Fic: 221B - Game Over

[anarion]

Title: Game Over
Words: a 221B has 221 words and ends with a b-word
Rating: PG-13
Pairings : Sherlock/John
Warnings: Character death (In a way. Not really)
Disclaimer: Not mine.

Summary: ‘365 days of 221Bs’ challenge: a prompt a day, given by atlinmerrick.






Previous 221b: Mental cinema



Today's prompt:

________________________________________________


Game Over


He was just a shadow moving in the dark, the only thing reflecting the light was his weapon. John squinted and leaned forward to get a better look and almost got skewered by what turned out to be a knife. A knife that was so long it looked more like a longsword and was wielded with perfect expertise.

Its tip caught John’s right arm, slashed through cloth, skin and flesh and left a deep and painful gash.

“God dammit!”

John lashed out with his own weapon and missed. But he managed to drive the attacker back a bit.

Sherlock was talking to him. John had no time to focus on him, because the dark figure moved again, raising his weapon. John matched the movement, keeping his body between the attacker and his wounded companion on the ground.

The figure hissed.

“John.”

“Not now.”

The attacker’s knife caught the light as he attacked again.

“John.”

Sherlock’s silhouette appeared between John and his attacker. The knife found its target and a body fell to the ground.

The screen turned black.

“Sherlock! What the hell are you doing? I almost got him! I could’ve killed him.”

“I am going to kill you if you don’t stop playing that ridiculous computer game and come to bed with me.”

“It’s not ridiculous. It’s ‘The Dark Blade’!”




Next 221b: For oral intake


------------------
AN:
The prompt was 'demon'.

Sorry, no Monday porn. But there's going to be Advent smut tomorrow! :D







.

Comments

[verityburns.livejournal.com]

I went (reluctantly) to a 'Ladies Only' show once, where the 'performers' plunged the room into darkness and then ran around attired only in luminous condoms.

This may explain the inelegant snorting which accompanied my reading of:

'the only thing reflecting the light was his weapon'

Either that, or Atlin's influence is getting stronger by the hour :D

Very entertaining, my dear - considerably more so than the aforementioned night out, as it happens!

[chocolamousse.livejournal.com]

*reads the warning*
What? Hey! HEY!

He was just a shadow moving in the dark, the only thing reflecting the light was his weapon.
Well this first sentence is not ominous at all. *smiles nervously* I'm sure there will be porn at the end. *believes in autosuggestion*

Its tip caught John’s right arm, slashed through cloth, skin and flesh and left a deep and painful gash.
Oh, yuck. You didn't say it was gore too!

keeping his body between the attacker and his wounded companion on the ground.
Now I don't know if it's John or Sherlock who is going to die. Great. Both, I hope. *is sardonic when she's angsting too much*

The knife found its target and a body fell to the ground.
Right. I give up. Farewell Anarion, it's been nice knowing you when you wrote porn and fluff.

“I am going to kill you if you don’t stop playing that ridiculous computer game and come to bed with me.”
Come to bed with me! There will be porn! And a lot of petites morts I guess. (The only kind of "major character death" I put up with and encourage.) :D

You know Anarion I don't think Atlin gave you a prompt when she said "Demon" to you. I think she was stating her opinion about you. YOU ARE EVIL. It was clever and funny but you. Are. Evil. (But in a nice way, okay?) :D

[chocolamousse.livejournal.com]

Verity, I knew I could count on you! I read that sentence, I started to snigger then I thought I had to control my innuendo goggles. So I kept silence. But you spoke. Who am I to keep silent if Verity sees fit to speak? In other words, it's entirely your fault.

So, I read this sentence and started to snigger because it made me think of a scene from Blake Edwards' Skin Deep. Anarion, it's Blake Edwards so it's art. It's CULTURE. And you can't blame me. :D
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ky5u6vm44ak
(You can start at 1.25.)

[atlinmerrick.livejournal.com]

"You know Anarion I don't think Atlin gave you a prompt when she said "Demon" to you. I think she was stating her opinion about you"

Here's what I can tell you about Anarion (other than she gives magnificent, I'm-totally-not-lying-about-that, hugs): I have no clue about Anarion.

I give her prompts and while I know where my brain would go with almost all of them (along well-worn and often typical tracks), Anarion's brain just flies off the rails again and again and frankly I will not be surprised if one day I prompt "Santa Claus" and her extremely logical (after you finish reading) 221B will involve alien abduction and celery.

Seriously, don't even look at me, I just prompt a luminous, lovely, extremely creative lunatic.

[atlinmerrick.livejournal.com]

All that being said in reply to Chocolamousse's reply I'll have you know I had to get Verity's clearance that this story was safe to read because, like Chocola, the only death I can bear with our boys is the 'little death' of orgasm.

All that said your title totally gives everything away in a way and yet that's only obvious after reading. Your brain: It's a convoluted marvel.

[chocolamousse.livejournal.com]

I will not be surprised if one day I prompt "Santa Claus" and her extremely logical (after you finish reading) 221B will involve alien abduction and celery.
OH MY GOD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? I hope she's not going to read that. Otherwise, Christmas is cancelled.

[anarion.livejournal.com]

Yeah. I just read that. *evil grin*

[verityburns.livejournal.com]

Oh, dear Lord...

[atlinmerrick.livejournal.com]

"Christmas is cancelled"

I can't not hear that in John's you're-an-idiot-Sherlock voice.

[atlinmerrick.livejournal.com]

You can't cancel Christmas, you're writing Advent porn for it! See Chocola, no danger here!

(*shifty, nervous eyes* Um, right?)

[chocolamousse.livejournal.com]

There is Anarion. Therefore there is danger. You've just said you have no clue about Anarion. This woman is unpredictable. You think your head-canon is safe. It is an illusion. A conforting lie told to protect you. Enjoy these final moments of peace, for Anarion has returned to have her vengeance. And she will begin with alien abduction and celery. I won't complain if Benedict plays the alien. Or the celery.

[atlinmerrick.livejournal.com]

I didn't record it, I know that's wrong, but good lord you should have heard Verity's delighted squeal as she looked over my shoulder and saw what you did here. You are sheer, unadulterated genius, Chocolamousse and if you don't sit down and write about aliens or celery or at the very least John and Sherlock doing seductive things with one or both there will be weeping.

And, and I will never record Verity's divine giggle-squeal for you. How's that for a dangling carrot? (Or celery.) (Maybe penis, I don't know, I've now completely lost track of my threat.)

*Still, Atlin has a proud*

[verityburns.livejournal.com]

We are reading your comment out loud. Repeatedly. And doing the voice... we are doing the voice. You are single-handedly responsible for the startlement of my dog.

You must write more fic. You MUST. It is actually causing me pain to think that you're not. You don't want me to suffer do you? DO YOU?

[verityburns.livejournal.com]

I hadn't even twigged to the title - duh! - that is brilliant! A well-earned 'devious' mood, sweetie!

[chocolamousse.livejournal.com]

You want me to write about Sherlock and John doing saucy things with aliens and celery? HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA. No. Not my division. I only write romantic things with feelings and emotions by the dozen. There are hurt and longing and fluff but no vegetable. I'm not this kind of writer.
*looks West*
*adjusts her peas*

[chocolamousse.livejournal.com]

Don't... Don't do that. Emotional blackmail. It works too well. No Verity, I don't want you to suffer. I know you're already suffering enough with this pre-Christmas Shiraz deprivation. Aaaaall right then. I will write. *sighs* Let's say, hmm, let me think... Next month. I say that completely at random. It wasn't planned already at all or anything. *coughs*

P.S. Of course you do the voice. You cannot not do the voice. I hope you do the fight choreography too, with the leaps and all. Sorry, Dog.

[atlinmerrick.livejournal.com]

There are hurt and longing and fluff but no vegetable. [snip]
*looks West*
*adjusts her peas*

Anarion, I'm so sorry this has veered wildly, but I am half dying over here. Chocola, I may need to marry you.

[atlinmerrick.livejournal.com]

"I hope you do the fight choreography too, with the leaps and all. Sorry, Dog."

Yeah. Definitely either marry you or have you canonized. You pick.

[chocolamousse.livejournal.com]

Who do you think you're talking to? I'm not a woman of easy virtue. I don't marry people before they write over-fluffy epilogues for me.
*is so very subtle*

P.S. Yes, I'm sorry too Anarion. I hope you can see it's absolutely not my fault. It's Atlin, she teases me with celery.
*re-reads the last sentence*
Right. I think it's time for bed. :D

[aranel-parmadil.livejournal.com]

I'm not sure what's more entertaining here - Anarion's clever, teasing fic or the conversation that follows it. Have you read it all the way through, Verity, Atlin and Chocola?

I now have mental cinema that involves Sherlock, John and celery.

And yet I still don't feel the need to run screaming...what does that say about me?

[aranel-parmadil.livejournal.com]

Celery AND luminous condoms.

[rox712.livejournal.com]

Sits back with a coke and popcorn, because this angsty, funny little 221b turned out to trigger one of the most brilliant comments of the history of ever!

[sabrinaphynn.livejournal.com]

I completely agree with Roxy here ^^__^^. Loved the story, but the comments just take the cake!
I'd be happy to provide home-grown celery upon request, BTW.
(Harry, my 8 year old, insists on maintaining the last of our bounty in the raised bed out back.)

[noirrosaleen.livejournal.com]

Fic excellent. Comment thread better. I need to figure out how to somehow get all you wonderful people together for tea.