Daydreamer Believer

PROMPTS

Tower

Fair

Hot

Family

Hide

Jewel

Dinner

Rest

Water

Lent

Change

Under

Fluffy

Wish

Church

Order

Animal

Time

Secret

Food

Peace

Blue

Fiction

Chicken

Knee

Swarm

Tired

Cross

Swallow

Spice

ALT PROMPTS

Photo

Window

Help

Other

Together

Air

Real

Practice

Car

Goodbye

HOW TO JOIN

Create a fanwork for any prompts that catch your attention — one (or more) for each prompt. Alt prompts can be used if you don’t like / don’t have inspo for one of the main prompts

Post each work on the relevant day in September (1st for ‘tower’, 2nd for ‘fair’, etc)

On Tumblr, tag your works with #septembleford and #septembleford2025

On AO3, add your work to the collection by typing septembleford2025 into the ‘post to collections’ bar on the work creation page

RULES

All works need to be related to BBC Father Brown

Any type of fanwork is allowed (fic, art, gifs, or anything else)

AI generated content is NOT allowed

You can do as many or as few prompts as you want — no pressure to complete every single day

He had been missing for almost three weeks. He had been bound with his wrists behind his back and lashed to his ankles, naked since the first day. The pain of constant immobilization had passed some days ago, fading into and aching numbness. Even if he had managed to slip from his bindings, he didn’t think he would be able to get up even enough to crawl. They hadn’t fed him since he had been locked in the cellar. He got a glass of water occasionally. He had been allowed six glasses since he had been there. They came in randomly and would throw buckets of cold water on him, possibly to clean him but more likely to keep him uncomfortable.

Sullivan felt himself fading, there was no light, no breeze, no warmth in this hellhole. They hadn’t even spoken to him. Only his own voice to keep him company and he had lost the strength for even that days ago.

He didn’t think anyone was coming for him at this point. It had been too long, they’d have assumed or been told that he was dead. Someone would have packed up his little cottage and his office, making room for whoever would take over next. He didn’t care. He tried not to care, at least. It hurt less.

He had spent the first few days struggling, trying to get out of his bonds, trying to get a response from his captors, trying to be brave. Over time, with no food, very little water and the brutal kicks the men holding him delivered his struggles lessened. Now he could barely open his eyes. Could barely turn his head. He had lost the hope that someone would come for him.

He spent the first few days dreaming of Goodfellow and the rest of the force finding him, freeing him and helping him get justice. Then the dreams changed into Father Brown sneaking in and releasing him, helping him up the stairs and to a car driven by Sid Carter, a basket of food packed by Mrs. McCarthy. Finally, the dreams changed to Chief Dawson. They had become friends of a sort after he had spent his recuperation with the man. They had few things in common but got along well enough. Sullivan even thought the other man may have been flirting with him. With him! He didn’t mind that one bit. But now he was stuck in this dark cellar and no one was coming.

——————————————————————

They had never stopped looking. It had been a frantic search from the first day Sullivan had been kidnapped. He hadn’t shown up at the office in the morning, and Goodfellow had run by his cottage after the inspector was two hours late. He had found the back door kitchen in and blood on the kitchen floor. The pan that had been warming dinner was tossed against the wall, its contents splattering the wallpaper. The kitchen was the only area that showed signs of disturbance. Sullivan must have been unconscious by the time they took him.

Goodfellow had rung the station and began the search for their lost inspector. Unfortunately, the trail began and stopped in the kitchen. The ground had been hard and dry for days and there were no tire tracks to be seen. No one remembers seeing or hearing anything from their quietest neighbor. There had been no recent arrests of threats made that could justify a kidnapping. The police were at a loss.

Father Brown didn’t have much better luck than the police. Between him, Mrs.McCarthy, Lady Felicia, and Sid they had ears and eyes for every aspect of the village of Kembleford. Usually one of them would have heard or been told something amiss but it was as if the Inspector had vanished.

By the end of the week with no word from the Inspector and no call from the kidnapper everyone involved was frantic. By week two they feared the worst. They were no longer looking for a living person. By week three the idea of finding a body was what drove them, then they would at least have the comfort of knowing what happened.

Inspector Valentine had returned to head up the search. He had come in with righteous fury and determination to find his coworker that had lasted longer than anyone’s drive. He believed they could still find him alive. They just needed a single bread crumb.

Finally, they got one. Thank God for nosey old women in this village, Valentine thought. A woman had called in a mysterious light coming from an abandoned farm house across the field from her. She told them there hadn’t been anyone living there for the last thirty years but about a month ago a light had started to appear at infrequent intervals. She assumed it was a few local children playing. Then last week she noted the light had been on every night it seemed. She worried someone was living there, and would they mind checking it out and making sure it wasn’t someone dangerous. She worried, you see, since she lived alone after her dear Ed passed five years ago.

It wasn’t much of a bread crumb, but Valentine would take anything at this point. He brought Goodfellow and a couple PC’s with him. Chief Dawson was there with a few men in case they needed help with any doors. That was what he claimed at least. And lastly there was the good Father and his group of trouble. They never offered a reason but at this point Valentine didn’t bother to ask.

He and his men breached the door first. There were two cots set up against the wall and a small cook stove. A few boxes of rations sat in the corner and several containers of water sat beside it. They swept the room quickly, looking for any signs of life. When no one appeared they followed the hallway to a set of stairs, a cellar most likely. Signaling for the men to be silent Valentine crept down stone stairs and peaked his head around the corner.

Two men were standing over an emaciated body that was hog tied on the floor.

“Step away from the body.” Valentine barked. Both men jumped back in surprise. “On your knees put your hands up.” He growled, his gun trained on the one closest to the body. Both men complied as the rest of the police filled the cellar. Goodfellow rushed to the body.

“He’s alive! I need a blanket!” The large man shouted as he pulled a knife from his pocket and cut the bindings.

“Sir can you hear me?! Inspector!” He tapped the battered face gently, worry skyrocketing when he gained no response.

Two PC’s had the kidnappers handcuffed and were leading them towards the stairs when Chief Dawson and Father Brown raced down them. The Chief had a blanket and a medical kit in hand.

Goodfellow was attempting to straighten out Sullivan limbs when he suddenly came too with a weak cry. Everyone stopped dead at the sound. Sullivan was trying to get away from Goodfellow’s well meaning touch, his newly freed limbs curling up in an attempt to protect himself. Dawson dove beside him covering him with a blanket and starting to assess the wounds at his head.

“Hey Tom, you’re safe now. We’ve got you. I’ve got you.” He soothed, feeling for lumps and misalignments along the other man’s skull. Father brown started beside him at hearing the inspectors first name for the first time since meeting him. He shot Goodfellow a look and nodded his head at the PC’s watching the scene.

Goodfellow was reluctant to leave his Inspectors side now that they had found him but knew that he needed to protect both the chief and the inspector from prying eyes. He ushered the men out of the cellar, leaving Valentine, Dawson and Father Brown to work over Sullivan.

“How is he?” Questioned Valentine. Dawson shook his head.

“Not well. He’s covered in contusions from head to toe, several broken ribs. His shoulders are both dislocated…and he’s..they…They’ve starved him” he finished with a whisper, his hand touching the concave arch of Sullivan’s stomach. He had always been a thin man but this…this was horrifying.

Father Brown was muttering a prayer at the head of the injured man, allowing him to rest his head at the Fathers knees.

“We need to get him to hospital.” Dawson determined. He tucked the blanket around the trembling figure and lifted with ease that was frightening. Father Brown stood and retucked the blanket to allow the Inspector as much modesty as it allowed. With infinite care Dawson ascended the narrow stairs and walked out into the sunlight.

The light cause Sullivan to hunch away, his head tucking into Dawson neck. Silence fell over the crowd as he made his way to Goodfellows car. The large man opened the rear door and helped him slide in while protecting the inspector from horror filled eyes. Dawson held the man close, sharing body heat and support. Goodfellow jumped in the drivers seat as soon as he shut the rear door and took off down the lane.

“Thank you.” Came from the front seat. “He may not see it yet, but I do. Thank you for caring for him.” A wet chuckle came from the back seat.

“You don’t need to thank me for that. We’re friends. It’s what friends do.”

“He’s going to need a lot of help.” Dawson nodded. This wasn’t going to be a quick recovery, but he would make sure it was a complete one.

“He can stay with me.” A small whimper caught both men off guard.

“Tom? It’s just me and Goodfellow. You’re safe.” Sullivan pushed his weak body closer to Dawson.

“-Win?” His voice was barely a whisper.

“Yeah mate, I’ve got you. We’re going to the hospital. Dr. Aoki will be glad we found you.” Sullivan groaned.