Friending Meme

[lustmordred.livejournal.com]

We've never done one of these before and it just occurred to me the other day that maybe we should and it would be fun. So the purpose of this is to meet people with the same or similar interests. In this case, hopefully Sherlock is one of those :D

Talk, share things, friend people's journals and begin to stalk them... Whatever.

Here is a box with template for your convenience. Copy the text and fill it out, or make up your own:

<b>Name:</b> <b>Where are you from/at?:</b> <b>Favorite Sherlock episode:</b> <b>Favorite Sherlock quote:</b> <b>Favorite Sherlock characters:</b> <b>Favorite ships:</b> <b>Other fandoms:</b> <b>Other characters you love:</b> <b>Other pairings you ship:</b> <b>Non fandom related interests:</b> <b>Friends or just introducing yourself?</b> <b>Anything else:</b>

Comments

[the-improbable1.livejournal.com]

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH RIGHT NOW :DDDDDD

MY FACE LOOKS LIKE THIS--> :D

THIS IS PERFECT IN SO MANY WAYS.

COMPLETELY BRILLIANT.

JUST.

BRILLIANT.

OMG.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

[siehn.livejournal.com]

YAY I AM SO GLAD YOU LIKE IT.

I WAS VERY VERY NERVOUS, BUT IT WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE. ♥

[the-improbable1.livejournal.com]

IT'S BRILL. :D

Here, have more Yu Yu Sherlock :D. Mind the crack.

---

"So," Sherlock said ominously, "it has come to this."

Jim—or was it Moriarty, now?—grinned, his sharp teeth glittering in the firelight. "So it has. Shall we begin?"

"Whenever you're ready, Moriarty," Sherlock said, his teeth ground together. "Once, this conflict could have been avoided, but no more."

Irene grinned and held up a red flag. "Ready…set…go!"

Something exploded within the first ten seconds, of course. From a safe distance, watching the contest, Lestrade sighed.

"Of all the things they had to fight over," he complained to no one in particular, "did it have to be a cooking contest?"

"Puu!" said Puu.

[siehn.livejournal.com]

OHGOD. TEA. THERE IS TEA SNORTED EVERYWHERE.

I swear I almost died of laughter.

I love you. Srsly. Just. All the things.

[the-improbable1.livejournal.com]

I MADE SOMEONE SNORT TEA EVERYWHERE *pleased*

A cooking contest was the logical solution…it's what they usually do in anime, yeah? When they need the characters to fight but don't actually want anyone to get hurt?

Wait.

Wait.

The Final Pastry.

In which archenemies Holmes and Moriarty face off in a baking contest…to the death.

/shot/

---

John sighed. "Okay, I'll explain it again, now that you've woken up."

Well, at least we're not floating anymore, Sherlock thought with some haziness. "I can't be dead," he said firmly.

"That's about right, actually," said John. "You weren't supposed to die for several more decades. There's loads of stuff you haven't done yet." He consulted a clipboard which had seemed to appear out of thin air. (Nonsense, Sherlock insisted to himself. Clipboards can't appear out of thin air.) "Says here you're supposed to topple over a waterfall in a few years," John continued cheerfully. "But you don't die then, either. You're supposed to retire to Sussex to keep bees when you're sixty. You're not sixty yet, and you're neither retired nor keeping bees in Sussex, so you're not supposed to be dead yet."

"So," Sherlock said cautiously, "if I'm not dead, and I'm not alive—I'm well aware of the fatality rate of stab wounds, and I wouldn't have survived that—then what am I?"

John smiled brightly. "Fortunately, we've got a precedent for this. It was a decade or so ago; this guy died before he was supposed to, so Koenma decided to make him hunt demons."

Sherlock blinked. He knew his ears were in perfect condition. They couldn't be lying to him, so he had just heard the word "Koenma" (whatever that was) and the phrase "hunt demons". "This is ludicrous," he managed. "Nothing about this makes any kind of logical sense whatsoever."

John's smile turned a bit sympathetic. "Yeah, it confused me at first, too. Come on; we'll get you to Mycroft and he can sort you out."

Sherlock's eyebrows shot up, then he frowned. "No," he said. "I'm not going to Mycroft. I've already had more than enough of the interfering bastard."

"Oh, so you know him, then," said John.

"He's my brother," Sherlock said grimly. "And he died ten years ago."

"Well, that would make a bit of sense," John said thoughtfully. "You look a bit like him—around the nose, and you both have the same disdainful look—yeah, that one. He showed up out of nowhere, like. I'm still not sure how he managed to take over the admin so quickly."

Sherlock snorted. "I am completely unsurprised," he said dryly. "My brother always did like to be in charge."

John grinned. "It'll be a nice chance for you blokes to meet up again, then," he said cheerfully, dragging Sherlock to his feet and tucking his clipboard back into whatever nonspace it'd come from. He waved his free hand and the oar from before appeared. "Up you get. You can either come quietly, and it'll be comfortable, or you can struggle, and I can drape you sideways over the oar and it'll be uncomfortable. Your choice."

Sherlock grimaced. "I'll come quietly," he conceded. "If I'm going to have to meet with my insufferable brother, I might as well be comfortable."