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Sherlock: Sherlock

Another short story dedicated to my passion of the moment ...

Title: Tradition
Genre: General, friendship
Rating: for all
Characters: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, Lestrade OF
N. words: 629

John Watson had just finished a long shift at the clinic and he was tired and cold. All I wanted tonight was to be able to sink into and relax on the couch watching television. Dream unlikely since when he had a case to be resolved Sherlock rarely settle elsewhere.
The sofa was miraculously free. His roommate had been lying on the couch, intent on plucking distractedly the strings of the violin with grim expression. The sound of doors opened and closed attracted the attention of the doctor toward the kitchen. She looked in that direction, expecting to see that Mrs. Hudson, despite her protests, often impersonating an efficient ruler, but instead he was confronted by Lestrade. The inspector gave him a grin and waved a hand, on which it was impossible not to notice the latex glove, and went back to rummage through the cans.
- Because no one told me that there was a chance? - John asked his eyes going from one to another. Now the mock raids were familiar as the evening news.
- There is no case - Sherlock muttered, continuing to mistreat the violin.
The doctor sighed resignedly, before asking:
- So what have you done this time to annoy Scotland Yard?
- It 's almost Christmas - Lestrade answered for him, as if that explained everything.
John did not see that link was there.
- It 's why it lacks the usual crowd of volunteers? - Asked puzzled.
Lestrade looked at him curiously, then turned to Sherlock.
- Do not you tell him?
- not to him, - the young man replied dryly while a series of shrill sounds came from his instrument.
John snorted and sat on the other chair, before you ask, impatiently
- One of you would be kind enough to explain why this improvised?
There was an exchange of glances, followed by other conflicting sounds which highlights all of the opposition of his roommate. Lestrade shrugged his shoulders, his good humor in contrast to the expression of Sherlock sullen and resentful.
- Part of our agreement. Once a year check that our friend is really clean and in return he is allowed to set foot in my investigations throughout the following year - said the inspector.
Watson said both carefully. Sherlock was acting like a kid in which one parent was making an unnecessary sermon while Lestrade was relaxed and smiling.
As a father proud of the results of a rebellious son.
was a strange thought, but suited to the complex relationship between the two men. Patience and unpredictable availability of the inspector to his roommate was more than a working relationship and knew that Sherlock admired, albeit in his own way, the policeman. John felt that there was a story behind this, linked to increased dependence on any drug Sherlock had chosen to fight the boredom. A story that did not need to know. The important thing was that the brilliant investigative consultant had passed that stage and Lestrade had found a good friend, though he would never have allowed.
He got up and went rummaging through the papers scattered on his desk.
- inspectors, would have dinner with us? Perhaps you could even get to taste something Sherlock, - waving the proposed menu of Chinese restaurant down the street.
Lestrade hesitated, and both turned to look at that Sherlock, laid the violin, had joined hands under his chin and stared at them intently.
- If not, should be part of tradition - argued John, hoping to convince his friend.
Sherlock gave a short nod and grabbed the menu from the hands of the doctor.
- OK, but I want to know everything about the murder they were talking about yesterday's news.
The other two smiled, everything was absolutely normal at 221b Baker Street.

End

December 3, 2010

Changing Morrowind To English

Tradition: Maybe

Recently I fell in love with this new BBC series in which the famous detective invented by Arthur Conan Doyle has been modernized and lives and works in London today. Unfortunately up to now have been produced only three episodes of 90 minutes and we have to wait a year before you see more. In the meantime here is a brief coda to the first episode: A Study in Pink.

Title: Maybe
Genre: somber
Rating: Spoilers for all
: A Study in Pink
Characters: Sherlock Holmes
N. words: 421

Dedicated As always my precious beta

You're an idiot. These were the words of John Watson when he denied that he was tempted to take one capsule, convincing him more than ever that the doctor had the potential to become more than just a roommate.
Obviously if they had realized much earlier, when Watson's reaction during the first meeting was more of curiosity than of rejection. Even better, when a gleam of excitement in his eyes, had followed him at the crime scene.
Sherlock had put to the test in the investigation involving him without bothering to mitigate their own ways. Preferred to flee rather than just potential roommates groped get used to them and then having to try the new ones when they gave way under constant pressure to live close to a genius like him.
John Watson in a few hours he had stood up to Mycroft, something that sometimes it was difficult even to him, he forgot to limp running through the streets of London without staying too far back, had, even incorrectly, tried to defend him before Lestrade, is had bothered to follow his tracks, and then call the police had broken the law, killing the driver, to save him from what he considered his idiocy. Remarkable, years since anyone had cared for him in this way.

You're an idiot. The voice of a young man with dark hair and the accent foreign replaced that of Dr. Watson recalls his first and only friend. A chemistry experiment failed and the principal had sent Sherlock to give private lessons to a new student. Task and rebellious, brave and timid at the same time, the boy and his family had intrigued to the point of urging him to attend the house even after the repeats were over. He was never able to find anything remarkable about her father even though he was sure that the ambassador hidden secrets only comparable to those of his brother but the boy had crept into his life to become his constant companion in adventure. At least until they had achieved what he had always wanted to return to live in his country Christmas.
There was an awkward hug, a promise to keep in touch and the young man had gone to her new life. met a new friend. Someone who bear your quirks and be ready to follow you and, occasionally, to save you from yourself.
Sherlock pulled out his cellphone and, with a half smile on his lips, a typed message.
Perhaps I could find, SH .

End

November 3, 2010

I Want A Bigger Belly

RPF: A cause is almost always a smile another smile (John Barrowman / Scott Gill)

This is the first time that I attempt in a fanfiction about real people instead of TV characters. Born of the project, thanks / blame for the my precious beta gave me a prompt to work with and rely mainly on things that are written by John Barrowman on Twitter or read in some interview.

Title: A cause is almost always a smile another smile
Genre: Romantic
Rating: for all
Alerts: RPF (Real Person Fiction),
slash Characters: John Barrowman / Scott Gill
N . words: 419

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, unfortunately not personally know John and Scott, but with my beta are very ready to adopt them, dogs included, so if anyone knew how to contact them ...

Dedicated to Joy who supports me in the craziest ideas, and finally jumping to the animated gifs and John Scott, one of the most beautiful couples ever met.

The traffic was worse than usual and he had to stay in London longer than he wanted due to a customer who, for the umpteenth time, had changed his mind on the layout of the rooms. Scott loved his work and was generally patient and understanding with clients but was Saturday evening and wanted to be home in time to see John with the last episode of his show.
nervously gripped the steering wheel, imagining his companion to kill time leaving messages and photos on Twitter would have been better kept to oneself.
looked at his watch impatiently and weighed the idea to call him.
"If I do, will combine for at least five minutes without trouble," he said to himself thinking back to how he had reduced the kitchen a week before the pretext of preparing the dessert for him and his nephew.
- John? I crossed the Severn just now. How are things there? - Churches.
- The boys are down in the dumps because they hoped that you would be here this afternoon to take us out and I wanted to experiment with new recipes that Carole sent me yesterday, - responded with excessive panache.
Scott sighed, leaving John alone on Saturday was a gamble, especially when she was on pins and needles for his program that was about to go on air, but he had clients who worked all week and was the only day they could make an appointment with him.
- We can not order a pizza? - Asked in a tone of light and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.
- now I pulled out everything you need, you'll see will be a fabulous soup! CJ Hey come here that I have not yet tried the new sweater, - exclaimed John.
Scott shook his head, listening to the sounds coming from the phone, and imagine that chased the dog house. The poor beast sooner or later he would learn to call the animal protection if John had not stopped him wear the weirdest things.
Finally the traffic seemed to have thinned out.
- John, are there in half an hour, - he shouted into the phone, looking around awkwardly. I sincerely hope that none of the other drivers he had heard.
- We look forward Scottie - John replied, sending him a loud kiss and close the communication.
Thirty minutes later, Scott was greeted at the door by a smiling John and disheveled, wearing pajamas and thick socks with CJ in her arms, dressed in a white jacket with blue stripes, equal to the pajamas of his companion.
and could not help but smile back.

End

September 7, 2010

G Shock Woodbury Outlet

NCIS: Actors and spectators

Another old project that I could after months to complete. I hope the Tiva fans I do not want too much if my vision of that scene does not match them.

Title: Actors and spectators
Genre: somber
Rating: for all
Spoilers: 7x02 - Reunion
Characters: Ziva David, Tony DiNozzo
N. words: 369

Dedicated as always to my wonderful beta Joy

Act

Building. Lurking. That the target was only waiting. That was easy, the training received at the Mossad had taught every technique of stalking and to act with cool determination. What would happen after he was unknown and was not able to predict the final outcome.
Talking to others was relatively simple, they were ready to justify and forgive without any explanation. Gibbs seemed to have reservations but it was not particularly concerned about this. He was the man behind the door that could change things. The man whom he had not trusted but who had also saved, even from herself and now had to find out if he could get his forgiveness, what mattered most.
The door opened, letting out an agent who did not know. She slipped inside, silently. It was time. And even the months of captivity had been difficult finding the words to apologize to Tony.

Act II

watched her through the space between the desks, calm and quiet as if nothing had happened. In the eyes still imprinted with the image of his face swollen, resigned expression. In my ears the words of the day before, apologies are difficult to pronounce as to accept.
Four years as partners in the field to be told: "I could not trust you."
had been a severe blow, one that had not been able to hide as the others.
petrified had looked close the gap, he felt a hand resting on his neck, his thumb caressed him, and then warned his lips resting on his cheek for a moment. A gesture delicate that a few months before he would rejoice, now left him cold and indifferent, as a foreign observer to the scene.
He had nothing to reproach himself, had done his best and he was proud of the results that the team had achieved. He was grateful to the director for giving her a second chance and that was accepted by all with open arms. But he had burned too many times and now, perhaps, had learned his lesson. Now it was not to trust him more. They were gentlemen, and with time would overcome the distrust enough friends to return, any other possibility was crumbling in front of the only justification he could not admit.

End