The Middle Distance

(reblogging from Tumblr, because I tend to lose track of things there. I think this idea is gold and it's a keeper.)

Ever since writing The Passion That Slays and Recovers, I’m kind of infatuated with Irene/Mary as a pairing.

So now I want to write ridiculous heist-caper hijinks where Irene Adler and Mary Morstan are the international criminal masterminds that Sherlock and John are obsessed with catching (and always falling just a teeeeeny bit short).

It would be heavy on the sex (I/M and S/J, and who knows, maybe various other combinations of the four), the humor, and the wildly implausible casefic crack, and very light on the angst and serious violence (think of my AdMor as less like MorMor and more like a kinky lesbian Raffles & Bunny.)

I know this pairing is rare-to-nonexistent, but HEY. THAT CAN CHANGE.

Would there be interest in this out there?

(I got a pretty good response on Tumblr and in the Antidiogenes chat.)

Think of it. There might have been a moment when S & J could have caught them, but it was decided all around that they were still all having too much fun. There might also have been a moment when I & M could have got away with stopping S & J's efforts to catch them forever - but it was decided not to, by the same people, for the same reason.

There must have been a time when they secretly joined forces against someone who horrified all of them.

Irene ties people up a lot. Strangely, no one subjected to this treatment seems to mind as much as they should.

Both pairings are totally in love, married, and devoted in their respective fucked-up ways - but none of the four holds sexual exclusiveness as a high priority, so smut possibilities are nice and flexible. (They all rank exclusiveness below dish-washing, as chores go. None of them is very fond of dish-washing. John is the only one who does it regularly - and he's jealous of Mary, because her partner is rich enough thanks to the jewel heists and high-end BDSM services to pay someone else to keep dirty dishes out of her line of vision at all times. He wonders sometimes if Sherlock couldn't pocket the occasional diamond or cane the occasional minor-noble arse to help keep up, the lazy aesthete of pure reason that he is.)