Every Monday, I will post a prompt. You have until the following Monday to write and reply to this post with a 100-200 word fic inspired by the prompt. All Sherlock Holmes (& adjacent) fandoms are welcome!
For an extra challenge, try to hit exactly 100 words, or write a 221B drabble.
You can reply with the full text of the drabble, or link out to another site like Ao3, Tumblr, your personal DW, etc. Feel free to post completed works to our Ao3 collection!
Fics posted to the main challenge must be SFW; you must link out if your response is NSFW. Please warn for content where appropriate.
WHAT ELSE?
Don't worry if you miss a week! You don't have to commit to this challenge and are welcome to drop in and out. You can also go back and write a late response anytime.
You may post more than one response to a single week's prompt.
If you're inspired to continue your drabbles, you're welcome to connect multiple challenge responses to each other, or expand on your fics outside of the challenge.
Characters: The One-Legged News Vender, Dr John Watson Fandom: ACD Canon (Illustrious Client) Rating: G Notes/Warnings: None Word count: 221 Link:here
Oakey rubs where his peg-leg meets the stump. "So this blighter, he stands there about half a minute like he's gone stupid and then he lunges for my paper. I tell him he's got to pay -"
I clap his shoulder across the table. "Taking advantage of a one-legged man as can't chase back. It's that world, Oakey. I ought spot you -"
He starts fishing in his pouch. "I got it, Leathers."
He waves a gold sovereign, breaking into a huge grin.
"Tweedy old walrus really had gone stupid, see? Ran off before I could set his fare right."
I laugh from the belly. "Seven o'clock paper, and still I'll wager he didn't run straight."
"He had a little limp. Barely knew where he was. But nah, he weren't swizzled." Oakey frowns. "He ran straight enough. Fast, too."
It's then I finally hear what he's been telling me.
"This tweedy walrus - bowler hat? Big moustache?"
Oakey stares. "Yeah. How -"
"Oakey. What is it we been shouting all morning?"
"Murderous attack -" he recites, before his eyes go wide. "Nahhhh."
"Dr Watson," I say. "I'll lay you anything. Better still - his writing ain't swagger. He's that devoted, that honest. Just as he's always made himself out."
And here's all London yelling Murderous Attack upon Sherlock Holmes.
Characters: Holmes/Watson Fandom: ACD canon Rating: Gen Notes/Warnings: N/A Word count: 168
Watson, having finished his errands, returned to his Sussex Downs cottage in a fairly amiable mood. But his anger flared at the sight of something suspicious and very telling at the edges of his companion's mouth.
"Holmes!" he yelled. "It was you! You drank the rest of my milk, didn't you?" He sighed. "I see the evidence quite plainly on your face." He was not even proud of the deduction. He had been planning to use that milk, and was sorely disappointed by its sudden disappearance.
"No, no, my dear Watson!" Holmes waved his arms. "I assure you, this is béchamel sauce from the pasta I was enjoying just now." But all that remained in the sink was a spotless bowl. Watson raised an eyebrow.
He dropped his arms, and in one swift movement, Holmes pressed his lips to Watson's. His chest rose with the unexpected intimacy flushed forward against him, and melted all too quickly into the sensation.
Characters: Mycroft, Watson, Sherlock Fandom: A Study in Terror (1965) Rating: G Notes/Warnings: n/a but annoying baby brother sherlock is my FAVORITE Word count: 221(B) Link:here
Mycroft examines the assorted clutter upon their mantelpiece for a long, long moment before he turns around again. When he does, he's scowling.
"What the devil is this... accumulation of evidence?"
"They are mementos, Brother Mycroft," drawls Sherlock; comfortably settled in his armchair across the room, he packs his pipe full of his favored shag tobacco, not looking up at Mycroft once. "It isn't illegal to look back upon my past successes, is it?"
"I didn't know you were in the business of taking trophies, Sherlock. Subjecting the Doctor to living amid all this junk..." Mycroft casts his eyes toward Watson for support, but the other man dodges him-- taking a sudden, pointed interest in his own shoes. Without backup, he merely huffs, folding his arms in front of his chest.
"If I find that box of implements from the Ripper case around here, I'm going to toss them into the bin."
"You won't."
"I won't toss them, or I won't find them?"
Sherlock grins around his freshly-lit pipe, puffing out smoke like a chimney. He says nothing, but there's a spark of mirth in his eyes and a mischievous curl to his lip. All his older brother can do is roll his eyes.
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221bdrabbles2023-11-19 10:10 am
EXAMPLE & RESPONSE TEMPLATE
Fandom: Elementary
Rating: T
Notes/Warnings: n/a
Word count: 221
Link: here
no subject
Fandom: ACD Holmes
Rating: Gen
Notes/Warnings: N/A
Word count: 174
Link: here
no subject
Fandom: ACD Canon (Illustrious Client)
Rating: G
Notes/Warnings: None
Word count: 221
Link: here
Oakey rubs where his peg-leg meets the stump. "So this blighter, he stands there about half a minute like he's gone stupid and then he lunges for my paper. I tell him he's got to pay -"
I clap his shoulder across the table. "Taking advantage of a one-legged man as can't chase back. It's that world, Oakey. I ought spot you -"
He starts fishing in his pouch. "I got it, Leathers."
He waves a gold sovereign, breaking into a huge grin.
"Tweedy old walrus really had gone stupid, see? Ran off before I could set his fare right."
I laugh from the belly. "Seven o'clock paper, and still I'll wager he didn't run straight."
"He had a little limp. Barely knew where he was. But nah, he weren't swizzled." Oakey frowns. "He ran straight enough. Fast, too."
It's then I finally hear what he's been telling me.
"This tweedy walrus - bowler hat? Big moustache?"
Oakey stares. "Yeah. How -"
"Oakey. What is it we been shouting all morning?"
"Murderous attack -" he recites, before his eyes go wide. "Nahhhh."
"Dr Watson," I say. "I'll lay you anything. Better still - his writing ain't swagger. He's that devoted, that honest. Just as he's always made himself out."
And here's all London yelling Murderous Attack upon Sherlock Holmes.
"You might give back his sovereign, poor bloke."
no subject
Fandom: Sherlock & Co
Rating: G
Notes/Warnings: None
Word count: 221
Link: here
no subject
Characters: Holmes/Watson
Fandom: ACD canon
Rating: Gen
Notes/Warnings: N/A
Word count: 168
Watson, having finished his errands, returned to his Sussex Downs cottage in a fairly amiable mood. But his anger flared at the sight of something suspicious and very telling at the edges of his companion's mouth.
"Holmes!" he yelled. "It was you! You drank the rest of my milk, didn't you?" He sighed. "I see the evidence quite plainly on your face." He was not even proud of the deduction. He had been planning to use that milk, and was sorely disappointed by its sudden disappearance.
"No, no, my dear Watson!" Holmes waved his arms. "I assure you, this is béchamel sauce from the pasta I was enjoying just now." But all that remained in the sink was a spotless bowl. Watson raised an eyebrow.
He dropped his arms, and in one swift movement, Holmes pressed his lips to Watson's. His chest rose with the unexpected intimacy flushed forward against him, and melted all too quickly into the sensation.
Something clicked when they parted.
"It... is béchamel sauce."
no subject
Fandom: A Study in Terror (1965)
Rating: G
Notes/Warnings: n/a but annoying baby brother sherlock is my FAVORITE
Word count: 221(B)
Link: here
Mycroft examines the assorted clutter upon their mantelpiece for a long, long moment before he turns around again. When he does, he's scowling.
"What the devil is this... accumulation of evidence?"
"They are mementos, Brother Mycroft," drawls Sherlock; comfortably settled in his armchair across the room, he packs his pipe full of his favored shag tobacco, not looking up at Mycroft once. "It isn't illegal to look back upon my past successes, is it?"
"I didn't know you were in the business of taking trophies, Sherlock. Subjecting the Doctor to living amid all this junk..." Mycroft casts his eyes toward Watson for support, but the other man dodges him-- taking a sudden, pointed interest in his own shoes. Without backup, he merely huffs, folding his arms in front of his chest.
"If I find that box of implements from the Ripper case around here, I'm going to toss them into the bin."
"You won't."
"I won't toss them, or I won't find them?"
Sherlock grins around his freshly-lit pipe, puffing out smoke like a chimney. He says nothing, but there's a spark of mirth in his eyes and a mischievous curl to his lip. All his older brother can do is roll his eyes.
"I hope never to come to you for business again."
"See you soon, dear brother."