Sherlock Holmes - Advent Calendar Day 2
Title: Day 2
Author: ladylovelace
Rating: G
Pairing/Characters: Holmes/Watson
Disclaimer: You know what? I am ACD. Clearly. And if you believe that, I've got a nice bridge to sell you...
Summary: Holmes is insufferable. But then, nothing ever changes, does it?
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 640
Author's Notes: 2 down, 22 to go \o/
“It's snowing, Watson!” Holmes called from the door of the tiny cottage in Cornwall, more animated than the doctor had seen him in quite some time. He looked, though Watson would never say it to his face, like an excited child.
“Your enthusiasm would be infectious if not for the fact that you only care because you're doing an experiment. Do you not understand the concept of recreation?” Watson grumbled, huddling up in his blanket to protect himself from the cold.
“The purpose of recreation is to relax. Knowing that my passive attempts at gaining invaluable knowledge are working correctly is naturally relaxing to me, because it means that I am not wasting time, merely waiting for it to pass.” Holmes nodded decisively, as though this was all perfectly rational and reasonable. Which, Watson supposed, it really was. This did not make it any less morbid or infuriating.
“Watson...” Holmes managed to add an awful lot of meaning to one word; both condemning his friend for being unreasonable and entreating him to try to understand his whims. Not having much choice in the matter, Watson relented sighing and then offering Holmes a weak smile.
“All right. Go check on your dead badger. But I still think you're tempting fate.” He grumbled good-humouredly and returned to his novel.
“There is no such thing as fate.” Holmes stated with surety as he wrapped a scarf around his neck, making sure Watson could see he was doing so.
“Your opinion on that changes hour to hour. I do wish you'd make up your mind.” Watson couldn't help a small smile at the obvious wrapping up.
“If I kept my opinions consistent, my dear Watson, you would already have figured me out, and I would cease to be of interest. My depths, such as they are, are much shallower than your own, I assure you.”
“You and I both know that even if I did accomplish the miracle of coming to understand you, I would stay with you for the attractive clients that turn up at our doors at all hours.” Watson replied neutrally without looking up from his book.
Holmes' mouth fell open at this statement, and he stood with one arm of his coat on and the other still hanging limply at his side. Watson gave him a few seconds to recover, and then couldn't help himself from laughing any longer and collapsed into a fit of giggles at the detective's shock. Holmes glared.
“You were asking for that. If you will refuse to relax over Christmas, then you open yourself up to that kind of thing.”
“That was childish, Watson.” Holmes sniffed, recovering himself enough to pull his coat on the rest of the way.
“It's the season for childishness, Holmes. You ought to try it.” Watson answered seriously.
“Doctor, is there anything more childish than poking a dead animal with a stick? Honestly, if you're going to lecture me on Christmas spirit, you could at least be consistent.” The detective gathered up his walking stick.
“Go do your experiment, Holmes. I promise not to run away with any clients while you're outside.”
“There aren't any clients out here.” Holmes pointed out, “it was one of your conditions, if I recall correctly.”
“Well, you know the promise is in earnest, then. Now go. The sooner you've gone, the sooner you can come back.” Watson returned once more to his book, waiting patiently for Holmes to shut the door behind him before rushing off to wrap his Christmas present, wondering whether Holmes had honestly been fooled into leaving the cottage, or whether he had allowed himself to be manipulated into it.
Shallow depths indeed he huffed as he cut a piece of packaging string and got to work.
Author: ladylovelace
Rating: G
Pairing/Characters: Holmes/Watson
Disclaimer: You know what? I am ACD. Clearly. And if you believe that, I've got a nice bridge to sell you...
Summary: Holmes is insufferable. But then, nothing ever changes, does it?
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 640
Author's Notes: 2 down, 22 to go \o/
“It's snowing, Watson!” Holmes called from the door of the tiny cottage in Cornwall, more animated than the doctor had seen him in quite some time. He looked, though Watson would never say it to his face, like an excited child.
“Your enthusiasm would be infectious if not for the fact that you only care because you're doing an experiment. Do you not understand the concept of recreation?” Watson grumbled, huddling up in his blanket to protect himself from the cold.
“The purpose of recreation is to relax. Knowing that my passive attempts at gaining invaluable knowledge are working correctly is naturally relaxing to me, because it means that I am not wasting time, merely waiting for it to pass.” Holmes nodded decisively, as though this was all perfectly rational and reasonable. Which, Watson supposed, it really was. This did not make it any less morbid or infuriating.
“Watson...” Holmes managed to add an awful lot of meaning to one word; both condemning his friend for being unreasonable and entreating him to try to understand his whims. Not having much choice in the matter, Watson relented sighing and then offering Holmes a weak smile.
“All right. Go check on your dead badger. But I still think you're tempting fate.” He grumbled good-humouredly and returned to his novel.
“There is no such thing as fate.” Holmes stated with surety as he wrapped a scarf around his neck, making sure Watson could see he was doing so.
“Your opinion on that changes hour to hour. I do wish you'd make up your mind.” Watson couldn't help a small smile at the obvious wrapping up.
“If I kept my opinions consistent, my dear Watson, you would already have figured me out, and I would cease to be of interest. My depths, such as they are, are much shallower than your own, I assure you.”
“You and I both know that even if I did accomplish the miracle of coming to understand you, I would stay with you for the attractive clients that turn up at our doors at all hours.” Watson replied neutrally without looking up from his book.
Holmes' mouth fell open at this statement, and he stood with one arm of his coat on and the other still hanging limply at his side. Watson gave him a few seconds to recover, and then couldn't help himself from laughing any longer and collapsed into a fit of giggles at the detective's shock. Holmes glared.
“You were asking for that. If you will refuse to relax over Christmas, then you open yourself up to that kind of thing.”
“That was childish, Watson.” Holmes sniffed, recovering himself enough to pull his coat on the rest of the way.
“It's the season for childishness, Holmes. You ought to try it.” Watson answered seriously.
“Doctor, is there anything more childish than poking a dead animal with a stick? Honestly, if you're going to lecture me on Christmas spirit, you could at least be consistent.” The detective gathered up his walking stick.
“Go do your experiment, Holmes. I promise not to run away with any clients while you're outside.”
“There aren't any clients out here.” Holmes pointed out, “it was one of your conditions, if I recall correctly.”
“Well, you know the promise is in earnest, then. Now go. The sooner you've gone, the sooner you can come back.” Watson returned once more to his book, waiting patiently for Holmes to shut the door behind him before rushing off to wrap his Christmas present, wondering whether Holmes had honestly been fooled into leaving the cottage, or whether he had allowed himself to be manipulated into it.
Shallow depths indeed he huffed as he cut a piece of packaging string and got to work.