Fun Writing Meme

[netgirl_y2k]

I feel like writing. More than that - because a lot of what I've been writing recently has been longish, thoughtful canon fic - what I want to write is tropey ficlets.

So give me a pairing, or a character or two, and pick a number.

1. Coffee Shop AU
2. Idol/Fan
3. Anonymous Love Letters
4. Angel/Demon AU
5. Bartender AU
6. Spin the Bottle
7. Stuck Someplace Together in Winter
8. Sex Pollen AU
9. Matching Soulmate Markings
10. Deserted Island
11. Meet in a Dream
12. Arranged Marriage AU
13. Handcuffed Together
14. Stripper AU
15. Office Romance AU
16. Seven Minutes in Heaven
17. Noble/Peasant AU
18. Orphan AU
19. Vampire AU
20. Magic Spell
21. Superhero AU
22. Online Relationship
23. Mythical Creature/Human
24. Mistletoe
25. High School AU
26. Elevator Meeting
27. Body Swap
28. Genderbend AU
29. Clothes Sharing
30. Zombie AU

I have a pretty dull week ahead of me, so the more the merrier!

Comments

[frayadjacent]

Joan and Ms Hudson, #13 (Handcuffed together)

[netgirl_y2k]

Once he realised that she was serious about it, and that it didn't herald any diminishment of their working relationship or friendship, Sherlock accepted Joan moving into her own apartment with good grace.

Well, good grace for Sherlock, that is.

He didn't point out the foolishness of paying New York City rents on the nights when, mid-case, it was just easier to collapse on whatever flat surface in the brownstone looked most comfortable.

He didn't have a key to her apartment. Not because Joan didn't want him there, but because not having a key didn't seem to stop him from getting inside; and just for once Joan liked to be the one setting Sherlock unexpected traps and challenges.

And ever since the time he had padlocked all her kitchen cupboards closed (to see how her lock-picking was coming along, he said) he had been good about not breaking in unless it was an actual emergency.

It was one of the things Joan liked best about Sherlock: you might have to speak slowly and make sure he was paying attention to get him to understand what your boundaries were, but once he understood he respected them faithfully.

Of course, an emergency was kind of an elastic term; and "I was worried you'd been kidnapped" has been a less facetious answer ever since that time Joan was actually kidnapped.

Mostly, their new living arrangement has been good for their partnership. If nothing else, Joan's apartment is low on unanticipated roosters.

Sherlock might have been a little hurt to discover that Ms. Hudson had a key when he didn't; it wasn't always easy to tell with Sherlock.

"The difference is that Ms. Hudson cleans, and you," Joan gestured emphatically at Sherlock, "padlock all my cupboards shut and leave monographs on ancient Greece in my living room."

"Oh," interrupted Ms. Hudson, who'd been dusting Sherlock's bookcases. "I left those; I thought that if you didn't find them interesting then they might help you sleep."

"Oh, uh, thank you. That's thoughtful. I'll take a look at them."

That had been three days ago and now Joan is handcuffed to Ms. Hudson, back to back, with a leg of Sherlock's kitchen table digging into both their spines.

It probably has nothing to do with the key thing, probably.

Joan and Sherlock were consulting on a series of home invasions, and this is how the victims had been restrained.

After Sherlock had Joan and Ms. Hudson positioned exactly like the last victims he frowned at them, then frowned more intently, then stood bolt upright and said, "Wrong lock-pick."

A few seconds later they heard the front door slam.

"I'm sorry," said Joan, after a few moments of squirming confirmed that there was no way to pick the lock from this angle. "Sherlock and I shouldn't involve you in our investigations."

"That's quite all right," said Ms. Hudson. "This isn't the first time this has happened; when I was consulting with Sherlock in London it was quite a regular occurrence."

"I thought you were an expert in ancient Greece?"

"Yes, you would be surprised how many cases involving Oxbridge dons also involve elaborate restraints."

Joan thought about her last two years with Sherlock, and said, "Yeah, I really don't think I would be."

"I--" Ms. Watson began. "It's not my place to say, but I think you did the right thing in moving out."

"Do you?"

"I think it does us all good to know that we can manage on our own, even while we're grateful that we don't have to."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence.

Joan hardly needed a cleaner, and she was rarely at home on Ms. Hudson's afternoons, but when she was she found Ms. Hudson a restful presence. Maybe it was because Ms. Hudson had been defined by her relationships in the past, just as much as Joan had always been defined by her career, and Ms. Hudson had managed to change her life...

The door slammed. Heralding the arrival of the distinctly less restful person of Sherlock Holmes.

"Watson! Good, you're still here."

"Where else would I be?" Joan asked drily, jangling her handcuffs.

"I thought so; there's no way to pick the lock from that angle. Unless you are being less diligent in your lessons than I've come to expect, Watson?"

Joan ignored his implication, because she'd begun to follow his reasoning. "The last pair of victims were already free when the police arrived."

Sherlock produced something from his pocket. "The correct lock-pick. I forgot I'd lent it to Alfredo."

He unlocked their wrists, and offered Ms. Hudson his arm to aid her to her feet. Joan had to smile; for all that Sherlock claimed not to understand the social niceties, at times he seemed to have swallowed a book on British etiquette.

Joan was already halfway up when Sherlock turned back to her and gently took her elbow until she was on her feet.

"Well, Watson, I'd say you and I have some purported victims to interview."

Ms. Hudson said, "I'll leave you something warm in the oven; and Joan, I'll stop by to clean your apartment tomorrow afternoon."

As Joan and Sherlock headed out the front door he said, "Ms. Hudson takes good care of us, don't you think?"

Joan appreciated that he didn't add that it was a task that would be easier for Ms. Hudson if they both lived at the same address, even though he clearly wanted to.

[frayadjacent]

Lovely!!! *applause*

[mfirefly10]

How about...

The Bletchley Circle ladies and #19?

OR

A crossover with awesome ladies? Like...
Annie Sawyer, Martha Jones, Cara Mason, Regina Mills and #30?

[adafrog]

#1, River Song and Jack Harkness?

[ghost2]

Regina & Robin, #30? Or any other number, if you prefer.

[fallingtowers]

Sansa/Margaery, #25? Or maybe #6?

Also, Jaime/Brienne, #12, please. (#11 is totally canon for them already. :P)

[netgirl_y2k]

Um, yes, I have no shame :-)

*

"You can invite your friends too," said Robb with a winning grin.

Robb had his A-levels coming up, so he was being allowed to stay home to study while their parents took their first child free holiday in eighteen years. Sansa was being allowed to stay both because she was considered the Stark least likely to get herself into any trouble; and because she had as little desire to go fishing with Uncle Benjen, Bran, and Rickon, as she did to run feral with Arya and the Mormont girls.

"Sansa's new friends are awesome," chimed in Arya, who was stuffing clothes into a rucksack for her trip to the Mormonts. She wasn't even looking at what she was packing.

To Robb's credit, his grin barely faltered. "Come on, Sansa. All my coursework is in, and I've been studying like crazy. I just need a night to relax before the exams start. Mum and dad will never know. I've already invited Jon and Theon."

That was halfway reassuring. Okay, Sansa's cousin and his friends were pretty unlikely to set the house on fire; Theon she was less sure about.

"Fine," Sansa agreed with a smile. She almost always gave in to her charming older brother. "But I get to invite people too."

*

"My brother's having a party this weekend," Sansa told Brienne and Shae; they were sitting on the grass in front of college. "He wanted me to invite you guys."

Robb had already moved to the sixth-form college across town when Sansa had been outed to the whole of year 11. It hadn't been that awful; she wasn't living in an after-school special. The worst of the bullying had come from Joffrey Baratheon; a boy who'd revealed himself as an irredeemable prick back when they were in infant school.

All the same, Sansa had been relieved to move across town to the lower-sixth and leave the local comprehensive, as well as her tormentor Joffrey, who'd failed half his exams, behind.

The other thing she'd sort of left behind was the group of girls who'd been her closest friends for most of her life. It wasn't that Jeyne, Myranda, and Mya had a problem with gay people - although Sansa was sure they'd have preferred a boy for their gay friend - but they'd drifted apart; and over the summer Sansa had found herself spending less time with them, and more with Shae and Brienne.

Shae had gone to primary school with Sansa, and was back home to do her A-levels after sitting her GCSEs in the young offenders institution; she'd once made Joffrey cry by threatening to do something unmentionable to his, er, thing.

Brienne played on the same football team as Jon, and Sansa's cousin had introduced them with a nod and a wink. Jon had been trying to be nice; it was just that he hadn't bothered to find out if Brienne was Sansa's type, or if she was even definitely gay...

Lots of people at college assumed that Brienne was a lesbian, and that she and Sansa were together. And after Sansa had overheard Harry Hardyng say that no way was Brienne hot enough to pull Sansa, she stopped bothering to deny it.

In fact, Brienne was totally straight and had a boyfriend. Well, she had a Jaime--

"You should invite Jaime, too" Sansa told Brienne.

Sansa and Shae had never managed to figure out the exact nature of the relationship between Brienne and Jaime; but whatever it was, the two of them came as a pair.

"He's in hospital for his surgery this weekend," said Brienne. "The doctors think he might regain some use of his hand."

"Oh, tell him we're all thinking of him," said Sansa.

"Brienne and I will come," said Shae, bumping Brienne with her shoulder. "We might even be able to find a girl for you, Sansa."

Shae despaired of Sansa's shyness around girls she liked. She was fond of saying that she'd kissed more girls than Sansa had; Sansa thought that as Shae had spent most of her adolescence in an all girls correctional facility those kisses shouldn't really count.

Sansa blushed. "I'm not looking for a girlfriend." That was a lie. "And I'm hardly likely to find one at my brother's house party."

*

Sansa knew a lot of the kids at the party. She'd known most of Robb's friends - like Theon, Dacey, and Small Jon Umber - forever. Robb was also surrounded by his more recently acquired female admirers; Roslin, Jeyne, and Talisa.

Honestly, the only reason her brother wasn't insufferable was that he seemed sincerely baffled by all the female attention.

Jon had brought Sam, of course. Jon and Sam were so close that Sam was practically Aunt Lyanna's adopted son. Ygritte was sitting on Jon's lap, because Jon couldn't take a hint, and a pretty doe-eyed girl was casting nervous looks at Sam, causing Sam to blush and stutter.

Sansa found it oddly comforting that there were people in the world who were worse at this than she was.

Sansa stood with Brienne and Shae, while Shae tried to confiscate Brienne's mobile. "--Even if the surgery worked, he's hardly going to be texting, is he?"

She remembered when she used to be better at parties, but ever since coming out she seemed to have lost that skill. She had trouble telling guys that they were barking up the wrong lesbian, she had no gaydar to speak of, and by now she was used to people assuming that she was straight, either that or Brienne's girlfriend.

"Fuck this," said Shae, "I'm going to get a drink." She made for the kitchen, tugging Brienne behind her by her sleeve.

Sansa rolled her eyes and started to follow them.

"Oops."

"Oh, sorry--"

She had bumped into an insanely pretty girl with brown curls and a heart shaped face. Sansa didn't recognise her. She knew a lot of the kids at the party, but those kids had invited their friends, who'd invited their friends...

"Hi," said the girl, "I'm--"

"Margaery!" a boy called from across the room.

"Excuse me," said the girl -- Margaery -- taking Sansa's hand on her way past and giving it a quick squeeze.

Sansa must have been blushing still when she reached the kitchen, because Shae raised an eyebrow at her and said, "So that's what you like." Sansa blushed all the more, and set about seeing if there was a single soft drink left in the house that hadn't been spiked with vodka.

*

The party was in full swing. Brienne, who was usually painfully awkward at parties, was animatedly discussing the England lineup with Jon and a boy with extremely well conditioned curls.

Shae was playing Mario Kart with Theon; they had attracted a crowd.

Sansa was a leaning against a wall, occasionally wincing at Shae's language, and wondering if that Margaery girl was still here.

It wasn't as though Sansa was desperate - but she'd always heard that coming out was the hard part, and that hadn't been true for her; she knew her family would support her no matter what. It was the next bit, the bit where she was supposed to meet a girl that baffled her.

She'd come out more than a year ago, and so far her love life had consisted of being mistaken for Brienne's girlfriend, and an offer from Theon to set Sansa up with his sister. Sansa had actually come close to asking Robb what he knew about Theon's sister, and had only stopped out of sheer embarrassment.

On her way back from the bathroom Sansa saw Margaery sitting in a circle with Robb and a few other boys. There was an empty bottle on its side in the centre of the circle, and Margaery had just pressed a kiss to the cheek of a furiously blushing Sam Tarly.

"Sansa!" Jon Umber called. "Come play spin the bottle; it's a total sausage fest, Pyp had to kiss Grenn on the last spin."

Before Sansa could answer, Robb elbowed Small Jon fiercely in the ribs. "Ah, sorry," he said with a lopsided grin, "I guess I'm still in denial."

She smiled graciously; Small Jon was a lunk, but he was sweet really, and she'd known him forever. "Maybe later."

Sansa headed back towards the kitchen; she heard a chorus of boos behind her, but didn't at once realise it was because Margaery had left the game and followed her.

"Hi," she said, offering her hand to Sansa; her nails were short and painted a pastel pink. "I didn't properly introduce myself earlier. I'm Margaery Tyrell."

Sansa took her hand; Margaery's skin was soft. "Sansa Stark."

"I know," said Margaery, the corners of her mouth quirking up. "The lesbian cousin."

"What?" Sansa asked, dumbly.

Margaery released Sansa's hand. "My brother plays football with Jon Snow; when Jon found out that Loras is gay he said 'that's cool, my cousin is a lesbian,' I think he was trying to be supportive." She looked at Sansa from under her lashes, and said, "Your girlfriend is on the team too, right?"

"I--" said Sansa. She wanted to deny it, but in a way that made it clear that Brienne was brilliant, and Sansa would have been very lucky, and making fun of her was not okay. "She's not-- I mean, she has a boyfriend."

"Ah," said Margaery, with a look over her shoulder. The kitchen door was ajar, and they could just see Brienne still talking to Jon and the boy that Sansa could now see must be Margaery's brother. "Lucky boyfriend."

"Yes," was all the agreement Sansa could muster, because Margaery Tyrell was standing very close to her.

"You didn't want to play spin the bottle?" Margaery asked.

Sansa made a vague gesture meant to mean, boys, you know, brothers. Margaery stepped away from her. There was a half empty bottle of wine sitting on the breakfast bar, Margaery poured half of it into a glass, and then when she couldn't find another, poured the remainder into a World's Best Dad mug.

Sansa opened her mouth to say that she didn't drink, but before she could Margaery had pushed both drinks aside and tipped the empty wine bottle onto its side. She looked at Sansa and raised her eyebrow in a question.

Sansa reached out to spin the bottle. It revolved a few times before Margaery reached out to stop it with one delicately painted fingernail. She looked up at Sansa with a slight smirk on her lips. "Fancy that."

Margaery took Sansa's hands again, and gave a gently tug; Sansa went willingly. They were standing very close now. Sansa ran her hands up Margaery's arms; with one hand she toyed with Margaery's soft curls, the other she rested on the other girl's shoulder. Margaery's hands came to rest on Sansa's hips.

Sansa smiled nervously. "You're very pretty," said Margaery. She had to lean up, just slightly, to press her mouth to Sansa's.

Sansa wondered if it was going to be a brief kiss, like the one Margaery had given Sam, but then Margaery's tongue flicked against Sansa's lower lip, and Sansa opened her mouth in response. She pressed closer to Margaery, accidentally bumping the girl against the breakfast bar. Sansa was about to pull away and apologise when Margaery hitched herself up against the bar, and slid a hand up Sansa back and around her neck, pulling Sansa even closer.

Somewhere far away Sansa could hear Shae and Theon whooping "Go Sansa!" and Robb hissing "Close the door, that's my sister."

She was vaguely aware that she was going to be mortified in some distant future where Margaery was no longer kissing her.

[fallingtowers]

And there's absolutely nothing to be ashamed of! :) I've just had two incredibly chaotic days at work, and this ficlet was just about the only thing to make me smile since I got up on Monday. It's just sweet and delightful and perfect!

As much as I appreciate that Sansa finally meets a girl who's definitely her type, I actually liked all the various cameos of canon characters and their AU relationships with Sansa best. Every single one made me grin even wider. Thank you! <3

[kmo]

Some combination of Melisande/Phedre/Ysandre for #3? :)