a8csock (ladysockalot)
Fandoms
- Merlin (TV) (2)
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Summary
As a necromancer Merlin had a duty to the dead, as much as he avoided it. However, Merlin wasn't sure if he was lucky or not to have met a vampire in a cemetery, especially when he was investigating murders perpetrated by a vampire.
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Arthur Pendragon and the Philosopher's Sword by a8csock (ladysockalot), ladysockalot
Fandoms: Merlin (TV)
04 Aug 2011
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Summary
Arthur Pendragon was living a normal, mundane life, when he received a mysterious letter inviting him to the magical University of Camelot. Despite his scepticism before long he found himself being whisked of to a world of magic, mystery and destiny. His life would never be the same again.
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Summary
In an alternate, war-torn London in 1895, there are things stalking the streets after dark. A serial killer called Stitch-Face, known for the brutal, bloody slaughter of prostitutes; dark, faceless organisations whose members are rumoured to consist of the most powerful and influential; and most deadly of all, monsters known as Witch-kin.
A spate of unsolved murders, a mysterious young man with a dark secret, and at the centre of it all, Sherlock Holmes.
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Twisting And Turning The Colours In Rows by leopardwrites
Fandoms: Sherlock (TV), Låt den rätte komma in | Let the Right One In (2008)
10 Dec 2012
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Summary
Sherlock/Let The Right One In Fusion (knowledge of film/book not needed). John Watson is an isolated thirteen year old boy: he’s got a distant mother, a resentful older sister, and a sadistic bully at school called Moriarty who’s got it in for him. When Sherlock Holmes moves in next door, he and John form a rapid, intense friendship based on their mutual loneliness. Unfortunately for John, Sherlock has issues that go much deeper than loneliness.
“I need blood to live, yes.”
John lets that sink in. “So are you… are you dead? Undead? How old are you, really?”
The lightbulb above them flickers and Sherlock’s fingers tap out a short rhythm on the glass as he thinks about his answer. John copies the rhythm, softer, quieter.
“I’m conscious,” Sherlock says with a small shrug of one shoulder. “I move, respire, react to my environment… I miss a few of the basic life processes, but I think I qualify as ‘alive’. And I’m thirteen, like I told you.” A rueful smile, and his hand drops to his side. “But I have been thirteen for longer than is naturally possible.”