Writing Meme

From capt_spork
The first TEN people to comment, in this post or in future, get to request that I write a drabble of any pairing/character of their choosing.* In return, they have to post this in their journal, regardless of their ability level.



1, D&DC Eric/Kareens for seal_girl
2, Cumberholmes Sherlock/John/Greg/Tobes Male Bonding for capt_spork
3, Cumberholmes Irene & Sally kicking ass for aimeebeff
4, Cumberholmes/Sherlock - Sherlock/Skull backstory for messageredacted
5, Cumberholmes Sherlock, Mycroft, Irene & Jim playing poker, for Anon.
6, Press Gang misadventure, pref featuring Colin & the bad escapologist, for whoatethetardis
7,
8,
9,
10,


*Fandoms I know well enough to be happy to write - D&DC, Press Gang, Star Trek TNG, Lost, Sherlock/Cumberholmes RP, Hitchhikers Guide, Red Dwarf, Blackadder. And they probably won't be proper drabbles either - I doubt they'll be exactly 100 words, but around that ball park.

Writing Meme - 1st Fill

seal_girl asked for a bit of D&DC looking at Eric & Kareena.

And wow, this is the first D&DC fic I've done in years. Apologies if I'm rusty.

1 – Eric & Kareena.

Venger’s sister. Venger’s sister! He couldn’t believe it. He shook his head down at the path as he scuffed along it.
‘Penny for ‘em?’
He jumped slightly, only noticing that Sheila was right by his side the moment that she spoke to him. She was getting real good at sneaking up on people, even uncloaked.
‘Venger’s sister,’ he sighed.
Sheila shrugged. ‘She helped us in the end, though.’
‘Yes, but his sister!’
A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of Sheila’s mouth. ‘You liked her, didn’t you?’
Eric scowled. ‘You liked her.’
‘Yes,’ replied Sheila, playfully, ‘but you liked her. I saw the way you smiled at her.’
It was this stupid world’s fault. The middle of frickin nowhere was no place for a young man to go through puberty. Especially not with hot evil Queens throwing themselves at you, and having to spend every day of your life with a gorgeous redhead in a miniskirt and an actual, bona-fide sex goddess in a fur bikini and not a moment’s privacy. Right now, pretty much everything with curves made him crave a cold shower. Especially in one of those little corsets, with those skirts swinging around her knees, and soft, blonde hair and dammit, dammit it was Venger’s sister!
‘Me?’ he sneered. ‘Getting the hots for Little Miss Hornhead? That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.’

Writing Meme - 2nd Fill

capt_spork wanted Sherlock, John, Greg & Toby from the Cumberholmes RP, male bonding. I went with the most stereotypical male activity I could - arguing about football in a pub quiz.

2 – Sherlock/John/Greg/Toby Male bonding

‘Bobby Moore.’
‘Bobby Charlton.’
‘Bobby Moore!’
‘How sure are you?’
‘99% sure.’
Sherlock just gave Lestrade a withering ‘I know bloody well that’s a lie’ glare.
‘90%, then,’ conceded Greg.
‘So, there’s an element of doubt,’ Sherlock concluded. ‘When in doubt over a football question always put ‘Bobby Charlton’. It has the highest probability of being the correct answer.’
‘You don’t know the first thing about football,’ countered Greg.
‘Exactly. Take it from me – my system works.’
Greg turned to Toby. ‘What do you think?’
‘Ha?’ asked Toby, still frowning over the picture round.
‘Bobby Moore or Bobby Charlton?’
‘Ha?’ asked Toby again, glancing up. ‘Oh, question 7, still? I… ah. Er.’ He picked up the picture round again and pointed to one of the five pairs of legs on the photocopied sheet. ‘Are these Naomi Campbell’s legs? They look like they should be, only, ah. Shorter than I’d have expected.’
‘Oh, who cares about legs?’ Sherlock spat. ‘Legs are legs! Almost everyone has them, I don’t see what’s so special about them.’
‘Then why have you got three of them in your chest freezer?’ Greg asked.
‘I need those! You’ll be thanking me, when they provide me with the evidence I need to help you finally get a conviction on Colin the Cleaver to stick. You’ll be showering me with legs. Write Bobby Charlton, for God’s sake!’
Greg sighed. It wasn’t as if it really mattered what he wrote. They were only at the pub because Sherlock had insisted the Marylebone Gang would be making a drop off there that night, and only taking part in the quiz because everyone else was and they didn’t want to stand out. So why was Sherlock being so insistent that he write Bobby Charlton…? Possibly, he mused to himself, for a similar reason that he wanted to write down Bobby Moore. But then, that would be almost normal, understandable behaviour, which coming from Sherlock was practically unheard of.
His pen was still poised over the answer sheet when John arrived with the next round.
‘Just saw a red van pull up outside,’ murmured John. ‘Could be who we’ve been waiting for.’ And then, barely pausing for breath, added ‘Kevin Keegan.’
Greg’s brow furrowed. ‘Are you sure…?’
‘John knows football,’ Sherlock snapped. ‘Write Kevin Keegan.’
Greg wrote down John’s answer, noting from the corner of his eye the warm, trusting smile that Sherlock only ever seemed to have for John.
Toby held up the picture round sheet for John.
‘Beyoncé,’ said John.
‘Ah,’ replied Toby.