Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gratuitous Praise and a Call to Arms
(to the tune of "Greensleeves")

What piece is this of red and green,
With questions two men are dealing?
This tiny fic, no limerick,
Shows Sherlock expressing a "feeling".

This! This is Drabble Time!
The Holly and Ivy are sublime.
Hail! Hail to Silvergirl,
The author I follow at Christmas.

With clever wit and words to fit
This Yuletide party commences.
Discussing secret, human things
Like if Mycroft's pierced his defenses?

Bring forth the Drabble cheer!
(We need it, it's been a hellish year!)
Hail! Hail to Silvergirl,
The author I follow at Christmas.

:)

Shamrocks at Christmas
One thinks that this form* harks of greens,
As it hails from the Ireland scenes.
Well, green is quite pretty,
And red needs no pity.
John looks good in both with his jeans.


*limericks, silly

Chapter Text

Tactical Chewing

Big, puppy-dog eyes has our John,
And to Sherlock they're constantly drawn!
If Sherlock stopped eating
His neck would be heating
From noticing John look so gone.

*****

Nightmare at Christmas
(to the tune of "The Christmas Song"

Jack the Pumpkin King is running 'round,
Shoving chestnuts at my nose.
Says that they smell like the best thing in town
They've begun to decompose....

Everybody knows Jack's touch is of the morbid kind,
Why is he baking biscuit heads
Tombstones and goblins and ghosts taste divine
But kids will shiver in their beds

They say that Santa's gone away
The Pole's deserted and there's dust upon his sleigh!
So Jack is reigning over Christmas-ween,
And now there's terror in this jolly winter scene.

At least there's two guys who appreciate
The mix of morbid joy and fear.
Sherlock and John have a taste for them both.
They'll eat those biscuits every year.

*****

Janis? June?
(to the tune of "Unforgettable")

You're forgettable,
that's what you are.
So forgettable,
Like any star!

He's your boyfriend,
That's regrettable.
Not much longer,
That's incredible.
Woman you are
so forgettable, shoo.

Chapter Text

Hand-held Steaming FTW

The presents look totally clean,
Unopened, bows crisp, corners keen.
But Sherlock's left clues,
And John's started to muse
That the gifts are a flagrant crime scene.

Chapter Text

John hasn't seen Harry in a few months now, and it's just gotten cold enough to dust him with snow while he trudges to the coffee shop. He's got on a new scarf and hat that Mrs. Hudson hurriedly pushed into his arms a couple days ago saying "I just finished these at my knitting club, and I thought, oh! Wouldn't that blue look good with John's eyes? So here."

Who is John to say no to hand-knit warmth from someone he likes? Loves? Besides, she's a good knitter, and he fancies they do look good on him. He'd thanked her profusely and silently promised himself to get her something nice this year. He pulls the coffee shop door open, hearing the little bell tingle overhead, and stomps off the bit of snow that's stuck to his boots. He looks up and... hahahah There's Harriet slouched comfortably by the window, in a hat too. Only hers is bright pink and has ... cat ears? Looks like they'll have something to talk about over java.

Pussy Hat
My sis has a thing on her hair
That stands out. She smiles when I stare.
It's fluffy and pink
And cat-like, I think.
It means kitty's got claws, so beware.

The Pussy Hat Project is for promoting feminism and humanism through peaceful protest and civil discourse. They state on their website that they are inclusive of all women, regardless of biological specifics and personal history. The term "pussy" was used for shock value, not for exclusion. They're cats, and cats can be quite shocking when they want to be. Especially on a dry day when they've been rolling over the carpets.

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"There are Five Rings, Golden"
(tune of "In the Bleak Midwinter")

Imagine, if you will, a cozy 221B Baker Street lounge with two men. Two men who both want excitement and danger in their lives but who cannot seem to find it today. One of them can compromise. One of them... can't. Let's listen to their song.
Solo violin begins playing a familiar tune, then string quartet joins in with the voices. John starts.

"There are five rings, golden
Stolen from Scott's store.
Maybe we could find them?"
"John, that's just a bore."

"How 'bout this: a murder
Done with cash motive?"
"John, you have just solved it,
and *your* brain's a sieve."

"Well, there are a few notes
on the website chat.
Looks like someone needs us
To find her tom cat."

"John, I swear I'll vomit
If we stoop that low.
Can we get a case that's
Worth dressing to go?"

"Sherlock, we could really
use some income soon.
Can we do this one that
Says they stole the Moon?"

"What? They stole a planet?"
"Planets are not moons."
"Who cares, let's go try it!
Grab my best harpoons!"

And they scampered off to solve another case and die of boredom ... another day.

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LIMERICK CHAIN LINK
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His Typical Role

A wedding, John thought, would be great!
I really can't leave it to fate.
If I want this man,
I guess that I can
Make first moves. Use myself as bait.

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The Sound of Emphysema

Snowflakes fall on Sherlock's tongue,
the moisture inhaled with his lung --
The lung filled with smoke.
John knows it's no joke.
It's his least favorite thing to be sung.

Chapter Text

He'll Need Lessons

If the violin makes a gay fellow...
Extrapolate, call, and then "Hello!
Just put that right there
Beside the arm chair."
Behold, John's been gifted a cello.

Because cellos are bigger.... you see...
Wouldn't that be great if they could play duets?

Chapter Text

"Tea for two, and two for tea," muttered John quietly while he cleared off the kitchen table for the singable snack. Sherlock might be home for it. Mrs. Hudson had dropped off some cracking baked goods, and John was drooling a bit thinking about biting into the warm, moist heat of a big blueberry muffin. Water was boiling, things set out, all that was missing was the partner who'd said he would be present but whose mind sometimes wandered when interesting things flitted in front of it. Or through it. Or anywhere in a 50m radius of it. John texted him.

"John, There's a Crime Outside"
(to the tune of "Baby, It's Cold Outside")

Are you coming for tea?
(John, there's a crime outside!)
You said you would be.
(But there's a crime outside!)
I'm sitting here staring at this scone.
(He hid a key-card inside his phone!)

There's blueberry muffins spread.
(Gerald has a look of dread.)
Hudson had a baking spree.
(He thinks the thief might get off free!)
If you hurry you might get a smear...
(You could join us! Get your arse in gear!)
Of honey on your derriere!
(That doesn't even rhyme!...eer)

You know you miss this.
(John, I could nail this guy.)
I'd give you a kiss.
(John, I could...something...?)
I wish I knew how to make you come.
(Er, but the crime scene... I'm the one...)

I know that you're quite distracted.
(My part in this is redacted.)
But does it need you just right now?
(I think it does, I know just how...)
I'm waiting for you,
(...to find the clue!)
But there's a crime outside!

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LIMERICK CHAIN LINK
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Number 9

Martha enjoys making tea,
For her boys, especially!
If she says a small
Love spell over all,
Nobody's to know besides she!

Chapter Text

"DEEP, deep in the heart of London, children, under the cover of night, there came together dozens of dark figures to a place of brooding and swilling. A 'pub', they say in whispered curses when they think no-one can hear. The figures' murky, nefarious purpose was revealed in the dim light within. A crowd of gibbering watchers lined the walls with their nasty, foaming libations in hand.

They were waiting for a spectacle.

They were waiting for a crucifixion.

Each poor soul thereafter who entered the 'pub' walked with intention as though stepping through thick shame to a place of execution. They stood on the dais, open to the cat-calls of the public, wearing their badges of dishonor with what pride they could muster. Until finally, the Adversary Donovan called the rabble to still their hateful laughter to begin the ritual .... "

"Oh, for fuck's sake Sherlock, it was just an ugly jumper contest. You are such a drama queen," John laughed, and he poked the side of the wet cat that was Sherlock. "You had fun! I know you did. You got to see Mycroft ...."

Sherlock burst out, "SNORT! Haha, very well, John. Yes, that was worth the whole evening of torture and scratchy wool. Mycroft will owe me soooo many favors for not releasing these pictures. I can't wait to show him."

"One more thing you learned from Irene," John thought and shook his head fondly.

*****
"Ugly Christmas Jumper Contest"
(to the tune of "We Three Kings of Orient Are")

1. Ugly Christmas jumper contest:
Choose which one you think is the best!
Is it Gerry's, plastic cherries
bobbled all o'er his chest?

Chorus:
O-oh! Jumpers made with utmost care
By a festive, sleepy bear?
Or a speeding grandma needing
Extra light with loving flair?

2. Sherlock's wearing one with a scowl.
It looks like a bright lit-up towel.
Shapeless draping, odd landscaping --
Sporting some kind of fowl. (Chorus)

3. Then there is the jumper on John!
Each guy in the birth scene's a prawn.
Underwater, baby otter
Swims in the seaweed lawn. (Chorus)

4. Mrs. Hudson is not immune.
Her red top with rhinestones is strewn.
They spell "JOLLY" and then "HOLLY"
With tinsel gilt festoon. (Chorus)

5. Mycroft's proudly shaking his tum,
Wearing coins that drape to his bum!
Sequins, patching, gold yarn thatching
Someone has spiked his rum. *coughgregcough*

Last Chorus:
O-oh! Everyone is good and drunk.
Every jumper was pure junk!
But there's cheering, more than jeering,
This whole contest's a slam-dunk!

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LIMERICK CHAIN LINK
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Unsolicited Opinion from Sherlock

Silver and cerise, pine green and blue,
Bobbles and rick-rack and glitter and glue!
"This contest is fraught.
Each entry ought
To be burned into fumes up the chemical flu!"

Chapter Text

WAITING MOTIONLESS. Breathing in the dust and mold of ancient straw. The sliver of light on the horizon marked dawn on the day John and Sherlock had planned to take down the Olson Brothers and their murderous plans. From their hiding place in the slatted erection they called a barn they could just see movement appear by the house not more than 6 meters away. John quietly pulled his gun to be ready, and Sherlock tensed behind him, holding something small in his hand. Then they heard it: a scuffling and a metallic rattle rang through the cool air. Then the hisses and yowls began with more scuffling noises and running patters .... drawing closer ... and closer .... Sherlock dropped the rock. He didn't need it anymore.

"I Saw Three Kits"
(to the tune of "I Saw Three Ships")

I saw three kittens tumbling in
Our stakeout site, our stakeout site,
I saw three kittens tumbling in
Our stakeout site in the old barn.

And what the kittens wanted in
Our stakeout site, our stakeout site,
Appeared to be a ball of tin? In
Our stakeout site in the old barn.

They made a bunch of noises near
Our stakeout site, our stakeout site,
You'd have to be deaf not to hear
Our stakeout site in the old barn.

The kittens brought the bad guys to
Our stakeout site, our stakeout site,
And forced a conflict overdue in
Our stakeout site in the old barn.

Good thing Sherlock laid a trap at
Our stakeout site, our stakeout site,
Those kittens made them take the rap
When the cops poured out of the old barn!

:)

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LIMERICK CHAIN LINK
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Sherlock's Itty Bitty Chaos Kitty

Consider the kitten on balance:
The tiny thing has many talents.
She pounces on fluff,
Purrs when stroked enough,
And can sharpen her claws on the valance.

Chapter Text

Winner?

There once was a Scotsman named Watson
Who had a few pints if he'd got one.
One night he felt super
But fell in a stupor
And woke with a dong-ribbon knot done.

I could have said "blue-ribbon knot done", but that just doesn't give the same panache.

Chapter Text

Oh, it was going to be one of those days, was it?

John noticed Sherlock being a bit twitchier than usual over breakfast, actually eating toast without thinking about it, looking a little pinker than his typical alabaster affect. It was his day off from the surgery, and there were no cases on. What, oh what, could they do to keep Sherlock from setting fire to the kitchen for the second time this month?

The corner of his mouth lifted in a small smirk before he assembled his authoritarian persona. Hmm. He could use something with a nod to the Christmas season, festive even. Maybe he'd add a string of lights for fun after Sherlock was ... incapacitated. Yeah, that'd work.

... With a Bow

Sometimes John and Sherlock get bored
With the regular routine and tea poured.
When they want more spice,
John stops being "nice"*
And brings out the spool of red cord.

*Everyone is enthusiastically consenting here.

Chapter Text

The First Wedding Dance
(to the tune of "The First Noel")

The first wedding dance between Sherlock and John
Was a Viennese waltz on the Holmes's front lawn.
Swirling swiftly together they showed their grace
And that they were fit well in size and pace.

Chorus:
So well, so well, so well, so well!
Watch their eyes shine with each wedding bell!

It took six years for their walls to come down.
Then another to date while they ran around town
Catching every criminal Greg threw their way,
Then venting adrenaline all the next day. (Chorus)

And soon they will live in sweet wedding bliss,
But please don't expect them ever to miss
Thieving waitresses, liars, and murderous eyes!
That's the spice to their bond for the rest of their lives! (Chorus)

Last chorus:
So well, so well, so well, so well
Together they will have stories to tell!

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LIMERICK CHAIN LINK
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That'll Clear a Room

Their first partnered dance was the last
Of the holiday party they crashed.
The thief had run in
And John knocked on his chin.
Work done, they swayed close, holding fast.

Chapter Text

They're Getting Ideas

I was late writing out this small thing.
Proposals, OK, where's a ring?
Oh, lol looks like two:
One hid in John's shoe
And the other on Sherlock's g-string.

Chapter Text

Sherlock stalked through the kitchen door like a lion on a mission. His face was tight with distress and defeat. Hands shaking, he grabbed John's good shoulder and spun him from his sudsy task of washing something or other. It didn't matter. John, facing Sherlock, breathed in a startled gasp at the intensity before him. "What's wrong, Sherlock?" he said while scanning his body for injury. His hands were dripping with soap, but he brought them up to Sherlock's shoulders anyway.

Sherlock's mouth opened for a few seconds before any words fell out. "John, I can't do this anymore. The waiting, the wondering, it's all hateful. I need you in every way possible, and I'm dying a little inside every time you kiss someone else. Please. You are all I want, can't you see that? I love you." He closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the push away or even punch he knew was coming.

Instead, he felt a warm, wet hand on his cheek, soap bubbles still popping on the backs of John's fingers. "Sherlock, don't be afraid. I know I'm not always good at being gentle, but ... I've said I will never hit you again. Especially not now." Sherlock opened his eyes, hopeful.

John continued, "It has been rough lately, hasn't it? Are we finally getting back in stride?" John's hands came free of Sherlock's body while he popped himself up on the edge of the sink. Being short made everything like this harder. Oh well, needs must. He took Sherlock's face again in both hands, looked him kindly but heatedly in the eye.

"I love you too, you berk. Come here."

Making Memories
With two longing men on the brink
Of the first kiss of many, you'd think
They'd find a place better
Than here, where it's wetter ...
Propped up beside their kitchen sink.

Maybe it wouldn't be be so bad remembering this kiss every time they were in the kitchen. 😀

Chapter Text

John steps down from his stairs into the kitchen this bleary winter morning and notices the scent. He realized he'd been smelling it for a while now. There'd been movement below and clanging and whatnot, and he'd written it off as normal Sherlock. But now there is this ... this *potion* he craves warming in a copper pot on the hob.

Sherlock's not here. Maybe he just popped downstairs to talk to Mrs. Hudson?

What's in that pot anyway??

John throws on his brave face and investigates.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Chocolate
(To the tune of "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas")

It's beginning to look a bit like chocolate,
But I can't be sure.
I was up sleeping nicely when - the ingredients went in,
And now a bit is bubbling 'cross the floor?
It's beginning to look a bit like chocolate,
Maybe it's all right?
But I've learned to be cautious when Sherlock's cooking things again!
Check before I bite.

There was that time he made pizza with arsenic grease,
A mistake from every side.
Moldy tamales and bread made with hollies
And weedy things that he dried --
And I just can't believe I'm taking all of this in stride.

It's beginning to look a lot like chocolate.
Smells so rich and sweet …
I'll give it a careful whisk, cognizant of the risk,
It looks so good, I really want to eat!
It's beginning to look a lot like chocolate.
Where has Sherlock been?
He could tell me if it's a test or the thing I like the best.
Will it turn me green?

It's beginning to look a bit like chocolate,
Maybe it's all right?
But I've learned to be cautious when Sherlock's cooking things again!
Check before I bite.

Dude, is this all right???

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LIMERICK CHAIN LINK
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Belgian Bribes

For chocolate, Molly would share
Five thumbs and some drugged up guy's hair.
Sherlock brings a tray
Of fine truffles this day!
Exchanged for a liver, that's fair. (?)

Chapter Text

*rubs hands* Angsty limericks are my specialty, here we goooo

A Summary of Sherlock and John

You want angst? Let me tell you a tale,
Of communications doomed to fail.
Sherlock's heart in a cage.
John's is full of hot rage.
Their masks are both stony and frail.

It's Christmas, but that matters not
When loving your choice is so fraught.
They long and they pine,
But they smile like its fine!
Be brave for once, guys, go get caught!

A mishap, perhaps a clean break
Of a bone or a similar stake
Can bring them together,
Both light as a feather!
No more of that stupid heartache.

Chapter Text

Oh, the stars in their eyes, the falling of walls, the catching of trust: fluff, beautiful fluff.

The Search is Over

It's on the cab ride that they break
Each risked all for the other's sake.
Their eyes meet and stop.
Their stomachs both drop.
This is it, the last pair that they'll make.

They touch hands: The sparks are sublime.
Confirmed: They are each other's rhyme.
Somehow they both knew
It had always been true:
Their love had been there all the time.

Strains of Survivor play in the distance.
The Search is Over (official video) is kinda gay?

Chapter Text

Sherlock's no fool, but his line of reasoning can be ... unconventional. Well, it works for crime scenes. He gets a little leeway in the kitchen until John just can't stand it anymore. Then there's a cleanup and a week of nice biohazard-free food prep areas before little things start creeping in again. (They should really get a second fridge. They got paid enough for the Olson case to last a while.) At least Sherlock shares his hot cocoa when he makes it on the stove. That's something.

Here's Looking at You

Sherlock likes his cocoa hot,
So he heats it up in a small pot.
No microwave --
He's not that brave.
That's where he stores eyeballs he's got.

John loves him.

Chapter Text

Late-night tutoring of the pre-med blonde by the brilliant brunet chem TA leads to late-night casual walking to check a reference book deep in the archives leads to late-night librarians rolling their eyes at each other and counting off ten minutes before going for a noisy stroll around to "check on the books". Repeat 3x a week until banned from library.

Study Session

So Sherlock and John have a query.
As uni kids in the library,
Where in the stacks
Are the deepest of blacks
So while snogging they won't feel so wary?

As if librarians wouldn't know their territory better than two inexperienced distracted teenagers.
Librarians *always* know.

Chapter Text

One costume designer's choice sailed a thousand ships! But enough with the meta. John has things to say about the variety of purples he sees. (We won't dwell on the purple viscera he occasionally finds in the fridge.)

Take it away, John.

Lavender, Amethyst, and Plum

The color of London at sunset,
That shirt you have that makes my tongue wet,
Your boner below --
Of all of the rainbow,
Yeah, that hue is my favorite one yet.

Teen!John would have written this in someone's yearbook, wouldn't he? That scamp.

Chapter Text

First the limerick chain link, inspired by The Curious Case of the Green-Eyed Ghost John is a wealthy bachelor in a house that's haunted. Sherlock is his neighbor. There are green carnations popping up around the place. ???

Green Carnations

"A ghost?" says Sherlock in surprise.
"That lady with really green eyes?"
John smiles, takes a chance,
Then asks him to dance.
"Mix pleasure with business?" he sighs.

Then, since This Chicken has a special affinity for the afterlife, here's a special dual limerick for the fandom. I love you guys.

The Other Side is ... Fandom?

There once was a lively dead chicken.
For all things Sherlock she did quicken!
She rhymed silly jokes
To cheer up some folks;
Rhymed angst when she felt rather stricken.

For Sherlock and Co she did crave,
And for BBC Lock she would rave!
Granada was fine,
ACD's the baseline,
But it's fanfiction that was her fave. :)

Chapter Text

The character Sherlock, when he's autism-coded, is a very picky eater. Mrs Hudson has known him for so long, and she did try to get him to eat all that time. Now there's John, and he is the best at slipping food into the man, but sometimes nothing will work but sweets. Martha believes in the power of frozen dairy to keep Sherlock alive, and if there's fruit in it, even better.

Dairy Love

Ice cream makes Martha feel happy.
It makes her think good thoughts, quite sappy!
Her boy likes food sweet,
And she wants him to eat,
So she dishes a bowl out right snappy.

*After finishing up good-sized bowls of delectable chocolate ice cream, the men lean back in their chairs and happily digest while the fire crackles lazily nearby. Sherlock, eyes closed, a small smile on his face, speaks.*

S: You scream, I scream, we all scream for eyes cream.
J: *was watching Sherlock's mouth, picked up the nuance.* SHERLOCK NO. Ugh

S: You scream, I scream, we all scream because someone got murdered!
J: Nononono Nope, that's not right.

S: You scream, I scream, we both scream in bed and make Mrs Hudson wear ear defenders.
J: ... OK, I'll take that one.

Chapter Text

Last Course at Home

When Sherlock and John go to eat,
They like Angelo's, up the street.
The pasta's divine
Along with some wine.
The pudding they find 'neath their sheet.

(They had each other for dessert, you see.)

Chapter Text

As they Dream by the Fire

Our two men are resting at last.
"Such trials today," Sherlock sassed.
John sighs, head on lap.
It was worth all the crap
To make new memories, now held fast.

The colors from fairy lights pour
On the pale skin of his amour.
No Christmas tree bright
Compares with this sight:
This face he will always adore.

Sherlock looks down at his man,
His steadfast companion and fan.
He's a fan of John's too,
Sticks to him like glue.
They fit like no other two can.

Is this the year that they will wed?
Be joined at the heart and the head?
It could be, they think,
Then take a quick drink.
Some courage before things are said.

Chapter Text

One Dazed Barista To Go

One day at the coffee shop, John
Saw a man with a neck like a swan.
He gave him his drink,
And asked "Do you think
That you'd like a dash of cardamon?"

That man (of course Sherlock) declined,
Saying "Thanks, but there's no need to grind.
I've got spice enough here,"
Whispered into John's ear.
Then he grinned at his mark's state of mind.

What is the story behind this???? I wrote the poem, and even I want to know. Why is John a mark?

Chapter Text

Proper Equipment

There once was a doctor from Britain,
Who held that no glove beat a mitten.
He said he decided
With fingers divided
His fist was too cushioned for hittin'!

Sometimes you just reach for the rhyme and live with your choices. :)

Chapter Text

She was Poisonous

"Jane Elto!" said Sherlock, "You must
Restrain yourself from all this lust!"
The woman replied
As she held to his side,
"I must kiss you, or else I will bust!"

She fainted when John shouted, "SO,
Is this what you planned here, you ho?"
John shelved her up high,
Cut the ropes off his guy, and
Kissed Sherlock beneath the Miss Elto.

I'm not sorry. :D

Chapter Text

Pluck, Pluck, SAWSAWSAW

Sherlock's stiff neck had a new crick.
He needed this man to leave right quick.
He said "Brother mine,
Take this as a sign:
Your presence is making my muse sick!"

Poor muse. Mycroft used to have a musical muse, but he shooed her off so he could focus on power manipulation with his political muse. Maybe the musical one will return some day.

Chapter Text

Silver-Haired Seekers

A sliver of silver was sought
By a pair of old men. They had bought
An ancient antique.
One started to speak:
"The clue, John, is inside this pot!"

OMG they are adorable. Don't underestimate the damage they can do, though. You know at least one of them has a sword in his cane, and the other carries pepper spray in his back pocket.

Chapter Text

Oh wow, I may develop diabetes. But they are so in love it hurts my chest, and sometimes you just need that kind of language when you can't sing and dance. Yes, guys, go live your final years together in peace and love and crime-fighting.

Old-Time Romance-y Stuff

Honeybees work as a team!
And so do we, John, it would seem.
Let's grow old together,
And grouse at the weather,
Make love in our house by the stream.

I'd follow you anywhere, Sherls.
I'll feed you and pet through your curls.
You mean more to me
Than just any old bee!
You're my Queen and more precious than pearls.

snif 

fin