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Writing Meme

Meme stolen from capt_spork and suzie_shooter (which probably means I should post this twice but I'm not going to...).

The first TEN people to comment get to request that I write a drabble/ficlet on any Sherlock pairing/character of their choosing.*

In return, they have to post this in their journal, regardless of their ability level.**

(1)  suzie_shooter Sherlock/Lestrade    Coffee
(2)  kalypso_v   Harry/Sarah with a side order of horrified!John Water
(3) capt_spork    Sherlock/Lestrade or just Lestrade   Sauce
(4) bedamn   Harry/Clara  Juice
(5)  blooms84    John  Tea
(6) misanthropyray   dark!Sherlock/John  Absinthe
(7) shehasathree Sherlock/John or John+Sherlock  Milk
(8) the_thinktank   John/Lestrade Barack
(9) ginbitch   Lestrade/Maurice  Madeira
(10) stellary Mycroft/Lestrade  Pop

* it has to be Sherlock because I don't write in any other fandom - but yes, you can ask for Lestrade/Maurice, or for characters mentioned but not yet seen (e.g. Harry, Clara).

**except that I am doing the suzie_shooter variation on the meme, in which this is not compulsory.


Apr. 9th, 2011 09:51 pm (UTC)
Barack (1/2)


“Egg – what?”

“Egészségedre!” Lestrade says, grinning. “Means 'to your health'. Cheers!”

The apricot brandy makes John splutter, but his second attempt to pronounce the toast goes better than the first.

“Where did you learn all this Hungarian, anyway?” he asks jealously.

Lestrade tells himself he shouldn't enjoy that note in John's voice, but you'd have to be a saint to pass up the chance of sex with John Watson when he's on his mettle.

Always thought Watson wasn't his type, but Christmas in Baker Street had proved him wrong. He'd been pleasantly surprised when John turned out to be a good cook and such good company. More than pleasantly surprised when Sherlock's supposedly straight flatmate turned out to be a bloody marvellous shag.

Bit awkward, of course, Sherlock coming back early from Christmas with Mummy and Mycroft, breathing fire and brimstone about all those unanswered texts he'd sent John and then throwing a strop when he found the two of them in bed together.

John's calm in the face of all that had been – impressive. Amongst other things. Apparently Lestrade now has a taste for BAMFs. One particular BAMF, anyway. Unflappable, solid and determined. Not to mention the quickest learner Lestrade's ever had the pleasure of working under. Mmm.

“Spent a fortnight in Budapest in the 1980s,” Lestrade says casually. “Picked up a few words and phrases.”

John gives him a look that says And?

“And a librarian called László,” Lestrade says.

It was László who'd introduced him to the joys of pálinka – plum, peach, cherry and especially apricot – though the stuff they drank together had been a lot rougher than this. Budapest in the late 80s: the soft end of Communism, already showing the signs of capitalist progress (unemployment, pin-up calendars with Page 3 lookalikes...). They'd gone to all László's favourite places – Margaret Island, that little café on the hill in Buda, taken a boat trip up the Danube Bend to the artists' colony at Szentendre, climbed on the roof of the cathedral at Esztergom, eaten dobos torta at Gerbeaud, bought tomatoes, peppers and onions at the huge indoor market to cook lecsó fish in László's bedsit flat. Nearly got caught snogging in a corner of the big library in Pest where László worked. Had a lot of energetic sex and not much sleep in László's narrow single bed.

Librarian,” John says, as if it's a new swearword. “Was he beautiful without his glasses?”

“With or without,” Lestrade says meditatively. “Always liked it when he took them off, though.”

John doesn't need subtitles for that. Pulls Lestrade into a kiss that takes his breath away, hard and possessive, hands all over him, one thigh pushed between Lestrade's.

“Slow down,” Lestrade protests half-heartedly. “I'm an old man, remember?”

Eight years older than John, thirteen years older than Sherlock, don't think about Sherlock, still haven't told John about that and there'll probably be hell to pay –

“Bollocks to that,” John says, groping him shamelessly.

“Nngh,” Lestrade says, trying not to go cross-eyed. His brain seems to be short-circuiting, not surprising with John's hand doing that thing just there, oh god –

“Bed?” John says. Laughing at him, but Lestrade doesn't care.

“Mmf,” he says. “I mean, yes.”

“What's that in Hungarian, then?” John teases, and licks his neck.


“I said, what's that in Hungarian?” John says.

Igen,” Lestrade manages, as John unzips him and thrusts a hand down his boxers. “It's Hungarian for – ohh.”

“Didn't know Hungarians had a different word for ohh,” John says, running his fingers teasingly along Lestrade's erection.

“Christ, Watson, are you trying to drive me insane?” Lestrade groans.

“Might be,” John says, gripping him harder and giving a wicked twist of his wrist that makes Lestrade see stars. “Is it working?”

Lestrade's answer to that isn't what you'd call verbal, though it's pretty loud. Just as well they're not in Baker Street. It's a wonder they make it as far as the bedroom, but John knows what he wants and he's going to get it. Which is fine by Lestrade, just fine.

Anyway, exercise is good for the heart, everybody says so. If it doesn't kill you first.

Edited at 2011-04-09 09:53 pm (UTC)
Apr. 9th, 2011 09:54 pm (UTC)
Barack (2/2)
“So what happened to him?” John says, taking a break from planting kisses across Lestrade's chest. Doesn't sound jealous any more. Sounds pleased with himself. Understandably.

Lestrade has to think a bit before he can remember who John's asking about. Bloody hell, that was a shag and a half. Not sure he'll be able to move for a while. Bones seem to have melted and everything's slowed down.

“László? Don't know,” he says. “He couldn't come over here, I couldn't get leave, we sort of lost touch. Nice while it lasted, though.”

“Did you ever go back?” John asks.

“No,” Lestrade says. “But I'd like to some day. See how things changed after the Wall came down. There's a pálinka festival in Budapest in May, if you're interested.”

“Could be dangerous,” John says, grinning.

“Sure you'd cope,” Lestrade says. “Head of teak, you.”

“Wasn't thinking about the hangovers,” John says. “More about having to see off all those randy librarians.”

Lestrade strokes his back, enjoying the increasingly familiar sensation of John's warm skin under his hands.

“Think I can promise you that won't be a problem,” he says. “Not if you're with me.”

John looks a bit sceptical, but he doesn't argue.

“Do you think the President of the United States knows he's named after a kind of apricot brandy?” he asks, nuzzling Lestrade's shoulder.

“Not the same thing at all. It's pronounced borotsk,” Lestrade says sternly. “Come on, Watson, you've got your tongue round harder things than that.”

John snorts with laughter and says “I might need a refresher course.”

“I'll put you down for Advanced Beginners,” Lestrade says. “The intensive course is pretty good, though you need plenty of stamina for that one.”

“Bring it on,” John says. “Always up for a challenge.”

“Fine,” Lestrade says. “Once more with feeling: Egészségedre!”

Edited at 2011-04-09 11:20 pm (UTC)
Apr. 27th, 2011 07:26 am (UTC)
Re: Barack (2/2)
Awww...this is so lovely! And I particularly love that it follows on from their Christmas fic. Plus Hungarian ftw!

I love the way you write these two - how just because John isn't Lestrade's first choice doesn't stop This from being sweet and hot. I could really see these two having a future (if Lestrade didn't, of course, belong to Maurice...)

Apr. 27th, 2011 08:59 am (UTC)
Re: Barack (2/2)
thank you very much - and thank you for encouraging me to write more of these two after A Burst Pipe Problem! couldn't see them together at first but I like the pairing very much now.

I've enjoyed having something silly about languages in all the fics about them so far (even the pirate fic!). and Hungarians FTW indeed...


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