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08 February 2012 @ 10:18 pm
I wrote this short scene for Midnight at The Boilerhouse, a show my university puts on to showcase works written by drama students. It's a little more serious than the nativity plays I usually write, and overall I'm rather pleased with how it's turned out.  

25th November, 1940Collapse )

Current Mood: mellowmellow
05 February 2012 @ 09:51 pm
Spent the entire day feeling crappy, despite not actually having drunk last night. Five hours of sleep is not enough.
Current Mood: groggygroggy
19 January 2012 @ 09:14 pm
Jumping on the fanmix bandwagon I created this as a means of relieving my feelings after The Reichenbach Fall. I'm not sure it worked as I am still emotionally traumatised, but I hope you enjoy this.

Cut for SPOILERS for The Reichenbach FallCollapse )



Current Mood: melancholymelancholy
15 April 2011 @ 05:57 pm

Song: Close to the Sun
By: Hannah Wiltshire
Notes: A Sherlock themed fanvid for a song I wrote and recorded at home :D


Listen HereCollapse )


Current Mood: aggravatedaggravated
15 April 2011 @ 05:23 pm

I have no idea how this works

Read more...Collapse )I'm not getting my hopes up though :D
15 April 2011 @ 05:13 pm
<lj-cut text="Read more">

None of this is going anywhere,
Pretty soon we’ll all be old,
And no one left alive will really care
About our glory days, when we sold our souls.

But if you’re all about the destination, then take a fucking flight.
We’re going nowhere slowly, but we’re seeing all the sights.

John Watson was a risk taker; always had been, probably always would be. He walked the twilight line between right and wrong, crossing over and returning with blood on his hands, both literal and metaphorical. And he was ok with that. Someone had to make those choices; someone had to walk that line, why shouldn’t it be him? He had gone to war certain of who he was; sure he had the power to make the right choices. Then he had been shot and sent back to Blighty and suddenly he wasn’t sure anymore. In the hateful safety and security of an anonymous London bedsit he felt lost, like a spare part in a massive machine, or an appendix. He forced himself to go outside, to walk through the park with a parody of a purposeful stride. He thought about how ridiculously easy it would be to take his gun and just…but that was the one choice he wouldn’t (couldn’t) make. So he continued existing as his world faded into monotones and age crept up on him, cornering him in the dead end that his life had become. A risk taker trapped in a world ruled by health and safety regulations, he never stood a chance.
John ran through the corridors of the college, searching for the man he had known for a day and had sought for a lifetime. He felt the cool press of the gun against his spine as he ran through the cold, dark rooms, so different from the war he had known. And yet the adrenaline that ran through his veins was the same, the familiar calm had descended on his mind. He twisted through the maze of rooms, following his instincts, making his choices, until he found himself facing Sherlock, separated only by air and two windows. It was an impassable divide and time was running out; John could feel the seconds melting past him. Sherlock raised the pill to his lips, and all John’s options coalesced into one. He raised his gun, took a breath and pulled the trigger. If the price he had to pay for Sherlock’s life was to make himself a murderer then he was willing to pay it. His choice was made, for better or worse, for now and always, if he had to chose whose life to save he would always chose Sherlock.
John couldn’t believe they were doing this. He had come home from work hoping for a quiet evening, only to be met by Sherlock as he left the flat and literally dragged along beside him. He hadn’t bothered to ask where they were going so when they turned up outside St Paul’s Cathedral he half hoped that this wasn’t their destination. Those hopes were quickly and brutally dashed when Sherlock led him to a small side door, ordering him to keep watch while he picked the lock.
“We can’t break into the cathedral, Sherlock,” John hissed. Sherlock paused and looked up at him,
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a church!”
“I had no idea you were a religious man John,” Sherlock said, the hint of a smirk playing at his lips.
“I’m not I just…it’s just not right, Sherlock.”
“Right is boring,” Sherlock huffed. “Anyway I’m not breaking in, I’m picking the lock. It will still be perfectly serviceable when I’m done with it.” And with that he turned back to the door, clearly indicating he had no more desire for conversation. John sighed and, as he always knew he would, obeyed Sherlock’s instructions and kept a look out. A few moments later he heard the click of the lock.
“Come on, John. Take a risk,” Sherlock opened the door and slipped inside.
“Oh we are so going to hell for this,” John sighed, but he followed him.
“Of course,” Sherlock replied, making John jump; he hadn’t thought he could hear him, “but just think of all the stories we’ll have.”
John felt the adrenaline running through his veins, remnants of their most recent chase through the dusky streets of London. He stumbled into 221B following in Sherlock’s wake (as usual), giggling as they removed their jackets and clattered up the stairs, ignoring Mrs Hudson’s irritated shouts. Still giggling like naughty schoolboys they crashed through the door to their flat. Sherlock stumbled over to the stairs and sat down to catch his breath; John stood at the bottom of the stairs watching him, pleased that he was so relaxed and happy at the successful conclusion of the case. He looked at Sherlock and, for the first time, he really saw him. He saw past the gargantuan intellect, the sociopath label, and saw the one man he would die for (the one man he would kill for). And suddenly he saw what he had been missing, the final observation that would solve the mystery of his relationship with Sherlock Holmes. High on adrenaline and courage he surged forwards, pulled Sherlock’s head towards him and kissed him fiercely. He swallowed Sherlock’s shocked noise and the moan which followed close on its heels. Sherlock’s mouth opened in surrender beneath his as John angled his head to deepen the kiss, deepen the intimacy to a level that neither of them had ever experienced before. Eventually the need to breath forced them apart but John stayed close to Sherlock, forehead to forehead, breathing the same air.
“So you finally worked it out.” Sherlock’s voice rumbled through John’s consciousness, gently mocking him.
“Shut up, idiot,” John smiled. “Shut up and kiss me.”
John Watson had always taken risks, always walked the fine line between right and wrong, salvation and damnation. He had kissed Sherlock believing he was straight but Sherlock had very quickly shown him that labels are unimportant. All that matters is love; if there is love in the hearts then everything else is transport. There were those who mocked them, who told them their love was an abomination, a sacrilege of the natural order. But Sherlock had never believed in heaven, and John had lost his faith somewhere in the Afghani sands and they both agreed that all they knew for certain was that they were happy now. And if the price for that happiness was eternal damnation, then both John and Sherlock would pay it without a second thought.
And we’re definitely going to hell,
But we’ll have all the best stories to tell.
Yes I’m definitely going to hell,

But I’ll have all the best stories to tell.

05 August 2008 @ 09:23 pm
Here's the next bit.
Series Title: Picking up the Pieces: Not Quite Alone
Chapter Name: The Uncooperative Time Machine

Author: fireheart93
Characters:Tenth Doctor, Original Companion
Ratings: PG
Spoilers: No real spoilers, teeny tiny for “Journey’s End”
Disclaimers: I don't own Dr Who. Now, please excuse me while I go and cry.
Summary: The Doctor says, he is happy alone, but someone disagrees.
Author's note: I'm not 100% happy with my characterisation of the tenth Doctor but I'm working on it.  Feedback would be loved.

Chapter 2-The Uncooperative Time Machine


The Doctor walked back to the TARDIS with a grin on his face. He had enjoyed Katana’s easy companionship and the way that they just seemed to understand each other. It had been a long time since he had felt that comfortable around a new acquaintance.

 “Too long,” he whispered to himself. In his earlier regenerations he trusted anyone he came across, without question. Time had made him suspicious of people motives. He was afraid to trust people; he had been deceived and hurt too many times.


When he walked up the final hill towards the TARDIS he felt the familiar pleasure that seeming his old friend brought. But it was an empty pleasure. As much as he loved his ship, she didn’t provide the humour and wonder of a human companion. With a small sigh he opened the door and entered the TARDIS. He walked slowly towards the console, almost reluctant to leave. He was being silly he told himself, he didn’t need any one. He could manage alone, always had. He entered new co-ordinates into the TARDIS, flipped a switch and…nothing happened. He tried again. He was doing everything right but the TARDIS wasn’t going anywhere. Great, he thought, looks like I won’t be leaving yet after all.


The Doctor was now seriously fed up. He had no idea what was wrong with his TARDIS. And it wasn’t because he couldn’t work it out. It was because she wouldn’t tell him. He had no idea what he had done to annoy her this time. Thinking back, he couldn’t remember doing anything, but that didn’t necessarily mean he hadn’t. He was always unintentionally annoying the TARDIS. One notable occasion was when he kept leaving his dirty underwear on the bathroom floor. She got so fed up with having to clean up after him that she locked him our of his underwear drawer for a week. That had not been fun. In the end it had been Martha that had helped him to realise what he had done wrong. He decided to do the same this time, but there was a slight flaw in that plan. Not only was Martha not there, no one was. Suddenly an idea popped into his head. He could ask Katana to come and help. She was good with alien technology, that was clear, and she was the sort of person that the TARDIS got on well with, feisty but fun. Yes it was probably a bit presumptuous but the Doctor had never been one for social protocols. He stood up, pulled his coat on and walked out of the TARDIS for the second time that day. Behind him, the TARDIS gave a satisfied hum.


 “Hi, I’m looking for a woman named Katana Fireheart; I was in here with her earlier. Do you know where I could find her?” the Doctor asked the waitress in the Millennium Pizza Parlour. His plan of asking Katana to help had hit a major roadblock when he realised that he didn’t know where she lived. Consequently he had spent the last half hour wondering round the town asking after her. Thankfully the waitress appeared to know whom he was talking about.

 “Oh, Katana, she live about five minutes away, just of Main Street,” she replied enthusiastically, “now let me think, what’s the road called? Mmm…oh I remember, Salvation Way. Yes, that’s right, 13 Salvation way.”

 “Can you tell me how to get there from here?” the Doctor asked, rather desperately.

 “Sure,” she replied, smiling, “go out the door, turn right down Main Street, Salvation way it’s the third on you right and number thirteen is on your left. You got that, honey?”

 “Yes, thank you so much.” the Doctor replied as he began to walk towards the exit.

 “Have fun,” the waitress said with a grin, and she turned back to her work.


As the Doctor walked to Katana’s house, he thought over their conversation together. She was cheerful and had told him stories of her life with humour and passion. He could see that once she got into something it would take something big to make her stop. And he liked that, it was like him. But under it all he could tell that she was lonely. All her stories were about her and her dad. If they involved someone else, that person was usually being rude to her or she was helping them. He got the impression that, since her father had died, she spent most of her time alone. But he could tell she was OK with that, in the same way he was. She enjoyed the passing company of others but had resigned herself to the fact that she would always be alone. It was so like him it was scary. Just then, he reached 13 Salvation Way.


The Doctor walked up to Katana’s door, suddenly nervous. What was he going to say? “I have accidentally done something to offend my time machine and now she won’t move or talk to me?” That sounded stupid, and it gave away too much. But then, he rationalised, if Katana were going to fix the TARDIS then she would find out one way or another exactly what she was capable of.

 “Stop being so silly,” he muttered to himself and he knocked on the door. He waited and heard nothing so he knocked again. A voice drifted up to him around the side of the house,

 “I’m in the workshop!” The Doctor identified the voice as Katana’s and followed it to a large room, which he deduced was the workshop. He opened the door and walked in. Then he stared.


He stared around the room in wonder. In it was a very large and varied collection of alien technology in various states of repair. There was an Arcasian cooker, a Perinian guitar, a Duplonian hedge trimmer, a Haradrian heater, what was only just identifiable as a Raxacoricofalapatorian radio and a ton of other stuff that he couldn’t identify due to how broken they were.


He finally pulled himself together and looked around for Katana. He saw her in the back right-hand corner of the workshop, bent over something that was spilling its wires all over the worktop. The Doctor walked over to Katana and said quietly,

 “I don’t mean to be rude but you do know that that’s a…”

 “Hairdryer?” Katana interrupted. “Yes I was aware of that fact. Mine’s broken and I knew I had this one from Trinia down here so I came to see if I could fix it.” The Doctor was surprised but took it in his stride.

 “And can you?” he asked.

 “Getting there,” Katana replied. “Of course the problem isn’t that I can’t fix it, it’s that I don’t have the parts. The heat exchanger is shot and I don’t have a replacement. I’m trying to use the one from that cooker over there but the technology isn’t exactly compatible.” She finally stood up and faced him. “So Doctor, how come you’ve come searching for me so soon after we said goodbye? Did you miss me?”

 “My ship’s broken,” the Doctor replied, embarrassed. “She won’t start. I’ve tried to fix her but I don’t know what the problem is.” He looked down at his feet, to embarrassed to look up at her face. To his surprise Katana didn’t laugh.

 “Well then,” she said briskly. “Let me just clean up here and I’ll come and have a look at her for you. She probably just wants a woman’s touch.” Katana gave him a quick grin and walked off.

 “How right you are,” the Doctor thought to himself.

Current Mood: accomplishedaccomplished
04 August 2008 @ 10:30 pm
Hey. I have finally gathered the courage to start posting my series.

Series Title: Picking up the Pieces: Not Quite Alone
Chapter Name:A Planned Unplanned Meeting

Author: fireheart93
Characters:Tenth Doctor, Original Companion
Ratings: PG
Spoilers: No real spoilers, teeny tiny for “Journey’s End”
Disclaimers: This is my take of what should happen after Journey's end
Summary: The Doctor says, he is happy alone, but someone disagrees.
Author's note: this is my first Dr Who fanfic, so I hope it isn't too bad. I have had fun writing it so I hope you have fun reading it.

Chapter 1-A Planned Unplanned Meeting


The Doctor was alone. Again. Not that he minded, really. When you are alone you can’t be hurt. It’s better for him to stay alone. He just has to shut out the pain that being alone causes. He decided he could do with a holiday, so he headed off to Alderbran Minor, a planet where the sand is blue and it is summer for 90% of the year. But the TARDIS had other ideas.


The Doctor went out of the TARDIS and looked around. Wherever he was, it wasn’t Alderbran Minor. There was no blue sand and it was chucking it down with rain. He was about to go back into the TARDIS when he heard shouts in the distance.

  “No rest for the wicked,” he murmured to himself as he began to run towards the shouts.


Katana was pissed. Seriously pissed. What was it with men that they just won’t take no for an answer. Jonas had spent the last month all but stalking her, and no matter how many times she told him she wasn’t interested he kept coming back. Things had come to a head when he had broken into her house last week. She had had to beat him up pretty badly to get him out of there. In retaliation, he had got his five brothers to corner her as she was walking home from work. The direct result of this was that she was now running across the countryside with five large men following closely. And, to top it off, it was poring with rain. Brilliant. All in all, this was not a good week.


As the Doctor got closer he could see five large men chasing a smaller woman. She had just reached a cliff and had turned around to face the men, who were running at her in a single file line (the fastest runners were at the front). The Doctor was about to shout out when the frontrunner reached the woman. Rather than cowering in fear, as the Doctor expected her to do when faced with a man easily twice her size, she stood up to face him and delivered a rather solid looking kick to his face followed by an even more solid punch to his head. She dispatched the next man with a jab to his throat and the third man with a knee to the groin, which made the Doctor wince in sympathy. However, it was what she did to the last two men that really drew the Doctor’s attention. She was obviously tired after her long run and subsequent fight and her remaining adversaries could see that. They advanced on her together. Instead of assuming a fighting position, the woman stood up straight, shut her eyes and raised her hands towards the two men. Just as the Doctor was about to intervene a wave of red/orange force hit the two men, sending them flying several feet and crashing to the ground, unconscious. The third attacker, who had recovered from her earlier attack, got up and ran without looking back. The woman fell to the floor as the Doctor ran over to help.


The Doctor reached the woman just as she began to pull herself up.

 “Are you alright?” he asked, his concern mirrored in his face. The woman smiled back at him.

 “Yeah thanks for asking. You know, you are first guy all week to ask me that. It makes a change from death threats,” she replied, amusement colouring her tone. “I don’t want to appear rude but who are you, I don’t recognise you.”

 “I’m the Doctor,” he said. The woman was unable to hold in a small gasp, but when she next spoke she sounded normal and offered no explanation for it.

“My name’s Katana Fireheart, daughter of Melanus,” she responded. “Would I be right in saying that you’re not from around here?” she asked, innocently.

 “Yeah, you could say that,” the Doctor replied. “I’m a traveller, just passing through.”

 “Well, Doctor,” Katana said, with a grin on her face, “do you fancy passing through the town, only I know a place that does the best pizza this side of Positron 5, and you could do with some fattening up!” Her grin took on a dangerous edge, almost daring him to disagree. The Doctor matched her grin with one of his own,

 “Best pizza this side of Positron 5? I think I will be the judge of that. Lead the way!”


 “So, why were those guys chasing you?” the Doctor asked Katana as they walked towards the town.

 “I beat up their brother,” Katana said, mater-of-factly. The Doctor looked across at her, shocked. To look at her you wouldn’t think her capable of beating up anyone. She wasn’t tall, only about 5’3”. However, her red hair and hard, grey eyes hinted at a more dangerous hidden layer. Katana met the Doctor’s shocked look and laughed.

 “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” she said, loudly. “He asked me to marry him but I refused. He wouldn’t take no or an answer and practically stalked me for a month. The final straw was when he broke into my house last night.” She glanced across at the Doctor who still looked slightly shocked.

 “Let’s just say that I had to throw him out rather forcefully. In revenge he got his five brothers to attack me on my way home from work.”

 “More fool them,” the Doctor muttered under his breath. At the sharp look he received from Katana he quickly changed the subject.

 “So what do you do?” he asked.

 “I work in the tech department for the Andromeda Space Port. We fix any broken technology, both human and alien,” she said this with a note of pride in her voice, as if her working there was an achievement in itself. The Doctor looked at her curiously.

 “That’s a very advanced job for someone so young. How old are you?” he asked.

 “Abrupt aren’t you,” Katana laughed, “we’ve only just met and you’re already asking for personal details. I’m 18 years old and yeah, that is young but I have a way with technology. I just, understand it. Sometimes I understand technology better than people!” She said this laughingly, but the Doctor could tell that it was true.

 “So how long have you been working there?” he asked.

 “Just coming up on two years now,” Katana replied. “Anyway, it’s my turn to ask the questions now,” Seeing the slightly panicked look on the Doctor’s face she laughed.

 “Don’t worry,” she said, “I’m not going to ask for any personal details, just tell me about your travels. I want to hear about the universe.” And so the Doctor told her about the universe all the way to the town. But in the back of his mind a few very persistent thoughts spun round and round. How did this woman know he feared personal questions? Why had she gasped when she heard his name? What was the strange force she had used to defeat her attackers? And how did she know he travelled about the universe?


04 August 2008 @ 10:14 pm
Hey guys. This is probably a fail but it made me laugh
Spoilers:no obvious ones but if you don't know about the Daleks then this may give something away. From the sontaran strategem and journey's end. Caps from time-and-space.

15 July 2008 @ 07:47 pm
I have spent the last few weeks performing the song "For Good" from the musical Wicked at various occasions. After watching the finale of season 4 I realised that the lyrics of this song perfectly define the relationship of the doctor with his companions. When they meet him they are one person, but when they leave they are another, better person. They are changed and, for the most part that change is permanent. He helps them reach their true potential, and they go on to be a better version of who they were, all because they met him, and I think that is one of the most wonderful things about Dr who.