#sgam76

[dragonnan]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Inspired by @sgam76's story:

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[ceruleanmindpalace]

Inktober # 7 - Strong

 A young Sherlock is undercover with his brother and one day they have to go rafting. The currents are strong but Sherlock definitely has fun - at least until things go wrong.

Giftwork for @sgam76​. The illustrated scene is from her wonderful story: 'These old shades', which can be found here.

Alcohol markers and white ink on grey cardboard, A4+.

Inktober is also about leaving the comfort zone and try new things. So, here I tried to paint water for the first time... moving water, which I was quite afraid of. Also, I am not fond of bright colours, which I tried to overcome. And third, I tried to get more comfortable with markers, which are quite a difficult thing for me.

From @bluebellofbakerstreet's  prompt list for Inktober.

 Do not post this on other sites/social media or use in any other way without my written permission.

[goodshipsherlolly]

Short chapter today, lovies! Will crank out Chapter 6 for you by the weekend to make up for it! Hope you like the new intro/outro - let me know!!!

WARNING: The following chapter contains graphic violence, language, & suggestive sexual situations.

 Chapter 5: Blood drew to blood

Sherlock tries to address one of his issues from his time away. Of course, he has to do it Sherlock-style.

Disclaimer:

Neither author nor narrator claim any ownership of the properties or characters within the writing.

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[dragonnan]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

For @sgam76​

A scene from the story, "These Old Shades" by sgam76.  

Pain had not yet filtered past the haze of drugs designed to beat it into submission.  Those same drugs that stole the mask he so assiduously maintained - the guard kept in place to ward against the hazards of sentiment.  In this moment all was laid bare as he finally took sight of what had been done to him.  Not even the damage from his attackers could fill him with as much panic and dread as the sight of the object placed there by medical staff for the purpose of healing.  

Here there be spoilers...

[ceruleanmindpalace]

“By the time Mycroft came and touched him on the shoulder, he was locked in his head - had to struggle to recognize words, or at least parse their meaning. Mycroft placed his violin gently in his hands, though, and that, that made sense. He could manage that.”

Fanart for @sgam76 ′s story ‘These old Shades’, in which young Sherlock has to play in a competition. He is so overwhelmed with it all, he dissociates on purpose and does it all on autopilot, not really remembering his own performance afterwards.

Colour Ink on blue cardboard, A4

Do not post this on other sites/social media or use in any other way without my written permission.

[dragonnan]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Excerpt from "Scheherezade" - chapter 24: Do, O my brother, as thou desirest by @sgam76​

The room, when Mycroft opened the door, was quite dim, lit only by a small lamp on the wall. He saw a lump against the far side sitting on the mattress and addressed himself to it. “Sherlock?” he said, in a careful, quiet tone. The lump rustled and shifted position a bit. Mycroft smelled blood, fairly strongly, and a slight undertone of vomit.

As his eyes adjusted, Mycroft could see his disheveled brother clearly, sitting with his back against the wall and his arms wrapped tightly around his torso. “Are you all right?” he said hesitantly.

The answer was a bitter laugh. “What do you think?” Sherlock said roughly. There was a pause, then he continued in a more-subdued tone. “How is John? And the others?”

Mycroft moved forward and crouched in front of his brother. He could see, now, how far from “all right” he was. He had wept at some point, his fair skin blotchy and pink. But his face was obscenely obscured by the dried blood that trailed from his hairline and across his cheeks and chin. His pupils were dilated, both by the dim light and from the high-strength muscle relaxant still present in his system.

“John is under care upstairs,” Mycroft said quietly. “He has a mild concussion, so they will keep him overnight. I have already set up surveillance for when he is released, as well as for your other friends. Inspector Lestrade is out in the hallway; he is distraught but physically well. His sniper is dead, as is the man targeting Mrs. Hudson.” He paused momentarily, unsure if he should impart the next bit of news while his brother was still so obviously impaired.

To give himself a bit of time to consider the matter, he rose and walked to the small sink at the back of the storeroom, wetting a towel in warm water before returning. “Here,” he said, holding out the damp towel. “Wipe your face.” There was no sound or movement from his brother, still wrapped tightly in his coat despite the warmth of the room. Mycroft sighed, then knelt beside his brother and wiped his face, scrubbing at his hairline a bit before putting the now-stained towel aside.

[dragonnan]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

For @sgam76​ Inspired by A Long Walk Down a Dusty Road

Story excerpt:

When John came back to himself fully, he was sitting by the side of the road in chilly, damp grass, an incongruous baby blanket from the boot wrapped around his shoulders and Siger Holmes kneeling in front of him, vigorously rubbing his hands as if attempting to start a fire. In the background Sherlock flitted anxiously from one side of the road to the other, speaking jerkily on the phone and snapping at every response.

Siger suddenly noticed John’s return to, well, if not sanity, then full consciousness. “There you are,” he said softly. “We are all safe, and no harm is done. And help should be here shortly.”

He turned his head to look at his agitated son. “Sherlock,” he called. “Come sit with John while I have a chat with your brother. Shouting at him is not accomplishing anything.”

“It makes me feel better,” Sherlock said sulkily, as he stalked over to sit on the grass beside John, shoving his mobile into his father’s hands as he passed. The detective folded his long limbs carefully, like a well-dressed stick insect.

John found himself on the receiving end of one of Sherlock’s most-comprehensive visual surveys, those ice-pale eyes darting back and forth across John’s face as if expecting some sort of explanation, some revelation that would make the preceding five minutes make sense. That was usually John’s job, after all—to explain human failings, emotional upheavals, to his confused friend. This time, though, John had nothing to offer.

After a perplexed pause, in which the divot between Sherlock’s brows deepened in concern, confusion, or both, he spoke. “Nothing happened, really,” he offered, in a hesitant tone.

John gave a crack of incredulous laughter that held very little true amusement. “That’s what you’re going with?” he said. “I damn near kill us all, and ‘nothing happened’?”

Sherlock stiffened, his cheeks blooming a dull red. “I simply meant that it wasn’t…that no one was hurt, and whatever may have been intended didn’t come to pass,” he said defensively. “I did not mean to imply that this was not of any import, or that it was anything less than traumatic.”

“No, I…” John stammered, then took a deep breath despite his still-chattering teeth. “I know you’re trying to help, all right? But this is just, just…” he trailed off, and waved a hand weakly to encompass the whole mess.

“Fucked up?” Sherlock asked, and John swiveled his head to look at him, startled—not a term Sherlock normally used. Sherlock looked a little abashed. “I was using the vernacular,” he said. “It seemed appropriate, under the circumstances.”

And John, despite himself, gave a small, real laugh. “Yeah,” he said weakly. “I’d say so.”

[dragonnan]

sgam76 replied to your photoset: Been dealing with lots of anxiety and then I found...

His FULL name is Marshmallow Fauntleroy Dragon. If you’re looking for baby names…

Oh I can agree to this. Though in Sherlockian fashion it really should be 4 names so Marshmallow Fauntleroy Ben Dragon