Log in

No account? Create an account
14 January 2012 @ 05:57 pm
[fic: white collar] See This Through  
Only a couple of days to go until new White Collar! I've just had to buy a new notebook to write more fic in since I've now filled my last one. Those two statements are really quite related. (I should really get around to typing up some more. And finishing some of the ones which actually have plots, but which I invariably abandon after about 4000 words in favour of shiny new plot bunnies...)

Title: See This Through
Characters/Pairing: Neal, Diana, Peter; Gen
Genre/Rating: Hurt/comfort; T
Word count: 3400
Warnings: None
Notes: Written for this prompt from sholio on collarcorner: Things go bad for Neal on an undercover job. Peter's on desk duty for some reason so isn't handling him, and can only help over the radio.

Summary: Any distance can be almost too far to cross when you're bleeding out and only have the voices in your ear to help you.

- o -

The bullet wasn't even meant for him. It's almost amusing.

Or perhaps he's only thinking that because of shock. Neal puts a hand to his side, is almost surprised to see the blood. It's as if the shot severed his attachment to his body — he can still move but he feels completely numb, his thoughts stripped away. Like he's controlling a puppet from a distance, and is the puppet at the same time. Funny.

What isn't at all funny is that what was a perfectly orchestrated infiltration of Graften's little counterfeiting ring has unexpectedly turned into a takeover by a rival, and Graften is bleeding out all over one of the piles of paper stock. Bleeding from the second bullet, that is. The one which didn't find the wrong target.

Graften's men are reaching for their own weapons. Neal, more out of reflex than anything, does what is probably the most sensible thing under the circumstances, and makes a run for it.

"Hey! Stop!"

Not a chance, he thinks, and then he stops thinking at all, just concentrates on getting away. He's aware that he's not going to be feeling this numb for much longer and takes advantage of it, surfs on the tide of adrenaline, lets the high of it pulse through him (and out of him). The old factory is a complete warren but he knows the layout — Diana forced him to memorise every meticulous detail on the blueprints before she was willing to send him inside.

He'd whined about it, even.

There is a guard on the stairs, probably there to mop up any of Graften's gang trying to escape that way, and Neal ducks into a side passage before he's noticed. Shit. But there are other ways out. And he really does need to get out, because there's no way he can keep up this or any pace for much longer.

He doubles back, uses a handy clump of pipes to climb the wall, and pulls himself into the vent.

Neal makes it maybe five or six metres along the crawl-space before the defences which shock had thrown up in his mind are overwhelmed. A flood of pain smashes though the numbness and he gasps, bites into his lip to stop himself from making any louder noise, can barely breathe. His left side is on fire and for long — seconds? minutes? he lies with his face pressed against the cold metal and gives in to it.

Breathe. Breathe.

Gradually he gathers himself back together. Eventually he remembers what should have been his first action in this sort of situation.

It's still not instinctual to remember that other people have his back.

He fumbles the earpiece out of the empty gum packet it's hidden in, flicks it on, and jams it into his ear. "Hi," he says. Speaking is harder than he'd expected. "Change of plan."

"Neal!" Diana's voice is tense. It throws him for a second, and then he wonders how he'd managed to forget that she's running point on this. "Thank god, we've been waiting for you to make contact. What just happened?"

"New management," Neal says. He's surprised by how strong his lightheaded sense of relief is, to hear he's not alone. He speaks quietly, not sure what his odds are at being overheard. And it's easier to do so. "With bullets. They were quite persuasive."

"You didn't send a distress signal."

Ah. Caught in the moment, he'd completely forgotten he even had the means to do so. "I'm going to blame that on shock, too," he mutters.

"What — Neal, where are you?" Her tone's changed.

"In a crawl space on the basement level. Somewhere near the centre." Neal's thoughts are clumsy, and he thinks his voice probably sounds so too. He shifts slightly and a hiss is torn from him.

"Neal." Diana actually sounds worried now, which is worrying in itself. "Are you hurt?"

He's surprised by the question, and then he realises that no, actually, he hadn't mentioned it. It just seems so all-encompassing and self-evident that it didn't occur to him. Still, he hesitates before saying, "Yeah. Left side, just below my ribs."

"Shit," Diana says forcefully. Then, muttered, "Peter's going to kill me."

Neal chuckles, and is surprised by how much it hurts to do so.

There's dead air for some seconds, and then she comes back on. "Okay. Neal. Jones is getting backup, but with that many people and guns in play it isn't going to be quick. Is there any way you can get yourself out of the building?"

"You did make me learn all those blueprints," Neal says. He tries to keep his voice light. He's been in worse situations. Once or twice. Allegedly.

"I knew they'd come in handy," Diana says, and he appreciates that she matches his tone.

He takes a few deep breaths (or as deep as he currently can), and then he starts to crawl. It's worse than he'd expected. Within seconds it feels like his whole body is screaming in agony. This is bad. This is really bad.

Neal closes his eyes and pictures the route he needs to take, forcing his breathing to be steady and slow. Or what counts as steady and slow under the circumstances. He can feel himself shaking, and wonders how much blood he's lost already. There isn't enough room to patch himself up, even if he had anything to do it with. Or light to see by. In the darkness he finds a fork and takes the left passage, having to bend to fit around the corner.

"Neal! Neal, it's okay. You're going to be okay." Diana's voice cuts through to him, and he realises that he's moaning softly. He forces himself to stop, biting down on his lip.

"Sorry," he pants.

"Don't apologise. You're doing fine."

It doesn't feel like it, but he manages to keep moving, eyes straining in the dark. Smooth, cold metal beneath his hands. Every time he pushes himself forwards with his knees the muscles in his torso catch in a knot of pain. He had been cold but now he's over-warm from the exertion, and he can feel sweat dampening his hairline.

"Need to rest," he gasps. He's exhausted, shaking.

"You really should keep going," Diana says. "Please. Just a bit further."

"Can't," he says, and leans his head against the wall. He remains on his hands and knees —

— but then he finds that he's sprawled out against the floor of the crawl space, his arm cramping where he's been lying on it.

"Neal. Neal, come on. Answer me."

It's the wrong voice. Or the right voice. "Peter?" he asks muzzily.

"Hey, buddy." There's a deep exhale. "Good to hear you."

"Where's Diana?" Neal asks, confused. Then hopes Peter won't think he's complaining and stop talking to him.

"I'm here," Diana says. "Peter got me to patch him in. It's like he doesn't trust me to keep you from getting yourself killed."

"Maybe I'm just missing the excitement of having Caffrey around," Peter says. Neal can picture him at his desk, leaning forward the way he does on a call, keeping his expression studiously casual to go with the voice.

She laughs slightly. "Excitement. That's one word for it."

"Well," says Peter. "What would you call it?"

"Irritation?" Diana suggests. "I mean. Right now he's got himself stuck in a stupid situation and while we're stuck in the van waiting for him to get his ass out here he just lies around like he thinks he's on vacation or something."

"Hey," protests Neal weakly, but Peter's humming along in agreement.

"Oh yeah. He does that. See, he's listening in right now but he's not even trying to prove you wrong."

This is completely, ridiculously unfair. Neal knows they're baiting him, trying to con him, even, but he's pretty sure they can keep the mockery up indefinitely. So he pulls himself up, because even though he knows they're playing him with their stupid insults he's not about to let them win.

He has to pause because his head immediately starts spinning wildly and his stomach wants him to throw up, which right now would be unthinkably unpleasant. It takes several seconds and a fair amount of swallowing before he can be sure that the urge has passed, although the spinning sensation remains. Possibly it's a good thing he's restricted to a straight line for now.

"Neal?" Peter asks, anxiously.

"I'm good," Neal says, and starts crawling again.

"Where's his backup?" Peter demands.

Diana exhales loudly. She's probably answered this same question several times already. "Boss, they're en-route. He's going to be fine. Aren't you, Neal?"

"Sure," Neal says vaguely. The vent suddenly inclines steeply under his hands and he groans with relief. "Found the way to the ground floor."

"That's great," Diana says, sounding like she's encouraging a small child. Or a puppy. "You're doing great."

"I'm coming over there," Peter announces.

"No," Neal insists, at exactly the same moment as Diana.

"You're not cleared for fieldwork yet," Diana points out. "Cracked ribs, remember?"

"I'm fine," Peter says. "I'm going to get my clearance back in a few days anyway."

"Boss, you know that really isn't the point."

"Exactly. Boss. I could have you fired. And Caffrey sent back to prison."

"I can tell your wife," Diana counters, which is a pretty effective threat as these things go. "And you aren't going to fire me."

"Peter, I'm fine," Neal says, and then slips backwards slightly and has to catch himself with a jolt. This time he can't stop himself from crying out as pain flares through him, white-hot and utterly overwhelming.

"Neal?" Peter says, quietly.

He can't answer. He's busy concentrating on not passing out. Breathe. Breathe.

"Take the side roads," Diana says. "There's a lot of traffic right now."

Neal makes a hideous effort and gets to the top of the slope at last. He's severely tempted to go ahead and pass out anyway. While he's considering it he at last becomes aware that Diana has been calling his name, over and over.

"I'm here," he manages.

"You know, you're a very boring conversationalist today," she says.


"I should hope so. And right now you're all I've got, because Jones is too busy arguing with people on the phone. And I guess Peter's busy sneaking out of the office without Hughes noticing." She pauses. "Say, Caffrey, how about you surprise him and get out of that factory before he can get here?"

"I heard that," Peter interrupts. There's traffic noise in the background now.

"Worth a try," Diana says, and Neal chuckles quietly.

Somehow he keeps going. All his muscles are trembling now. The dizziness is getting more intense, and even in the narrow confines of the crawl space he's having a problem maintaining a straight course. His shoulders bump off one wall, and then the other.

"You've got EMS standing by, haven't you?"

"Who, me?" Neal asks hazily.

Peter snorts. "Of course not you! Dammit, Neal."

"There's an ambulance waiting," Diana says. "They know the situation."

"Better than Caffrey, it seems."

"Hey," Neal protests, but he's feeling way too lightheaded and strange to do so with any force. He keeps thinking he sees lights blinking in the corner of his eyes, but turning his head to look is only making him feel worse. "Need to stop," he says. "Just for a minute."

"Neal, no." Diana's voice is anxious. "You can't. You're almost out."

He moans. He's in such a lot of pain and he feels so sick and it's so unfair. "Please."

"No." Peter's voice is firm. "You have to keep going. You aren't allowed to stop."

"Please," Neal begs, and feels wretched for doing so.

"No. Listen to me, Neal. You can sleep for a week once you get out of there. I'll even bring you breakfast in bed. But you have to get out."

"Not fair."

"I know, and I'm sorry. But there it is."

And Neal crawls, because despite his protests he knows that if he stops he'll never be able to get moving again, and then he'll be stuck in the dark and the small space forever with no one able to find him. One hand in front of the other, and then pulling his knees forward, which tugs against the bullet wound and Oh god that hurts. He's long forgotten about trying to be silent. His breathing is laboured and he's still thumping against the walls. Remarkably, he's still got the map in his head and he's still following the route which should bring him out at the ventilation grille nearest the van. It's all he has, in the dark. An image of white paper and clean lines.

Diana and Peter keep up a litany of encouraging comments. It's difficult to focus on them, and impossible to make out individual words over the sound of blood pounding in his ears and the soft noises torn out of his throat, but the effect is reassuring.

He begins to think he can make out the outline of his hands in front of him.

It takes him several seconds to realise that, actually, he can, and several more to realise what that means. Then he squeezes around the last corner and there's the grating to the outside world he's been waiting for — except that it isn't, because the grating has already been removed, which he somehow wasn't expecting. "Guys?" he asks, and suddenly their faces are staring in at him.

Peter blanches as Neal struggles into the light, eyes scrunched up against it. "Jesus," he says forcefully. "You don't do things by halves, do you?"

Neal's too exhausted to ask him what he means.

Diana, more composed, beckons to the two paramedics who are hanging back with a gurney. "We want to get you out and away from this building as quickly as possible," she says. "You okay with that?"

"Sure," Neal croaks, surprised at how weak his voice is.

Diana leans in as far as she can reach to take his arms and Neal allows himself to go limp, slithering along and out and on to the waiting gurney. He has time to register just how much blood is soaked across his shirt and tan pants and then he's pressed down against the board and they're moving him quickly to where the ambulance is parked next to the municipal van, slightly down the road. The motion is the last straw for his building nausea, and as soon as they stop he leans out over the sidewalk and retches for what feels like forever.

Peter rubs the back of his neck. "You're okay now," he says, his voice low. "You're okay." He moves his hand to Neal's shoulder as one of the medics helps him lie back down, and keeps it there. It's good.

Diana pats his arm on the other side as he closes his eyes. Remaining conscious is just too much of a struggle now, and Neal feels himself slipping away. But he knows they won't hold it against him.

- o -

Neal keeps being surprised that there's still daylight coming in through the window. It feels like years have passed since the morning, but the same sunlight is still sparkling away cheerfully.

Whatever mixture of IV drugs they have him on is pretty good. It makes everything soft-looking, and all fuzzy around the edges, and makes the general experience of being stuck in a hospital bed and connected up to a load of monitors not anywhere as bad as it could have been. After all, it's not a crawl space.

"Does he always get this loopy?" Diana asks, perched on the windowsill.

Peter shrugs, and rolls his eyes as he leans back in his chair. "In my experience, yes."

Neal beams back at him.

"It's not something to be proud of," Peter says, sounding exasperated but smiling fondly at the same time. Neal's way too doped up for nuance so he just goes along with the smile, especially since Diana's unsuccessfully trying to hide one too. It's nice, that they're both there with him, and both smiling.

"We're all happy," he announces.

Diana splutters with laughter and Peter raises his eyebrows high enough that they're in danger of flying away. "Well, you certainly are."

"Aw, don't be too mean," Diana says. "He's just had several pints of other peoples' blood put into him."

"He's probably got their credit card numbers already, too," Peter mutters. Then, quickly, "Neal, whatever you're about to say in response, don't."

Neal shuts his mouth obediently. For a couple of seconds. "What did Hughes say?" he asks instead.

Peter looks rueful. "A few things. He read me the definition of 'desk duty'. Didn't even seem to care that I didn't actually do anything in the field."

"He's not in trouble," Diana assures, somehow following the rather mushed-up path of Neal's thoughts. "So I'll be able to hand back responsibility for you in no time. Thank goodness." She winks at him.

"You did great," Peter says to her.

Her eyes track over Neal in his hospital bed and then back to Peter. "I'm not sure that's wholly deserved, Boss."

Peter sighs heavily. "Neal," he says. "Tell Agent Barrigan how you're completely reckless and would manage to find trouble if you were locked inside a padded room."

"Who locked me in?" Neal wants to know, and Peter looks up at the ceiling as if he's hoping to find strength falling down on him from between the paint cracks.

"Me, if my wish is granted," he says fervently. "Neal, Diana's feeling guilty that you got shot and lost all that lovely blood of yours. Back me up here."

"But she couldn't have done anything," Neal says, honestly surprised. "The guy wasn't even meaning to shoot me. Anyway, if she hadn't forced me to learn all the blueprints I probably wouldn't have found my way out. I'd just have bled to death in the vents or something."

He's impressed with himself for managing such a long speech, but it's an unpleasant thought. He wonders how long it would have taken for his body to be found.

"Hey," Peter says firmly, pressing his hand down on Neal's shoulder like he can read his thoughts. Or possibly his facial expressions. "Stop that. Everything's fine. Better than fine, actually, since we've got all of Graften's men up on counterfeiting charges and the other lot on armed assault. The op went pretty smoothly if we disregard you getting friendly with a bullet. And you wasting however much money you spent on that suit."

Neal huffs indignantly, instantly forgetting his previous train of thought. "Diana's much nicer than you. She doesn't make cracks about my clothes."

"You hear that?" Peter says, raising a slightly incredulous eyebrow as Diana dissolves into laughter. "That's a bona-fide Caffrey recommendation right there."

Diana leans dangerously far forward and ruffles Neal's hair. "Thanks, Caffrey. It's been fun. Well, as Peter says, disregarding the you-getting-shot part."

Neal basks in their attention.. His relaxed smile widens into a yawn.

"I think we should let you get some rest," Peter says. "I'll be back in the morning to check on you, okay?"

"Okay," Neal says, and yawns again. He perks up suddenly. "Hey, Peter. You missed me enough to disobey Hughes."

There's a slight pause, during which the two agents look at each other.

"Is he making any sense to you?" Peter asks.

"Nope," Diana says, straight-faced. "Not a bit."

"Liar," Neal accuses, trying to stop his eyelids drooping.

"Be quiet, you," Peter says, and pats his knee. "We're leaving now."

But they stay until he falls asleep.

Posted at http://frith-in-thorns.dreamwidth.org/39961.html with comment count unavailable comments.
donutsweeperdonutsweeper on January 14th, 2012 06:35 pm (UTC)
Oh POOR Neal! Wonderful, wonderful way of showing Diana and Peter's worry/desperation and keeping it totally IC! Loved it!
Frith: White Collar - Neal - smile shirtfrith_in_thorns on January 14th, 2012 07:22 pm (UTC)
Thank you very much! I'm really glad that the style worked and Diana and Peter came across okay - I was concerned about that. I'm glad you enjoyed reading :)
shakespeares-katektrn_lucas88 on January 14th, 2012 07:21 pm (UTC)
I so adore this fic. There is so much love between those characters and it really shows. Love, love, love it so much.
Frith: White Collar - Neal - smile hatfrith_in_thorns on January 14th, 2012 07:29 pm (UTC)
Aww, thank you :D I adore the show *because* the characters really clearly love each other, I'm glad you liked how I wrote it here :)
Sholio: WhiteCollar-Peter Neal soft filtersholio on January 14th, 2012 08:03 pm (UTC)
Awwwww~! Thank you for taking my prompt! :) I am hugely fond of the "concerned people on the radio" trope (hence, well, the prompt XD) and you do a great job with it here; Neal's detachment and confusion, and everyone else's growing worry, is portrayed very well. Diana is a good Neal-handler! And I love how Peter can't stay behind when Neal is in trouble. :) Great character voices, and a very fun story. Thank you for writing it!
Frith: White Collar - Neal - smile shirtfrith_in_thorns on January 14th, 2012 09:35 pm (UTC)
It was an excellent prompt to write for :D And it's such a good trope. I'm really happy you enjoyed this, and that the characters came across well! Diana and Neal and Peter all together has rapidly become one of my favourite things to write.

Thank you very much! :D
kriadydragon: Dolphinkriadydragon on January 14th, 2012 09:04 pm (UTC)
That was wonderful! I loved Peter and Diana bantering with Neal in order to get him out, and all the concern Peter won't confess to ;) And Diana and Neal friendship moments are always the best :D
Frith: White Collar - Neal - paperfrith_in_thorns on January 14th, 2012 09:45 pm (UTC)
Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed this :) The three of them are just so lovely to write together :)
dragonfly.dreamwidth.org on January 14th, 2012 09:05 pm (UTC)
I loved this so much!
Frith: White Collar - Diana - happyfrith_in_thorns on January 14th, 2012 09:45 pm (UTC)
Thank you very much! I'm glad :)
oh these heroes come and go;micheleeeex on January 15th, 2012 02:06 am (UTC)
I love love love this!!
Frith: White Collar - Neal - smile hatfrith_in_thorns on January 15th, 2012 11:42 am (UTC)
Thank you! :D
shadowfireflame: White Collarshadowfireflame on January 15th, 2012 04:07 am (UTC)
Oh, I loved this! The perfect reading, and everybody was so nicely in character!

"I can tell your wife," Diana counters, which is a pretty effective threat as these things go.

Yup, that it is. :D

My favorite part was when Neal wants to quit and Peter basically tells him he can't; he has to keep going. It was a great relationship moment. Thank you for sharing this with us Neal h/c junkies...
Frith: White Collar - Neal+Peter - shirtsfrith_in_thorns on January 15th, 2012 11:51 am (UTC)
I love that this fandom is full of Neal h/c junkies, it gives me an excuse to write things like this :D Thank you for commenting, I'm really glad that you enjoyed reading! ♥
govgalgovgal on January 15th, 2012 07:01 am (UTC)
these characters just have the best chemistry of any show I watch. the banter is just great. my favorite line was "So he pulls himself up, because even though he knows they're playing him with their stupid insults he's not about to let them win.". I can just see the grimace and determined look on Neal's face when he thinks that!
Frith: White Collar - Neal - paperfrith_in_thorns on January 15th, 2012 11:52 am (UTC)
Re: funny
Thank you very much! I agree about the cast having a wonderful chemistry, it's what makes them so much fun to write! :)
pipiljpipilj on January 15th, 2012 07:31 am (UTC)
Loved this, the characters and their dialogues are fantastically etched. The banter was perfect.
Frith: White Collar - Neal - smile hatfrith_in_thorns on January 15th, 2012 11:54 am (UTC)
Thank you! I adore writing these characters :)
noiproksanoiproksa on January 15th, 2012 08:36 am (UTC)
This is such a wonderful story, thank you for the great read! Should be working right now, but this was the best kind of distraction! :) You write Neal!Whump so well, they are all so much in character. Poor Neal, just wanting to rest for a moment but he can't, Peter won't let him - I especially liked that scene with Neal begging and Peter remaining relentless because Neal has to get out of there first: "No. Listen to me, Neal. You can sleep for a week once you get out of there. I'll even bring you breakfast in bed. But you have to get out."
Frith: White Collar - Neal - paperfrith_in_thorns on January 15th, 2012 12:07 pm (UTC)
Thank you very much for your comment! ♥ Actually, that scene was the first one that came to me and I built the rest of the story around it - I'm really glad that you enjoyed reading :)
saphirablue on January 15th, 2012 10:00 am (UTC)
asdfjklö! Holy cow! This is fantastic!

I love that Diana and Peter are Neal's lifeline on the radio! I love how they tease and banter and con and blackmail him in going on. I love the Peter and Neal and Peter and Diana friendship! ♥ I love the Peter and Diana mentor/student bits. In short: I love this fic!

Thank you very much for this fic! :)
Frith: White Collar - Neal - smile shirtfrith_in_thorns on January 15th, 2012 12:10 pm (UTC)
Eeee, thank you so much! And for your lovely rec, too! :D I've found that I just love writing these three characters together, they're so much fun. And I really love writing the "can only help over a phone/radio" trope, too. I'm very happy that you enjoyed this, thanks again!
WPAdmirerwpadmirer on January 15th, 2012 02:45 pm (UTC)
Nice. I like this!
Frith: White Collar - Neal - smile hatfrith_in_thorns on January 15th, 2012 02:57 pm (UTC)
Thank you! :D
RabidChild's Ficrabidchild on January 15th, 2012 03:41 pm (UTC)
Oh, so lovely. And loopy!Neal is adorable - I need more of that somehow now.
Frith: White Collar - Neal+Peter - wake upfrith_in_thorns on January 15th, 2012 04:59 pm (UTC)
Thank you! :D I totally wasn't intending to write so much loopy Neal, but it was so much fun to write that suddenly it turned into loads XD
love_82 on January 15th, 2012 08:10 pm (UTC)
This story is just wonderful! I love Peter and Diana working together with Neal to get him out. And them bantering with him to keep him going.

I agree with your comment above how the characteres love eachother. That is one of things I love about the show too. That in the end you can tell they all care about eachother and would do anything to help eachother. That came across so well in this story.
Frith: White Collar - Neal+Peter - walk wallsfrith_in_thorns on January 16th, 2012 07:15 pm (UTC)
Thank you very much! :D And yeah, they really are such great characters - it just makes every episode so much fun to watch. And fun to write about! :)
imbecamiel: WC Neal Peterimbecamiel on January 16th, 2012 02:14 am (UTC)
*flails in incoherent delight* Okay, this here? Is awesome. And just officially made it to a prime spot on my mental list of top-favorite-WC-stories-ever. And I have read a ridiculous number of stories since I first got into the fandom last year.

I adore stories where one character is trapped/in trouble and the others have to help long-distance via phone/radio - and this is just a wonderful example of the best that kind of story can be. I loved your portrayal of every one of the characters, and oh, poor Neal... Just - um. Yeah. I'm kind of at a loss for words to express how much I enjoyed this. XD I am definitely going to be re-reading it so many times.

And that ending... such a perfect transition from angst!drama!HC! to humor. Loved it from start to finish. *happy sigh*

Also. I just noticed yesterday that you have written Sherlock fic as well as White Collar. Seeing as BBC Sherlock is the most recent addition to my fandom obsessions, this discovery makes me ridiculously happy. ;D
Frith: White Collar - Neal - smile hatfrith_in_thorns on January 16th, 2012 07:37 pm (UTC)
*bounces* Oh wow, thank you so much!! You've made my day with this review, seriously ♥

The help-over-radio thing is one of my favourite tropes, and it's totally made for this fandom! Also the characters are just the best characters to write, and great fun. I'm really happy that you enjoyed it! :D

And hee, Sherlock is also a good fandom :) I'll probably write more stuff for it at some point, but I tend to only really write in one fandom at a time, and White Collar has completely and utterly eaten my brain *gg*