Posts tagged fowlock
Posts tagged fowlock
Sherlock Holmes and Artemis Fowl are on my mind for some weird reason so
Imagine Sherlock meeting Artemis. He underestimates him, as everyone does when meeting him for the first time, reels off the usual series of observations and deductions. Artemis considers, finds this an interesting idea, and does the same thing to Sherlock.
Imagine Sherlock meeting Holly Short, Artemis telling him smugly that all the fairy tales he dismissed as silly many years ago are … not exactly true, but far more intense than he imagined. Sherlock, to Artemis’ surprise, takes it all in his stride. John and Butler glance at each other and roll their eyes. Geniuses.
Sherlock playing the violin
Artemis playing the piano
((I now have a new headcannon.
Artemis keeps tabs on Sherlock’s blog, and checks for updates whenever he can. He has even gotten into a conversation via internet with Sherlock more than once.))
Shameless self-promo guys!
Crossover fic between Artemis Fowl and BBC Sherlock :) It’s finally complete, giant plot twists and all!
Summary (rubbish): John can’t find Sherlock. Could there be one person who can? And what does Sherlock think?
Title: Hunting the Disappeared
Category: Books » Artemis Fowl
Language: English, Rating: Rated: T
Published: 01-26-13, Updated: 02-02-13
Chapters: 2, Words: 1,579
Status: Unfinished DX
I started my first proper fanfic :) It’s a Sherlock/AF crossover. Will update whenever I can be bothered XD
Another teaser. This one is a special shout-out to the few of you who lurk in the Fowlock Fandom… You are not alone.
Oh gosh wow, thank you! I love running this blog, I’ve definitely got no plans to stop!
More Fowlock love is always a good thing! The more, the better!
Ah gosh, thank you! I have to agree 100%, it’s such a wonderful combination, and there’s so much wonderful fanwork out there for it, it makes me so happy every time the tag updates!
Gosh wow yeah, thank you! And thanks to all the amazing contributors who make running this blog a total joy!
Because you know Sherlock’s ability to look at you and tell you what you’ve been doing wouldn’t surprise Artemis for long.
Written for Michele, who has been wonderful and wrote some Superlock for me. As promised, I am returning the favor and giving her Fowlock. Set in an AU where Artemis never met The People, while for Sherlock its post TRF. This is a mildly depressing drabble, so be warned.The gun is steady in John’s hand as he keeps it trained at the giant man in front of him. Most others, he knows, would have already been long scared off by the sheer size of this man, but then again John is not like most people. He has fought in Afghanistan and watched fellow soldiers fight to their death; he has seen all manner of gruesome injuries and the most violent deaths imaginable. Most importantly though, he has been with Sherlock Holmes, and the things that he has shown John are so much more terrifying and intense than this giant of a man who stands casually before him.
The large man shifts a little, and John carefully keeps his pistol pointed to him as the two properly meet each other eye to eye. From this distance, John can see the coolness of those calm, calculating blue eyes that watch him in a way very much like a hawk. Those are eyes which John has seen and know all too well—they are the eyes of a man dedicated to his task, a man who has given his all for nothing but one task and one task alone.
They are the eyes that stare back at John these days when he looks at the mirror these days.
“So,” the man starts, sounding very calm and composed. “You finally found me.” There’s nothing in his deep voice that betrays any sort of panic at all, and John can’t help but wonder for a moment if there is something that could frighten this man. Somehow, it feels like there is nothing in this world that could touch him at all.
Rather than voicing that thought out loud, John keeps his own composure and eyes the other as he starts to speak. “I take it that you have been expecting me.”
A shrug. “Sooner or later, yes. He told it to me.”
John narrows his eyes. “Who told it to you?”
The only response that he gets from the man in return is a small, amused smile. “Must you ask me such a needless question, Mr. Watson?” He says while he inclines his head, one hand gesturing around the large, empty room they were both currently standing in. “You should know well enough who it would be, if you’ve managed to hunt me down to all the way here.”
Dublin, Ireland. That’s where they are now, and indeed, John knows how and why Sebastian Moran would be hiding out in here. Mycroft had told him already before he set out for this place—the ruined castle that had once been known as the home for one of the greatest criminal families in history. The Fowls.
According to the records, the last heir, Artemis Fowl II, had perished many years ago in a violent shootout. But like how identities could be created, they could also be very well erased. Mycroft had taken a while to piece everything together, but eventually he had managed to find out the truth.
(“Even Jim Moriarty, apparently, had been a false identity by itself. His true name is…”)
“Artemis Fowl,” John breathes out, the answer echoing around the walls.
Sebastian’s smile didn’t fade. “He prefers to go by Jim Moriatry these days.”
John clenches he jaw and tightens his grip on the pistol. “He’s dead,” he says, nearly spitting out the words. Moriarty is dead, but then so is Sherlock. Sherlock died because of him, because of what Lestrande had discovered, and to know the reasons behind why he had jumped off from the rooftop then…
The only change in Sebastian’s expression is a small flicker of his eyes to the ground. “He is,” he replies after a pause, voice still as neutral as ever.
There is a short beat after that answer, but soon John breaks it with another question. “Are you going to follow your master to the grave now that he is gone?”
Sebastian simply looks straight at John again and smiles not too kindly. “You should know better than anyone else to never question the loyalty of a soldier, Mr. Watson. My name might have changed, but I am still a Butler through and through. If need be, I will follow him to the fires of Hell if I have to.”
— the almanac of last things
Sherlock looked at his clock, impatient. Where was he? He was late. Finally they had arranged a meeting, a meeting with the guy that had called his attention in a way so subtle it took the detective a week just to find his name.
But he had no face; in none of the archives he found a picture of the guy. But he did find a lot of information. The guy was a criminal mind. However there was no evidence to prove his guiltiness and he hadn’t been very active in the crime field these last months. When Sherlock was almost giving up he was contacted, a meeting at the pool, 8:00 pm, was suggested. The detective was curious of course, because even with his research, he couldn’t find a motive the criminal would want to talk to him and that killed him on the inside.
On the other side of the pool, a door opened slowly, Sherlock saw a part of a suit and stopped breathing for a moment. But when the individual entered the room he couldn’t be more surprised or disappointed.
A 15 year old boy stood there, probably waiting for the detective to speak, he had dark hair just like Sherlock, they shared the same pale skin and noble port too, the only differences were the height, the age, the eye colour and the fact that one had curly hair and the other did not.
“Hello, Mr Holmes.” Greeted the 15 year old criminal with a strong Irish accent. “I’m Artemis Fowl II”
Sherlock put himself together and sustained the boys dark blue eyes with his own.
“Tell me, Mr Fowl, what is happening in Ireland? Suddenly all criminal masterminds are coming from there.”
Artemis gave him his vampire smile.
“I quit this job some time ago, Mr Holmes, you know that.”
“You don’t fool me, Fowl.”
“I need your help, Mr Holmes, that’s all.”
Artemis made a pause, Sherlock’s grey orbs followed the boy as he walked to the left .
“Do you believe in fairies, Mr. Holmes?
Author’s Note: (Laziness, thy name is dialogue piece.) In any event, I was halfway through an actual Fowlock drabble when I was savagely brutalized by a plot-bunny that simply would not be sated until its potential was expended (or, rather, roughly mapped out into dialogue). As much as I am loathe to do so, I apologize in advance for any out-of-character moments— as much as I adore the characters themselves, I’m admittedly new to writing them. But I’m rambling.
“What did you do?”
“Artemis? And to what do I owe the unexpected pl—”
“Oh, do shut up, Mycroft, this is hardly the time your usual tedious formalities. What. Did. You. Do.”
“…It was necessary, Artemis, and I don’t expect you to understand—”
“You don’t expect me to understand what, exactly? Why Sherlock Holmes was accused of fraud and saw no escape outside of stepping off the edge of a hospital rooftop? By all means, then. Enlighten me.”
Oh gosh I KNOW!
This is actually along the lines of one of my favourite headcanons - I don’t know why it’s not more common!
People in the Fowlock fandom tend to focus more on the Artemis-Sherlock dynamic (understandable) but I’m really much more interested in the Artemis-Jim dynamic and the parallels between them and Butler/Moran oh god
I really need to dig out the notes I wrote months ago for an Artemis/Jim fic and actually write the fic sdfsdf
also artler yes gOOD 4 for you