Character meme thing.

[silver_sun]

I've seen this in a few places, so here goes.

I have a list of 15 characters. Please propose scenarios in the style of: "1 and 5 bake bread together. Does the kitchen survive?"

or

"3, 7, and 9 wake up married. Does the universe survive? What does 10 think?"

Characters on my list are from Torchwood, Doctor Who, Primeval, Sherlock, Being Human and Spooks: Code 9. 

Comments

[angstosaur.livejournal.com]

"3 and 7 are having a quiet drink in a pub only to be disturbed by a fight breaking out between 2 and 10"

[silver_sun]

Okay, giant fandom crossover :) Being Human (Tom McNair), Sherlock (John Watson), Torchwood (Ianto Jones) and Primeval (Sir James Lester).


"You want another one?" Tom asks, nodding his head towards John's nearly empty glass.

"Why not?" John replies. The beer in the small, quiet pub in Barry isn't too bad. And Tom, is actually not bad company as while the conversation isn't exactly challenging it's nice for once to feel like he isn't half a dozen steps behind in what is being said.

As Tom returns with the drinks, John notices two immaculately suited men, one with with substantially better taste in ties than the other, are conducting what, he thinks, must be the politest argument in history.

Sitting just a couple of tables away their voices are barely raised above the level for ordinary conversation, their weapon of choice is cutting sarcasm, although their from their body language it spilling over into something more physical can't entirely be ruled out.

John smiles into his pint. Sherlock would be proud of him.

"Something funny?" Tom asks, putting down his drink.

John nods towards the men. “Just the politest fight in history.”

"'s not much of a fight," Tom says, with a shrug. "Ain't no hitting or owt."

At that moment the younger of the suits gets up abruptly, the table almost tipping up as he does, the glass of wine the other man had been drinking spilling onto the floor.

“I've had enough of your attitude, Jones. If I wanted to insulted I'd schedule a meeting with Cutter about exercising tact.”

“You call me Ianto or sir, and you can...” There's a clatters of glasses from behind the bar, and John misses most of the rest of Ianto's answer, with the just final part audible. “....until it's red.”

There's a flash of amusement in the man's eyes. “Promises, promises.”

“I don't joke, James.” They stare at each other across the table, eyes locked. “Now go outside and get in the car.”

James smiles. “You, sir, are a very bad man.”

“I'll only be as bad as you need me to be,” Ianto says, voice low and teasing, as they walk towards the door.

“It's been an awful week, so think you need to be very bad indeed tonight.”

“I was hoping you'd say that.” Ianto slaps James' arse lightly as they walk out the door. “And who said anything about waiting until tonight.”

John actually blushes as he realises what the argument is, the start of some scene being played out.

“You reckon they're going to have a scrap in the car park?” Tom say, turning in his seat so he can look out the window. “I reckon the Welsh guy would win.

“No,” John says, hurriedly taking a drink of his pint. “I think they've got a completely different physical activity planned.”

“Oh right.” Tom shrugs again, either unconcerned or uncomprehending. “So you want to play darts then or something?”


(Okay it's not quite a fight, but I really couldn't see these Ianto and Lester getting into a knock down fight in a pub, and this just sort of happened.)