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team_watson Drabble Bingo
Jun. 20th, 2011 08:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gayalondiel_bakRating: PG, G, PG
Contained within: Sherlock/John, food, piglets.
Hungrily (221B)
Sherlock gazed down at John’s prone form on the bed. It had been days, although it now felt like weeks. The case had gone on and on and on. He hadn’t noticed his own reactions at the time, although he had observed John getting increasingly antsy from the corner of his eye, and filed the information into the recesses of his brain to consider later. John worried about him so, about his needs: about both of their needs. He pressed cups of sweet tea into his hands, slipped jammie dodgers and rich tea biscuits onto the table in front of him and sneaked kisses into the back of his hair, and did nothing more. He knew that was all Sherlock would take from him until the facts had aligned.
Now, Sherlock had returned from Scotland Yard to find that John had been busy in his absence. He lay on the bed, surrounded by dishes. Strawberries, slices of pineapple and marshmallows with a bowl of melted chocolate. Grapes, Spanish flat white peaches cut into slices. A tub of Phish Food, melted until it was just soft enough, and a pot of those little organic champagne chocolate truffles Harry had introduced them to. And John, between them, wearing nothing but a broad smile.
Honestly, Sherlock could not decide where to begin.
Product Placement
Jammie Dodgers
Spanish flat white peaches
Phish Food
Booja Booja chocolate champagne truffles
Farrow (Drabble)
For years John wanted to be a vet. He nagged his parents for trips to the local farm and his favourite animals were pigs, especially the newborn piglets. Later his concern for living creatures extended to humans, watching the pain of suffering being eased in his father’s final days.
A case took them to a farm near Stroud. The thief caught, Sherlock was demonstrating how the pattern of feathers in the coops tipped him off, John slipped away. Sherlock found him in the sty, cradling a milk-white piglet and scratching behind its ears.
“No, John.”
“What?”
“We can’t keep it.”
Squabble (One sentence)
Fights were horrendous long things that went on for hours and reconciliation took days, arguments were convoluted and normally ended up with petulant sulking; squabbles, John reflected as Sherlock pressed him down to the bed and kissed down his body by way of apology, were much more fun to resolve.
Contained within: Sherlock/John, food, piglets.
Hungrily (221B)
Sherlock gazed down at John’s prone form on the bed. It had been days, although it now felt like weeks. The case had gone on and on and on. He hadn’t noticed his own reactions at the time, although he had observed John getting increasingly antsy from the corner of his eye, and filed the information into the recesses of his brain to consider later. John worried about him so, about his needs: about both of their needs. He pressed cups of sweet tea into his hands, slipped jammie dodgers and rich tea biscuits onto the table in front of him and sneaked kisses into the back of his hair, and did nothing more. He knew that was all Sherlock would take from him until the facts had aligned.
Now, Sherlock had returned from Scotland Yard to find that John had been busy in his absence. He lay on the bed, surrounded by dishes. Strawberries, slices of pineapple and marshmallows with a bowl of melted chocolate. Grapes, Spanish flat white peaches cut into slices. A tub of Phish Food, melted until it was just soft enough, and a pot of those little organic champagne chocolate truffles Harry had introduced them to. And John, between them, wearing nothing but a broad smile.
Honestly, Sherlock could not decide where to begin.
Product Placement
Jammie Dodgers
Spanish flat white peaches
Phish Food
Booja Booja chocolate champagne truffles
Farrow (Drabble)
For years John wanted to be a vet. He nagged his parents for trips to the local farm and his favourite animals were pigs, especially the newborn piglets. Later his concern for living creatures extended to humans, watching the pain of suffering being eased in his father’s final days.
A case took them to a farm near Stroud. The thief caught, Sherlock was demonstrating how the pattern of feathers in the coops tipped him off, John slipped away. Sherlock found him in the sty, cradling a milk-white piglet and scratching behind its ears.
“No, John.”
“What?”
“We can’t keep it.”
Squabble (One sentence)
Fights were horrendous long things that went on for hours and reconciliation took days, arguments were convoluted and normally ended up with petulant sulking; squabbles, John reflected as Sherlock pressed him down to the bed and kissed down his body by way of apology, were much more fun to resolve.
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no subject
Date: 2011-06-20 07:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-20 08:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-20 08:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-20 08:15 pm (UTC)Hooray for the local shout-out.
no subject
Date: 2011-06-20 08:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-20 08:30 pm (UTC)that was fun
Date: 2011-06-20 09:07 pm (UTC)Re: that was fun
Date: 2011-06-20 09:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-20 10:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-21 05:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-21 01:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-21 05:00 pm (UTC)