Unwritten Meme

[awanderingbard]

Stolen from the lovely joonscribble.

Tell me about a story I haven't written, and I'll give you 1-3 sentences of or about it. Possibly more.

Any fandom I've written for counts (listed in the sidebar), and crossovers are very welcome.

Comments

[awanderingbard.livejournal.com]

No Rest

Stag-do weekends in other countries were not John's cup of tea, but when it came to old army buddies, exceptions were made. So were the prime conditions for a stonking hangover.

He trudged up the steps to 221b, looking forward to going to bed and sleeping until his head had got rid of all the cotton, and his stomach wasn't so very angry with him. One look at Sherlock made him stop in his tracks.

"Before you start, I'm fine," Sherlock announced, not looking up from where he was typing on his laptop.

He was pouring sweat, and white as a sheet, and very, very clearly, to use a medical term, 'wonky'.

John's first thought was overdose, but then he saw Sherlock's ankle, which had a bandage around it, and was not quite aligned how it should be. He hurried over to examine it, and managed to get the bandage off despite Sherlock's hard kicks from his other leg. There was an open wound, now quite infected.

"Sherlock. How long has your ankle been broken?" John asked, calmly.

"Approximately three days. It's fine, I set it myself, and I couldn't stop, I had it almost figured out, or I thought I did, but it turned out that I was slightly off in my calculations, and anyway going to the hospital would have ruined everything, and it was fine anyway, just a slight compound fracture, nothing to really be concerned about, and now I'm really very sure that I know the answer and--who are you calling?"

"999, you're septic," John said.

"I'm fine," Sherlock said. "I won't go with them, and you can't make me. Just give me a bit longer, I'm really quite fine."

John ended the phone call, because he was afraid of what Sherlock would pull to avoid getting in the ambulance. Running away wouldn't be good on that ankle, and he wouldn't put it past Sherlock to do just that. "I'll make you a deal," he said, speaking like he would to a child. "If your temperature is over 101.3, you have to go to the hospital. You can take your laptop. If it's under, I'll monitor you here."

"Fine, yes, fine," Sherlock said.

John retrieved an otic thermometer and stuck it in Sherlock's ear. He showed Sherlock the temperature. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at it, and then nodded.

"All right, but I won't wear my wellies."

God, he was raving.

"Okay, Sherlock. No wellies."

[dustlines.livejournal.com]

Eeeee!! This is adorable! I feel strange saying that, given the injury component, but wow, their interactions are so on point and believable. I love Sherlock's stubbornness, and I cracked up when you mentioned the wellies.

By the way, I was thinking of a foot injury when I wrote the prompt, and I am impressed by your mind-reading capabilities.

[awanderingbard.livejournal.com]

My mum and I were just recalling the time my dad had a septic tooth and how mental he was, so I had that in mind when I read your prompt. My dad goes pretty insane when he gets a high fever. Even the dog was a bit concerned. :p He was fine, though, thankfully. So, Sherlock is my dad, and John is my mum, in this scenario.


By the way, I was thinking of a foot injury when I wrote the prompt, and I am impressed by your mind-reading capabilities.

High-fives!

[dustlines.livejournal.com]

Yes, it's strange how infections can alter a person's mind! And hee! Animals can react so hysterically to people behaving oddly.

High-fives!

Yaaayyy!!! *dances*