Re: Long post is REALLY long.velvet_maceOctober 6 2010, 18:53:55 UTC
Gah, I could probably do this, if what you really want is the brothers being vampires, centuries old, having one mate only who is necessary to survival and reproduction. I can do mate-or-die in a week. And that Mycroft ends up with Lestrade and Sherlock with John.
But I'd have to mess with a lot of the details you put down because they don't add up logically to me. For example: I can't imagine Mycroft not knowing Lestrade years before John and Sherlock met. And having mates only drink from each other is too much of a perpetual motion machine situation: energy continuously cycling with no source.
But I don't know if this is too divergent from what you want.
Start of Fill 1A/?velvet_maceOctober 8 2010, 19:07:42 UTC
Okay, I've got a first chapter done, then I'll have to write some more.
October, 2005
Mycroft entered his St. James street flat with a smile and a spring in his step. It had been a good day. That is, until he spotted Sherlock draped over the chaise lounge in the reception room like some limp rag left behind by the maid. Tut. High again. Obviously. It was a blow to both Mycroft's confidence and ego to see his brother so obviously out of control
( ... )
Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Of course. You realize in this state I could put you in a box and you wouldn't be able to fight me." Mycroft shook his head with frustration. "A month of sobriety might do the trick."
Sherlock's eyes snapped open. "You wouldn't." He gave a look of intense hurt. "Please, don't Mycroft. I swear I will never drug one of your minions again. I'll drink only the purest, soberest, most upstanding virgin blood. I'll feed on exclusively on nuns!"
Mycroft pursed his lips just the smallest amount. Sherlock could be such a ham at times.
"Tell you what, I won't if you can tell me who my dinner guest was. You should be able to figure it out." He turned around slowly. "There, I made it easier."
Sherlock sat up and rubbed his neck. "Very well. You positively reek of hospital disinfectant. Your elbow brushed against the lip of a chlorine bottle. The coat's ruined, by the way. So you fed in a cleaning closet at Barts - and how very low rent of you
( ... )
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Back looking for a mate then. At a hospital maternity ward?"
"I smelled one, Sherlock." Mycroft's eyes fixed on the view out the window. "Only for a moment as I was passing the emergency room. There's one out there." He walked over to the lounge and pushed Sherlock's legs out of the way so he could sit. "I'm almost three hundred years old, Sherlock. I was made to be a patriarch. There are vampires half my age with progeny already. Vampires half my worth. I will never be a true lord without a mate and progeny. It cripples me both socially and practically."
"Spare me your midlife crisis. It's old. And by old, it's been, what, two centuries you've been harping on this?"
"I don't know how you can be so calm," said Mycroft. "You are almost as old as I am. Surely you must have occasionally longed for a mate?"
"Oh, yes, because it sounds so terribly wonderful," said Sherlock dryly. "Here, have a human - a special human mind you, not one you can pick, because they are so extremely rare - whose
( ... )
Searching the hospital for his elusive mate was a priority, but there were more important problems to deal with first. Sherlock's penchant for rubbish blood was one thing, using his powers to get one of Mycroft's assistants high was quite another. After considering the matter he decided an ultimatum was in order
( ... )
1E/? this may double post.velvet_maceOctober 8 2010, 19:15:51 UTC
Mycroft had just finished with the new Ambassador to India when his mobile rang. He laid the man back on the couch, readjusted his clothes a bit to make him look more proper and then checked to see what message he'd been given. The man grunted slightly and licked his lips perhaps in longing for a last taste.
Sherlock arrested. At Met. Intervene? -- A
Mycroft sighed. He disliked texting, but in the presence of a new thrall discretion made sense. What offense.
Trespassing at crime scene. Orders? --A
Mycroft thought for a second. Nothing. I'll handle. Come to me.The Ambassador seemed to come to himself, blinking his eyes and sitting up. He looked around then over to where Mycroft stood, now safely out of any intimate space. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm a bit run down from packing, I'm afraid. Was I able to answer your questions, Mr. Holmes
( ... )
Anthea was really too young for the job of personal assistant, barely sixteen and looking not a day older, but her mind was sharp and agile and her comfort with the latest technology essential for coordinating all the balls he currently had in the air. She was his equal in multitasking, which was, in fact, such a rare talent that he'd gone through some rather irregular hoops to acquire her. Including having her change her name to shed her extraordinarily large and persistent family
( ... )
1/G and end of chapter 1velvet_maceOctober 8 2010, 19:23:05 UTC
The smell grew stronger the closer he got. Whoever it was shed excess vitality with careless abandon. The poor human was practically begging for a vampire to come and feed, relieve him or her (Mycroft still could get no sense of gender) of the burden. By some luck it seemed that whoever it was in the same area as the man who had his brother.
Mycroft suddenly stopped in his tracks - what if Sherlock got to this person first? Surely Sherlock would be smelling the same thing. And even if he claimed no interest in mating - how could he resist?He continued, slower, steeling himself for a storm. He passed through a warren of desks, each populated with its own little official, all smart in their uniforms. They cast brief assessing looks his way, but his impeccable suit was enough to tell them that dealing with him was above their pay grade
( ... )
Chapter 2a/?velvet_maceOctober 10 2010, 17:28:50 UTC
Greg didn't know whether to tear out his hair or thank the man. Or maybe just laugh, because the situation was so utterly mad. People like Sherlock Holmes simply didn't exist in real life. But the hidden video camera had been found, its contents had been processed, and the murderer been quite thoroughly outted. Case solved before the blood at the crime scene had even dried. And it was in large part due to the very keen eye of random trespasser.
Sherlock sat expressively slumped over his chair and awarded him with a mild appraising glance. "You don't seem to think my offer is genuine."
"Mr. Holmes," he said. "Your offer is tempting, but impossible. What I mean by that is you have a real talent for observation, an almost terrifying one actually, but there are procedures that we have to follow. I can't authorize payment to an outside consultant without there being something tangible to justify his expertise. A resume, a degree, references at least."
Sherlock simply glanced at the ceiling, "I'm not asking for payment. I
( ... )
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But I'd have to mess with a lot of the details you put down because they don't add up logically to me. For example: I can't imagine Mycroft not knowing Lestrade years before John and Sherlock met. And having mates only drink from each other is too much of a perpetual motion machine situation: energy continuously cycling with no source.
But I don't know if this is too divergent from what you want.
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/staked
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October, 2005
Mycroft entered his St. James street flat with a smile and a spring in his step. It had been a good day. That is, until he spotted Sherlock draped over the chaise lounge in the reception room like some limp rag left behind by the maid. Tut. High again. Obviously. It was a blow to both Mycroft's confidence and ego to see his brother so obviously out of control ( ... )
Reply
Sherlock's eyes snapped open. "You wouldn't." He gave a look of intense hurt. "Please, don't Mycroft. I swear I will never drug one of your minions again. I'll drink only the purest, soberest, most upstanding virgin blood. I'll feed on exclusively on nuns!"
Mycroft pursed his lips just the smallest amount. Sherlock could be such a ham at times.
"Tell you what, I won't if you can tell me who my dinner guest was. You should be able to figure it out." He turned around slowly. "There, I made it easier."
Sherlock sat up and rubbed his neck. "Very well. You positively reek of hospital disinfectant. Your elbow brushed against the lip of a chlorine bottle. The coat's ruined, by the way. So you fed in a cleaning closet at Barts - and how very low rent of you ( ... )
Reply
"I smelled one, Sherlock." Mycroft's eyes fixed on the view out the window. "Only for a moment as I was passing the emergency room. There's one out there." He walked over to the lounge and pushed Sherlock's legs out of the way so he could sit. "I'm almost three hundred years old, Sherlock. I was made to be a patriarch. There are vampires half my age with progeny already. Vampires half my worth. I will never be a true lord without a mate and progeny. It cripples me both socially and practically."
"Spare me your midlife crisis. It's old. And by old, it's been, what, two centuries you've been harping on this?"
"I don't know how you can be so calm," said Mycroft. "You are almost as old as I am. Surely you must have occasionally longed for a mate?"
"Oh, yes, because it sounds so terribly wonderful," said Sherlock dryly. "Here, have a human - a special human mind you, not one you can pick, because they are so extremely rare - whose ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Sherlock arrested. At Met. Intervene? -- A
Mycroft sighed. He disliked texting, but in the presence of a new thrall discretion made sense. What offense.
Trespassing at crime scene. Orders? --A
Mycroft thought for a second. Nothing. I'll handle. Come to me.The Ambassador seemed to come to himself, blinking his eyes and sitting up. He looked around then over to where Mycroft stood, now safely out of any intimate space. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm a bit run down from packing, I'm afraid. Was I able to answer your questions, Mr. Holmes ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Mycroft suddenly stopped in his tracks - what if Sherlock got to this person first? Surely Sherlock would be smelling the same thing. And even if he claimed no interest in mating - how could he resist?He continued, slower, steeling himself for a storm. He passed through a warren of desks, each populated with its own little official, all smart in their uniforms. They cast brief assessing looks his way, but his impeccable suit was enough to tell them that dealing with him was above their pay grade ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Reply
Sherlock sat expressively slumped over his chair and awarded him with a mild appraising glance. "You don't seem to think my offer is genuine."
"Mr. Holmes," he said. "Your offer is tempting, but impossible. What I mean by that is you have a real talent for observation, an almost terrifying one actually, but there are procedures that we have to follow. I can't authorize payment to an outside consultant without there being something tangible to justify his expertise. A resume, a degree, references at least."
Sherlock simply glanced at the ceiling, "I'm not asking for payment. I ( ... )
Reply
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