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Ariane DeVere
Sherlock fic: Ella 
27th-Jan-2012 12:36 am
Sherlock - Now Tea (angrybeige)
Title: Ella
Author: Ariane DeVere
Word count: 815
Rating: R
Characters/Pairing: John/Sherlock
Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to way more powerful and wealthy people than me.


Summary: John finds comfort and shelter from an unexpected source.

Perhaps surprisingly in light of the title, this is pure crack.

N.B. This fic is so NOT a post-Reichenbach fic that you’ll probably get withdrawal symptoms ... or maybe not. ;-) WARNING: One spoiler for A Scandal in Belgravia but otherwise nothing related specifically to Season 2.

Oh, and by the way ... Happy birthday, chocolamousse!






John Hamish Watson was usually the BAMF-est of BAMFs and didn’t let something as ordinary or everyday as rain bother him. However, the last time he had got this soaked in an unexpected downpour was when he had been on his way home and had found Mycroft standing outside Speedy’s waiting to tell him about Irene Adler’s demise. John had been so surprised to see him standing there smoking a cigarette, he had completely forgotten how wet and cold he was until he was sitting in the café steaming gently, both as a result of the water evaporating off him and because of Mycroft’s suggestion that he ought to be the one to break the news to Sherlock.

But today there was nothing to distract him from the torrents of rain that were lashing down and he was cold, miserable, and determined to find and murder in cold blood the presenter who had cheerfully announced in the weather forecast on this morning’s breakfast programme that the day would be fine and dry. He was fairly sure he could get away with a plea of justifiable homicide; no jury of his British peers would ever convict him and in fact they would probably award him a medal instead.

There was nowhere nearby that he could stop and take shelter, not a single bus stop or doorway with a porch. He stopped to shake the rain out of his hair and hunched his shoulders in a vain attempt to stop any more water running down his neck. He glowered moodily at the pavement, wondering what the chances were of persuading Sherlock that crime scenes in the south of France would be far more interesting and that they should pack their bags and move there immediately.

And then suddenly he wasn’t getting wetter. Suddenly, without any obvious explanation, the rain was still hammering down all around him but no more water was pounding onto his head. For a moment he wondered whether the repeated impact of the rain had completely numbed his skull but then he raised his head and saw what was sheltering him against the downpour. Before he could turn to see who was providing the cover, a warm body pressed itself to his back and began to grind gently against him, rubbing a firm trouser-clad erection against his backside, and a mouth breathed into his left ear and began to hum gently. John smiled and leaned back against his idiotic lover, revelling in both the protection from the rain and the promise of a bloody good shagging once they got out of this ridiculous weather.

“I didn’t even know you had one of these,” he murmured over his shoulder while looking up at the object which was sheltering him. “Please tell me you didn’t just pinch it from a crime scene.”

Sherlock momentarily snorted laughter and then wrapped his free hand around John’s waist and undulated against him again, resuming his humming. John had assumed he was just producing random notes but now his eyes widened as he began to recognise the tune. He spun around in Sherlock’s grip and stared up into his eyes.

“I didn’t think you knew any modern songs,” he said in surprise. He thought for a second, then added, “Well, it’s not that modern, but bloody hell, Sherlock, I wasn’t sure you knew any tune that was written in the twentieth century, let alone the twenty-first!”

Sherlock gazed at him serenely, still humming the tune while writhing sinuously against him. John’s breath began to hitch as he calculated how soon he could get them home and how quickly he could get his sodden jeans and jumper off and then get Sherlock out of his not-so-wet clothes. He leaned closer, stretching up to bring his lips closer to the mouth of the gorgeous man who was pressed against him.

“Sing me the lyrics,” he murmured. “Sing me the lyrics and I swear to you, Sherlock Holmes, that I will roger you senseless in every room of the flat one after the other until daybreak. And then I will stop for twenty minutes’ sleep and then start all over again.”

Sherlock’s humming faltered for a moment under the intensity of John’s gaze, then he smiled slowly, leaned forward and began to sing breathily into his ear.

“Now that it’s raining more than ever,
Know that we’ll still have each other ...”

*************

A few streets away, a very wet and extremely irritated man glared down the road and waited impatiently for the car which he had just phoned for. He used the time amusing himself by calculating how many different ways he could murder the little brother who had just mugged the British government.

*************

Pressed against his heavy-breathing lover in the pouring rain, Sherlock grinned wickedly and deliberately rewrote the next lines:

“... You can stand under My’s umb-er-ella,
You can stand under My’s umb-er-ella ella ella, eh eh eh ...”

--------------------------------------

Author’s Note: Not quite the 221B I was planning for chocolamousse’s birthday present, but some of us were commenting to each other that we were getting a little bit weary of post-Reichenbach fics, and my insane plotbunny VerityBun came up with this ...

ETA: It was only much later, after posting this story, that I realised that not everybody who reads
Sherlock fic is quite as obsessed on the series and so doesn’t necessary know that John’s therapist is called Ella. So that joke went right over a lot of heads ... Well done, Ari. *rolls eyes at herself*

Comments 
27th-Jan-2012 12:57 am (UTC)
So very romantic! I would have been surprised that Sherlock knew that song, too.

By the way, I haven't had enough post-Reichenbach fics yet, especially not since I'm more interetested in the reunion-fic than the sad ones.
27th-Jan-2012 01:37 am (UTC)
Sing away, Sherlock! *giggles helplessly*
27th-Jan-2012 01:50 am (UTC)
sweet!!! and in spanish 'ella' means 'She' and i was???? really confused by the name

Edited at 2012-01-27 01:51 am (UTC)
27th-Jan-2012 02:18 am (UTC)
dying :D
27th-Jan-2012 02:40 am (UTC)
Delicious and wicked.
27th-Jan-2012 06:53 am (UTC)
Oh, I love it! And I especially love the reminder of your awesome transcript note from that Scandal scene:

John hurries towards home, hunched over and soaking wet because macho BAMFs like John Watson don’t take umbrellas with them.

Genius.

It's such a lovely scene you have described here, and I am hugely encouraged by the invasion of words like 'sinuously', 'undulated' and 'writhing' into your fic - I think VerityBun may be feeling Atlin's influence after that weekend! (Aren't we all...)

The bit I absolutely howled at, however, was the mugging of 'the British government' - sounds like Mycroft's accepting Sherlock's designation at last!

Brilliant :D
27th-Jan-2012 10:14 am (UTC)
What the absolute fu—

Um, I was just about to say I am a little bit breathless with the imagery created so voluptuously by the grinding and the undulating and the writhing and then I see Verity's already mentioned just those things, partially blamed me, and also done the extremely appropriate thing of saying WELL DONE YOU.

And know this Ariane DeVere: It is one teeny tiny irrevocable step from smut to porn, and you, my dear, are on the brink of that lovely, lovely step.

P.S. Can we now have the fic with the shagging in every room of the flat because damn.
27th-Jan-2012 10:43 am (UTC)
*giggles*
Might crack, but the very best crack.
And Sherlock changing the lyrics?
Made me snort in laughter.
Poor Mycroft.
27th-Jan-2012 12:49 pm (UTC)
Oh, heaven help me. When John said, "I didn’t even know you had one of these,” and started inquiring about crime scene larceny, I thought for a second that he meant Sherlock's firm, trouser-clad erection.

To be fair, I got to the erection and had trouble moving onwards. I got stuck on it. Er. Not on it, on it. You know what I mean.

This is so lovely:

“Sing me the lyrics,” he murmured. “Sing me the lyrics and I swear to you, Sherlock Holmes, that I will roger you senseless in every room of the flat one after the other until daybreak.

This was perfect:

"He used the time amusing himself by calculating how many different ways he could murder the little brother who had just mugged the British government."

Enjoy your day, lovely, perfect woman.


27th-Jan-2012 06:17 pm (UTC)
Oh, heaven help me. When John said, "I didn’t even know you had one of these,” I thought for a second that he meant Sherlock's firm, trouser-clad erection.
I am so glad I wasn't the only one. *lol*
27th-Jan-2012 08:13 pm (UTC)
Yay! We're like two perverts peas in a pod, anarion.
28th-Jan-2012 01:10 pm (UTC)
*Looks at the comments*

*slaps self*

Course, if I was a proper writer I would write sentences that actually made sense and didn't mislead the reader.

Course, if I had readers who didn't have one track minds, it would help.
28th-Jan-2012 03:52 pm (UTC)
You are a fabulous writer, and you know it. You can't help what kind of dirty-minded riff-raff you attract.

Also, I want to thank chocola for being born, because this is one of my favorite things by you to date.

How many rooms are there at 221B Baker Street? Sitting room, kitchen, Sherlock's room, bathroom, the hall, the stairs, John's room. That doesn't seem like enough. I hope they have a linen cupboard. Also, I'm pretty sure that if you slap a shock blanket on the tub as a ceiling, it becomes a new room. If you tilt the fridge over on its side and take the door off, is that a room too? Yes. Absolutely. Yes.

*waits patiently for the inter-flatmate rogering to commence*
27th-Jan-2012 06:21 pm (UTC)
You are brilliant. No, truly! That brain of yours. *in awe*


The whole scene is so sweet. And HOT. Now go write 'The rogering of one Sherlock Holmes in all rooms of 221B'. Please.

Also, Mycroft? *LOL*

And then ending with the changed lyrics! *applauds*

May I hug your brain?
27th-Jan-2012 06:51 pm (UTC)
Ariane, THIS is a perfect birthday present and you're so sweet. And there's SLASH ! (How the hell did you know I liked slashy fics ?)

He glowered moodily at the pavement, wondering what the chances were of persuading Sherlock that crime scenes in the south of France would be far more interesting and that they should pack their bags and move there immediately.
Oh yes, Sherlock, come to the south of France, we have very nice crime scenes here, and lovely serial killers I'm sure, and lots of bees, and don't worry about accommodation, I can house the two of you easily, I've got a wide bed. Yes, you can take Lestrade too. (Hey, I'm allowed to be horribly saucy today, it's my birthday, OK ? :D )

For a moment he wondered whether the repeated impact of the rain had completely numbed his skull but then he raised his head and saw what was sheltering him against the downpour.
Oh, it's going to be Sherlock and John kissing in the rain, it's so romantic. Ariane is such a romantic person.
*reads the next sentence*
*chokes on her birthday cake*
Oh my God. Who are you and what have you done to Ariane ? Get out of this body, Anarion, or Atlin, or whatever porn writer you are.

“... You can stand under My’s umb-er-ella,
You can stand under My’s umb-er-ella ella ella, eh eh eh ...”

Oh, that's clever. All right, you're Ariane.

Well, you know how to chose a birthday present, don't you ? It's hot and smart and funny and I love it. A fic in which Sherlock and John are together, happy and in love is so cheering these days. I take back everything rude I told VerityBun when it made you write het stuff (I'm afraid the words "rabbit stew " were pronounced). Thank you again !

You don't show your birthday in your profile, you secretive creature. Would you mind telling me, in strictest secrecy, just the month and day ? But it's fine if you'd rather not to. :-)
28th-Jan-2012 08:08 am (UTC)
Oh my God. Who are you and what have you done to Ariane ? Get out of this body, Anarion, or Atlin, or whatever porn writer you are.
Hahaha! Wasn't me. ;)
I'd love to be able to write clever stuff like Ari.
28th-Jan-2012 02:25 pm (UTC)
Oh, so that’s why poor little fluffy VerityBun was staring at me so wide-eyed and panic-stricken and was throwing silly ideas at me and yelling, “Write it, bitch!” while nervously bouncing up and down and wibbling. *soothes the frightened bunny* Shame on you, Chocola – I’m not sure you deserve birthday fic!

But I’m glad you liked it, anyway, and I hope you had a nice day.

You want to know my birthday? Are you going to write me fic for it? Are you? Are you?! Of course you are – cos you’re kind and nice and a good friend and nothing else will do, and if you don’t then my birthday will be ruined. So: April the 5th. You’ve got a whole two months to get it done. Off you go ...
28th-Jan-2012 03:25 pm (UTC)
*panics*
But... You... I mean, I... Anyway I can't write, I lost all my pens. In addition, I'm afraid I never got your last message, LJ ate it or something. Yes, the message I'm answering right now. Oh God.
*feels she's making things worse*
*runs screaming for the hills*

Ariane, this is the second time you make me run screaming for the hills with your tyrannical behests. And I'm not the sporty type. And the hills are flipping cold in winter. Stop immediately or I look VerityBun straight in the eyes and I whisper "Myxomatosis". Yep. I can be cruel, if need be.
29th-Jan-2012 01:17 am (UTC)
Two months. Two whole months. A one-hundred word drabble. Or a 221B. Nothing else will make my birthday worthwhile.

*settles onto the sofa with all the left-over food from The Great Porn Weekend, a bottle or six of shiraz and a small white bun with cotton wool stuffed in her ears*

*waits patiently*
29th-Jan-2012 10:41 pm (UTC)
Ehehehe! Giggled aloud! Poor Mycroft.
That was totally adorable.
30th-Jan-2012 10:35 am (UTC)
With this you definitely owned my heart.
And made me giggle.
Now i'm off to read basically everything else you wrote...and I'm damning the fact my birthday is in 8 months.
I know you don't really know me but I thought if I was asking nicely, maybe.. ;)

Amazingly written!
1st-Feb-2012 11:59 pm (UTC)
This is so perfect, someone should fanart it right now :)
15th-Feb-2012 07:31 pm (UTC)
Anonymous
Great, fantastic = ) You just made my day hahahaha
"You can stand under My’s umb-er-ella ella ella, eh eh eh"
*sings to myself and laughs* = D
Sweet and funny little story, thank you very much!!!!
12th-Aug-2012 06:59 pm (UTC)
Good!
3rd-Mar-2013 05:32 am (UTC)
You got me with "Ella". Poor Mycroft!
16th-Apr-2014 06:47 am (UTC)
You are absolutely my FAVORITE AUTHOR right now. Like seriously.

Argh, this is one of the best fics I ever read. So many wonderful fuzzy feels inside me now, thanks to you. I was like "awwww..." when I realized it was Sherlock behind him holding the umbrella.

"He used the time amusing himself by calculating how many different ways he could murder the little brother who had just mugged the British government."

- This was the part I laughed out loud, curled into a ball and rolled. Totally my new headcanon now.

“... You can stand under My’s umb-er-ella,
You can stand under My’s umb-er-ella ella ella, eh eh eh ...”

- HAHA... I knew what you did there. At first I was so confused what part did he changed the lyrics. I then squinted harder. And then oh. OH.

BLODDY BRILLIANT. :D
16th-Apr-2014 08:02 am (UTC)
Thank you so much! It's lovely to receive a comment on a story I wrote years ago, and I'm so glad you liked it.
12th-Dec-2014 06:18 am (UTC)
You are a genius, and this is rather perfect. Because of course Sherlock would be sweet in a practical way that also annoys Mycroft at the same time.

Though I must say can we get a sequel which carries out John's promise? Because I mean...hot damn.
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