Christmas 221B Request: A Morbid Taste for Bananas
Happy Christmas to rabidsamfan
Rating: 12 (embarassing medico-historical facts)
Prompt: Harry/Molly, last word "bananas"
“We get to the junction in about a m-mile,” Harry said, staring at the map by torchlight.
“And what direction do we go?” Molly asked. There was a moment’s intense concentration in the passenger seat.
“Left,” Harry announced triumphantly.
Molly tried not to look relieved when the signpost confirmed that Shrewsbury was the next turn on the left. It hadn’t been an easy drive.
“I could have come on my own,” Harry said mildly. “Taken the train.”
“I wanted to come. You need...” Molly paused. She mustn’t say: You need looking after. “You need someone to discuss medieval medicine with.”
“They should have invited you to speak, not m-me,” Harry said. “Why does a Cadfael Weekend want a historian of eighteenth-century crime?”
“Because one of the organisers heard your talk about hanging, and thought it was brilliant,” Molly replied, smiling. “But please don’t mention post-mortem priapism this time.”
“Not very Ellis P-Peters?” Harry asked. “But it’s fascinating.”
Molly had mostly got over her fear that Harry would start drinking when she went off to conferences. Now she just worried that she’d tell a roomful of elderly women about hanged men getting erections. Or forget to sleep or eat properly. Which was why, besides the sexy underwear she’d packed for herself, their luggage also included ear-plugs, lavender oil, cereal bars and bananas.