Spoo's Drabbles (mostly Mystrade, plus some other fandoms)

[tma]

"Was that so bad?"

"Not nearly as wretched as the energy drink you once offered me," he replied, giving her the empty cup.

:lol: OMG! I love it!!

And even though I've never seen the show- I just absolutely LOVE this!! The voices of the characters were really clear and distinct. Ichabod like sounded *perfect* and I love how you described things. Awwww!!! Poor boy!

Great job!

[Spoo]

Spoiler alert! If you haven't seen this week's episode of Sleepy Hollow and don't want to be spoiled, don't read.

Here we have yet another Ichabod and Abbie (Ichabbie?) drabble. This one was [obviously] inspired by the most recent episode, where Ichabod encountered a plague of sorts. There was something about seeing him so weak and feverish that um…did things to me. Also, there's no sneezing in this; just delirium.

1 - Kink :: 2 - Science Fiction :: 3 - Frightened :: 4 - Fake :: 5 – Pencil :: 6 – Squint :: 7 – Misplaced :: 8 – Joy :: 9 - Touched :: 10 – Cough(x2) :: 11 – Hot/Cold :: 12 – Sin :: 13 – Care :: 14 – Frail :: 15 – The End :: 16 – Three :: 17 – Never :: 18 – Midnight :: 19 – Promise :: 20 – Fight :: 21 – Pollen :: 22 – Embarrassment :: 23 – Alcohol :: 24 – Mask :: 25 – Mistake :: 26 – Suspicion :: 27 – Disagreement :: 28 – Assignment :: 29 – Purple :: 30 – June :: 31 – Calculating :: 32 – Fall :: 33 – Cry :: 34 – Relief :: 35 – Breath :: 36 – Miserable :: 37 – Chocolate :: 38 – Violent :: 39 – Muffle :: 40 – Swift :: 41 – Run :: 42 – Poison :: 43 – Contagion :: 44 – Tissue :: 45 – Sore :: 46 – Enraptured :: 47 – Wary :: 48 – Pathetic :: 49 – Sweat :: 50 – Gentle :: 51 – Milk :: 52 – Ravenous :: 53 – Blanket :: 54 – Needles :: 55 – Sports :: 55 – Ruin :: 56 – Lovely :: 57 – Hospital :: 58 – Annoying :: 59 – Mother :: 60 – Bike :: 61 – Idiot :: 62 – Puppy :: 63 – Control :: 64 – Unfair :: 65 – Similarities :: 66 – Raincoat :: 67 – Worship :: 68 – Attitude :: 69 – Fuck :: 70 – Confession :: 71 – Floor :: 72 – Remedy :: 73 – Don’t :: 74 – Ego :: 75 – Heartless :: 76 – Lullaby :: 77 – Secret :: 78 – Shut Up :: 79 – Music :: 80 – Grudge :: 81 – Solitude :: 82 – Magic :: 83 – Dirty :: 84 – City :: 85 – Teacher :: 86 – Sky :: 87 – Hypocrite :: 88 – Tattoo :: 89 – Money :: 90 – Childhood :: 91 – Goodbye :: 92 – Victory :: 93 – Weather :: 94 – Photo :: 95 – Rage :: 96 – Internet:: 97 – Fashion :: 98 – Favor :: 99 – Lazy :: 100 – Airplane

~*~

Series: Sleepy Hollow

Character(s): Abbie Mills, Ichabod Crane

Prompt: 25 – Mistake

Word count: 431

Abbie felt nothing but guilt as she pressed a damp washcloth against a forehead that was way too hot. She was trying to tame Crane's fever back into submission, since it had spiked within the past hour, and so far her efforts were useless. She wanted to kick herself for not noticing his gradual deterioration earlier that afternoon, but she figured she was better off not dwelling on that and focusing on the present situation.

For as comatose as he should have been, he was restless; he groaned between labored breaths, as though he were being tortured by an invisible force. Hell, maybe he was. If Abbie hadn't seen him in rough shape before she would have been worried, but having witnessed him injured and contaminated with a grim illness, she was able to remain calm.

She soon transferred the washcloth to his cheek, where she continued to gently stroke. Crane stirred at this, his pale eyes revealing themselves beneath fluttering lids. He panted softly through his dry lips and then swallowed thickly.

"Khhh…"

Abbie's ears perked upon hearing him attempt to speak. She briefly removed the washcloth and looked down again, watching as his gaze slowly trailed to her.

"Hey," she greeted softly.

At this, he spoke again: "Khhh…trihh…"

The lieutenant's dark eyebrows furrowed. She wasn't picking up on what he was trying to say, nor did she have any ideas as to what it may have been. Her fingernails soon found their way into his long hair, where she stroked encouragingly.

"I don't understand," she told him.

He swallowed again, his eyes rolling shut as another wave of overwhelming heat claimed him. His hand, previously stationary, reached over and settled on Abbie's arm; he squeezed her wrist with an almost affectionate pressure.

"Katrina…"

Realization sunk in as Abbie finally understood what he'd been trying to say. It made sense that he'd mistake her for his wife when he was most vulnerable. Besides, there must have been a point in time where the very woman he spoke of sat at his bedside, doing exactly what she was doing now.

"I'm not Katrina," she corrected gently, without an ounce of offense in her tone.

The man's brow creased as though he were processing the information, yet he fell away from the attempt, just as his hand fell away from the wrist it clutched. Abbie spooned some hair behind her ear and readjusted, so as to be closer to him. She reapplied the washcloth to his forehead.

"But I am here for you, Crane, and I'll help you get through this."

[kestrel]

Back again. And dead from the adorable again. Curse you and your awesome writing!

[Bruyere]

"Good," Abbie responded. "That should knock you out for a while."

"Not another two-and-a-half centuries, I trust?" Ichabod teased, already a bit drowsy.

Ah Spoo this is too cute! I love Abbie taking care of Ichabod.

[Gallatea]

Ooooohhh, so much cuteness!! I love that you capture both of them so well, especially their dialogue! <3!!

[Spoo]

I've actually been meaning to write this particular drabble for a while. And I managed to finish it in an airport while waiting for my very delayed flight. Fancy that!

For reference, THIS IS THE PICTURE that inspired this prompt.

1 - Kink :: 2 - Science Fiction :: 3 - Frightened :: 4 - Fake :: 5 – Pencil :: 6 – Squint :: 7 – Misplaced :: 8 – Joy :: 9 - Touched :: 10 – Cough(x2) :: 11 – Hot/Cold :: 12 – Sin :: 13 – Care :: 14 – Frail :: 15 – The End :: 16 – Three :: 17 – Never :: 18 – Midnight :: 19 – Promise :: 20 – Fight :: 21 – Pollen :: 22 – Embarrassment :: 23 – Alcohol :: 24 – Mask :: 25 – Mistake :: 26 – Suspicion :: 27 – Disagreement :: 28 – Assignment :: 29 – Purple :: 30 – June :: 31 – Calculating :: 32 – Fall :: 33 – Cry :: 34 – Relief :: 35 – Breath :: 36 – Miserable :: 37 – Chocolate :: 38 – Violent :: 39 – Muffle :: 40 – Swift :: 41 – Run :: 42 – Poison :: 43 – Contagion :: 44 – Tissue :: 45 – Sore :: 46 – Enraptured :: 47 – Wary :: 48 – Pathetic :: 49 – Sweat :: 50 – Gentle :: 51 – Milk :: 52 – Ravenous :: 53 – Blanket :: 54 – Needles :: 55 – Sports :: 55 – Ruin :: 56 – Lovely :: 57 – Hospital :: 58 – Annoying :: 59 – Mother :: 60 – Bike :: 61 – Idiot :: 62 – Puppy :: 63 – Control :: 64 – Unfair :: 65 – Similarities :: 66 – Raincoat :: 67 – Worship :: 68 – Attitude :: 69 – Fuck :: 70 – Confession :: 71 – Floor :: 72 – Remedy :: 73 – Don’t :: 74 – Ego :: 75 – Heartless :: 76 – Lullaby :: 77 – Secret :: 78 – Shut Up :: 79 – Music :: 80 – Grudge :: 81 – Solitude :: 82 – Magic :: 83 – Dirty :: 84 – City :: 85 – Teacher :: 86 – Sky :: 87 – Hypocrite :: 88 – Tattoo :: 89 – Money :: 90 – Childhood :: 91 – Goodbye :: 92 – Victory :: 93 – Weather :: 94 – Photo :: 95 – Rage :: 96 – Internet:: 97 – Fashion :: 98 – Favor :: 99 – Lazy :: 100 – Airplane

~*~

Series: Sherlock

Character(s): Sherlock Holmes, John Watson

Prompt: 34 – Relief

Word count: 649

It wasn't the most comfortable position to be in, but John could honestly say that he'd dealt with far worse. That didn't necessarily make his current predicament much better, mind you. Not with he and Sherlock wedged in between two brick walls, pressed together as though they were two sides of a sticky biscuit.

And really, they weren't doing this for their health. That was for sure.

The true nature of their discreet placement was to avoid being seen, or heard, by potential suspects of their latest case. Sherlock was absolutely determined to collect a missing piece of information he needed, even if that meant hiding in a filthy, dark alleyway, listening to a muffled conversation on the street curb.

In all truth, John was more than ready to get the damn thing over with (though, in that moment it was more because the calloused palms of his hands were chaffing up against the scratchy brick uncomfortably). Additionally, the frosty weather wasn't doing much good for his nose. He was in the process of getting over a cold as it stood, and his nostrils had yet to abandon their increased sensitivity.

Anything could have set him off. Even…even the cashmere fibers of Sherlock's scarf, which, thanks to their ridiculously close proximity, was practically shoved in his face.

John attempted to tilt his head back, but he then ran the risk of nosing Sherlock in the chin, and that was…well, that wouldn't work either. Perhaps it was best to just keep facing forward, even though forward was a bit not good.

Forward meant more of that bloody scarf tickling his nose. Forward meant that there was an awfully good chance he was going to…

And there it was.

The dull tingle grew heavier and soon consumed the entirety of John's nose like a swarm of buzzing bees. The man sniffled softly, but that did more harm than good, unfortunately. The stimulation had already passed the point of no return, and Christ, he'd always been horrid at suppressing his sneezes (angry things that they were).

Of course, the fact that his hands were pressed up against the brick wall didn't help matters. He'd literally have nothing to muffle the sound - not even his shoulder since Sherlock's elbow was presently using it as a makeshift armrest.

Well, the very least he could have done was alert his flatmate of what was going to happen. His lips parted as the hitching breaths started, yet before he could say anything whatsoever, he found that Sherlock was already looking down at him through slightly narrowed eyes.

The unexpected intensity of the stare temporarily distracted John, though it wasn't enough to distract the sneeze. A sharp inhale inflated his lungs before he snapped his head down…

"Heh'igh--!"

…straight into two long fingers.

The digits were firm as they pressed up against his septum, successfully diffusing what would have no doubt been a powerful, loud release. John's wide nostrils wriggled greedily behind the slender restraints, implying a fiendish voracity that hungered for a sneeze, yet was ultimately left to starve.

Slowly, very slowly, Sherlock lowered his fingers.

Relief replaced desperation when John found that the maddening urge was no longer there. He gradually exhaled the remnants of the deep breath he'd taken quietly. Sherlock's attention instantly returned to the muted discussion nearby, just as it finished and the suspects departed in a cab.

John sniffed. "Get what you need?"

He was only minorly concerned that Sherlock had stopped listening when he'd directed his focus to a more pressing (literally) matter.

"It was his cousin," the detective replied.

"Fantastic," John praised, relieved for an entirely new reason. "Now, if you wouldn't mind, I'd very much like to not be here, thanks."

His only response was an incredibly quick movement and the billowing end of Sherlock's coat as the tall man swiftly disappeared around the alleyway's corner.

[Anonymouse]

The moment I saw that picture I knew I had to read this. Sneezing in confined spaces? Yes please.

I love how John describes his sneezes as angry. It's like they need to be loud and ferocious to make up for how tiny and adorable he is.

And omg yes. Not only was Sherlock watching the build-up, but he sees it fit to intervene as well!

I definitely need to start watching this show.

[Spoo]

It's like they need to be loud and ferocious to make up for how tiny and adorable he is.

GAH. Cutest explanation ever! I just picture John (not Martin, because that's something completely different) as having really aggressive sneezes. Like, "old man" kind of sneezes, haha.

Not only was Sherlock watching the build-up, but he sees it fit to intervene as well!

Sherlock knew that John was going to sneeze before John knew.

I definitely need to start watching this show.

You should! It's very good. If I hadn't had strep throat back in February and two solid days of bed rest, I probably wouldn't have watched it myself. Thank you, infected tonsils and Netflix, for introducing me to the funniest duo since Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck.

[Spoo]

I've been wanting to experiment in the Hobbit fandom for a bit, just because there's plenty of lovable characters, buuuut...to be frank, the whole 'Middle Earth' element intimidates the ba-jeezus out of me. Not to mention the speaking patterns are kinda complex. I figured I could at least try it out, though. Explore uncharted territory and all~

This is set nowhere in particular; just a night when the Company is traveling. It fits best, I think, after the end of the first movie. Don't worry! No spoilers for the sequel. No romance or relationships here, though there maaaay be a little something-something if you squint.

1 - Kink :: 2 - Science Fiction :: 3 - Frightened :: 4 - Fake :: 5 – Pencil :: 6 – Squint :: 7 – Misplaced :: 8 – Joy :: 9 - Touched ::10 – Cough(x2) :: 11 – Hot/Cold :: 12 – Sin :: 13 – Care :: 14 – Frail :: 15 – The End :: 16 – Three :: 17 – Never :: 18 – Midnight :: 19 – Promise :: 20 – Fight :: 21 – Pollen :: 22 – Embarrassment :: 23 – Alcohol :: 24 – Mask :: 25 – Mistake :: 26 – Suspicion :: 27 – Disagreement :: 28 – Assignment :: 29 – Purple :: 30 – June :: 31 – Calculating :: 32 – Fall :: 33 – Cry :: 34 – Relief :: 35 – Breath :: 36 – Miserable :: 37 – Chocolate :: 38 – Violent :: 39 – Muffle :: 40 – Swift :: 41 – Run :: 42 – Poison :: 43 – Contagion :: 44 – Tissue :: 45 – Sore :: 46 – Enraptured :: 47 – Wary :: 48 – Pathetic :: 49 – Sweat :: 50 – Gentle :: 51 – Milk :: 52 – Ravenous :: 53 – Blanket :: 54 – Needles :: 55 – Sports :: 55 – Ruin :: 56 – Lovely :: 57 – Hospital :: 58 – Annoying :: 59 – Mother :: 60 – Bike :: 61 – Idiot :: 62 – Puppy :: 63 – Control :: 64 – Unfair :: 65 – Similarities :: 66 – Raincoat :: 67 – Worship :: 68 – Attitude :: 69 – Fuck :: 70 – Confession :: 71 – Floor :: 72 – Remedy :: 73 – Don’t :: 74 – Ego :: 75 – Heartless :: 76 – Lullaby :: 77 – Secret :: 78 – Shut Up :: 79 – Music :: 80 – Grudge :: 81 – Solitude :: 82 – Magic :: 83 – Dirty :: 84 – City :: 85 – Teacher :: 86 – Sky :: 87 – Hypocrite :: 88 – Tattoo :: 89 – Money :: 90 – Childhood :: 91 – Goodbye :: 92 – Victory :: 93 – Weather :: 94 – Photo :: 95 – Rage :: 96 – Internet:: 97 – Fashion :: 98 – Favor :: 99 – Lazy :: 100 – Airplane

~*~

Series: The Hobbit

Character(s): Bofur, Bilbo, some other dwarves

Prompt: 39 – Muffle

Word count: 544

The Company had stopped for the night just outside of a remote clearing. Coolness danced in the evening air, but the steady warmth that radiated from the fire ate away at the cold. Unless, of course, one was already feeling somewhat chilled, as Bofur was. The musical dwarf sat amongst his kin, staring absently into the flames and not quite feeling like himself.

Pieces of an earlier kill were being distributed to all who sought out its nourishment, but he declined when a portion was offered in his direction.

"Nun' for me, thanks," he said. "Bombur'll have my share."

He caught his plump brother's eager eyes from across the campsite, and he smiled a bit, confirming his statement with a nod. Said nod was interrupted when he turned off to the side to cough into his shoulder, the sounds swallowed by the thickness of his vest.

Had Bofur glanced off to his right, he would have noticed Bilbo looking at him with an expression that bordered concern. He didn't, though. He just kept staring at the flames that were warming his bones until they dimmed down into glowing embers.

His traveling companions soon laid out their bedrolls and settled in for the night, and it wasn't long before deep snores came about, originating somewhere between Dwalin and Gloin. Bofur curled onto his side and nestled his temple into the soft fur of his hat.

It was awfully comfortable, his hat. Great for keeping his ears warm and his head properly cushioned.

His eyes started to close on him, implying that he was ready to turn in, yet before he could actually seal his eyelids he was alerted to a bit of mischief playing up in his nose. He sniffed quietly and brushed at his nostrils with the callused edge of his thumb, hoping to get rid of the tickle before it went and developed on him.

By his beard, he was a second too late for his nose very quickly decided that it wanted to sneeze. And sneeze it surely did - right into the gloved center of his palm.

"Hhp'ISCHHhah!"

Nearby, someone snorted in their sleep. Bofur responded by making sure to muffle the next sneeze that itched its way out.

"Ih'GZSCHhhff!"

He hadn't yet come up from his hand when he heard a familiar voice speak out to him.

"Bless you."

Sniffing, he turned his head just so to take in the sight of their burglar. Bilbo was curled up as well, prayerful hands under his head, huge hairy feet poking out from the coat that covered him.

"Thank ye," Bofur exhaled.

Keeping his actions soundless, Bilbo reached for something under his covering and pulled out the ripped piece of cloth that Bofur himself had given him at the start of their journey. He seemed hesitant in the way he always did when he wasn't sure of something.

"Do you…do you need this?"

"No," the dwarf replied, his lips curling into an appreciative smile. "I'll be managing joost fine now, Master Baggins."

Bilbo nodded and tucked the makeshift handkerchief back into wherever he'd retrieved it from. "Right. Goodnight."

"Sleep w-well," Bofur responded, though the words carried a breathy hitch that quickly evolved into another muffled sneeze. "Hh'DZSCHHhhff!"

"Bless you."

"Thank ye."

[TheCakeIsAlive]

Someone pointed me at this only today, so you'll have to bear with me fangirling over all the drabbles. I can't believe I missed this!

So uhm... I've been hitting the selective quote button since starting and uhm... sorry about the length of this.

He had to wonder if Mycroft was enjoying himself since the man had spent the past three days buried in his handkerchief, sniffling, sneezing, and casting an aura of silent misery. Not that he'd ever once complained, though.

I can just imagine Mycroft's aversion of legwork partially being fuelled by this.

Mycroft sniffed. "Gregory?"

"What?"

"Do shut up."

*grins like an idiot*

"That's fine. I'd rather he not get sick, if it can be helped," Lestrade replied, sniffing thickly. "We don't need him sneezing all over the bodies. They've got it bad enough."

MYCROFT COOTIES xD Have I mentioned lately that I love you?

"I hope you realize that after countless disappointments, that one was the closest to developing," he quipped.

Poor Mycroft.

"Yes, well. I do try to keep the details of my personal life a mystery," Mycroft replied, smirking. "I also find it irrelevant to speak of my little queens when you and I are swept up in much more engaging affairs."

Oh, I approve. Especially calling them after royalty. So very Mycroft.

"Was it my hair?" he inquired, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah," his lover yawned. "Got up my nose."

"My sincerest apologies."

"Come on, let's get you home," Lestrade said, ushering John through the drunken crowd. "Before I really do have to arrest someone."

Brilliant.

Mycroft would have offered his handkerchief instead, but depending on how long his hayfever medication decided to remain effective, he may have needed it later. That and he'd brought the tissues for Lestrade in the first place, having picked up on the fact that the man would not only require them, but also that he'd failed to bring any along himself.

There can *never* be enough allergic Mycroft. Ever.

The stimulation had already passed the point of no return, and Christ, he'd always been horrid at suppressing his sneezes (angry things that they were).

That is a brilliant description. I love your writing.

[Spoo]

Ohhhhhmygoodness I'm blushing so much! Thank youuuuu (a million times!). You've got me all giddy now.

[squealofapproval]

I just read some of the most amazing drabbles known to this forum...

[ID2006]

How did it take me so long to find this? And OMG, I didn't know I shipped Mystrade, but hot diggity, if I didn't before I do now.

[Spoo]

And OMG, I didn't know I shipped Mystrade, but hot diggity, if I didn't before I do now.

It's not your everyday pairing, I'll admit, but I'm SUCH a sucker for it.

[cally]

I need more Mystrade in my life. I love these drabbles!

[Spoo]

There's a veeeery good chance that hell has frozen over because, well…you'll see. Also, this is fairly early-on in their friendship. Season 1, probably? For reasons that will soon be revealed~

1 - Kink :: 2 - Science Fiction :: 3 - Frightened :: 4 - Fake :: 5 – Pencil :: 6 – Squint :: 7 – Misplaced :: 8 – Joy :: 9 - Touched ::10 – Cough(x2) :: 11 – Hot/Cold :: 12 – Sin :: 13 – Care :: 14 – Frail :: 15 – The End :: 16 – Three :: 17 – Never :: 18 – Midnight :: 19 – Promise :: 20 – Fight :: 21 – Pollen :: 22 – Embarrassment :: 23 – Alcohol :: 24 – Mask :: 25 – Mistake :: 26 – Suspicion :: 27 – Disagreement :: 28 – Assignment :: 29 – Purple :: 30 – June :: 31 – Calculating :: 32 – Fall :: 33 – Cry :: 34 – Relief :: 35 – Breath :: 36 – Miserable :: 37 – Chocolate :: 38 – Violent :: 39 – Muffle :: 40 – Swift :: 41 – Run :: 42 – Poison :: 43 – Contagion :: 44 – Tissue :: 45 – Sore :: 46 – Enraptured :: 47 – Wary :: 48 – Pathetic :: 49 – Sweat :: 50 – Gentle :: 51 – Milk :: 52 – Ravenous :: 53 – Blanket :: 54 – Needles :: 55 – Sports :: 55 – Ruin :: 56 – Lovely :: 57 – Hospital :: 58 – Annoying :: 59 – Mother :: 60 – Bike :: 61 – Idiot :: 62 – Puppy :: 63 – Control :: 64 – Unfair :: 65 – Similarities :: 66 – Raincoat :: 67 – Worship :: 68 – Attitude :: 69 – Fuck :: 70 – Confession :: 71 – Floor :: 72 – Remedy :: 73 – Don’t :: 74 – Ego :: 75 – Heartless :: 76 – Lullaby :: 77 – Secret :: 78 – Shut Up :: 79 – Music :: 80 – Grudge :: 81 – Solitude :: 82 – Magic :: 83 – Dirty :: 84 – City :: 85 – Teacher :: 86 – Sky :: 87 – Hypocrite :: 88 – Tattoo :: 89 – Money :: 90 – Childhood :: 91 – Goodbye :: 92 – Victory :: 93 – Weather :: 94 – Photo :: 95 – Rage :: 96 – Internet:: 97 – Fashion :: 98 – Favor :: 99 – Lazy :: 100 – Airplane

~ * ~

Series: Sherlock

Character(s): Sherlock Holmes, John Watson

Prompt: 93 – Weather

Word count: 907

John was cold. No, scratch that. He wasn't cold. He was bloody well freezing.

Terrible shivers raced down his short spine as he huddled into his sopping wet coat, as though the soaked material would miraculously bring him some form of warmth. Fat chance, that. He would have loved to be home in that miserable moment, tucked beneath a cozy duvet, a cuppa in hand. But was he? Of course not. He was out in the pouring rain like a git, standing beside his flatmate turned crime-solving partner turned sodding madman, participating in a pointless stakeout that, thus far, hadn't raked in any results.

He was beginning to lose feeling in his stubby fingers, and if more rain went into his eyes he was going to scream. Well, maybe not "scream", per se, but shout very loudly.

"Sh-Sh-Sherlock!" he spoke above the storm, teeth chattering. "He's not coming, and I really don't blame him. You'd have to be absolutely mental to come out when it's pissing like this!"

They'd been given a tip that the man suspected as their latest murderer had been seen in the area, but John highly doubted that he'd be out on the streets when a thick wall of rain was coming down like bullets on their heads.

"We can come back tomorrow when it's cleared!"

Okay, yes, he was trying to get them out of there, but he was officially fed up with the rain, with Sherlock, with everything for Christ's sake. He wanted to go home. Now.

"He'll be here," Sherlock replied, as calmly as ever, arms crossed in front of him, yet not shivering at all.

His coat collar was turned up against the downpour, and he was so soaked that his hair was in his face, most of his curls nonexistent. His pale eyes were slanted as he peered out into the empty street, his vision somewhat impaired by the elements. It was annoying. How was he supposed to see clearly when the rain was coming down in sheets?

They were so close. The man's capture would solve the case; he was sure of it. And he would be here. The pattern made sense. The rain would not stop the murderer, so it would not stop the detective.

"Sherlock!"

Oh, for the love of… If only to silence John's persistent complaints, Sherlock took a step forward and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Fine," he snapped at no one in particular. "Let's go."

There was no doubt in his mind that Sherlock would be in complete 'sulk mode' until morning, but John honestly didn't care. He'd put up with his man-child once they were out of the rain, he decided, hailing the only other nutter stupid enough to be out in the horrid weather: A cabbie.

When a car eventually slowed to a stop some minutes later, John climbed inside and desperately hoped that he'd be greeted with a warm (or warmer) atmosphere. As his luck would have it, the vents were on at full, unrelenting force, blowing a stream of chilly air right at him.

Brilliant. As if he hadn't already suffered enough that night…

Huffing softly, he wedged himself up against the door in an attempt to get away from the gust (though, getting away from Sherlock had also been his intention). He was unhappy with the inconsiderate, selfish bastard. Rightfully so.

John sat back as the cab took off, his arms tightly crossed and his furrowed gaze kept forward. The sooner they returned to the flat, the sooner he could go to bed, which is precisely what he wanted the most. No tea, no blogging, just bed, thank you. He didn't have the energy or the patience for much of anything else, and he…

"---Hih'IRSCHHhhuh!"

That. That was a sneeze. And it hadn't come from him, or the cabbie, so…

Slowly, John turned his head and found Sherlock bent forward into praying hands, shoulders hunched, back rigid. It marked the first time that he'd seen the other man sneeze in the many months they'd lived together. He watched with utmost fascination as Sherlock straightened back up, though made no attempt to remove his hands from their post.

"Bless you," he said, though he may as well have kept the polite phrase to himself for Sherlock chose not to acknowledge it. Typical.

Unable to look away now - Sherlock was being 'human'; how could he not watch? - John observed as his companion's breathing began hitching in the space between his steepled hands; the inhales echoed and the exhales shivered.

Two sneezes in one sitting? John wouldn't have believed it had he not been watching with his own eyes.

Sherlock's head tilted back slightly, just enough away from his hands that John saw the quivering of his flared nostrils, the raindrop that trickled down his septum, and the wrinkle lodged in the bridge of his nose.

Then he was snapping forward again - a little farther than he did with the first one.

"Hih'IESCHHhhhih!"

"Bless you," John said again.

Sherlock gave a sniff of finality, lowered his hands, and then sat back. His gaze never once strayed anywhere but forward. John suspected that not even sneezing had interrupted whatever was turning the gears in the genius' mind. Hell, maybe it gave Sherlock's brain a jumpstart.

Either way, the doctor returned to his own silent musings, which, he soon realized, had nothing to do with the weather anymore.

[Anonymouse]

He was beginning to lose feeling in his stubby fingers, and if more rain went into his eyes he was going to scream. Well, maybe not "scream", per se, but shout very loudly.

hahahaha awww. poor nugget.

"Sherlock!"

Oh, for the love of…

LOL dammit John, you're a whiney lil thing aren't you? (as if most of us wouldn't be just as whiney in that same situation)

I love how John blesses him TWICE and he doesn't even acknowledge it.

Sherlock gave a sniff of finality, lowered his hands, and then sat back. His gaze never once strayed anywhere but forward. John suspected that not even sneezing had interrupted whatever was turning the gears in the genius' mind. Hell, maybe it gave Sherlock's brain a jumpstart.

Ha! Love it.

[cally]

*flails* Oh Sherlock. You didn't even hear John blessing you, did you? You probably hardly realised you sneezed at all! I can see poor, wet John having to have a sneeze or 2 himself before this is all said and done. Poor lamb.

[ID2006]

Pants on fire

[VoOs]

What ickydog said.

Also, this?

Sherlock's head tilted back slightly, just enough away from his hands that John saw the quivering of his flared nostrils, the raindrop that trickled down his septum, and the wrinkle lodged in the bridge of his nose

*falls over and gurgles with delight*

Ehehehe. Nose-wrinkle. Ehehehehe.

[squealofapproval]

That... Was...

That... Was...

Yeah.

[Garnet]

HOLY-- ... Spoo wrote Sherlock! ... HNNGGH. Dat sound, dat nosewrinkle. I love how he doesn't even acknowledge it, haha. So presh.

AM HAPPY NOW.

[Vongola Undicesimo]

*claps and squees like the teenage girl I am*

Oh, oh Spoo. That was absolutely, utterly, wow...

[March Hare]

Oh shit, Spoo.

I totally missed out on most of this. But. HNGRSTGKLZNDRFSJTGRMSZDR. I'd forgotten all about Yami no Matsuei and then I happened upon your thread and there it was. "Like disco lemonade". Lovely... is quite the right word. Oh, yes. Quite right indeed. Fitting. Those SPELLINGS, HNRGH.

You are the Empress of anime fiction unholy gods and monsters oh my.

...I will now catch up beyond the third page.

[TheCakeIsAlive]

Hmmm... but such nice things happen when you let hell freeze over.