marysutherland: (Sherlock and John)
BBC Sherlock fic

Rating 12 (gen, mild swearing and adult situations)

Summary: A French decathlete's had a breakdown, but Sherlock has a match-box that may explain it all.

Inspired by one of the cases mentioned in The Sign of Three.

Betaed by Small Hobbit.

The thing about Sherlock is that when he says something is "baffling" or "inexplicable," that often just means that he's already worked out 90% of what's happened, but is unduly bothered by the remaining 10% of the puzzle that still doesn't fit. )
marysutherland: (Rupert)
BBC Sherlock

Rating: PG

Summary: Lestrade may be baffled, but it'll all come out in the wash.

Inspired by Small Hobbit's The Bogus Laundry Affair

He is a big, powerful chap, clean-shaven, and very swarthy— something like Aldridge, who helped us in the bogus laundry affair. – Lestrade's letter to Sherlock Holmes, The Adventure of the Cardboard Box.

"Surely it's obvious where the drugs were being distributed?" Sherlock announces, and Lestrade somehow doesn't yell at him. They found the body of Aldridge, the Drug Squad's informant, twelve hours ago, and Sherlock is his last hope.

"It can't be Forster Street," he says patiently. "Pub's been watched for a fortnight, and it's clean. Aldridge must have been stringing them along."

"Of course it's not the Ferret and Fudge," Sherlock exclaims, "Why would anyone think that? This was bulk distribution, Lestrade. The collectors had to be able to take substantial packages away unobtrusively. Which is why you should be investigating the Speedy Laundry Co at the other end of Forster Street."

"A bogus laundry company?"

"You'd be amazed at how much cocaine you can hide in a duvet cover." A frown from John, standing beside Sherlock. Bet he'll be checking 221B's airing cupboard when he gets home.

"It's possible," Lestrade tells Sherlock. "But we've got no evidence that Aldridge ever used the laundry."

"Haven't we? Describe the man."

"Big bloke, black hair, dark complexion–"

"–It wasn't a dark complexion, but ingrained grime," Sherlock breaks in. "You smell, but you do not observe. The dead man's body was filthy, yet his clothes reeked of fabric conditioner. We're looking for a murderer, Lestrade, who has access to large quantities of Lenor Summer Breeze."

Note: Small Hobbit has also now written a longer ACD case based on the reference: The Case of the Bogus Laundry.
marysutherland: (Molly)
Pinch-hitter banner

I can now reveal my pinch-hitter fic for Sherlockmas this year. It was The Man with the Twisted Life for Goldvermilion87, who likes updated ACD cases and also wondered why Molly had ended up working in the morgue...
marysutherland: (Mark Gatiss)
BBC Sherlock

Rating 12 (implied violence)

Spoilers: for The Reichenbach Fall

Mycroft had to admit that Kitty Riley had a certain rat-like cunning. She could say anything about Sherlock's past, of course, now he was dead, but it had been ingenious to bribe someone to obtain an old school report.  What she'd found was certainly lurid enough for the red tops; no bland generalities from the eccentric masters at their public school.

"Holmes' intelligence is matched only by his obnoxious behaviour" from the maths master; Mr Hall in Classics commenting, "He would do well to remember the need for diplomacy as well as brilliance; crowing over the mistakes of others is hardly fair play." Next came the damning sentence scrawled by a housemaster: "The boy is frankly untrustworthy." And last of all, the headmaster's conclusion: "We feel that your son would be better continuing his schooling elsewhere. There is a curious lack of empathy visible, which has led to certain unfortunate incidents. A consultation with a child psychiatrist might be recommended."

"Not a pretty picture, is it, Ms Riley?" Mycroft said. "Hoping for another front page article, were you?"

Kitty didn't reply.

"A pity you didn't understand the difference between "Holmes major" and "Holmes minor," he went on, as she beat her hands vainly against the walls of the interrogation cell. "And so didn't spot that report didn't refer to my brother."   

marysutherland: (Mark Gatiss)
BBC Sherlock

Rating: PG

Summary: Mycroft gets a nasty surprise when he visits John and Sherlock in Sussex.

Crack fic written for archea2's Not-Porn Porn Fest

John had expected the bees when they retired to Sussex. He hadn't expected the compost. Though Sherlock had always been fascinated by decomposition, and the scientific analysis of rotting vegetation was surely better than having disintegrating thumbs in the fridge.

Sherlock was out in the garden now, carefully sorting yesterday's leftovers. John knew better than to interfere; he still hadn't been forgiven for putting orange peel in the wormery. So when the door-bell rang, it was him faced with Mycroft.

He wished yet again that the Secret Service had let Mycroft go after William V's little accident, but no-one in the public sector was allowed to retire before eighty now. So here was Mycroft boring on about the latest defence disaster: someone had walked off with a vital part of Britain's latest submarine.

"It was a chip," Mycroft said. "They swallowed it." John's eyebrows rose. "A silicon chip. My experts assure me some information may be recoverable by the thief even after throughput."

"Sherlock won't take the case," John told him. "You know he's retired for good."

"I'm sure I can persuade him," Mycroft said smugly, heading out into the garden.

John watched and waited, smiling. A smile that turned into a grin as he saw Mycroft retreating shortly afterwards, beaten back by an accurately thrown volley of slightly-used tea bags.

marysutherland: (Mark Gatiss)
BBC Sherlock

Rating: 12 (passing references to femslash and violence)

Spoilers: for Scandal in Belgravia

Summary: Mycroft and Irene have a little discussion after Sherlock has left.

Betaed by the extremely precise Kalypso_V

AZ to MH: Transcript as requested: one hard copy, no other files or tapes remaining. )

marysutherland: (JHW B&W)

BBC Sherlock/Dr Who crossover

Rating: U

Summary: Dr Watson seemed a bit different that morning.

Sherlock woke up and realised that John was frying bacon. Correction: when he went into the kitchen, a tall woman with long dark hair and wearing John's clothes was frying bacon.

"Morning. Would you like an egg as well?" said the woman, looking round. Chinese-American, early forties, experienced rock climber. Her beautiful face spread into a familiar rueful grin. "Sorry about this. Woke up this morning and I'd been reprogrammed. Can't work out yet how to change back."

That was the disadvantage of having a Teselecta as a flatmate, of course.

"But it's just the transport?" Sherlock asked hastily.

John's grin broadened. "I'd forgotten how disappointing it is fondling your own breasts. I'm fine otherwise."

"Two eggs and lots of bacon," Sherlock said, reaching for his phone, and dialling a familiar number.

"Good morning, little brother." Mycroft's voice was particularly smug. He'd probably been up for hours, gloating over this latest bit of interference.

"What have you done to John?"

"Nothing significant. You don't think when I'd finally found a being who could cope with you, that I'd change anything significant about them, do you?"

"Then why is he looking like that?"

"A little favour I'm doing for our American friends. I'll change him back later. But for now, Sherlock, I do hope that you and Joan Watson can be buddies."

marysutherland: (Default)

BBC Sherlock

Rating U

Spoilers: For Hounds of Baskerville

Summary: Lestrade needs a break after the events at Grimpen.

Greg knew by the second day in Orlando that his holiday had been a mistake. Why had he come all this way when he already worked for a Mickey Mouse outfit back at home? It was boredom more than any great sense of duty that made him agree to do the job for Mycroft in Devon.

There had to be some mid-point though, between boredom and getting scared shitless by a bloody great dog. Followed by someone blowing himself up. It was a huge relief when he could pack Sherlock and John back off to London, away from the mad scientists.

The weather had abruptly turned horrible, and he didn't fancy Dartmoor anyhow. He drove down to Salcombe and the sea. It was grey and windy on the sands and it felt like home. He rolled his trousers up and paddled in the icy Atlantic waters and he could feel his tan fading. It didn't matter. Today he wanted a choc ice, occasional showers and not to worry about murderers. To pretend he was still a lad back in Weston, not a middle-aged, soon to be divorced plod.

No, he couldn't really forget that, but the grey sea still suited his mood, in its unwavering persistence. Sod all the flashiness of Florida; there was still nothing quite like a British beach.

One bullet

Feb. 11th, 2012 01:56 pm
marysutherland: (Sherlock in uniform)

BBC Sherlock

Rating 12 (violence)

Spoilers: for The Reichenbach Fall

Betaed by the wonderful Small Hobbit

Pudupudu asked me at the SHAM2012 meetup to write Mycroft and Sherlock hurt/comfort. There may be slightly less comfort in this than she was hoping for, but that's Sherlock for you.

His death was going remarkably well, Sherlock thought. )

marysutherland: (Sally)
BBC Sherlock

Rating: 12 (violence)

Spoilers: for The Reichenbach Fall

Summary: what else had Sally Donovan been supposed to do?

Sally got blamed, of course, when Sherlock was eventually cleared, but she hadn't wanted to imagine that he was a psychopath, endangering children to make himself look good. She'd spent years trying to suppress her gut instincts telling her that Sherlock was dangerous. Because Greg and Dr Watson trusted Sherlock, and they were good men. And the cases had been solved; she'd been prepared to turn a blind eye to all the irregularities, because of that. Tell herself that Sherlock was an anti-social weirdo, but that didn't stop him being a genius.

But what could you do when you had reasonable suspicion? Two minutes to identify one spot in the whole of greater London simply wasn't possible. And the girl having hysterics about Sherlock: Sally couldn't ignore that. You had to pay attention to kids, take their evidence seriously, even if they couldn't explain their fears.

It wasn't telling tales out of school or getting her own back, whatever people thought. What she'd done was the only sensible course of action: get the matter investigated, shed some light on it. If Sherlock had only co-operated when Lestrade went round, she wouldn't have had to go to the Chief Superintendent. If he'd just been prepared to talk, give a plausible explanation for what had happened, rather than simply expecting – demanding – blind belief.

marysutherland: (JHW B&W)
BBC Sherlock

Rating: PG

Spoilers: For The Reichenbach Fall

Inspired by Fengirl's stories in which Clara is a barrister.

Clara's used to giving free legal advice to her friends and relatives – and now it seems her ex-relatives need it as well. Though what John's actually more concerned about is courtroom etiquette.

"Has Sherlock really not been a witness before?" she asks. "Surely he's been involved in dozens of cases."

"He stays in the background, mostly. Way he's always preferred it."

"Till you decided to give him a higher profile."

"It brings in the clients," John says. "He says he doesn't like it, but then he goes round being brilliant and photogenic." There's a note that's at once proud and terrified in his voice, but she really doesn't want to ask about him and Sherlock.

"Why is Sherlock a witness anyway?" she asks instead. "They're only prosecuting Moriarty for the jewel theft, aren't they?"

"Because of Moriarty's Get Sherlock message. I wish they could get him on the bombings as well, but we still don't have the evidence."

"Once he goes down for this, you may get more informants coming out of the woodwork," Clara says. "You work with the charges you've got, not the ones you'd like. And he can't dodge this one. Even if Sherlock makes a fool of himself."

"I'll remind him not to," John says, but from his awkward smile she's relieved she's not the prosecution barrister.

marysutherland: (Mark Gatiss)

BBC Sherlock

Rating: U

Spoilers for The Reichenbach Fall

"Why me?" Mycroft demanded, when Sherlock told him his request.

"The joy of redemption, Mycroft," Sherlock replied, mockingly. "After all, you stitched me up with that journalist. You need this, you know, or you won't sleep at night."

"I could have arranged your entire demise, if you'd asked."

"Of course. You specialise in reusing corpses, don't you? But, as you see, I've managed that side myself, with some help from my friends. I'm giving you this minor role in my plan as a favour."

"For which you will expect repayment, naturally."

"Naturally. Dying is easy, staying dead requires more resources. So are you going to do it? Or do I cut you out of the loop entirely?"

"I don't see how we can make this work. John will recognise me."

"You'll be well disguised, and he'll be in shock. Henry Knight's mind created a monstrous hound, because it seemed more plausible than the truth. John won't believe it could be you, so he won't see you."

"I'm frankly not sure I can manage it."

"It's a simple enough task. A twelve-year-old could do it. In fact, I still have the scars from where you did do it to me."

"But I don't have the equipment."

"Oh, Mycroft, really. I'm sure your department's budget can run to buying you a BMX bike."

marysutherland: (Wallpaper)

BBC Sherlock

Rating PG

Spoilers for The Reichenbach Fall

"Why would Sherlock Holmes invent a master criminal?" the reporter asked.

"So he could defeat me and prove he was a genius," Moriarty said confidently.

"But he is a genius, isn't he?" she replied, smiling. "It wasn't you who planned the Crown Jewels raid, because you're just a hired actor, it was him. That's pretty impressive."

"His idea was that I was such an incredible master criminal that I could get away with crimes even when I was clearly guilty."

"So Mr Holmes rigged the jury?"

"Yeah, like he promised me."

"But presumably, he was going to catch you in the end: Moriarty, the bomber, the child abductor. Crimes that he'd carried out, but you would be blamed for. And you'd have to be found guilty this time, for him to win."

"I suppose so."

"You'd get a long sentence then, wouldn't you?"

"He said he'd get me out. Remember, he can open up Pentonville."

"And whose word could you possibly trust more than that of a fantasising homicidal genius? Or who would it be safer for you to tell a reporter about? You know," Hildy Johnson added. "I don't think our readers are going to swallow this one, to be honest. But don't worry, I'll give you the number of a reporter on the Sun, if you like, Mr Brook."

Note: Hildy Johnson is from His Girl Friday

marysutherland: (Sherlock in uniform)

BBC Sherlock

Rating: PG

Spoilers for The Reichenbach Fall

"There's a dead man in Addlestone who looks like me," Sherlock told Molly, and she really wasn't sure what a sensible reply to that was.

"Right," she said nervously, and waited for the really alarming bit.

"I need someone to collect him. You've got a car, haven't you? I'm going to fake my own death, so easiest to start with a lookalike corpse."

"OK," she replied, because she had promised she'd help him. "Do you know where this body is? I mean, where in Addlestone?"

"Yes, but Mick, who found it, doesn't have his own transport, and taxis can be funny about these things. But the body's quite fresh, it'll look fine in your passenger seat."

"I see. Can I possibly ask how he died?"

"He was murdered.  Oh, not by me, don't worry. He was an actor, hired by Moriarty to pretend to be me and to carry out an abduction. After which, Moriarty killed him. You'd have thought that was the obvious hazard of taking the role, but actors clearly don't have much common sense."

"I've never seen an actor who looks like you," Molly said.

"The resemblance isn't particularly close, but hair dye and the right clothes hide a lot. He wasn't a well-known figure: I doubt he's any great loss to the profession. His name was Benedict."

marysutherland: (Default)

BBC Sherlock

Rating 12 (violence)

Spoilers for The Reichenbach Fall

It's only after Sherlock's funeral that Molly is certain they'll get away with it. She doesn't attend the service in case he decides to reappear then: her heart couldn't stand it. As it is, she's a nervous wreck, but everyone presumes that's just the grief of obsession. People think Molly's pathetic, clinging hopelessly to the belief that Sherlock wasn't a fraud. In fact she's mostly worried that someone will realise who rigged the DNA testing of the corpse.

And who pushed a dead man out of a second-storey window. She's much stronger than she looks; you have to be, in her job. And Sherlock's right, as usual. Smashed onto the pavement, one broken body in a fancy coat does look like another, if you're in complete shock. If you know that it's your friend there, your mind papers over discrepancies. The dead never look quite like the living: every doctor knows that.

Molly feels desperately sad for John, but she's gloriously unconcerned about Sherlock having killed Jim. Not after all the people he murdered, the children he tormented. She'd have shot Moriarty herself if she knew how to use a gun. At least she was useful this time. Though it's somehow typical that Sherlock also left her with the job of secretly removing Jim's body from the roof at Barts.

marysutherland: (JHW B&W)

BBC Sherlock

Rating: PG

Spoilers: for Hounds of Baskerville

John doesn't stop walking away when Sherlock tells him: "I don't have friends. I've just got one." Even though it's a brilliant line, and Sherlock knows it. He's spent his life getting away with murder – well, perhaps not murder, but some fairly close approximations - because he can always win people round. Molly, Mrs Hudson, even Gregory Lestrade: he always knows how to charm them just enough to make up for his previous bad behaviour.

John only stops walking when Sherlock tells him that he's helping solve the case. John doesn't find Sherlock charming. John thinks he's amazing, but also that he's an idiot. He points out sardonically when Sherlock's showing off or trying to be cool or been wrong in his deductions. So why does John stay? For the thrill? But he stays even when there's no case and Sherlock's brain is eating itself from the inside. And when the cases aren't exciting but horrifying, traumatic.

Because he's helping other people, of course. Louise Mortimer barely knows John, but it's him she begs to stop Henry Knight, not the police. So John goes out and disarms an unstable man with a gun, because that's what he does. John stays, Sherlock realises, because of people like Henry. People who desperately need someone to rely on who is kind as well as brave.

marysutherland: (Wallpaper)

BBC Sherlock

Rating: 12 (sexism and implicit violence)

Spoilers for Scandal in Belgravia

The secret to defeating men is letting them think they're winning. Irene's known that since she was twelve, rewarding the boy who did her French homework with French kisses. She's given a lot of men a lot of pleasure since. And extracted an excessively high price in return.

Her safe comes with two combinations: originally, one would open it safely, the other would set off an alarm. Now, thanks to a gun expert who enjoyed Irene's version of Russian Roulette, the person who opens Irene's safe with the wrong combination will be shot.

No, the man who does. A woman might well be suspicious about Irene's combination supposedly being her vital statistics. Realise that there are days when even the most attractive woman doesn't want to be reminded that her body's not the perfect shape.

On the other hand, the two men who have forced her to reveal that her key-code is 32-24-34 have thought it funny and plausible that a woman – a sex worker – would be so vain. Though Irene had the last laugh, naturally, over their lifeless bodies.

For a clever man like Sherlock, there's the extra twist: letting him deduce the wrong combination himself. Though she does tip him the wink just before he opens the safe; she might yet want to make further use of that brain.

marysutherland: (Mark Gatiss)

BBC Sherlock

Rating: 12

Spoilers: none for Series 2

Summary: Mycroft's recruitment techniques are non-standard.

Inspired by Pavanne by Richard and Linda Thompson, which kalypso_v introduced me to.

"You can kill me of course," the man with the umbrella said, almost conversationally. "But you won't get out of the hotel alive if you do. Look out of the window."

She could just see the marksmen on the roof opposite, in the position she'd have chosen herself. She wasn't dealing with amateurs, then.

"I know who you are," the man went on. "And your background. But don't worry, Pavanne, I don't intend to reveal either to anyone else."

"I'm not for hire," she said.

"You kill for pleasure, the police think." He was tall and smartly dressed, with the same smooth air as some of the diplomats she'd shot. "They're wrong. You kill because you're trying to change the world. But you don't know yet the right way to do that."

"What do you want?"

"To offer you a position."

"In your bed?" she sneered.

"As a minor civil servant," he said, smiling. "The pay's not good, but I know that money doesn't interest you."

"I'm not working for any man."

"You wouldn't be. You'd be working for Her Britannic Majesty. She needs a woman like you. I'm authorised to offer you a new identity, a new life. The details are all down here. Look at them, and think about it," the man said, as he handed her the BlackBerry.


marysutherland: (Default)

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