Hmmmm, greedy. I’ll give you all three because the first one is kind of a cheat. ^_^
Faking Sex is actually just a prompt I stored. The idea is that they get into a situation—bugged room or something—where they have to make it sound like they’re having sex. The idea of the two of them bouncing around on the bed to make it squeak, moaning, and kicking walls to make it sound like they’re carrying on just made me laugh and laugh.
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Sherlock-Lestrade: I just wanted to write some Lestrade & John friendship fic. Hmmm, this looks like it might actually be more or less finished. I could probably poke it gently and turn it into a drabble. Here’s what I have in the doc:
Lestrade worries about John.
This is by way of a social obligation. It’s not that he particularly expects anything to happen to John…well, no, that’s a lie. It’s not that he’s expecting anything specific. But it’s like they’re in some sort of secret club together—Sherlock’s Anonymous—and they should watch each other’s backs.
After the last cock-up, Donovan informed him that they’re both “idiotic fucking heroes,” which is apparently a handicap that renders them both incapable of taking care of themselves.
Some days, though, he’s not sure whether he’s more worried about something happening to John, or what John might do. The cabbie John can’t possibly have shot because obviously a stand-up citizen like him wouldn’t possess an illegal firearm is one thing. But God knows, if anyone could drive a man to cold-blooded murder, it’s Watson’s flatmate.
***
Sherlock-Stockings is an attempt I’m making at lingerie porn for a friend. I think I’m trying to do too much with the story, but I haven’t convinced myself to drop the extra stuff I want to add quite yet. Here’s an excerpt (which I might not end up keeping):
He watches the razor glide down his legs, followed by Sherlock’s elegant fingers tracing the path of smooth skin left in its wake. It feels intimate, like he’s being touched somehow more thoroughly than usual. Sherlock is carving away protective layers of him. It’s graceful, the way his hands move over John’s body, the way the razor reveals contours of his body that are normally invisible. He feels powerfully desired when the pads of Sherlock’s fingers linger over the subtle dips of his calf muscles and the fragile shallows of his ankles. Sherlock’s crystalline eyes follow his own fingers over John’s legs with an intensity John can feel against his newly exposed skin.
It’s rather lovely, in fact. No wonder people are willing to pay for this sort of attentive pampering.