22drunkb:

Prompt is here.

There weren’t many people at the funeral. Mycroft was there, obviously. Lestrade was, too, although he had the decency not to approach John. Mrs. Hudson and Molly, both crying but dignified. (Sherlock would have approved of the lack of obtrusive sentiment.) And an older woman…

22drunkb:

221 words on Sherlock’s first kiss.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

Katharine was the younger sister of one of Mycroft’s friends, who, really, Sherlock knew, was only friends with Mycroft because his mother was friends with Mummy. Mycroft couldn’t stand the boy, but unlike Sherlock, he had the…

22drunkb:

Prompt.

Irene was eighteen when she began to figure it out.

She liked to watch. Liked to make the boys do things. To each other.

There were two at university. One was tall, strapping, big hands, bearded, eyes like ice. The other was thin, small, dark haired, troubled, sad. The tall one…

hallusocracy:

22drunkb:

All John can do is look at the Rolls Royce as it draws smoothly up to the kerb and narrow his eyes. He glances over his shoulder at the exequial tableau that is Sherlock on the couch and then back out the window.

It isn’t rational deduction but rather an instinctive knot in the pit of his…

 

Thank you, thank you very much.

No, but seriously? Thanks!