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[sticky post] My Fanfiction--Master List

littlejohn
Here is all my fan fiction (with a smattering of poetry and essays) organized by fandom for convenience.

Everything is gen. All works are complete unless I state otherwise.




SHERLOCK (BBC)

Pedantic Fanfic Author NoteCollapse )

          Operating System Universe
          Outliers
          Non-Fiction


Tables that I am  filling out
(for my own easier access)

Sherlock Fic: Big Brother II

littlejohn
Big Brother II

Sherlock looked closely at the vase.

It was a vase that came with an online flower order, but not the standard free model. It had been used eighteen . . . no, twenty times. That spoke to a flourishing relationship. But it had not been used in over ten months, and now it was in the bin.

He rummaged through several kitchen drawers before he found what he was looking for: an address book. Mary was surprisingly old-fashioned. And there was the name.

As soon as John finished yelling at him for breaking into Mary's flat, Sherlock was going to investigate this David.

Sherlock Fic: Instrumental

littlejohn
Instrumental

"McInnerney's landlady found him dead him six hours later."

"Mycroft, why are you telling me this?"

"You know why. John knows why! Don't you, John?"

John shrugged noncommittally.

"This habit you have of leaving your violin accoutrements about."

"My violin is always safe."

"But not your bow. And that is much more dangerous than McInnerney's fishing rod."

Sherlock grabbed Mycroft's phone and umbrella and walked toward the window.

"Sherlock! I'm thinking of you! And John."

"And I of you. I've texted your PA to destroy all your umbrellas. This one. . ." There was a crash. ". . .is safely in Mrs. Hudson's bin."

Sherlock Fic: Before Boswell

littlejohn
Before Boswell

"You never mentioned this."

"What?"

"Not even when I asked you to write a post for my blog."

John waved his phone in Sherlock's face. Sherlock grabbed it, and began typing furiously.

"I've already read it."

"It's stored in your faultless memory?" Sherlock snorted.

"Mary read it as well. And backed it up."

Sherlock threw the phone back to John. "Yes, I had a blog before you arrived. It was very popular, but in the end I decided that my art spoke for itself."

"I see. Mary said all the comments came from sock puppet accounts. What does that mean?"

Sherlock Fic: Anachronistic

littlejohn
Anachronistic

5:27

"John just texted me," Lestrade announced.

Sherlock did not look away from the evidence locker.

"Apparently you have somewhere to be right now?"

Sherlock looked up bemusedly.

"Birthday party?"

Sherlock's eyes widened in shock. He snatched up his phone. "No!" He slumped.

"What?"

"The party starts in half an hour. It's five o'clock. I'll never make it!"

"Actually you will."

Sherlock and Lestrade spun around.

"What did you say, Dimmock?"

"I texted you a tube itinerary. You'll be on time."

Lestrade stared.

"I have the schedules memorized."

"Okay, then. Off you go, Sherlock"


7:19

why wasnt S at party greg? JW

Sherlock Fic: Control

littlejohn
Control

"Daddy! Daddy!"

"What?"

"Uncle Sherl is MAGIC!"

"Uncle Sherl promised to never do magic for you again. Ever." John rounded the corner in time to catch Sherlock's eye-roll.

"Not my tea, Daddy!" She made a disturbingly similar eye-roll. "Look!"

"You poisoned him!?" John hissed.

"I'm not a moron, John."

"Look Daddy!" She grabbed John's sleeve. Then she turned and said sternly, "Roll over!"

The dog rolled over, then sat up, panting happily.

John blinked. "How. . ."

"You don't have the voice of authority, John."

"I -- hang on . . . Sherlock, why did Mycroft text 'Redbeard'?"

"I told you he'd bugged your living room!"

Sherlock Fic: A Slip of the Tongue

littlejohn
"He wouldn't let me look at the body, either."

"Idiot."

"I told you not to take that kidney. Mark hates it."

"The detective inspector could have shown you!"

"You know he wouldn't."

"This would never have happened when Les--"

The missing syllable silenced them.

"He had a good long--"

"No. No aphorisms. There is no . . . It wouldn't matter if Detective Inspector Hosseini could think. He could think!"

"Greg would've been pleased to hear that."

"Anyway, it doesn't matter. I should be able to solve this without seeing the body. Think! Think! Why can't I think?!"

"I don't know," John lied.

So embarrassing

littlejohn
So, in July.

JULY!

I had begun communicating with a few people about Beta reading their stories on fanfiction.net. My one big rule about fanfiction.net beta reading is that the person is responsible to remind me about their stories. I'll beta, but I'll also forget. So I tell people very carefully "I will forget. You MUST be willing to ping me and say "Hey, goldvermilion, what's up with my story." and then they say "Sure, I'll do that!".

Right?

Well, every single one of them stopped communicating with me in any way shape or form.

Also, I haven't posted MUCH to ff.net since July, but I HAVE posted stuff.

I've been living in depression that no one reviewed anything. NO ONE.

Guess what I discovered today?

STUPID GMAIL SPAM FILTER!!!!!!

Sherlock Fic: Double Date

littlejohn







Double Date

“Mary, she won’t—Janine! What are you doing here?” Sherlock stopped short in the doorway to the kitchen with a damp baby in one arm, a teddy bear, a bottle of baby bath, and a graduated cylinder in the other.

Janine set her teacup on the table. “You’re bathing the baby? How sweet. I can almost see you doing it for our kids.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“The occasional top up, you remember?”

“Anyway, Mary, as I was saying, before Janine rudely—“

“Came to visit at my invitation? I never heard that called rude before, Sherlock, but then you are the man who proposed to my best friend for a case.” Mary smiled sweetly.

“How’s your head, Janine?”

“I know you don’t care, Sherlock.”

Sherlock glared at Mary and shifted the wiggling baby higher in his arm. “You’re cooking pulled pork, aren’t you, John?” without even glancing away.

“Hm?” John looked around and his lips twitched at the sight of his daughter insinuating her fingers into Sherlock’s nose. “Pulled pork? Yes.”

“Very American.” Sherlock batted the baby’s hand away.

“Yes, well it’s my birthday, isn’t it. That’s why Janine is here. And that is why John is making a meal as I requested.”

“Odd that you requested an Am--”

“You mean that I requested John make a meal? He’s actually quite good at cooking when he doesn’t have to worry he’ll be asked to break into, say, an office building, while the food is in the oven.”

Janine, who had been smiling at the baby, glanced at Sherlock and huffed.

“Now he’s going to wash his daughter instead of. . . " Sherlock paused dramatically, " . . . cook.”

“Oh, no you don’t!” Mary stopped Sherlock from walking into the kitchen. “You lost the bet.”

John spun around and a bit of onion flew off his knife, “A bet?! I knew you weren’t just trying to . . . how did you put it? . . . be a more helpful friend.”

“Of course you knew! Our friendship isn’t built on trust like Mary and Janine’s.”

“We’re normal human beings,” Janine muttered into her cup.

John snorted, and Sherlock looked his frustration at Mary, while the baby started tangling her fingers into his hair.

Mary folded her arms and tried not to laugh. “Bath. Now.”

Sherlock face melted into an almost pout as he tried to disentangle baby fingers from his hair. “I don’t know how.”

“If you haven’t stored it away in that oversized brain of yours, then look it up on your phone.”

Sherlock sighed and started down the hall.



Later that evening Mary and Janine were cooing over the baby’s attempts to shove pulled pork into her mouth.
Sherlock watched with narrowed eyes.

“She made me wash her not two hours ago.”

“They’re never really clean. And this is revenge.”

“Revenge?”

“For Janine.”

“She has the gall to—“

John shrugged, and put a forkful of pulled pork into his mouth. And grimaced. “I can’t eat this. Do you think they’ll notice if I order something else?”

“It doesn’t matter. Order now.”

John put his hand to his pocket, then looked around the room in confusion.

“Oh, yes.” Sherlock cleared his throat. “You’ll need my phone.”

“What?”

“You’re going to need a new one. Maybe buy a waterproof cover next time.”

Sherlock Fic: High Stakes

littlejohn









High Stakes

“John?”

John looked up from his phone, glaring, then shook his head, smiled apologetically, and accepted the drink Lestrade was offering him.

“Cheers.” He tilted it slightly towards Lestrade before drinking it down in one. “So has she got you . . . picking colors yet?”

“What? Colors?”

Sherlock sighed loudly from the armchair. “And the news readers wonder why crime is on the rise in London.”

Lestrade shrugged, and turned back to John.

“Colors. You know – the dresses, flowers . . .”

“I forgot!” Lestrade looked panicked. “How could I have forgotten?”

“Because—”

“Shut up, Sherlock. He wasn’t asking you. He—” John twitched, and looked at his phone again. He swore under his breath, before shoving it back into his pocket.

Lestrade looked from John’s glower to Sherlock’s half-smirk. “What’s this?”

“Just a friendly bet I had with John. I won, of course.” Sherlock picked up his phone and began typing again.

“Bet?”

John's arms were folded, and he was staring hard at the ceiling. He jumped when his phone buzzed again.

“We had a bet about your personal life, which I always thought was insensitive, but then it was John’s idea, and I bow to his good judgment in that area. He didn’t believe you two would ever get engaged. What did you say, John? She wasn’t nearly—”

“Sherlock!”

Sherlock looked calculatingly at John for a moment, and then shrugged one shoulder as he settled back. “John, as usual, set the stakes too high, and he’s regretting his lack of faith in your fiancée.”

“What did you bet?”

John set his jaw.

“Naming rights to his next child.”

Lestrade looked as if he wasn’t sure whether to laugh, or to pour John another drink. He opted for the latter, just as John shouted, “Rosfrith?!”

At that moment, Mary walked in. “I see you’re enjoying yourself, Sherlock, but you’ve wound John up enough for today.”

Mary turned to John.

“Not to worry, Husband, Sherlock had already lost a prior bet with me. Our children are safe from your reckless gambling.

“Sherlock promised to be godfather and give me naming rights in perpetuity to our children if I guessed the date and setting of your proposal," she explained to Lestrade. "Isn’t that right?”

Sherlock scowled.

“And I’m sorry if I bet on your love life, but I had to do something to stop my next daughter being named ‘Apple’.”

“No, of course it’s fine, Mary. I—”

“If you say anything like 'winning Molly makes me the ultimate winner', Gerald, I will suggest a cat-themed reception to her, and you won’t feel like a winner anymore.”

“It’s Greg,” Lestrade muttered, and poured himself another drink.

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