Asylum Waiting Room of the Big Three.
it’s funny because it looks like the sherlock fandom are sane here
Sherlock bustled about the kitchen, throwing a cupboard door open and pushing aside a box of nicotine patches to retrieve two mismatched mugs. A kettle whistled plaintively in the background, like it had been trying to draw attention to itself for a while now. Setting the mugs aside, Sherlock absently pulled the kettle off the stove, poured tea into the two mugs, and carried them into the living room.
Doctor Who was sprawled over the same chair it had collapsed into last night, when it had appeared at the door muttering inanely about lost regenerations and knackered navigations systems. It made a whining noise as Sherlock tucked the shock blanket it had thrown off in the night back around its shoulders.
Supernatural was in similar straits, curled up on the floor with a throw pillow and a tattered trench coat around its shoulders and alternating between sobbing and muttering about domesticity potential.
A thudding on the stairs indicated the ruckus had finally awoke Merlin, who poked its head into the room, hair sticking up at all angels as it tied its scarf around its neck. Blinking blearily at the mess, it seemed to realize what had occurred when it picked up a discarded bow-tie from the floor, holding it between forefinger and thumb, “Is it that time already?”
“It was bad this year,” Sherlock whispered, trying not to exacerbate the already fragile fandoms under its care.
“I remember what that was like,” Merlin muttered, running a hand through its hair and pulling a cape off the nearby coat rack, “I’ll go to the store. We’re out of milk again. May as well pick up some fish fingers, custard, and salt.”
Supernatural gurgled something quietly.
“No, I won’t forget the pie.”
I SWEAR TO GOD TUMBLR NEVER FUCKING CHANGE
A/N: Can this be more like a nice ‘Waiting’ apartment, with a fireplace- I kinda need that for something.
Merlin opens the door- only to find Harry Potter standing there with its fist raised in position to knock.
“Am I too late?” Harry Potter asks.
“Right on time, actually. I was just about to head out for groceries,” Merlin replies with a tired smile, and heads out the door past Harry Potter.
Harry Potter walks into the main living room, and pulls out its wand.
“This place needs to feel a bit more ‘home-y’,” it says as it gets a nice fire going in the fireplace.
Harry Potter turns as it hears Sherlock whispering for it to come over to the kitchen.
“You don’t happen to know how to make souffles, do you?” Sherlock whispers.
“Souf-?” Harry Potter starts with laugh, not noticing Doctor Who’s eyes snapping open from the daze it had been in for a few minutes.
Harry Potter’s unable to finish the word because Sherlock’s hand has flown up to cover its mouth in a split-second.
“I’m not sure exactly sure what Doctor Who’s entire reaction is to that word yet, but the only reason I’m asking you is because I figure that Hannibal would try to put human meat into it, somehow,” Sherlock says in a rush.
Doctor Who slowly calms back down, muttering under its breath about recipes, leaves, and time streams.