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: Holmes & Watson (or Holmes/Watson) Fandom: ACD Rating: G Notes/Warnings: you can't tell me they didn't get a little freaked out after DEVI Word count: 177 Link:here
The rolling surf, with a distant hush, laps against the black cliffside that lies beyond and below their cottage. Those waves nearly lull Watson to sleep entirely. But before he drifts off, the bed shifts with a creak as it accommodates the weight of another man's body.
Watson watches him silently, but Holmes doesn't breathe a word. He merely slips under the covers to draw in close beside him. Cautious, as if he might only believe by touch, his friend reaches for him; his thin fingers trace over his old war wound with a touch that's almost reverent. Watson smiles at him, wan, tired-- Holmes exhales a breath he'd been holding, finally bringing his palm to rest on Watson's cheek.
The poison has long dissipated. The lamp on which it had burned is all shattered, its remnants strewn across the brush and earth and moor so completely that even Holmes might struggle to find a trace of glass. But they are whole. They are alive.
Watson closes his eyes once more, and sleeps: peaceful, warm, and dreamless.
Characters: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Fandom: ACD canon Rating: General Audiences Notes/Warnings: I loved beamkatanachronicles's drabble, and I was already feeling in the nocturnal mood :) I wanted to write something similar. Word Count: 157
Legs pressed against his chest, the arms curled around either side, Holmes dwelled in the distantly acquainted armchair. The hazily remembered fire had long gone out, and its absence seemed only to amplify the black and depthless night that engulfed the sitting-room, as if it were the only place on Earth.
Today had given him a lot to think about.
His mind flowed like a river. Several thoughts would come passing through at any given time. Sometimes, Holmes would catch them, write them down, and see them through. Other times, he’d let them pass and find another to hinge on. His eyelids were pressed shut, wrapped wholly within his own dark attic.
He started at the press to his shoulder, eyes flying open to meet another’s – blue and vibrant. The good doctor sighed and came to rest beside him. A whole new slew of thoughts came gushing through when an arm curled over and squeezed his shoulder.
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221bdrabbles2023-12-03 01:38 pm
EXAMPLE & RESPONSE TEMPLATE
Fandom: Rathbone films
Rating: G
Notes/Warnings: n/a
Word count: 221
Link: here
no subject
Fandom: ACD Holmes
Rating: Gen
Notes/Warnings: None
Word count: 100
Link: here
no subject
Fandom: ACD
Rating: G
Notes/Warnings: None
Word count: 100
Link: here
no subject
Fandom: ACD
Rating: G
Notes/Warnings: you can't tell me they didn't get a little freaked out after DEVI
Word count: 177
Link: here
The rolling surf, with a distant hush, laps against the black cliffside that lies beyond and below their cottage. Those waves nearly lull Watson to sleep entirely. But before he drifts off, the bed shifts with a creak as it accommodates the weight of another man's body.
Watson watches him silently, but Holmes doesn't breathe a word. He merely slips under the covers to draw in close beside him. Cautious, as if he might only believe by touch, his friend reaches for him; his thin fingers trace over his old war wound with a touch that's almost reverent. Watson smiles at him, wan, tired-- Holmes exhales a breath he'd been holding, finally bringing his palm to rest on Watson's cheek.
The poison has long dissipated. The lamp on which it had burned is all shattered, its remnants strewn across the brush and earth and moor so completely that even Holmes might struggle to find a trace of glass. But they are whole. They are alive.
Watson closes his eyes once more, and sleeps: peaceful, warm, and dreamless.
no subject
my heart melted this is absolutely lovely
no subject
Characters: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Fandom: ACD canon
Rating: General Audiences
Notes/Warnings: I loved beamkatanachronicles's drabble, and I was already feeling in the nocturnal mood :) I wanted to write something similar.
Word Count: 157
Legs pressed against his chest, the arms curled around either side, Holmes dwelled in the distantly acquainted armchair. The hazily remembered fire had long gone out, and its absence seemed only to amplify the black and depthless night that engulfed the sitting-room, as if it were the only place on Earth.
Today had given him a lot to think about.
His mind flowed like a river. Several thoughts would come passing through at any given time. Sometimes, Holmes would catch them, write them down, and see them through. Other times, he’d let them pass and find another to hinge on. His eyelids were pressed shut, wrapped wholly within his own dark attic.
He started at the press to his shoulder, eyes flying open to meet another’s – blue and vibrant. The good doctor sighed and came to rest beside him. A whole new slew of thoughts came gushing through when an arm curled over and squeezed his shoulder.
no subject