Fic: Forbearance
Title: Forbearance
Rating: G
Universe: Granada AU
Characters: Doctor Watson, Scotland Yard
Word Count: 196
Author's Notes: Written in response to JWP #16 (Words of Wisdom) on Watson's Woes. Set during the Hiatus.
Summary: Watson's patience with Scotland Yard has run out.
Doctor Watson was a patient man.
He was well-aware of his nickname at Scotland Yard, whispered behind his back half-mockingly and half-endearingly. Saint John, for only a saint could have tolerated working and lodging with Sherlock Holmes.
And as the Yard's newly-appointed patron saint of patience, he was reminded time and again to live up to that trait in the aftermath of Holmes' death.
Patience, his new superiors insisted as they gently but firmly assigned him away from the Moriarty case to dull, simple autopsies he could do in his sleep.
Patience, Hopkins recommended as they lost lead after lead trying to catch the minnows that escaped Patterson's net, the very net that Holmes bequeathed to the Yard on a silver platter.
Patience, Gregson grumbled as the trials dragged on and on.
Patience, Lestrade dared to say to his face as cunning lawyers and corrupt judges gave freedom to the Professor's higher-ups who had money and influence to spare.
Patience, Watson angrily muttered to himself as he loaded Holmes' notes that he stole from the file room into his coat pocket and the bullets into his revolver.
Patience? Even a saint could only have so much.
Rating: G
Universe: Granada AU
Characters: Doctor Watson, Scotland Yard
Word Count: 196
Author's Notes: Written in response to JWP #16 (Words of Wisdom) on Watson's Woes. Set during the Hiatus.
Summary: Watson's patience with Scotland Yard has run out.
Doctor Watson was a patient man.
He was well-aware of his nickname at Scotland Yard, whispered behind his back half-mockingly and half-endearingly. Saint John, for only a saint could have tolerated working and lodging with Sherlock Holmes.
And as the Yard's newly-appointed patron saint of patience, he was reminded time and again to live up to that trait in the aftermath of Holmes' death.
Patience, his new superiors insisted as they gently but firmly assigned him away from the Moriarty case to dull, simple autopsies he could do in his sleep.
Patience, Hopkins recommended as they lost lead after lead trying to catch the minnows that escaped Patterson's net, the very net that Holmes bequeathed to the Yard on a silver platter.
Patience, Gregson grumbled as the trials dragged on and on.
Patience, Lestrade dared to say to his face as cunning lawyers and corrupt judges gave freedom to the Professor's higher-ups who had money and influence to spare.
Patience, Watson angrily muttered to himself as he loaded Holmes' notes that he stole from the file room into his coat pocket and the bullets into his revolver.
Patience? Even a saint could only have so much.