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elabyTwo drabbles from the drabble meme! More will be coming when I figure out what to write for them ^^;;
Sherlock Holmes drabble for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fiery_lioness. This takes place after The Speckled Band.
"Do you never sleep?" I asked Holmes with a stifled yawn. The clock on our mantle had just chimed two-thirty in the morning, and we had only just this evening returned home from Stoke Moran. After such a harrowing ordeal (and no sleep for either of us since the night before last), I had no idea how Holmes could still be upright - though I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. He was sitting at his desk now, surrounded by mountains of loose papers and a stack of books. He gave me that distracted half-smile that meant he acknowledged my words but wasn't truly paying attention and turned a sheaf of papers over onto the floor.
I flipped my slippers off and put my feet up onto the sofa with a sigh. As tempting as bed was, the image of a deadly snake winding itself across my pillows made the couch in our well-lit sitting room seem much more inviting. I propped a cushion behind my head and slid down onto my back. The crackle of the fire, the tick of the clock, and Holmes's periodic shuffling of papers created such a warm lull of comfortable safety that I was soon asleep.
The first thing I noticed when I awoke was that there was a wool blanket tucked up under my chin. The fire had burnt down to a dim ember glow. I found, when I tried to move, that there was a weight on the blanket by my feet. Holmes sat on the floor in his shirtsleeves, his head leaned back against the sofa, his eyes closed and smoke from his pipe wreathing him. I could tell that he wasn't asleep; he was instead in that meditative state I had learned afforded him more rest than sleep did at times.
I curled back down into the couch as my eyes drifted shut. Yes, tonight the sofa was preferable indeed to my bed.
Flynn and Kishi forcoastal_spirit. This takes place the morning after the infamous "sex on the desk" scene you like so much XD
Flynn woke up with the sun in his face, and then he remembered why he hadn't drawn the blinds last night. He had been just a little preoccupied with getting Kishi's pants off. Undressing another man had proved more complicated than Flynn thought it should... and it wasn't like he had any practice. When he turned over and found himself alone in the bed, he felt a disappointment much sharper than he thought the situation warranted.
Flynn got up and pulled on pajama pants, listening to the conspicuous quietness of the house. The shower wasn't running. The television wasn't on. There was no movement coming from the kitchen. I shouldn't be surprised, he thought. Kishi was a self-declared nomad. Flynn felt awkward enough himself about what had happened last night - what reason would Kishi have for staying? He had been about to leave anyway. It was only Flynn's desperate (pathetic) request that stopped him.
He still looked in every room. Then he put the coffee pot on and wondered what the hell he was going to do. As he went past the window, he saw a figure approaching on the sidewalk, and he stopped to look.
Kishi had half a bagel in his mouth, and he held up a brown Dunkin' Donuts bag like it was prize trout. Relief so strong and unexpected blossomed in Flynn's chest that his legs felt weak, and he waved back.
I shouldn't be surprised, he thought.
Sherlock Holmes drabble for
fiery_lioness. This takes place after The Speckled Band."Do you never sleep?" I asked Holmes with a stifled yawn. The clock on our mantle had just chimed two-thirty in the morning, and we had only just this evening returned home from Stoke Moran. After such a harrowing ordeal (and no sleep for either of us since the night before last), I had no idea how Holmes could still be upright - though I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. He was sitting at his desk now, surrounded by mountains of loose papers and a stack of books. He gave me that distracted half-smile that meant he acknowledged my words but wasn't truly paying attention and turned a sheaf of papers over onto the floor.
I flipped my slippers off and put my feet up onto the sofa with a sigh. As tempting as bed was, the image of a deadly snake winding itself across my pillows made the couch in our well-lit sitting room seem much more inviting. I propped a cushion behind my head and slid down onto my back. The crackle of the fire, the tick of the clock, and Holmes's periodic shuffling of papers created such a warm lull of comfortable safety that I was soon asleep.
The first thing I noticed when I awoke was that there was a wool blanket tucked up under my chin. The fire had burnt down to a dim ember glow. I found, when I tried to move, that there was a weight on the blanket by my feet. Holmes sat on the floor in his shirtsleeves, his head leaned back against the sofa, his eyes closed and smoke from his pipe wreathing him. I could tell that he wasn't asleep; he was instead in that meditative state I had learned afforded him more rest than sleep did at times.
I curled back down into the couch as my eyes drifted shut. Yes, tonight the sofa was preferable indeed to my bed.
Flynn and Kishi for
coastal_spirit. This takes place the morning after the infamous "sex on the desk" scene you like so much XDFlynn woke up with the sun in his face, and then he remembered why he hadn't drawn the blinds last night. He had been just a little preoccupied with getting Kishi's pants off. Undressing another man had proved more complicated than Flynn thought it should... and it wasn't like he had any practice. When he turned over and found himself alone in the bed, he felt a disappointment much sharper than he thought the situation warranted.
Flynn got up and pulled on pajama pants, listening to the conspicuous quietness of the house. The shower wasn't running. The television wasn't on. There was no movement coming from the kitchen. I shouldn't be surprised, he thought. Kishi was a self-declared nomad. Flynn felt awkward enough himself about what had happened last night - what reason would Kishi have for staying? He had been about to leave anyway. It was only Flynn's desperate (pathetic) request that stopped him.
He still looked in every room. Then he put the coffee pot on and wondered what the hell he was going to do. As he went past the window, he saw a figure approaching on the sidewalk, and he stopped to look.
Kishi had half a bagel in his mouth, and he held up a brown Dunkin' Donuts bag like it was prize trout. Relief so strong and unexpected blossomed in Flynn's chest that his legs felt weak, and he waved back.
I shouldn't be surprised, he thought.
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no subject
Date: 2008-10-18 11:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-19 12:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-19 04:26 pm (UTC)I liked the Sherlock Holmes one, too. :)
Thank you. :)
*adds to memories*
no subject
Date: 2008-10-19 10:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-19 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-19 04:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-19 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-21 12:16 am (UTC)*falls over dead from slightly fluff!Holmes*
*wuvs moar*
(eta: Did I mention that The Speckled Band is one of my favorite Holmes efforts? *SQUEE*)
no subject
Date: 2008-10-21 01:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-21 01:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-23 04:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-23 09:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 11:07 pm (UTC)He gave me that distracted half-smile that meant he acknowledged my words but wasn't truly paying attention
Yes! Totally Holmes. I know exactly which Brett-face you mean.
Holmes sat on the floor in his shirtsleeves, his head leaned back against the sofa, his eyes closed and smoke from his pipe wreathing him
And again, so picturable (which apparently isn't a word, but should be), and so sweet and awww-inspiring!
You also win the "Watson has nightmares about dangerous beasties and sitting-room wonderfullness results" prize for the second time running. I do so love Baker Street, 3:25 AM...
no subject
Date: 2009-06-10 12:28 am (UTC)I know exactly which Brett-face you mean.
YES! It was a Brett-face, and I was trying to describe it, and it delights me to no end that you knew which one I meant!
You also win the "Watson has nightmares about dangerous beasties and sitting-room wonderfullness results" prize for the second time running.
*does a dance of glee* And I was so worried when I wrote both of them because people always said that nightmares are a fandom cliche. I don't care if they are XD I'm such a sucker for comfort!