PICTURES OF LILY
a collection of 221B ficlets

What is a 221B? I'm glad you asked. The 221B Challenge was originally a writing challenge by KCS at fanfiction.net. The challenge was to write a ficlet of exactly 221 words, the last word of which beginning with a 'B.' These are my own forays into this particular challenge. If I write more of these, they will all be grouped together as "Pictures of Lily", and the shrinks can work out why.




Title: You Don't Need A Parachute to Skydive
Author: Goddess Michele
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Word Count:221
Spoilers: The Reichenbach Fall
Rating: pre-watershed
Beta: I am my own worst beta!
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made, all hail BBC, Moffat and Gatiss.
Feedback: Yes, please! starshine24mc@yahoo.com
Archive: put it wherever you like, including any zines, just leave my name on it.
Summary: Another 221B for the "Pictures of Lily" collection. What if the trick didn't work?

XXX

John was drinking tea and making a list of weekly chores that included Tesco (beans), Paul (that hazelnut thing Sherlock likes) and NHNN (therapy Tuesday and Thursday) when Sherlock called his name.

John sighed and forced a smile as he limped into the front room.

Sherlock looked to be in the middle of one of his experiments, sitting on the floor in his dressing gown and pajama bottoms holding a piece of paper in one hand and an oversized red crayon in the other. The table was covered in more paper and scattered crayons. John sat down next to him and Sherlock thrust the paper into his hand.

He could see that it was supposed to be two people, but the disjointed stick figures, one clothed almost entirely in swirls of black crayon and the other one a jumper shaped yellow blur half as tall as the first  standing in a puddle of red didn’t spark any immediate recognition until….

Two stick arms were joined by too many stick fingers.

“I’m sorry.”

John loathed the way apologies sounded coming out of Sherlock’s mouth all the time now.

“It’s not good, is it?”

Tears, real ones, in eyes that had never had a use for them before.

“It’s….amazing…extraordinary…”

John hugged Sherlock and tried again to ignore the way his heart was breaking.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Title: DuMaurier Special Mild
Author: Goddess Michele
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Word Count:221
Spoilers: Deliberately vague
Rating: post-Watershed 'cos they'll whinge if it's not.
Beta: I am my own worst beta!
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made, all hail BBC.
Feedback: Yes, please! starshine24mc@yahoo.com
Archive: put it wherever you like, including any zines, just leave my name on it.
Summary: My first 221B! I think if I write more of these, they will all be grouped together as "Pictures of Lily", and the shrinks can work out why. I leave it to the reader to interpret the timeline on this one.

XXX

Sherlock was almost asleep when the snap of a lighter made him roll over quick enough that the sheet draped over his shoulders flared up and settled again at his waist.

John was sitting up and holding a battered Zippo lighter to two cigarettes dangling from his lips; the flame illuminated his face in the dark room for just long enough that Sherlock could see the dull flush of their lovemaking still staining his cheeks.

“You don’t smoke,” Sherlock said.

“Except when I do,” John replied mildly, handing him one of the cigarettes. Sherlock took it automatically, inhaled, frowned; low tar. It didn’t matter.

John dug a crystal ashtray out of the bedside table. He held it on his left thigh and Sherlock found his head resting on the right one so he could reach out to knock the ash off of his cigarette and into the tray.

They smoked in silence and after the cigarettes were gone and the ashtray safely deposited amongst the detritus littering the bedside table, they remained in the same position, and John’s hand found its way into Sherlock’s hair, tugging gently and smoothing out the sex tangles.

“I know I’m not—” For the first time, John sounded nervous. “Was that as good as—I mean—”

Sherlock smiled and undulated under John’s hand.

“Better.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Title: Brilliant
Author: Goddess Michele
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Word Count:221
Spoilers: none
Rating: post-Watershed 'cos they'll whinge if it's not.
Beta: I am my own worst beta!
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made, all hail BBC.
Feedback: Yes, please! starshine24mc@yahoo.com
Archive: put it wherever you like, including any zines, just leave my name on it.
Summary: Another 221B for the "Pictures of Lily" collection. Dedicated to my dear friends in this wonderful fandom, J & A.
p.s. cutting it down to just 221 words is HARD!

XXX

Sherlock Holmes is brilliant, thinks John.

He’s lying on his back staring at the ceiling. The room is dark, but the sheer curtains allow weak winter sun to illuminate his surroundings enough that he can pick out water stains, the shadow of ancient crown molding and directly above, two small glow-in-the-dark planet stickers.

He thinks it again: Sherlock Holmes is brilliant.

Sherlock is a genius, undoubtedly. John’s sure he’d be off the scale on most IQ tests. Sherlock knows more about chemistry, biology and botany than most uni professors have forgotten, and he’d probably be able to sit down with Einstein, Newton or Hawking and be completely at ease with any topic of conversation that came up.

More than that, though, is the way that Sherlock takes everything he knows, everything he sees, and puts them together with such absolute precision and speed that it fairly takes John’s breath away. His deductions are dizzying and complex and he really is amazing.

John turns his head to look at the man lying next to him.

Sherlock is asleep beside him, all gangly angles folded haphazardly under the sheets, with one hand curled thumb-sucking close to his open mouth. He is alternating between snuffly half-snores and drooling onto his pillow.

John softly pets the disaster that is Sherlock’s hair, smiles and whispers:

“Brilliant."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Title: A Short Fall
Author: Goddess Michele
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Word Count:221
Spoilers: Ginormous ones for Fall, smaller one for Scandal
Rating: post-Watershed 'cos they'll whinge if it's not.
Beta: I am my own worst beta!
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made, all hail BBC, Moffat and Gatiss.
Feedback: Yes, please! starshine24mc@yahoo.com
Archive: put it wherever you like, including any zines, just leave my name on it.
Summary: Another 221B for the "Pictures of Lily" collection. What, John couldn't get a cab after he phoned to warn Sherlock? Seriously?

XXX

Sherlock twitched back the curtain to gaze out at the alley behind the flat and barely winced at the serious fight sounds coming from behind him.

“Lestrade,” he said, when the call was answered. “We’ve had another break in at Baker Street.” A pause, a quirk of the lips and then, “Yes, it does seem we’re having a streak of bad luck. Don’t send us that French officer again—he put everyone off with the cheese. But we will need an ambulance for the perpetrator.”

Another crash, followed by cursing in both Insane and Army, and then a flat cracking sound that could have been a drumstick being torn off a turkey but was in fact a nose being broken by a fist.

Sherlock turned back to the room, his grin growing as he watched John Watson pull back to hit a very tied up James Moriarty in the face for the second--third—no, fourth time.

“No rush, Lestrade,” he said, his smile softening when he shared it with John, then becoming absolutely terrifying in its glee as he fairly beamed at Moriarty. “I’m afraid this one’s died.”

Moriarty’s eyes widened and Sherlock turned back to the window as he disconnected the call. John joined him and they both looked down.

“Shame,” giggled John. “Mrs. Hudson just replaced those bins.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Title: Welcome Back
Author: Goddess Michele
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Word Count:221
Spoilers: Post Reichenbach
Rating: post-Watershed 'cos they'll whinge if it's not.
Beta: I am my own worst beta!
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made, all hail BBC, Moffat and Gatiss.
Feedback: Yes, please! starshine24mc@yahoo.com
Archive: put it wherever you like, including any zines, just leave my name on it.
Summary: Another 221B for the "Pictures of Lily" collection. Sherlock's back.

XXX

John knew someone had been in the flat as soon as he smelled the tobacco smoke. The only smoker he knew was Lestrade, and since his resignation they hadn’t really seen much of each other.

It had been a long time since Afghanistan, but John wasn’t surprised to find himself on military alert as he pulled his gun out of the desk drawer where it sat nestled next to a camera phone and a Sudoku cube.

A sly sound from behind him and he froze. He waited, and in the silence he flicked the safety off of the gun.

When he spun around, arm extended, completely still, there was no one there.

A rustling sigh, and his attention was drawn to the open door of Sherlock’s bedroom.

The open door.

The door he had not opened in three years.

Legs that felt out of his control marched him to the door and he pushed it open with the gun still in his hand.

A sliver of moon through dusty curtains picked out the long lean body sprawled face down on the bed, and the sound of Sherlock Holmes snoring into his pillow was repeated a third time.

Less stiff now, John moved forward and gazed down at his friend, his everything.

When he spoke, his voice was full of love: “Bastard.”

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Title: 10
Author: Goddess Michele
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Word Count:221
Spoilers: none
Rating: F for fluffy
Beta: I am my own worst beta!
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made, all hail BBC, Moffat and Gatiss.
Feedback: Yes, please! starshine24mc@yahoo.com
Archive: put it wherever you like, including any zines, just leave my name on it.
Summary: Another 221B for the "Pictures of Lily" collection. Next thing you know they'll be eating crisps, and giggling about the cute boys at NSY

XXX

Sherlock was surprised to find himself waking up with an inelegant snort and a patch of suspicious drool on the lapel of his dressing gown. He didn’t remember falling asleep.

His last clear memory was of a growing ache in his temples as he reviewed their last case while sitting at his desk still damp from the bath. Something mindless was playing softly on the telly and John had set aside his laptop in favor of a cup of tea as he sat back on the sofa, his own terry robe pulled snug around himself.

When Sherlock winced for the third time and put a hand to the back of his neck, John said “C’mere,” in a gruff voice that Sherlock found impossible to refuse.

Flopping gracefully down on the floor in front of the couch, his body was immediately bracketed by sturdy legs, while strong hands and nimble fingers began massaging his scalp. His eyes slipped closed.

Now his headache was gone and he felt almost refreshed by his impromptu nap. He could hear John moving around the kitchen as he clambered unsteadily to his feet and caught site of himself in the mirror over the fireplace.

Even rows of underhand track knots lined his head from forehead to nape.

John nearly dropped the kettle at Sherlock’s horrified shout:

“BRAIDS?”

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Title: The Artist In The Ambulance
Author: Goddess Michele
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Word Count:221
Spoilers: none
Rating: A for Angst
Beta: I am my own worst beta!
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made, all hail BBC, Moffat and Gatiss.
Feedback: Yes, please! starshine24mc@yahoo.com
Archive: put it wherever you like, including any zines, just leave my name on it.
Summary: Another 221B for the "Pictures of Lily" collection. A case goes awry.
UPDATE: now with more sequel from the Lovely and Talented JD Rush! (see below)

XXX


Sherlock opened his eyes slowly and some word that was trying to be “John” tumbled drunkenly off his tongue to land on his chin.

“Sherlock!” John’s face slowly came into focus in front of him, all relieved grin and bright eyes. “Back with us then?”

Sherlock could feel movement beneath him—a vehicle—and the warm strength of John’s hand in his when he reached out to him.

“Are we almost there?” he asked.

“Just a few more miles,” John promised.

“Sussex at last,” Sherlock tried to squeeze John’s hand tighter, found he didn’t have the strength. “Just you, me and the honey.”

John’s smile slipped away, then came back false and cheery. “Sussex you say? What’s there for us, then? A honey thief?”

Sherlock closed his eyes so he didn’t see John’s expression when he replied, “You promised the yard would be big enough for the hives, John.” He lost consciousness before he heard John’s reply, or felt the paramedics working over his unresponsive body.

John ignored his own cuts and bruises and willed the ambulance to go faster as he held tight to Sherlock’s hand and remembered the conversation they’d had only hours ago when Sherlock had suggested that if they survived, they should retire together to Sussex and Sherlock would raise bees in hives that John would build.

TITLE:  Waiting
AUTHOR:  J.D. Rush
FANDOM:  BBC1 Sherlock
PAIRING:  Sherlock/John
RATING:  G
SUMMARY:  As Tom Petty would say, the waiting is the hardest part.  A 221b sequel to Goddess Michele’s lovely bittersweet 221b, The Artist In The Ambulance
DISCLAIMER:  These lovely lads belong to BBC1, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and Lords Moffat and Gatiss.
DEDICATION:  To Goddess Michele, for allowing me to play in her sandbox, and to Ann, for her friendship and encouragement.
 
XXX

It had been a long night.  The case.  The chase.  Cornering the suspect.  The unexpected appearance of a Glock.  Sherlock pushing him out of the way.  Sherlock collapsing.  One calm hand dialing 999 while the other pressed against Sherlock’s chest, stemming the flow of blood.  So much blood.  The eternal ambulance ride.  The agonizing hours while Sherlock was in surgery.  The anxious hours sitting by Sherlock’s bedside clutching a pale slender hand, their matching gold bands gleaming, waiting for his beloved to awaken.  Waiting for some sign of life.
 
The waiting, John had decided, was the worst.
 
He was getting too old for this.  They both were.  Sherlock knew it as well, had been hinting at it for awhile now, but John thought Sherlock was just having him on. Imagine--Sherlock Holmes leaving London!  To go raise bees in the country!  Hilarious!
 
After tonight’s misadventure, however, a quiet retirement in Sussex sounded rather pleasant indeed.
 
John closed his eyes.  He wasn’t a religious man, but for not the first time that night he found himself praying.  "Please, God, let him live," he murmured, hoping someone was listening.
 
Someone was.
 
A twitch against his fingers.  Cautiously, John squeezed, smiling when the hand weakly squeezed back.  With a whispered, "Thank you,"  John finally succumbed to sleep, their still entwined hands resting on the blanket.

______________________________________

Title: BFF
Author: Goddess Michele
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Word Count:221
Spoilers: none
Rating: pre-watershed fluff
Beta: I am my own worst beta!
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made, all hail BBC, Moffat and Gatiss.
Feedback: Yes, please! starshine24mc@yahoo.com
Archive: put it wherever you like, including any zines, just leave my name on it.
Summary: Another 221B for the "Pictures of Lily" collection. Inspired by this:
https://twitter.com/#!/DavidGallaher/status/203226443495374848/photo/1

XXX

Sherlock eyed John suspiciously. His flatmate looked both pleased and nervous, and for once Sherlock was unsure of John’s motivations.

Sherlock carefully set aside the pipette of Bovril he’d been about to add to his experiment and gave John his full attention.

John cleared his throat, scuffed his feet, blushed, and then stiffened into a regimental stance. He held out his hand and said, “Here, I made you something.”

Sherlock turned his attention to the item in John’s hand. It was a few inches of braided yarn, alternating blue and oatmeal in colour, with a loop knotted on one end and two single strands trailing off of the other.

“It’s a friendship bracelet,” John said when Sherlock didn’t respond. “We used to make them in Afghanistan, um, in between shifts. To-uh-keep up our dexterity.”

Sherlock could easily imagine John in uniform, brown as a nut and braiding bits of string together in the Maiwand sun.

“Traditionally, they're worn until the threads fall apart naturally, which reveals that the friendship is lifelong and honors the hard work of the person who made the bracelet,” said John. “Will you wear it?”

And then Sherlock observed that the twin to the bracelet in John’s hand was knotted snugly around John’s wrist.

“How could I not?” Sherlock smiled as John deftly tied on the bracelet.
 
-----------------------------------------------------------

Title: Good Golly
Author: Goddess Michele
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Word Count:221
Spoilers: The Reichenbach Fall
Rating: pre-watershed
Beta: I am my own worst beta!
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made, all hail BBC, Moffat and Gatiss.
Feedback: Yes, please! starshine24mc@yahoo.com
Archive: put it wherever you like, including any zines, just leave my name on it.
Summary: Another 221B for the "Pictures of Lily" collection. A prompt from Joelle: Molly's thoughts in those moments right after Sherlock asked her to help him fake his death.

XXX

It’s not fair, thought Molly, making her way to the lift. He knows I’ll do anything for him—and now he’s taking advantage of it.

The lift doors opened with a hiss that always made her smile and think of Star Trek. Stepping inside she realized her hands were full of wrapped paramedic uniforms and she wound up awkwardly stabbing at the M button with her elbow.

Her thoughts turned back to Sherlock, and it occurred to her that this wasn’t anything like the fake smiles that had made her scurry for coffee, or the compliments that had opened locked morgue drawers….

The hallway was deserted now in the hours just before dawn, and she thought about motives—both Sherlock’s, and her own.

When she got to the back door, two men and a woman, all with a dangerous, sleeping rough look about them, took the uniforms from her, nodded silently when she explained where they needed to be and when, and slipped away into the dark.

She might be doing this for love of Sherlock, she thought, but he was doing it for love of John, and there wasn’t a happy ending in any of it.

And even if her cyberspace was the paragon of romance, this night’s work was never going to be posted on her blog.

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Title: Scandal, Sorted.
Author: Goddess Michele
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Word Count:221
Spoilers: A Scandal in Belgravia
Rating: post-watershed for violence
Beta: I am my own worst beta!
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made, all hail BBC, Moffat and Gatiss.
Feedback: Yes, please! starshine24mc@yahoo.com
Archive: put it wherever you like, including any zines, just leave my name on it.
Summary: Another 221B for the "Pictures of Lily" collection. Clearly my version of the show would be much shorter.

XXX

“My measurements,” Irene said as she tipped out the window.

And then her head snapped back to hit the wall below the window with a crack and John hauled her back through the window to tumble to the floor in a graceless heap of coat and nudity.

Sherlock groaned and turned his head, barely able to focus on the fuzzy images as his vision rapidly darkened, but it looked like John was twisting his coat in a knot where it lay on the floor.

“Bondage, Doctor Watson?” Irene sneered, rapidly composing herself as John used the cord she’d tried to engineer her escape with to secure her arms behind her back.

“Shut it,” John warned, all lusty naked-girl thoughts having fled in the wake of his concern for Sherlock.

“I’d think you’d save the really interesting games for another time,” she continued. “Seems a bit exotic for our dear Sherlock.”

“I’m warning you…” John said, walking away from her and towards his fallen friend.

“Although…” Her sneer became a full blown smirk. “He seemed to like the riding crop.”

John turned back to Irene, took in her defiant grin, and then, taking care to avoid her nose and teeth, he punched her hard in the face. She fell over with an undignified squawk and John turned away, with a muttered “Bitch.”



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