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What about starting a fan fic written openly by all members who'd like to contribute something?
I was thinking one paragraph per person, then you have to wait until at least one other paragraph is written. No plotting together beforehand, just getting started.
Maybe a limit concerning the rating, but no limit otherwise. No experience in writing needed.
I want to hear people's opinions on it but now that I wrote it down I can't wait. :-D Let me write the beginning:
It was way too early when Sherlock woke up. No wonder really. Sleep didn't come easy these days. He sighed pathetically. Then he sighed again, quietly. There was no point in sighing pathetically when there is no one to notice.
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I'm happy with this!
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... and now someone needs to write the next paragraph.
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(I apologise,I missed that part!) Ok:
But old habits die hard. Almost instinctively, Sherlocked rolled over and looked...at the empty space beside him. Although he knew very well the answer to his own questions, he frowned and mentally asked himself anyway: where's John again? How long's he going to be away?
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Side Note: I strongly vote to have this thread labeled for Adult content.
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(I guess that's how it works. Certainly my past experience would inform that decision).
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If the mods allow this thread to become explicit...
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Sherlock got up, put his robe over his pajamas and padded into the kitchen. Might as well make a cup of tea seeing as John wasn't here to make it for him.
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The Mods will confer.
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Once in the kitchen, Sherlock stopped in his tracks. A quick scan reminded him that not only was John away, so was Mrs Hudson. She wasn't of course allowed to touch any of his science equipment, which he had left strewn across the table. But he winced at the sight of the sink, overflowing with debris from takeaway food.
Last edited by besleybean (May 2, 2016 6:49 pm)
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He shook his head in wonder at the sight: "Weird... what was Mrs. Hudson doing when I was out on a case last night? It seems like a pigsty here." He considered the idea of making some ham-and-eggs for a while, but the sorry remains of the takeaway disgusted him so much, he only lighted up the cigarette, turned on his wheel and entered the living room, frowning deep in thought.
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Sherlocked allowed himself a private smile and chuckle. He loved his secret smokes, when alone in the flat. If he smoked in front of Mrs Hudson, she reminded him John wouldn't be pleased. If he smoked in front of John, sure enough, he was treated to a doctor's lecture on the number of deaths through smoking.
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Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, when he thought about it. But at the moment he found it difficult to care. Instead he watched the smoke rise into the air as the daylight streamed into the window.
(This is getting sad and noir...)
Last edited by Yitzock (May 2, 2016 7:30 pm)
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He put out the last remains of the cigarette. Perhaps some violin? He was in the middle of composing, but there were some tweaks he was considering... but he didn't feel in the mood.
He snorted in disgust. Was he getting stuck in self-pity? Boring. Mundane. Stupid.
He lit himself another cigarette and opened his laptop to check his e-mail.
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He half expected there to be nothing, but there was one new unread message. It was from an email address with no name. This better not be some stupid spam email, he thought as he went to open it. Spam would be boring, but he also knew that this could be something interesting being sent to him by a person who was masking their identity.
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This turned out to be a capital idea for as soon as booted up the first thing to catch his eye was an email with the return address of docwatson221b and a header reading STOP.
The body of the email was short and too the point.
"Stop sulking and put out the fag you gorgeous git. The medical conference is only 3 bloody days long."
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Three bloody days ... Not that much, really. And one day was already over. And it was not the first time John was away from home for a few days. If only ... Sherlock gathered all his strength and finally faced the memory he was trying to avoid. If only they hadn't had that terrible fight before John had to leave.
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But maybe John would have forgotten about the fight. Sherlock certainly had. What was it they had been fighting about? Sherlock shrugged, it couldn't have been anything that important. Or perhaps he just had to learn to pay a little more attention to John and keep his filtering out just for Mrs Hudson.
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What now? He had no case on. At least nothing that warranted getting into his pants and trousers and leaving the flat. He thought about going back to bed but it would not be fun without John. He was still standing indecisively in the middle of them room when his phone announced a text message.
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The text read: you had better be up and ready.Flat better be tidy. Home very soon. I have a present for you. You had better have missed me.