Impulsively Reading Since...

Because bradspyjamas and I agree that everyone should want Sherlock fic for their birthday (and because she is fantabulous), she wrote me one!  It's a 221B and she was inspired by imagining how my Pirate!Sherlock might outfit himself - and I love it all to pieces!

Go over to her journal to read Fancy that!  It also features John in a tux and Mycroft being Mycroftianly ridiculous courtesy of Mark Gatiss.  Follow my piratical tag to read the two bits of ickle Sherlock and teen Mycroft acting piratically, as well as Red Sky at Morning featuring adult Pirate!Sherlock and Pirate!John.

Oh, and yesterday I did something that netted me tons of photos to be used for inspiration for future Pirate!Sherlock, so this is unbelievably timely.  I can't wait to write up the day and share some of them!

Sigh. I am meant to be writing. Instead I'm over here signing up for 221b_advent.  All winterish holidays seem to be on the table as well as simply winter and/or cold itself.  Huh.  Plot bunny.  Cold - the Endless...somehow...  I swear to goodness, typing alters my brain chemistry or something.  Anywho...  Upon seeing that bradspyjamas and kizzia had hopped on board I folded.  Or, at least, they've joined the community though I cannot be sure they've signed up officially...eyes each of them hopefully...

What else can I throw in here?  What have I been meaning to blather about?  Apparently, nothing.

Oh, yes, darn it, The other night I was out with pargoletta and after we had a very wet, shivery time whilst listening to Carmina Burana conducted by Riccardo Muti - and bizarrely, right afterward the CSO went on strike, we stopped for a warming snack.  My bottle top subsequently informed me that International Talk Like a Pirate Day is celebrated on Nantucket Island.  I've been meaning to take a picture and post it and add it to my growing Pirate Sherlock stash, and perhaps log it in for posterity along with that weird Sherlockian fortune I got at Panda Express.  Of course, right now I'm meant to be writing and therefore brought neither my camera's connection wire nor the bottle top.  If I were honest with myself then, I'd have to create a new tag - here there be no pirates. 

Sigh again.  I'm really not going to accomplish anything tonight.

A thesaurus search proves there is no good 'D' word which works for cold.  Blast.

Apologies to those of you who already read the first bit of this, I wanted to post this first and second part together since the first bit was so short.

*****

Once upon a Time...oh, sorry, no...erm...not that Time. That other one, over there, just to the left; do you see, it’s waving to you - yes, well spotted! That Time. Oh look, it’s put on a green hat with a pom on top so you can keep track of it more easily. It always has been a very friendly, obliging Time; at least, most of the bits which we’ll be dealing with have.

Well, now that we’ve got that straight, Once upon that Time there was a little boy named Sherlock Holmes. In order to visit with him we will now beg a ride upon the wide back of the West Wind which will take us swooping and darting over a London which I think would not be familiar even to those of you who may routinely walk the streets of your very own London. The London which little Sherlock Holmes inhabits is one engulfed in a singular fog of mystery and magic; it waits for us, holding its breath for just a fraction of a second to allow us inside, then unfolds its secrets before us like an origami crane coming undone.
( ...unfold the story... )

Follow the tag if you'd like to read the other two pieces of Pirate!Sherlock in existence.

*****

The Pirate Problem

*****

The next time we visit young Sherlock, almost a year later, it is not as happy a day.

Mummy has been ill, you see, and Father accordingly frantic over it.

Mycroft has been doing the best he can, but where Sherlock is concerned that somehow never seems to be enough.

The routine of the house has recently been thrown into chaos not only by the absence of its mistress’s guiding hand, but also the introduction of young Sherlock’s taking up the violin and the attendant wind magic which comes with this hobby. Certainly there are times when the youngster does not mean to have caused the contents of his governess’s wardrobe to take flight into and around the back garden, but other times Mycroft wonders…
( wonder no more )

Oddly enough, I have for some years had International Talk Like a Pirate Day on my calendar of personal holidays. I think this year it calls for some Pirate!Sherlock to celebrate...stay tuned.

http://www.yarr.org.uk/talk/

Title: Red Sky at Morning
Username: impulsereader
Length/size: 3094 words
Rating: PG for piratey language
Warnings, kinks & contents: Contains John, Sherlock, Mycroft, the skull and off-stage Mrs Hudson. AU with magical realism.
Author's/artist's notes: I neither seek nor expect to collect any booty from the production of this story.
Summary/description: A tale of Pirate!Sherlock told in 221Bs. To set the scene: Pirate!Sherlock’s world is that of a steampunk Pirates of the Caribbean.
A/N: Originally written as a pinch hit for the commfest over at bbcsherlock. Read the other entries here http://sherlockbbc.livejournal.com/4946683.html I was told that in Britain the saying is in fact, 'Red sky at morning, shepherds warning', but haven't yet come up with another title which I like, so currently I'm just going to let all of you know that this story contains no shepherds, only piratey sailors. I'm very sorry to disappoint on that score. :-)

*****
MYCROFT: My brother has the brain of a scientist or a philosopher, yet he elects to be a detective. What might we deduce about his heart?
JOHN: I don’t know.
MYCROFT: Neither do I ... but initially he wanted to be a pirate.
*****
( Red Sky at Morning )

Once upon a Time...oh, sorry, no...erm...not that Time. That other one, over there, just to the left; do you see, it’s waving to you - yes, well spotted! That Time. Oh look, it’s put on a green hat with a pom on top so you can keep track of it more easily. It always has been a very friendly, obliging Time; at least, most of the bits which we’ll be dealing with have.

Well, now that we’ve got that straight, Once upon that Time there was a little boy named Sherlock Holmes. In order to visit with him now we will swoop and dart over a London which I think would not be familiar even to those of you who may routinely walk the streets of your very own London. The London which little Sherlock Holmes inhabits is one engulfed in a singular fog of mystery and magic; it waits for us, holding its breath for just a fraction of a second to allow us inside, then unfolds its secrets before us like an origami crane coming undone.
( Unfold )