Caffeine Diary

A dead caroler
BBC Sherlock
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Length: 100

Again, thanks to methylviolet10b for the prompt!

This drabble picks up where yesterday's left off.

( A dead caroler )

Not a drabble today, but a 221b! I couldn’t bring myself to cut this one all the way to 100 words, so I built it up instead. And it's ever so slightly naughty. ;-)

( Candy Canes )

Christmas Cards
BBC Sherlock
Rating: G
Spoilers: Post-Reichenbach
Length: 100

( Christmas Cards )

The marvelous methylviolet10b has posted the completed round-robin challenge fic that she and I just wrote. And when I say "just", I mean seriously, over the past week.

Here are the links. Apparently the whole thing is too long for a single LJ post. *eep*

Challenge!Fic: Pantomime, Part 1 of 2 (BBC-verse)
Challenge!Fic: Pantomime, Part 2 of 2 (BBC-verse)

New rounds are ready for you!



( Previous rounds )


( Today's installments )

Like methylviolet10b said, just because we're not much online right now doesn't mean we've not been attending to our drabbling.


( Previous rounds linked here. )

( Proceed at your own risk. )

I think this round will amuse you. Oh, and I'm putting the previous round's links behind a cut. The list is getting silly-long.


( Click here for the previous rounds. )


18. Work

“Chiswick.”

“Chiswick.” It was an echo and a question in one word.

“I believe I spoke clearly, John.”

John bit back a retort. Getting snippy over Sherlock’s snippiness would get him nowhere. He’d made quick work of breakfast, as promised. He was well fed and marginally restored from his rude awakening at ass o’clock. He could handle this. “Why Chiswick?”

“Mark MacKenzie.”

“The bottom-feeder, yes. What about him?”

“He was 'investigating' a paper company in Chiswick before he disappeared.”

“And you think there might be a connection?”

“Jessica Perez lived in Chiswick with her boyfriend.”

“Chiswick it is. Check, please!”

Still weird and creepy, but it should be dawn soon. I don't envy the cleaning crew at the V&A. I hope they get hazard pay for this job!

Round 1 here.
Round 2 here.
Round 3 here.
Round 4 here.
Round 5 here.
Round 6 here.
Round 7 here.
Round 8 here.
Round 9 here.
Round 10 here.
Round 11 here.
Round 12 here.
Round 13 here.

14. Blind

“I hope the unidentified victim went missing on the twenty-first.” Sherlock and Lestrade both looked at John. He met their gazes, one pale and intent, the other dark and tense, both awaiting further explanation. “Otherwise, we’re missing one. Eighteenth, twenty-first, twenty-fourth, twenty-seventh. If our third victim only went missing today--”

“Let’s assume,” Lestrade said, “that these three are the only three.”

“So far.”

It was a blind-side and it oughtn’t to have been. Lestrade felt briefly old and tired. “Hell. Sherlock’s right. That means we’ve got three days until he kidnaps another one.”

“And twelve until he kills again.”


I'm afraid I've not got a clue what twist you've given the post headers, Vi. Sorry. (I'm a bit scattered. Been sewing and forgot to eat lunch. D'oh!)

D'you think LJ went down in an attempt to stop this fic? ;-) Well, it's up again now and I see my partner in wrongness has posted.

We are sick, sick puppies.

Round 1 here.
Round 2 here.
Round 3 here.
Round 4 here.
Round 5 here.
Round 6 here.
Round 7 here.
Round 8 here.
Round 9 here.

10. Light

“Not exactly a light touch, this killer,” muttered John.

Lestrade’s footsteps pounded up behind and stopped abruptly. “Oh my God.” He shouted over one shoulder, “Donovan! Have security get some lights on in here!” He turned back in time to catch Sherlock in mid-step. “Do. Not. Touch. Anything.”

Even in the layers of shadow, Lestrade saw Sherlock’s pale eyes roll, but he heeded the DI for once and stayed put.

Sherlock scanned the scene as best he could. Besides the suspended tongues and the discarded jumpsuit, he could make out part of a torso that might still have its head.


Back to you, Vi.

This is getting twisted. Your turn, Vi. ;-D

Round 1 here.
Round 2 here.
Round 3 here.
Round 4 here.
Round 5 here.

6. Shoot

"Not long."

"Security say the cameras have been glitching throughout the building. This room went out for eight minutes starting at one-forty-three a.m.," Lestrade offered.

John rose, wincing at phantom pain, and looked about. Donovan was directing the numbering and photographing of evidence. It was a big job. He'd not seen so many severed body parts since Afghanistan.

It was then it struck him. "There are more limbs than two bodies can provide."

Lestrade could see Anderson was about to shoot his mouth off again, and stopped him with another hard stare. He reached for his phone. They needed backup.