SparkleFiction

Bucky's dames didn't tend to the dramatic. Usually, he'd take a girl out a couple of times, show her a good time, and girls didn't go with Bucky unless they were good time girls, he was that kind of fella. They knew better, most of 'em, than to think of Bucky as husband material, and Bucky was okay with that.

They weren't even twenty-five, after all, and they were poor as churchmice, so the idea of finding dames, settling down and getting married or something wasn't one that was particularly urgent in Bucky or Steve's minds. Bucky hadn't resolved whether it was a 'when' or an 'if,' and for the moment, either was fine. He was enjoying his youth, while it lasted.

(Steve was fairly sure that even 'if,' for him, was overly optimistic. And it was almost definitely a sin to think so, but Steve figured kids were probably a terrible idea anyway, as he wouldn't wish his body on anyone. Neither of these were thoughts he shared with Bucky, who would fight even Steve on the idea that Steve wouldn't have a happy ending.)

Evie Taylor's pa, the only person in the universe who insisted on calling her by her Christian "Evelyn," did not approve of Bucky Barnes, who he called a Mick and worse, and disdained him for being a cop's son besides, so Bucky and Steve figured Mister Taylor could go straight to Hell and fuck himself on the way.

"You're so terribly British," Lestrade murmured against the back of Mycroft's neck.

"Am I?" Mycroft glanced sideways at Lestrade's cheek, though he could see his eyes more properly in the mirror.

"You are painfully British. English, in fact." Lestrade insisted.

"Whereas you are, by distinction, French." Mycroft allowed a smile.

"Mais oui," Lestrade murmured, tucking Mycroft's watch into his pocket. "Parce que je vis pour le moment seul, et je ne regrette pas me permettre de tout genre."

"Votre français est terriblement littéral."

"Oh, bite your tongue," Lestrade scolded, grinning, his hands looped around Mycroft's waist. "God, you're posh. What are you doing today? Conquering some minor island nation?"

"Classified," Mycroft said smoothly.

"Of course," Lestrade rolled his eyes. "Will you be sparing your painfully common boyfriend your company at dinner, Mister Holmes?"

"Possibly." Mycroft squirmed loose and reached for his coat. "If I've the time. Keep alert for a car, Gregory. Nineish. And try not to eat all the doughnuts in the office. It's a gauche stereotype."

"Blow it out your arse," Lestrade retorted, trying not to laugh.

"And a lovely day to you as well, my dear."

I love Rule 63. It shows me things, like how hot Benny C would be as a lady.

SCENE: A tall, blond man in a Victorian suit stumbles into his home. It's dark. He fumbles with the keys. only the street lamps light the foyer, and he relaxes- until beautiful brunette woman in a dark red smoking jacket with close cropped, wild hair lights a candle.


"John Hamish Watson," she says quietly, frowning.
(inner monologue) "Oh, God," he thinks. "All three names."
She sets the candle on the table by her chair and steeples her fingers. "You," she announces, "Are drunk."
(inner monologue) "This is what I get for marrying a detective."
"You have been playing dice in the alley off Third Street, by the docks."
"She knows this from the shade of the dirt on my knees."
"There were women there, of ill repute."
"Lipstick on my collar. Cheap. Garishly pink."
"You've lost your entire allowance."
"Else I would not have been sneaking in so late. She's very forgiving, usually."
"And you have allowed someone to loosen your lower left molars."
"...Lucky punch."
She stands, taking off his jacket, and stares him dead in the eye. "What have you to say for yourself?"
"Cheeky. She likes it when I'm cheeky."
"I need to stop hanging around your friends."
She smirks. Kisses him. "You're a good man, Doctor Watson. Do try to remember it sometimes."

(Title) THE DOCTOR AND MRS. WATSON

An inspector stares back and forth between the two of them, in daylight, weighing a card that reads, Mrs. S. H. Watson, consulting detective.
Doctor Watson is hiding a black eye behind his newspaper and pipe.
"An odd name for a woman," the detective murmurs, frowning.
"Sherlock," she drawls, "Is an odd name anyway."




Dude, I dunno. I'm full of Holmes AU lately. AND IF I WANT SLASH, I CAN JUST WATCH EVERY OTHER VERSION.

Okay, in order to keep up with all things LJ modly, I have tagged this comm for explicit adult content.

I also tagged my own journal for adult concepts.

I think friendslocking each and every individual post should be sufficient, and I don't like doing it because of things like the 20 Inkspots challenge (when are we gonna finish that anyway...) but, meh, better safe than sorry.

Also, Safari's new spellcheck is annoying, and I have a cold/headache/cramps/vomitousness, so excuse me for being slow this week in the posting thing.

Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Characters: Aang, Zuko
Warning: I hate previews. I hate this fandom. I hate insomnia.
Pairings: Aang/Katara, Zuko/Mai

( I have to defriend aangxkatara and capslock. This fandom blows that much. )

So, thanks to smillaraaq, I have been working on ATLA:TNG playlists for a week.

Hika's is ridiculously long.

More details when I return from child wrangling.