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Loki-Gabrielkvidha

Title: Loki-Gabrielkvidha
Author: Therese N
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Gabriel (Loki), Michael, Lucifer, Odin, Dean Winchester (implied), Sam Winchester (implied)
Rating: All audiences
Warnings: Major character death (canonical)
Word count: ~150
Summary: I was inspired by the connection between Loki and Gabriel in Supernatural, and decided to write a short poem in the Old Norse meter hrynhenda. The Loki-Gabrielkvidha tells the story of the war between the archangels, Gabriel's flight from Heaven, his time as Loki and his ultimate redemption.
A/N: I gave this to Richard Speight Jr at Aecon 4. (I can't believe I did that. I said "I bet you have tons of women who write you poetry, but I hope I'm one of the few who does it in Old Norse verse.") Poetry geekery under the cut.About hrynhendaCollapse )

Hear the tale as told by skald-kings
Truth of Liesmith’s fall from sky-vault
Heaven’s trumpet, Mary’s herald
Held in grace and felled by ardor
Righteous son fought bane of brothers
Banned the morning star of darkness
Sword of guarding fire was soaring
Silver tongue took ill-gained hiding

Holy witness, heathen veiling
Hallow’d brother of Galdra-father
Trickster’s cloak was proudly taken
Tried the prideful, twisted justice
Hasteful mistletoe betrayal
Torn from Aesir’s horn of plenty
Water angel, endless wand’rer
Walk’d the Earth in mirthful sorrow

Fenrir’s father, holy brother
Found his will, a sounder purpose
Bravely standing, singing swan song
Slain by hand of fallen angel
Hear the tale as told by skald-kings
Truth of ruthless, stark redemption
Charcoal broken, barren feathers
Blood to save the human saviors

The Saturnalia Deviation

Title: The Saturnalia Deviation
Author: Therese N
Fandom: Doctor Who, The Big Bang Theory
Characters: Eleventh Doctor, Amy, Rory, Penny, Leonard Hofstadter, Sheldon Cooper, Rajesh Koothrappali, Howard Wolowitz, original character
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: A mention of sexual assault
Word count: About 5,500
Summary: The Doctor, Amy and Rory celebrate Christmas 2008 on Earth, more specifically in Pasadena, California. But there's something weird going on with our favourite scientists.
Author's Note: Originally written for the 2011 fic exchange and originally posted here. I'm going through some old work and reposting. I call this gen, but I acknowledge the canon pairings (Amy/Rory, future Leonard/Priya). Romance is definitely not the focus of this story, but there will be plenty of friendly kissing. Takes place between A Christmas Carol and The Impossible Astronaut for the TARDIS crew, and between the two last scenes of The Bath Gift Item Hypothesis for the BBT gang. Canon compliant for DW, AU from the start of the fic for BBT.

"OK, now we've done the whole 'save a planet for Christmas' thing," Amy said. "I want a regular, Earth Christmas. One with turkey, presents and no aliens. Other than my favourite one, of course." She blew a kiss at the Doctor, who blushed.

"Well... I guess we could do that, but where would we go? I'm not welcome in London for Christmas, and Leadworth is boring. How about a Christmas in sunny Florida, USA, Earth? Since Rory missed out on Space Florida."

"Beaches, warmth, sure. I'm in." She twirled around the central column, petting the controls and finally settling down in the pilot seat.

The Doctor leaned over the TARDIS console room railing, shouting at Rory down below. "Rory! Florida Christmas, how about it?"

"Sure! I'm turning the blue knob down here, is that the right one?"

"Blue hexagonal or octogonal?"

"Octogonaaaargh!" The TARDIS shook violently, and Amy fell out of her seat.

"I said hexagonal!" the Doctor shouted as the TARDIS materialised.

"You said no such thing," Rory objected. "You said 'the blue knob, you should recognise it because it's blue.' You always do that." Amy opened the door and left her boys to argue. It was warm but cloudy outside, just the right temperature for her short jean skirt and bright red top. (Not dressed for Rio in Wales, this time.) Her heels clicked on the pavement, and she saw a Starbucks. Probably about her own time, then, but they could be anywhere.

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Please Reinstall Universe and Reboot

Title: Please Reinstall Universe and Reboot
Author: Therese N
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters/Pairing: Amy/Eleven
Rating: Teen/PG-13 for mild sexual content, including mild bondage
Warnings: No warnings needed
Word count: ~1,400
Summary: History changed when Rory disappeared. Among other things, Amy no longer had kissed the Doctor in a fit of pre-wedding nerves.
A/N: Originally written for the dwsanta 2010 fic exchange and originally posted here. I'm going through some old work and reposting. Written for the prompt: "An encounter (either an argument, a discussion, a sexual encounter) between Eleven and Amy after she forgets Rory that lets the Doctor know that she loves the Doctor (awkward wording is awkward)."

The Doctor was used to keeping different timelines in his head at the same time. He was used to watching history shift, to feeling the threads of might-have-beens and what-ifs unravel and re-knit softly in his mind. This time, it was different. The gash in the weave of the universe after Rory disappeared, his whole existence erased, was close and personal. When he focused on their adventures, he could remember both the version where the brave nurse photographed coma patients walking about, and the version where he and Amy confronted Prisoner Zero in her house. Amy had changed, too. She was superficially herself, loud and outspoken, but there was something brittle in her emotions.

A Bad Thing... No, a Good Thing... No, a... Thing (not a thing which was almost a plan, just a Thing) about their history as it changed around them was that Amy had never kissed him. She was devastated after encountering the Angels, and he took her to Venice to comfort her. No detour to Leadworth, no pre-wedding nerves, no frantic kiss against the Tardis. He touched the red box in his pocket, vowing never to forget, to let Rory live in his mind.

"Always so sentimental," the Dream Lord whispered from somewhere behind him. "I see your dreams. I know that little lonely Amelia Pond is confused, and I know that she still waits for you in her own dreams and in yours. The only difference is that you dream of her waiting in your bed. You've gotten rid of the chaperone now. Splendid work, by the way. Not your fault, and she doesn't even remember him. I couldn't have planned it better myself. Why don't you do what you both want? Oh, I forgot. The Doctor. The hero of the universe, the Oncoming Storm, the Time Lord with the chastity belt."

"Shut up. I beat you. I won. You shouldn't be here anymore."

"Oh, you won, but not in this version of the universe. You'll never get rid of me now."




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Dean Winchester's Adventures in Sexual Frustration or Five Times That Goddamned Nerdy Angel Was a Total Cockblocker (And One Time He Wasn't)
Author: Therese N
Beta: A. Wahlbom
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Dean Winchester/Castiel, attempted Dean Winchester/OCs, Sam Winchester
Rating: Explicit
Warnings/Content notes: Canon major character death (but not really); suicidal ideation; misogynistic and homophobic language on the same level as in the show; jealous and possessive Castiel; handprint kink; references to cheating (not Dean) and earlier prostitution (Dean)
Word count: ~5200
A/N: Takes place during season 5, diverging from canon after Swan Song 5x22. In my headcanon, Jimmy Novak doesn't exist after Castiel's death in Swan Song. Written for sonicsassbutt on Tumblr, for the prompt: touch. jealous. shock. Any of those words sound good to me. I mean fluff, smut what's the difference. ;) I'm just praying you don't make me cry from overwhelming sadness. I decided not to use shock, because I'm writing another fic with a Hulk hunt, where Bruce Banner gets to take care of a Dean in cardiogenic shock, and I don't want to overuse my tropes.

1.The first time, it was subtle.

With the Apocalypse approaching, Dean hadn't even bothered to try getting laid in weeks. Sure, there were plenty of pretty young women around, hankering for a ride, in all senses of the word, with the bad boy in the classic car. But that would have meant Sam would be alone in their motel room, and god only knew what he'd get up to this time. It wasn't like his baby brother had a track record of great decisions, and Lucifer was sniffing their tails.

But hey, it was time to break the dry spell. Cas had healed Sam after a pretty rough run in with demons, and he was sleeping it off in their room. No waking Sleeping Beauty until well into tomorrow, and the wards in the room were fresh and steeped in angel magic. The roadside dive across from the motel wasn't exactly a sexy sorority sleepover place, but there were chicks there. Some chicks. A few chicks who didn't have boyfriends. At least two chicks who didn't look like they wiped the floor with their faces. He'd scored in worse conditions and, let's face it, he was only after somewhere to bury his dick.

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The Sea Shanty Substitution

Title: The Sea Shanty Substitution
Author: Therese N.
Fandom: The Big Bang Theory
Characters/Pairings: Leonard Hofstadter/Priya Koothrappali, Penny, Sheldon Cooper
Wordcount: ~500
Warnings: None
Rating: All Audiences
Author's Note: Priya forbids Leonard from seeing Penny, but she can't control Sheldon. Takes place after The Prestidigitation Approximation.

"Oh, Leonard, I've been waiting to get my hands on you all through the movie."

"I had hoped you would like it."

"Superheroes are not for me, and I had to behave so Bernadette wouldn't suspect anything. But now, we're almost there..." Priya ran her hands up Leonard's back under the shirt and slipped one hand around his waist as they hurried up the last flight of stairs.

"I'm gonna lay down my burden," sang a deep sonorous bass from the other side of the door to their apartment. "Down, down by the riverside," a mezzosoprano joined in. "Down by the riverside, down by the riverside." Priya stared at Leonard, who shrugged and opened the door. In their living room, Sheldon and Penny were singing, side by side on the couch surrounded by glitter, flowers and rhinestones.

"Uhm... Hi?"

"Hello. Ain't gonna study war no more," they kept singing after the short greeting.

"What's going on?" Leonard's voice broke on the last syllable.

"I have an order for 500 red and pink Penny Blossoms. It's not a One Day Rush, thank you for taking that off the website by the way, but this is my only free night this week, so Sheldon is helping me."

"Sea shanties are good rhythmic work songs, but gospel actually works even better. I never thought I'd get any practical use out of the five years my mother forced me to sing in the church choir." Penny nodded enthusiastically. "Gospel is traditionally an African-American music style with roots in the so called negro spirituals, but by the late eighties, its popularity had risen to the extent that even my mother's melanin deficient Evangelical church had a gospel choir. And I have to say, Penny, your singing has improved substantially since we first met."

"It helps that I have a good teacher." They shared a smile. Leonard felt something hot rise in his chest. It was probably just the green curry from their double date dinner giving him acid reflux, and not jealousy at all.

"Why are you here?" Priya was less than pleased. Her hands were on her hips, and she studied Penny with deep suspicion.

"Because I won't go into that unsanitary vortex of chaos she calls her dwelling."

"Hey, don't say I didn't offer to pick up for you." Penny swatted his back lightly. "Sorry for occupying the living room. I know it's Vintage Video Game night, but could you play somewhere else?"

If looks could kill, Penny would be gutted, quartered and defenestrated. "Come, Leonard. We'll spend the night at Raj's instead." Priya dragged Leonard out by the shirt. The door closed, and pieces of the conversation outside drifted in.

"...can't control if he's hanging out with her..."

"...better start moving, or I won't be seeing you again..."

When the voices had died down, Penny grinned triumphantly at Sheldon.

"One time offer only," he said and held his hand up. "Hi five!"

Oh, Won't You Please Take Me Home?

Title: Oh, Won't You Please Take Me Home?
Author: Therese N.
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Gabriel/Balthazar
Word count: ~1200
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Dubcon/hatesex fantasies, no actual dubcon sex. Angels refer to each others as siblings, and these two angels do get together sexually. I have no idea if that counts as sibling incest.
Author's Note: Balthazar meets Gabriel in the angel afterlife. Snarkiness ensues.

Takes place at the end of season six. Title from Guns N' Roses' Paradise City. "Fruits on little sticks" is a reference to Lois McMaster Bujold's Vorkosigan series. "Igloo of candy canes" from shanetaylor on Tumblr. Not beta read.



It wasn't Heaven, Balthazar knew that much. It was also nothing like Hell. He carefully walked along the gray path into the mist. So far, he hadn't met a single creature. It could have been so much worse. He had never expected to die, least of all by the sword of someone like Castiel, but in the moments when he had considered what would happen to an angel after death, simple non-existence had been high on the list. Or reincarnation, possibly as a naked monkey. That would suit God's supposed sense of humor.

A voice called his name, the sound leaking in from the ever-present mist. The voice was eerily familiar. Ahead, a soft light started shining. "Balthazar!" It couldn't be. "'Zar, come on over!"

He walked towards the light with determined steps, almost as if he were a soldier again. What he saw was highly unexpected. Leaning back on a divan was Gabriel. Balthazar nodded in greeting. "Gabriel. It's been a while."

"Yeah. I got snuffed by Lucy."Read more...Collapse )

A Bird in the Hand

Title: A Bird in the Hand
Author: Therese N.
Fandom: Avengers (movieverse)
Characters/Pairings: Black Widow/Hawkeye
Word count: 530
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: NON-CON! This is Natasha raping the Tesseract out of Clint. Also includes canon-appropriate violence, the c-word and forced drinking.
A/N: Птичка [PTEECH-ka]: the diminutive form of bird. Inspired by this post and sairobee's lovely illustration.
Black Widow straddling Hawkeye
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Stop the Presses!

Title: Stop the Presses!
Author: Therese N.
Fandom: Avengers (movieverse)
Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Word count: ~2k
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Reference to homophobia, including use of a slur, and reference to homophobic violence
Author's note: Written for Steve Tony Appreciation Celebration 2012. Fill for this prompt: http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/12672.html?thread=28052864#t28052864
Sort of inspired by American Values, http://archiveofourown.org/works/418371

"Uh, Tony...?"

Tony, not looking up from the table, held his hand out in the universally understood gesture for "not before coffee" (and he really meant universally; there were probably tentacled creatures at the bottom of liquid nitrogen lakes who would understand that gesture, he should ask Thor about that), which got him the quiet he wanted. While he had mastered the art of the charity gala and the Stark press smile when he was in his teens, it didn't mean he enjoyed them. He'd rather be working on something fun in his shop; hell he'd even spend the night with Pepper's mountain of paperwork if it got him out of going to the gala. Being the famous Tony Stark took a lot out of him these days, and the mornings after were even worse than they used to be when he had been busy drinking himself to death. Magically, a double espresso appeared before him. "I love you," he mumbled, whether to the coffee genie or the coffee itself, he didn't know. Someone snorted behind his back. The cup was half empty already, how did that happen? He rested his hands in his ruffled and dirty hair. A cream cheese bagel and a smoothie appeared at the edge of his field of view, but other than the clinking of tableware, the kitchen was blessedly quiet. Agonizingly slowly, his brain came back online, and he lifted his face to look at his breakfast company.

"Morning, sunshine," Steve said with a grin, sitting across the table with his own bagel and a glass of orange juice as if they had breakfast together every day. Read more...Collapse )

Make the Young Girls Cry

Title: Make the Young Girls Cry
Author: Therese N.
Fandom: Thor (movieverse)
Characters/Pairings: Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster, Phil Coulson/Clint Barton (implied)
Word count: ~600
Rating: Teen, for cursing
Warnings: None
Author's note: Takes place after the Thor movie. For this prompt at the avengerkink-meme: any/any, something with Barry Manilow [...] I'm a Barry Manilow fan. In my continuing efforts to smush together my fandoms I'd like to see something - anything - that combines The Avengers and Barry Manilow. [...] Anything goes here - crack, serious, fluff, angst, gen to full porn. As long as Barry and/or his music are somehow prominently featured. Favorite couple is Clint/Coulson but happy to see anyone if it means the prompt is filled as many times as inspiration allows :) My only request is NO BARRY BASHING!

"Darcy, I need the voltmeter," Jane said from underneath the huge-ass star-something measuring instrument, and waited just a few seconds before telling Darcy to hurry up. "Darcy, NOW!" Where had Jane's patience gone?

"Yeah, yeah, boss lady, coming," Darcy replied, as someone knocked on the door. Well, if it wasn't her least favourite man in black. Couldn't they have gotten Will Smith instead? He was still hot, even if it had all gone downhill from Fresh Prince. Oh, God, she just earwormed herself with the theme tune. She opened the door, and crossed her arms beneath her boobs.

"We come in peace," the guy behind Phil Coulson intoned. I was in Philadelphia born and raised... Shut up, brain. Wow, those were some really nice arms, was he just as cut beneath the armored vest? And was that a bow? For real? She quirked an eyebrow at him, and he grinned back.

"Please disregard Agent Bartons sense of humor, Ms Lewis. May we come in?" She stepped away from the door, letting them in. "We do have a peace offering, of sorts."

"Voltmeter, Darcy!" shouted Jane, and Darcy ran off with the yellow digital thingie to her boss.

"Sorry, we just got company." Jane crawled up, raised a hand in greeting, took the voltmeter, and crawled right back under the instrument she was rebuilding. When Darcy turned around, Coulson was standing right behind her with a box in his hand. Was that a small smile on the stone face? "Oh my God, oh my God, it's my iPod! Finally! Oh em gee!" She turned a suspicious eye to the agent. "I hope you didn't erase it or mess with my music."

"Don't worry, Ms Lewis, I wouldn't dream of compromising your carefully curated music collection."

"You'd better not."

"For full disclosure, I have to tell you that I did examine the music and the metadata for hidden messages."

"That must have been quite a chore. After all, I don't think you've heard of most of the bands I listen to."

"Better than having to listen to that mindless noise Tony Stark calls working music," he shrugged, and Barton snorted from his place by the door.

Did she just make that squeeing noise? Yes, she did. She just squeed in front of a government agent and a totally hot-ass government agent. "I officially have better taste in music than Tony fucking Stark! This so goes on my Tumblr!"

"No, it doesn't. Neither does it go on your blog, your LiveJournal, your Dreamwidth, your AO3, your OKCupid, your LinkedIn resume, your Twitter, your G+, your Diaspora or your Facebook. Although you don't seem to be on MySpace, you're not allowed to post that there either."

"What do you think this is, the middle ages? Of course I'm not on MySpace."

"You still have a LiveJournal?" Barton asked.

"Shut up. It's great to connect with my Russian fans." Barton and Coulson exchanged a significant look. "And I haven't been on Facebook in years, way to ruin my hipster cred there, fed."

"He didn't have to go further down the list of artists than to the B:s to let you ruin your own hipster cred," Barton said.

"No, no, no, I listen to him ironically!" she almost shouted.

Barton just flashed her a drop dead sexy grin and undulated his body, singing "Oh, my music makes you dance" as he left. She looked out the window, devastated at her secret being outed like that. On the other hand, based on the way Barton's hip nudged Coulson's, maybe she wasn't the only one with a secret.

House Rule of the Avengers Tower #53

Titled: House Rule of the Avengers Tower #53
Author: Therese N.
Fandom: Avengers (movieverse)
Characters/Pairings: Bruce Banner, Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Steve Rogers, The Hulk
Word count: 300
Rating: Explicit, for detailed descriptions of sex
Warnings: None
Author's note: Total and utter crack. I am not sorry.

House rules of the Avengers Tower #53: Respect each other's personal property, even when said property is left in the communal living areas.Collapse )

Bruised and bloody

Titled: Bruised and bloody
Author: Therese N.
Fandom: Avengers (movieverse)
Characters/Pairings: Natasha Romanova/Thor (implied)
Word count: 123
Rating: Teen, for violence
Warnings: None
Author's note: This probably requires an explanation... I started reading The Avengers Kink List Team Bonding Session (which is amazing, and there's plenty of more fic in the comments!). Petra mentioned that she thought Natasha could be a good daddy for Clint, but not for Thor. I thought it could work, and my brain started writing it in ljodahattr. (I can't be the only one who writes Thor fanfic in Old Norse verse, right? Anyone?) The kink is only implied in the finished poem.

A note on ljodahattr, for the poetry geeks: For the rest, it's entirely skippableCollapse )


Spider fighting
thunder spell
bruised and bloody she lay.
Band of brothers:
sister's bane?
Care, said the Captain, for her.

Bewildered she woke;
the son of Wotan
stood, hammer drawn, by the door.
Do you forgive me?
Always, my dear,
now bring me a glass of your brew.

Hospitals scare her.
Budem! To your health!
They sat in silence and drank.
Sullen and solemn
safeguard and ward;
tables turned in the night.

Endless warrior
prince of the Æsir
born to battle and strife.
Bold, with the heart of an
innocent boy.
She shrugged and shouldered the role.

Sister and brother;
father and son;
all the same in the end.
Always, she whispered,
always your friend.
The Widow watching the God.

Oh, Your Shoes Will Shimmer and Shine

Title: Oh, Your Shoes Will Shimmer and Shine
Author: Therese N.
Fandom: CSI: Miami, crossed over with Swedish children's literature
Word count: 100
Rating: Teen, for implied violence
Warnings: None
Author's note: Yeah, I don't even know. Crack to the max. I love writing crossovers with kiddie books. Probably doesn't make sense if you don't know Lennart Hellsing's ABC.

"H, you need to see this." Eric Delko pointed out the well-polished shoes on the ground. "A neighbor found these, and knocked on the door to give them back to the owner. Daniel Dipper, 39, lived with his wife in this house. No signs of forced entry."
"Which means," Horatio Caine said, "that the killer was someone he knew."
"Knew well enough to offer a glass of wine."
"Water and wine," Horatio said as he examined two glasses and the charred body. He turned away and brought his sunglasses up to his face. "And a can of turpentine."

Yeeeeargh!

December 19th

Title: December 19, In Which John Learns That Sherlock Was Right
Series: A December Tale
Author: Therese N
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Characters/Pairings: John/Sherlock pre-slash, Harry/Clara, Mycroft
Rating: PG-13 for language
Warnings: Dysfunctional family relationships, mild animal cruelty, alcohol abuse, class issues, PTSD-ish nightmares
Genre: Humour, fluff, drama
Beta: awahlbom, melaszka, sheffsfic
Word count: ~2500
A/N: Harry and Clara come to visit, and our favourite boys make plans for Christmas. Fifth fic in A December Tale. Despite the warnings, this is still essentially fluff, with a bit of drama thrown in.

John saw the red dot on Sherlock's forehead, heard the shot fired from his own army gun and reacted instantly. He tackled his friend into the pool. The shock wave from the explosion hit just as they broke the surface. Up was down, down was up, he lost his grip on Sherlock and his lungs ached from the pressure. He flailed helplessly and tried to find Sherlock in the darkness. The sound of waves splashing against tiles...

John woke with a gasp. His rapid heartbeat thundered in his ears, and for a brief moment of terror, he still felt as if he were drowning. The blanket, dry and soft as he clutched it in his sweaty hands, brought reality back. Just a nightmare, then. The angry red numbers on his clock radio told him there were still hours to go until dawn. Downstairs, something splashed. Why would Sherlock be taking a bath in the middle of the night? John turned over with a barely audible mutter of complaint and tried to get back to sleep.
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December 11th

Title: December 11, In Which John Learns to Knit
Series: A December Tale
Author: Therese N
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Characters/Pairings: John, Sarah, John/Sherlock pre-slash off-screen
Rating: PG-13 for language
Warnings: No warnings apply
Genre: Fluff
Beta: awahlbom, melaszka
Word count: ~1 300
A/N: Fourth fic in A December Tale. This is the fluffiest fluffy friendship fluff that ever fluffed, no plot what so ever.
Based on i_know_its_0ver's Christmas fics, Merry Christmas, Mr Holmes and Merry Christmas, Dr Watson. Gift ideas used with permission.

Despite his life as the one and only consulting detective's assistant-slash-colleague, buying Sherlock's Christmas present was more cloak and dagger than anything John had ever done before. ("When one is avoiding the attention," and all that.) He left Sherlock early in the afternoon, taking great care to behave just as he normally did when he was going over to Sarah's. (That included the common "it wouldn't kill you to buy your own milk" exchange.) Leaving the flat, he made sure he wasn't spotted by any homeless people as he took a westbound Tube. From his web searches at work, he had memorised the address of the shop that promised "London's best selection of yarn". The balls of wool he bought for Sherlock were a beautiful blue-grey that reminded him of his friend's eyes, and the ones he bought for Sarah were her favourite pastels. Packing the wool and needles he had bought in a nondescript brown paper bag, and again making sure nobody was watching, he took the Tube to Sarah's flat.

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December 8th

Title: December 8th, In Which John Goes Christmas Shopping
Series: A December Tale
Author: Therese N
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Characters/Pairings: John/Sherlock pre-slash, not!Anthea, ensemble
Rating: PG-13 for language
Warnings: Dysfunctional family relationships
Genre: Fluff, humour
Beta: awahlbom, melaszka, sheffsfic
Word count: ~2000
A/N: Based on i_know_its_0ver's Christmas fics, Merry Christmas, Mr Holmes and Merry Christmas, Dr Watson. Gift ideas used with permission.

I've found the perfect present for Anderson.Collapse )

December 4th

Title: December 4th, In Which John Gets Dumped
Series: A December Tale
Author: Therese N.
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Characters/Pairings: John/OFC (off screen), John/Sherlock pre-slash
Word count: ~ 800
Rating: Teen/PG for mentions of sex
Warnings: No warnings apply
Beta: awahlbom
Summary: John has to make up his mind about what he wants in a relationship. The second in a series of loosely connected stories about December 2010.
A/N: In this part, John is bitter, and it shows. The generalisations are not intended as accurate descriptions.


John tried to shake the snow off his feet and carefully closed the door to 221 B behind him. He slowly ascended the seventeen steps up to the flat, leg twinging in pain. Sometimes, it didn't matter that he knew the pain wasn't physical. Those days, he missed his cane. Standing at the top step, he steeled himself. There was no point in delaying this further. He had to face Sherlock.

When he hung his coat next to the door, he could hear Sherlock behind him. "Something happened to you, and it was not pleasant."

"Brilliant deduction. Care to tell me how you figured that out?" He couldn't hide the annoyance in his voice.

"You're early. Your normal dates with Beatrice last for at least three hours, often four. It's less than two hours since you left. You don't smell like Indian food, so your dinner date didn't happen, and you haven't been close enough to her to pick up her scent. You're also wet, indicating that you've walked home in the snow."

"She dumped me. Or we kind of dumped each other." He could feel his mixed emotions rising like a bad heartburn.

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December 1st

Title: December 1st, In Which John Discovers Something About Himself
Series: A December Tale
Author: Therese N.
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Characters/Pairings: John/Sherlock, pre-slash
Word count: ~1600 words
Rating: Explicit/NC17 for graphic sex
Warnings: No warnings apply
Beta: awahlbom, naye, melaszka, tehomet. They all made this a much better story, and any remaining mistakes are all mine.
Summary: John gets excited by chasing criminals across London. In many ways. The first in a series of loosely connected stories about December 2010.

"No, no, there's really no need for the candle, Angelo." John sighed at the retreating back of the restaurant owner. A lost cause, but he still felt the need to object.

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Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Title: Breaking Up Is Hard To Do
Author: Therese N.
Prompt: On the Sherlock kink meme. "Can we have a break-up fic? A stupidly executed one."
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Characters/Pairings: Sherlock/John, Harry
Word count: ~250
Warnings: No warnings needed
Rating: All audiences
Genre: Crack
Summary: John breaks up with Sherlock. Badly. (Inspired by a very old Rocky comic.)

"Hi, John, long time no see! Come on in!"

"Uhm... Hi, Harry..."

"What's the matter, bro? You know I can always tell when something's wrong with my baby brother."

"Er... I'm kind of... homeless right now. I hate asking for help, but can I sleep on your couch until I can get a new place?"

"My casa is your casa. Grab a beer, have a seat and tell me just what Sherlock has done to finally make you snap."

"Yeah..."
"About that..."
"We broke up."

"OH MY GOD, JOHN! You told me you weren't shagging! You did finally find the right man to go gay for! Told you so, you dirty liar! How long... And now, you've broken up. What happened?"

"Let's just say that I had one final insight into what it means to be a sociopath. I couldn't take any more. ...So, I told him that it was over and that I was moving out."

"I hope he's not threatening you. How did he react?"

"I don't know."

"How can you not know? Don't tell me you did it over the phone?"

"No, he doesn't like talking on the phone."

"John... Did you leave him a letter?"

"Not exactly."

"Email, you bastard?!"

"No, he hacks into mine instead of reading his own."

"I can't believe this. Did you actually break up via text message?"

"Harry!"
"You know Sherlock! It's what he would have wanted!"

Oh, I Guess It's You Again

Title: Oh, I Guess It’s You Again
Author: Therese N.
Prompt: The Doctor walks into a bar and meets... Sarah
Fandoms: Sherlock (BBC) and Doctor Who
Characters/Pairings: Sarah Sawyer, Eleventh Doctor, Amy Pond/Rory Williams, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson (off-screen, implied)
Word count: ~800
Rating: Teen (for alcohol use, suggestion of sexual activity and language)
Warnings: No warnings needed
Summary: Sarah just broke up with John, and all she wants is a drink in peace. Of course, that’s not what she gets. Written for the intoabar ficathon.
Disclaimer: Fanfic. Does what it says on the box.
Genre: Humour, crossover
Beta: A. Wahlbom

Sarah Sawyer rolled the stem of her wine glass between her fingers, sloshing around the last mouthful of house white. It wasn’t good enough for a time like this. She needed something stronger. As she tried getting the bartenders attention, she could see, in the corner of her eye, someone walking up and taking the seat beside her. She could feel his attention, and she turned to study him back openly.

"Oh, I guess it’s you again." The man was ridiculously tall and gangly, dressed like an eccentric English lit professor. His eyes were a dark forest green, his nose wide and his eyebrows prominent. A very good disguise, she thought. Not good enough to fool her, but a nice try.

"I might be," he replied before ordering a fizzy and fruity mixed drink, decorated with a pink umbrella, twirly straws and a sparkler. Of course the bartender took his order first.

"A large shot of Ardbeg, neat, please," Sarah said. On a day like this, she needed the heat and the smoke in her throat. She turned to face him. "He’s all yours. Did you really need to come here to gloat? Wasn’t it enough to destroy every date we ever had? OK, you saved me from the Chinese gangsters, but it was your fault I was kidnapped in the first place, after you crashed our date and felt him up in public. Don’t think I didn’t know." The man tilted his head, as if concerned. Mocking her. "Then, there was the ‘old man with a heart attack’ routine, when we ‘saved’ you instead of watching Inception. Nice disguise, and I have no idea how you managed to shrink a foot or fake pulselessness, but I saw your wink when I did the chest compressions and John did the inhalations. God, I hope I broke your ribs." He ran his hand through his dark hair while listening. "I knew, last time, that it couldn’t last between me and John. You came to our table in that little black dress of yours, with your long black wig and your false breasts, and you managed to talk John into thinking a threesome would be a good idea. I knew right there and then that I’d never stand a chance."

"I think I’m not the person you think I am. I’m not sure, but it doesn’t sound like my usual modus operandi. Modus operandi... That’s a very nice phrase, don’t you think? Never quite know if it’s me, you understand, with the timey wimey stuff and the regenerations." He made a very odd gesture and trailed off. Nothing about his body language or his voice said Sherlock, but that didn’t mean anything. His words, though, were odd in a completely different way.

She sighed. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t lash out like that. I’ve had a rough month."

"I can tell. I’m the Doctor, by the way. Who did you think I was?"

"Sherlock bloody Holmes. I’m doctor Sarah Sawyer. And you are doctor who?"

"Just the Doctor," he said with a wide grin and observed her carefully. "Hello, doctor Sarah Sawyer. About that fellow John you mentioned, he wouldn’t happen to be a doctor too, called John Watson?"

She groaned and took a gulp of whisky. "Do you read his blog?"

He seemed to have forgotten all about his drink. "He has a blog?" A thrilling sound came from a... thing... that glowed green, as he scanned her with it. "Hmm...," he said, looking closely at the scanner. "If I were to mention an Arthur Conan Doyle, does that name ring a bell?" She shrugged and he took hold of her by the shoulders, smiling again. "My dear Sarah, you’ve given me a mystery to solve! Will you join me?"

"No, thank you, Doctor. I’ve had enough of mysteries and adventures, especially with doctors." She grinned.

"Shame. It was a long time since I travelled with a Sarah. These two, do they live at 221 B Baker Street as usual?" She nodded, and couldn’t come up with a single word to say when he kissed her on both cheeks and let her go. "Come along, Ponds!" he shouted. A young couple, a redhead and a man who reminded her uncomfortably of John, ran from the dance floor in their direction. The Doctor (what a ridiculous thing to insist on being called!) took the woman’s hand in his left and the man’s hand in his right and started running, dragging them along. "Amy, Rory, something went wrong when we restarted the universe! Tell me, Amy, do you like classic detective stories, by any chance?"

She took a careful sip and pondered her life. It seemed that even after dumping John, she wasn’t allowed to go back to the normal and mundane humdrum of life.

The Case of the Intolerable Experiment

Title: The Case of the Intolerable Experiment
Author: A. Wahlbom (thanks to Therese N. for medical terminology)
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Characters/Pairings: John Watson/Sherlock Holmes
Length: 100 words
Rating: PG for some swearing (including the punchline)
Beta: Therese N.

“Sherlock, this is where I draw the line! Firing guns indoors? Fine, I like the gunpowder smell. Heads in the fridge? Always nice to see new faces. Cyanide in the sugar bowl? Further incentive to cut down on white sugar. But surely you’re aware of how fucking lethal those bacteria can be in the wrong place?”
“But John, I—”
“Afghanistan, remember. I’ve seen people die from gastroenteritis.”
“My new theory about the balance between staphylococci and lactobacilli varying with class has never been tested...”
“You’re not analysing fecal samples in our kitchen, and that’s final.”
“How about—”
No shit, Sherlock.

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