until I thought of you that I realized I should format this differently.

*****

They learn their pas de trois slowly.

It is an evolution
a revolution

a revelation in fact
and happily not a dissolution.
Suppliants come,

will always come
both to Holmes and to Mary.
This is simply the way things are

the way they have been,
and will be.

Watson sees.
He learns to observe.

He helps whenever he is able.

Title: The Best Man, and the Most Human
Author: impulsereader
Fandom/Pairing: Sherlock BBC; gen
Characters: John and Sherlock
Length: ~4,300 words
A/N: This is the story which was going to be my holmestice gift, but isn't anymore. So now it is just a post-return story which is framed on the dates of the solstices and equinoxes plus the aphelion and perihelion. Fair warning - John is being hard on himself and there isn't a lot of funny in this story. Happy ending, though!
Disclaimer: I neither own nor seek to profit from any aspect of Sherlock.
Summary: I missed the takeaway and the foot chases when you go that way and I go this; I missed your nagging me to bring home milk and the tappetty tap of your writing about me.
( Read the story )

Title: The Address is 221B Baker Street
Author: 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 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.