quigonejinn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
quigonejinn) wrote2010-01-07 10:36 am
quigonejinn) wrote2010-01-07 10:36 am
(no subject)
After so many months of writing Iron Man and Tony Stark, trying anything that isn't set in late-aughts America is really, really really hard. I mean, insanely hard. Ridiculously, insanely, brain-bending hard. What, you mean the main detail research isn't figuring out what supermarket chain Holmes's chauffeur uses for those 3 a.m. trips to stock up on aspirin and WD-40 and supermodels for the boss?
1.
Pity the tutor who walks into a nursery room in West Sussex and finds himself facing a twelve year old Mycroft, bored and home between Michaelmas and Hilary terms, and a five year old Sherlock, eager for his first day of school.
2.
The bull-pup began as Watson's, and then, as many things do, became joint property. True to form, too, the dog did not begin by liking Holmes; Holmes had a bad history with dogs, which was not improved by his occasional experimentation on them. Watson still came in one day, though, from his rounds to find the dog sleeping with his great, drooling head upon Holmes's knee.
"Paralytic agent?"
Holmes was seated on the ottoman next to an armchair; he was in the middle of one of his silent moods, and therefore only shook his head while touching the dog's ears.
"Sleeping gas?"
Another head shake.
"Let me guess. You've glued him to the floor."
Holmes raised his eyebrows, and this time, was willing to point to the sideboard where -- where there was an entire pig stretched out. Parts had been probably been off with the hacksaw sticking out between the third and fourth ribs. Holmes had been testing how easily bodies could be taken apart after death, perhaps, and that was the decanter of madeira in the bodily cavity, too, with the stopper out. The stopper was, in fact, in the train ticket pocket of Holmes's jacket.
"Hol -- "
The dog shifted happily, burping in his sleep, and revealed that he had draped himself across both Holmes's knee and a much gnawed-upon, somewhat bloody and gobbety pig head. Watson reached into his sleeve for a handkerchief and -- a pig ear? How had Hol --
Watson pinched the space between his eyebrows with two fingers from his clean hand and, with Holmes starting to giggle like a schoolgirl, went to call for Mrs. Hudson.
1.
Pity the tutor who walks into a nursery room in West Sussex and finds himself facing a twelve year old Mycroft, bored and home between Michaelmas and Hilary terms, and a five year old Sherlock, eager for his first day of school.
2.
The bull-pup began as Watson's, and then, as many things do, became joint property. True to form, too, the dog did not begin by liking Holmes; Holmes had a bad history with dogs, which was not improved by his occasional experimentation on them. Watson still came in one day, though, from his rounds to find the dog sleeping with his great, drooling head upon Holmes's knee.
"Paralytic agent?"
Holmes was seated on the ottoman next to an armchair; he was in the middle of one of his silent moods, and therefore only shook his head while touching the dog's ears.
"Sleeping gas?"
Another head shake.
"Let me guess. You've glued him to the floor."
Holmes raised his eyebrows, and this time, was willing to point to the sideboard where -- where there was an entire pig stretched out. Parts had been probably been off with the hacksaw sticking out between the third and fourth ribs. Holmes had been testing how easily bodies could be taken apart after death, perhaps, and that was the decanter of madeira in the bodily cavity, too, with the stopper out. The stopper was, in fact, in the train ticket pocket of Holmes's jacket.
"Hol -- "
The dog shifted happily, burping in his sleep, and revealed that he had draped himself across both Holmes's knee and a much gnawed-upon, somewhat bloody and gobbety pig head. Watson reached into his sleeve for a handkerchief and -- a pig ear? How had Hol --
Watson pinched the space between his eyebrows with two fingers from his clean hand and, with Holmes starting to giggle like a schoolgirl, went to call for Mrs. Hudson.
no subject
2) Hee! Oh, poor Watson.
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
Ya know, I don't know much about cannon Holmes, but I could definitely be convinced to learn more, given the awesomeness of the recent flick.
<3
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
"Let me guess. You've glued him to the floor."
I can hear Jude Law's Watson saying this like he's in the room with me.
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
(no subject)
no subject
(no subject)
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
BUT THESE ARE WONDERFUL SO NEVER STOP.
(no subject)
no subject
I'm sorry, I really have nothing better to offer you right now than that. But: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
no subject
OMG, I'm so happy to see your writing again.