"Watson and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day" (July 20 prompt for watsons-woes)
Title: Watson and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
Author: gardnerhill
Rating: G
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Lestrade. ACD Holmes, but I borrowed Gladstone from the 2009 film.
Summary: Judith Viorst goes Victorian.
Warnings: Extreme AU (Watson hates jam).
Word Count: 672
Author's Notes: For the July 20 prompt (see title).
###
I went to bed with a gun in my hand and woke up with a gun in my hair and I cut myself shaving and ran out of pomade and lost one of my favorite set of cufflinks and broke a shoelace and that's when I knew it would be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
There were kippers and porridge for breakfast and Gladstone ate my kippers before I could get to the table and Holmes said of course he wasn't going to share his kippers so all I had for breakfast was porridge with dog slobber on it.
I think I'll move to Switzerland.
I'd just finished writing the story about the Giant Rat of Sumatra when I knocked my inkpot over half the pages and Gladstone ate the other half and vomited so I had to throw everything away. Holmes says the world isn't ready for that one anyway so who cares?
Holmes played Wagner on his violin and Wagner gives me a stomach-ache.
I wanted to go out for a walk but it was raining and my war-wound ached so I couldn't.
Mrs Hudson was visiting her sister so lunch was potted-meat and bloater paste sandwiches.
I was dressing to go out to my club and found that the slavey downstairs had burnt my favourite shirt ironing it. I'd just got into my second-favourite shirt when Holmes and I got called to Scotland Yard so goodbye club. The hansom cab splashed mud on my trousers, the horse stepped on my foot, a pickpocket stole my watch, a beggar lifted my wallet, and when I tried to scrape horse dung off my new shoes one got caught in the grating and fell into the sewer. Holmes said I should try to become more aware of thieves. Next week, he said, you can buy a new pair of shoes. Next week, I said, I'll be in Switzerland.
Lestrade was boring while he talked about the murders he couldn't solve and Holmes said something rude about him to me and I said something rude right back and Lestrade heard me but not Holmes and I had to write "I will respect the authority of the police" 100 times on the chalkboard at the station-house while Holmes and Lestrade ran off to catch the killer.
I am having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, I said to the other policemen. No one cared.
Holmes and Lestrade came back with the killer and he got loose. He punched me in the nose and I got blood on my second-favourite shirt. He's going to hang; I'm going to Switzerland.
When we got back to Baker Street it was dark and I stepped in a mud puddle in my stockinged foot and two men tried to kill Holmes and me on the doorsteps and I got a blow on the head subduing my attacker.
Stupid old Mary Morstan was in our drawing room by the fire and she asked me to marry her. What the hell, I said, my day's terrible, horrible, no good, and very bad already, why not make it worse? So now I have to marry stupid old Mary Morstan.
All we had for tea was toast with jam and I hate jam.
Holmes did an experiment that killed my dog and I hate when he kills my dog.
There was more Wagner on the violin, I slipped on the soap in the bathroom and wrenched my bad leg, the bath-water was too cold, and my candle blew out while I was brushing my teeth. I couldn't find my diary, but I found my favourite pen all chewed up in Gladstone's basket.
I stubbed my toe on the bedpost and got a sheet burn crawling under the covers.
It has been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. But it's all over now.
I went to sleep.
And Holmes woke me up at midnight and told me we were going to Switzerland.
***
Author: gardnerhill
Rating: G
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Lestrade. ACD Holmes, but I borrowed Gladstone from the 2009 film.
Summary: Judith Viorst goes Victorian.
Warnings: Extreme AU (Watson hates jam).
Word Count: 672
Author's Notes: For the July 20 prompt (see title).
###
I went to bed with a gun in my hand and woke up with a gun in my hair and I cut myself shaving and ran out of pomade and lost one of my favorite set of cufflinks and broke a shoelace and that's when I knew it would be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
There were kippers and porridge for breakfast and Gladstone ate my kippers before I could get to the table and Holmes said of course he wasn't going to share his kippers so all I had for breakfast was porridge with dog slobber on it.
I think I'll move to Switzerland.
I'd just finished writing the story about the Giant Rat of Sumatra when I knocked my inkpot over half the pages and Gladstone ate the other half and vomited so I had to throw everything away. Holmes says the world isn't ready for that one anyway so who cares?
Holmes played Wagner on his violin and Wagner gives me a stomach-ache.
I wanted to go out for a walk but it was raining and my war-wound ached so I couldn't.
Mrs Hudson was visiting her sister so lunch was potted-meat and bloater paste sandwiches.
I was dressing to go out to my club and found that the slavey downstairs had burnt my favourite shirt ironing it. I'd just got into my second-favourite shirt when Holmes and I got called to Scotland Yard so goodbye club. The hansom cab splashed mud on my trousers, the horse stepped on my foot, a pickpocket stole my watch, a beggar lifted my wallet, and when I tried to scrape horse dung off my new shoes one got caught in the grating and fell into the sewer. Holmes said I should try to become more aware of thieves. Next week, he said, you can buy a new pair of shoes. Next week, I said, I'll be in Switzerland.
Lestrade was boring while he talked about the murders he couldn't solve and Holmes said something rude about him to me and I said something rude right back and Lestrade heard me but not Holmes and I had to write "I will respect the authority of the police" 100 times on the chalkboard at the station-house while Holmes and Lestrade ran off to catch the killer.
I am having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, I said to the other policemen. No one cared.
Holmes and Lestrade came back with the killer and he got loose. He punched me in the nose and I got blood on my second-favourite shirt. He's going to hang; I'm going to Switzerland.
When we got back to Baker Street it was dark and I stepped in a mud puddle in my stockinged foot and two men tried to kill Holmes and me on the doorsteps and I got a blow on the head subduing my attacker.
Stupid old Mary Morstan was in our drawing room by the fire and she asked me to marry her. What the hell, I said, my day's terrible, horrible, no good, and very bad already, why not make it worse? So now I have to marry stupid old Mary Morstan.
All we had for tea was toast with jam and I hate jam.
Holmes did an experiment that killed my dog and I hate when he kills my dog.
There was more Wagner on the violin, I slipped on the soap in the bathroom and wrenched my bad leg, the bath-water was too cold, and my candle blew out while I was brushing my teeth. I couldn't find my diary, but I found my favourite pen all chewed up in Gladstone's basket.
I stubbed my toe on the bedpost and got a sheet burn crawling under the covers.
It has been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. But it's all over now.
I went to sleep.
And Holmes woke me up at midnight and told me we were going to Switzerland.
***