stonepicnicking_okapi

okapi's February LOVE-FEST

I am going to challenge myself with a set of 28 prompts. Fills might be anything ficlet, song, craft, poetry, quotes, etc. Please join in if you feel inclined.

prompts:

1. first love
2. friendship
3. love of nature
4. passion
5. soulmates
6. unrequited love
7. lust
8. love of the game
9. devotion
10. love of food
11. polyamory
12. long distance love
13. lovesickness
14. romantic love
15. love of place
16. marriage
17. love of order and method
18. divine love
19. platonic love
20. infatuation
21. maternal love
22. obsession
23. agape
24. love of animals
25. unconditional love
26. forbidden love
27. ecstasy
28. the beloved

Question of the Day: Who or what was your first love?

In the comments, share anything you feel comfortable sharing about your first love. It could be a person or it could be a thing or a place or anything.

I did have a boy in kindergarten give me chocolates for Valentine's Day. My first boyfriend relationship in high school was not a good experience and I spent a long time getting over it and undoing the damage.

But my first true love is probably detective fiction, and I remember reading Encyclopedia Brown and Nate the Great books and enjoying them very much.

Day 1: FIRST LOVE

Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (ACD) pre-retirement/Sussex era
Length: 200
Rating: Gen
Summary: Holmes reflecting on his violin on the journey from London to Sussex.

Sherlock Holmes had only two items with him on the train to Sussex. The rest of his belongings, expertly ensconced in crates and trunks, were making their way to the cottage by other means.
The first item was a traveling case with the essentials for a few days just in case the other means were slower than anticipated.
The second was a violin case.
His Stradivarius.
At various times during the journey, it was by his feet, behind his heels, over his head, beside him, and even in his lap.
It was faithful companion. It was panacea. It was first love. It was last resort.
It had been a friend when he had none, not even himself. It had been a passion before chemistry, a vocation before problem solving. It had been vice before tobacco, before danger, before cocaine.
It had been, before almost everything.
Holmes had decided to give up Baker Street and London for a cottage in the country and bees. He had given up detective work. Even Watson was beyond the keen.
But this, he touched it often to reassure himself as the train rumbled along, would remain.
It was music. It was joy.
It was him.