Ficlet for liek_woah86
Jun. 30th, 2009 07:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elabyFinally, I've got another drabble/drawble meme request finished! This one is for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
liek_woah86 :D She asked for Holmes-and-Watson warm fluffies, involving them getting dressed up smart to go somewhere. This was such fun to write! I had Clive Merrison and Michael Williams in my head the whole time, so if you're inclined, you can imagine their voices.
I've been chomped on by the Holmes fic bug again :3 I even started working on another one today.
Characters: Holmes and Watson
Rating: G like whoa.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,035
Author's Notes: This is absolutely warm and fluffy, with nothing more serious than Holmes's occasional good-natured snarkiness.
We came into our sitting room one morning from a walk to find a finely lettered card waiting on our breakfast-table. Holmes picked it up with interest but upon reading it gave a sigh so heavy I was convinced some great tragedy had befallen. When he handed it to me, I regarded him over the top of it with some exasperation.
"I see Mr. Merridew has invited us to a dinner-party."
My friend is quite skilled at instilling a great deal of meaning into one grumbled syllable; in this one I detected contempt, dread, and a certain amount of martyred resignation.
"Shall I respond that we'll be attending?" I asked.
He threw a look at me over his shoulder as he removed his coat. "Must you?"
"I really think we ought to, Holmes. The man hired us to find out who was trying to burgle his Ming vase and we managed to destroy the unfortunate thing."
"Saving his life in the process, I'll remind you, when it turned out to be an assassin instead of a burglar. I think that recompense enough, don't you?"
"He could have taken it out of our payment. It would have been within his rights."
Holmes sighed and snatched the invitation back from me. "Oh, very well." After darkly regarding it for several moments, he said, "Good Lord, it says there'll be dancing. Can't we tell them we have a previous engagement?"
"You do realize that's code for 'I don't want to come,' I hope?"
"Nonsense. Supposing we did have a previous engagement, what ought we to say? 'My dear Mr. and Mrs. Merridew, we regret that we are unable to accept your kind invitation on account of our being at that time engaged in extracting the missing Lord Dorsey from a house of ill repute.' I'm sure that would go over much better."
"This is all beside the point, Holmes, as we have no previous engagements."
"I'm sure we could find one." He caught my expression, though, and apparently decided that further argument would be dangerous. "You can save your lecture, Watson. I suppose I have a white necktie around here somewhere."
--
On the evening of the event, I came down dressed, and upon entering our sitting room I could hear Holmes muttering curses to himself on the other side of his half-open bedroom door.
I knocked lightly and put my head around the door. "Holmes?" He was in front of the mirror, struggling with his tie. I got the impression that it was more frustrated theatrics than any actual difficulty, as I have seen him don such attire with ease in situations upon which he looked more favorably. After a moment or two of watching, I came over beside him and reached for the tie.
He slapped my hand. "I'm perfectly capable of dressing myself, Doctor."
I suppressed a smile. "Just as you like." He got the tie under control quite quickly after that, and I started unwrapping the tissue-paper bundle I had brought with me as he got into his black frock coat.
"What is that?" Holmes asked, a little suspiciously.
I took out two small bundles of fresh flowers, obtained from a young girl selling them at Marylebone, and this time he allowed me to attach one to his lapel. "A button-hole bouquet of choice flowers is nowadays very general," I informed him.
Holmes narrowed his eyes. "You've been reading Cassells Household Guide again."
"Things were awfully quiet before Merridew's case, you know. Besides, someone needs to make sure you don't inadvertently offend our clients."
"If ever I offend anyone, my dear Watson, you can trust it will be on purpose."
We took a cab to the end of the street where the Merridews resided, and seeing that their drive was crowded with carriages of all shapes and descriptions, we got out to walk the rest of the way. Other guests had apparently got the same idea; after a few yards an elegantly dressed woman on the arm of a tall man in uniform passed us. I heard her say in a conspiratorial tone:
"I do hope the trio they've engaged is better than the last time. Such tasteless exuberance; you would think the lead woman lived for nothing but music."
I could practically feel Holmes roll his eyes beside me, but we walked on. Another couple passed, two gentlemen this time, and I caught a snippet of their conversation as it floated by us.
"Miss Harding will be here, I expect?"
"Lord, I hope not. Last time she cornered me before a quadrille I was forced to fake a terrible calf cramp. Fortunately, her sister came along - you know Emma, I'm sure - and I was miraculously restored. We left the poor cow behind a potted palm."
At this point Holmes jerked to a stop, and I, my arm through his, stumbled off-balance.
"Do you think," he said, and I recognized his tone – it was the tone that meant, 'I'm asking you a rhetorical question, Watson, so watch your footing,' – "do you think it worse to insult someone by your absence or to insult them by proving to be a most ungracious guest? The latter would be, I fear, quite unavoidable."
"Avoiding it would be difficult, certainly," I said carefully, "but hardly impossible." Holmes snorted.
"What is that opera set in Cornwall that you've been so enamored of lately?"
"The Pirates of Penzance?" I asked, thrown off by his sudden subject change.
"I hear it is playing at Covent Garden tonight."
I confess that my heart gave a small excited flip at this. "Holmes, you aren't saying you're willing to see Gilbert and Sullivan with me? After all your protestation?"
"I am tonight," Holmes said, "and I suggest you take me up on it while you have the chance."
Holmes may accuse me of over-conventionality, of too-strict adherence to society's petty rules, but I am no fool. I turned him around and we threaded our way back toward the end of the street. "I don't suppose the cabbie's still there?"
liek_woah86 :D She asked for Holmes-and-Watson warm fluffies, involving them getting dressed up smart to go somewhere. This was such fun to write! I had Clive Merrison and Michael Williams in my head the whole time, so if you're inclined, you can imagine their voices.I've been chomped on by the Holmes fic bug again :3 I even started working on another one today.
Characters: Holmes and Watson
Rating: G like whoa.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,035
Author's Notes: This is absolutely warm and fluffy, with nothing more serious than Holmes's occasional good-natured snarkiness.
We came into our sitting room one morning from a walk to find a finely lettered card waiting on our breakfast-table. Holmes picked it up with interest but upon reading it gave a sigh so heavy I was convinced some great tragedy had befallen. When he handed it to me, I regarded him over the top of it with some exasperation.
"I see Mr. Merridew has invited us to a dinner-party."
My friend is quite skilled at instilling a great deal of meaning into one grumbled syllable; in this one I detected contempt, dread, and a certain amount of martyred resignation.
"Shall I respond that we'll be attending?" I asked.
He threw a look at me over his shoulder as he removed his coat. "Must you?"
"I really think we ought to, Holmes. The man hired us to find out who was trying to burgle his Ming vase and we managed to destroy the unfortunate thing."
"Saving his life in the process, I'll remind you, when it turned out to be an assassin instead of a burglar. I think that recompense enough, don't you?"
"He could have taken it out of our payment. It would have been within his rights."
Holmes sighed and snatched the invitation back from me. "Oh, very well." After darkly regarding it for several moments, he said, "Good Lord, it says there'll be dancing. Can't we tell them we have a previous engagement?"
"You do realize that's code for 'I don't want to come,' I hope?"
"Nonsense. Supposing we did have a previous engagement, what ought we to say? 'My dear Mr. and Mrs. Merridew, we regret that we are unable to accept your kind invitation on account of our being at that time engaged in extracting the missing Lord Dorsey from a house of ill repute.' I'm sure that would go over much better."
"This is all beside the point, Holmes, as we have no previous engagements."
"I'm sure we could find one." He caught my expression, though, and apparently decided that further argument would be dangerous. "You can save your lecture, Watson. I suppose I have a white necktie around here somewhere."
--
On the evening of the event, I came down dressed, and upon entering our sitting room I could hear Holmes muttering curses to himself on the other side of his half-open bedroom door.
I knocked lightly and put my head around the door. "Holmes?" He was in front of the mirror, struggling with his tie. I got the impression that it was more frustrated theatrics than any actual difficulty, as I have seen him don such attire with ease in situations upon which he looked more favorably. After a moment or two of watching, I came over beside him and reached for the tie.
He slapped my hand. "I'm perfectly capable of dressing myself, Doctor."
I suppressed a smile. "Just as you like." He got the tie under control quite quickly after that, and I started unwrapping the tissue-paper bundle I had brought with me as he got into his black frock coat.
"What is that?" Holmes asked, a little suspiciously.
I took out two small bundles of fresh flowers, obtained from a young girl selling them at Marylebone, and this time he allowed me to attach one to his lapel. "A button-hole bouquet of choice flowers is nowadays very general," I informed him.
Holmes narrowed his eyes. "You've been reading Cassells Household Guide again."
"Things were awfully quiet before Merridew's case, you know. Besides, someone needs to make sure you don't inadvertently offend our clients."
"If ever I offend anyone, my dear Watson, you can trust it will be on purpose."
We took a cab to the end of the street where the Merridews resided, and seeing that their drive was crowded with carriages of all shapes and descriptions, we got out to walk the rest of the way. Other guests had apparently got the same idea; after a few yards an elegantly dressed woman on the arm of a tall man in uniform passed us. I heard her say in a conspiratorial tone:
"I do hope the trio they've engaged is better than the last time. Such tasteless exuberance; you would think the lead woman lived for nothing but music."
I could practically feel Holmes roll his eyes beside me, but we walked on. Another couple passed, two gentlemen this time, and I caught a snippet of their conversation as it floated by us.
"Miss Harding will be here, I expect?"
"Lord, I hope not. Last time she cornered me before a quadrille I was forced to fake a terrible calf cramp. Fortunately, her sister came along - you know Emma, I'm sure - and I was miraculously restored. We left the poor cow behind a potted palm."
At this point Holmes jerked to a stop, and I, my arm through his, stumbled off-balance.
"Do you think," he said, and I recognized his tone – it was the tone that meant, 'I'm asking you a rhetorical question, Watson, so watch your footing,' – "do you think it worse to insult someone by your absence or to insult them by proving to be a most ungracious guest? The latter would be, I fear, quite unavoidable."
"Avoiding it would be difficult, certainly," I said carefully, "but hardly impossible." Holmes snorted.
"What is that opera set in Cornwall that you've been so enamored of lately?"
"The Pirates of Penzance?" I asked, thrown off by his sudden subject change.
"I hear it is playing at Covent Garden tonight."
I confess that my heart gave a small excited flip at this. "Holmes, you aren't saying you're willing to see Gilbert and Sullivan with me? After all your protestation?"
"I am tonight," Holmes said, "and I suggest you take me up on it while you have the chance."
Holmes may accuse me of over-conventionality, of too-strict adherence to society's petty rules, but I am no fool. I turned him around and we threaded our way back toward the end of the street. "I don't suppose the cabbie's still there?"
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-06-30 11:37 pm (UTC)Allow me, please, to present the scene of me in the moments after finishing this: yours truly, in an office chair, turned perpendicularly to the computer to allow for the kicking my legs wildly in the air, and, in due course, falling off said chair with a thump, giggling and squeeing all the while. There was jumping and capering even before beginning reading, as new Holmes fic from you is ALWAYS cause for jubilation, but it was as nothing to the afterwards :)
I cannot even begin to pick a favorite bit. Although
"A button-hole bouquet of choice flowers is nowadays very general," I informed him.
Holmes narrowed his eyes. "You've been reading Cassells Household Guide again."
was SHEER JOY, and the bit with Holmes' tie makes my heart do backflips, and this:
I confess that my heart gave a small excited flip at this. "Holmes, you aren't saying you're willing to see Gilbert and Sullivan with me? After all your protestation?"
"I am tonight," Holmes said, "and I suggest you take me up on it while you have the chance."
Holmes may accuse me of over-conventionality, of too-strict adherence to society's petty rules, but I am no fool.
!!!!!!!! I...just...!!!!!!!! Love, is what. Love, love, eternal undying love. It's marvelous, dear, truly.
no subject
Date: 2009-07-01 12:13 am (UTC)It makes me so, so happy that this made you so happy! I get such squeeful joy out of your fic that I'm honored to be able to return the favor :)
I knew reading Cassels Household Guide would do me good someday! XD