Okay– so it’s Valentines Day tomorrow, and I spent all day running around doing… well, unpleasant tasks. Laundry. Lawyer shit. Son’s dentist appointment. My own dentist appointment. Writing an obituary. Taking a nap because, in spite of all the stuff I had to do, I was still recovering a bit from my trip.
Anyway– but in the midst of this, I kept getting things.
I got e-cards and e-mails chock full of different pictures–some funny, some obscene, and all appreciated for the heart of it. And Mate sent me flowers. Pretty ones. Thoughtful ones. Ones that made me very happy, when I really needed some help with that.
So, instead of musing on something heavy or trying to decipher all of the weirdness I’m dealing with, I’m going to give you a slash-fic valentine.
For fans of the show Sherlock, and fans of the show Warehouse 13, you’ll enjoy this. For everyone else, you’ll be very, very puzzled.
But, either way, it’s funny and it’s yours. Happy Valentines Day! Enjoy!
13 Crossover fic
he was bound to. “Radio antennae,
antennae that speak to snakes.
Everything I, as a man of reason, and you, as a man of science, have
known is wrong and—ouch!”
twisted a little tighter, and John, for one, found it was getting hard to
breathe. Their musculature was
fascinating—or would be, if every ripple and pulse of skin and fiber didn’t
creak John’s ribs just a fraction more.
breath, “there is a rational explanation that I have overlooked for lack of
They never gave us a satisfactory explanation for—oolf—which department
they came from—“
try to warn us that there were things we did not know.” John knew he sounded peevish, but, dammit,
the young man had been very intent about trying to tell them something without
telling them something. Sherlock
may believe that simply made him an American, but John was positive he’d been
trying to warn them—
as hell—he could have adored her as a younger sister, yes, but anything other—
no more than him making eyes at you…auuughh…
dammit! If only he’d applied
his charm to the bloody snake!”
warehouse where they’d discovered the diamond they’d been searching for was
dim, but he still recognized the pixie-faced girl with the ripe red hair and
wear than she did—his clothes were ripped and he was bleeding from his
sleeve. “God, give some credit
where it’s due.”
this pole so that these two animals
find refuge elsewhere.”
Claudia was disgustingly cheerful, even as she walked in front of John
and added a wink. “Especially the
part about the snake charming.”
Jinks whined, but his look at John through his remarkably pretty blue
eyes was hooded and knowing.
rest her hands on the snakes as she squinted at the top. “Jinksy, do you think that top piece
needs the whole pole, or do you think—“
and squinting up. “I think the St.
George Medallion was originally forged to go on a shield, right?”
finished for her, they high-fived behind John’s head.
and John snickered.
Sherlock snapped, and John craned his head as far as he could in an effort to
glare at the exasperating man.
crushed by a giant snake,” Sherlock interrupted, and Jinks winced.
to Jinks’s side and winking at John too.
Jinks crouched and laced his fingers, his chest and arms straining as he
lifted Claudia up. She grabbed the
metal pole, and looked down.
“John, Sherlock—where are their heads?”
her huff of exasperation.
said reasonably, and John grunted as she actually stepped on the thick, writhing body that was currently constricting his
very breath away. “Sorry, John,”
she muttered, right before placing her delicate foot on his shoulder. He was grateful she was wearing light
tennis shoes as her weight came to bear, and she grabbed the metal pole tighter
as she used what she could to scale it.
“Sherlock… sorry…” John
heard Sherlock grunt and knew it was probably his turn to be used as a ladder.
asked, trying to see her.
those remarkable eyes.
Jinks said, moving around to check Sherlock out. “He got you there. Right on the thigh.” John could only imagine the playful
smile which took some of the sadness out of the eyes. “Trying to eliminate the competition, right? One snake to another?”
little adven…ture… is…”
Claudia call down. “Jinksy, throw
me the glove and the love!”
whoop, whoop, whoop, and up! It
arced high and John craned his neck around to watch Claudia reach out a hand to
catch it. He could hear the
cellophane rustling and then he saw a giant purple flash as whatever was in the
bag ignited with the figurehead on the top of the mast.
aware of Sherlock doing the same.
distracted look of thanks to Agent Jinks of wherever as the man helped him to
distracted by that really nice pair
of blue eyes before he returned his attention back to the angular man, on his
hands and knees, gasping for air and grasping for logic at the same time.
disappeared! That’s bound to cause
difficulties, you trust me!”
“Yeah, it doesn’t pay to get too caught up in logic when you’re
investigating certain objects in this world.”
Jinks. “Shut your mouth! Do you want him to have an aneurism?
It’s not like that fall from the building did him any good you
know!” John crouched down by
Sherlock and grasped his shoulder.
“C’mon, it’s not that bad,” he said, trying to keep his voice
that he was leaning against the pole.
Claudia had scrambled down from the moment of the purple flash, and she
took Sherlock’s other side.
John ripped Sherlock’s brown flannel trousers a little, and took a
better look at the snake bite. No
venom, he ascertained, but the puncture wounds were deep, and they seemed to
be… contaminated with a certain bit of dust. The flesh around them was swelling and turning red even as
Sherlock’s hand clutched John’s and John turned his palm up and laced
their fingers temporarily.
apologized. “I think maybe
whatever…” he grimaced, not
wanting to wrap his mind around the logic of it. “…whatever created those
snakes, it got stuck in the—hey!”
was currently squishing purple goo all over Sherlock’s thigh.
“And not at all sanitary—“
Sherlock sighed and gave a shudder. “That’s good… that’s better than drugs…”
bite marks were purging themselves of pus even as he watched. He looked at Jinks and Claudia, both of
whom seemed to have very little about them but weapons and lots of those handy
little cellophane bags, and sighed.
He reached under his button down plaid shirt, his vest, and his blazer
and yanked on his T-shirt. He
ripped at it, startling when Jinks lifted up his outer wear so he could rip a
big strip around the bottom and fold it into a pad.
his humor. “I was hoping maybe he
was interested in a little one.”
bothering to blush. “I’m
interested in your well-being.” He folded the T-shirt into a pad and
pressed it against the blood-smeared pale skin of Sherlock’s thigh. Sherlock’s hand covered his, and John
looked up and met those piercing blue eyes.
Sherlock said plaintively, and John stared at him, open mouthed, until Jinks’s
hand on his shoulder pulled him back to reality.
shaking her head.
sympathy. “Well, you two need a
cab and a hotel room—“
hadn’t gotten crossed, but I’m thinking after that hotel room, the extra pole
in here is going to be the last thing on your mind.”
her cell phone to talk to the cab company.
enough of that metaphor for probably the rest of my life.”
“I don’t know,” he said, curling his hand around Sherlock’s calf. “Maybe there’s still a few more inches
left in it.”
and let him know his precious St. George antique has been destroyed.
where the cellophane still sat.
judiciously. “And since I don’t
plan on telling him what we’ll be doing in that hotel room tonight, I think he
should be used to it.”
thought. And there were more than
a few inches left in the entendre of snake and pole.