Drabble-a-thon: Sherlock Holmes
And more drabbles, as requested in the Drabble-a-thon post. This time, Sherlock Holmes; all are exactly 100 words, rated PG-13 at most.
Previous rounds were Star Trek, Star Wars, and Snape drabbles.
* * * * *
For lynkemma: Holmes/Moriarty
Thoughts and Falls
Even when he saw Moriarty's body strike a rock and bound off into the white waters, Holmes could not look away.
Professor Moriarty had been of a rare breed, that much Holmes could admit to anyone. The things that he could not -- their history of clandestine meetings and shared admiration of brain and cunning, moments that not even his Watson knew -- were the ones whose passing he would most mourn.
"Farewell, for you fought well, even if you did not live so," whispered Holmes to the waters. He knew he would never again meet a man who could so well match him.
* * * * *
For ter369: Holmes/Watson, at the opera
Opéra National de Paris
"Do you think the stories of the ghost to be true?"
Holmes set his lorgnette down. "I doubt they are."
"So I have brought my revolver for naught," exclaimed I, drawing scandalised glances from the neighbouring boxes.
He put his hand on my knee and leaned closer. His scent was that of his tobacco and his toilet water, and it was an intoxicating mix. "A revolver against a ghost, Watson?"
"Better that than bare hands."
"Yes -- those are for other purposes."
I rested my hand on his and smiled. "What purposes would those be, Holmes?"
"I will show you later."
* * * * *
For axmxz: Holmes/Watson, Watson defends Holmes when he is ill/hurt
Just One Last Bullet
I could hear the footsteps coming closer. Holmes's face was deathly pale in the moonlight and the blood that stained his white shirt appeared black. My heart stopped at the sight.
"You must stay here, Holmes, while I lead them away."
"Unless my counting is off," he said with difficulty, for each word brought fresh blood to his lips, "you have but one bullet left, Watson."
"It shan't be wasted." I kissed his forehead. "I promise you that, my dear Holmes."
"Go. Now."
I stood and smiled. I knew that even at my last breath, I would come back for him.
* * * * *
For snapesgrrl: Holmes/Watson, first kiss
An Evening in the Hedgerows
I passed the newspaper to Holmes. "Page twenty-three."
"Something of interest, I gather?"
"Mr. Eddings of Whitechapel faced the assizes today." I smiled. "Remember that long evening spent in the hedgerows?"
"Indeed, I do. A fortuitous evening in many ways, wasn't it, Watson?"
"It was," said I. That evening, I had taken liberties with Holmes's flask, after which I kissed him.
"Though that evening, I also erred."
I frowned. "Holmes?"
"Remember when I said that I could not possibly become fonder of you than I was at that moment?" he said and touched the back of my hand. "I was wrong."
* * * * *
For metridious: Holmes/Watson, study and bee-farming on the Sussex Downs
The Adventure of Three Prussian Gloves
'Tell them of the three Prussian gloves for all I care. -H.'
Thus said Holmes's tetchy telegraph in reply to my query as to which adventure of his I should reveal next. I laughed; he had named the one unwritable case, for it had concluded with him laying his lips on mine in a broom cupboard.
"I shan't ever write that one, my dear Holmes," said I and rang for the maid. "When Mrs. Watson returns, tell her that I have left for the South Downs."
"An urgent patient call, sir?"
I smiled. "Just an urgent bee in my bonnet."
* * * * *
Elsewhere, in the life of yours truly:
1. I have moved from statistical analysis into physics, and after today, I sincerely wish I'd gone into the arts. Goddamn relativistic dynamics and goddamn Heisenberg.
2. I can't wait -- can't wait! -- for V for Vendetta to hit the big screens. Not only is it based on one kick-assy graphic novel that I can't recommend enough, it also features Natalie Portman (rrowrrr!), Stephen Fry (my gay boyfriend homg!), and Hugo Weaving (*swoon*)!
3. I have been a bad, bad student of Heisenberg et al. and have been writing. LotR writing. *sporks self* I swear it's not a new fandom. I swear!
In that vein, I'm in need of a beta reader for a 5,000 word fic (mostly Bilbo and *cough* Elrond/Gil-galad *cough*), preferably someone who knows Tolkien's voice and will nitpick my hobbits and my Second Age elves alike, and is not afraid to beat me about the head with their copies of Morgoth's Ring and The Hobbit. Please? Anyone? Bueller? Will beta in return, sing songs of praise, enclose first-born child, etc.
Anyways. Drabble-wise, I'm thirty-three down, a googolplex to go! Next, the rest of the Harry Potter drabbles.
ETA: My Anakin action figure just jumped off the shelf because Mas Amedda, staff and all, fell on top of him. I don't blame the poor Jedi.
Previous rounds were Star Trek, Star Wars, and Snape drabbles.
* * * * *
For lynkemma: Holmes/Moriarty
Thoughts and Falls
Even when he saw Moriarty's body strike a rock and bound off into the white waters, Holmes could not look away.
Professor Moriarty had been of a rare breed, that much Holmes could admit to anyone. The things that he could not -- their history of clandestine meetings and shared admiration of brain and cunning, moments that not even his Watson knew -- were the ones whose passing he would most mourn.
"Farewell, for you fought well, even if you did not live so," whispered Holmes to the waters. He knew he would never again meet a man who could so well match him.
* * * * *
For ter369: Holmes/Watson, at the opera
Opéra National de Paris
"Do you think the stories of the ghost to be true?"
Holmes set his lorgnette down. "I doubt they are."
"So I have brought my revolver for naught," exclaimed I, drawing scandalised glances from the neighbouring boxes.
He put his hand on my knee and leaned closer. His scent was that of his tobacco and his toilet water, and it was an intoxicating mix. "A revolver against a ghost, Watson?"
"Better that than bare hands."
"Yes -- those are for other purposes."
I rested my hand on his and smiled. "What purposes would those be, Holmes?"
"I will show you later."
* * * * *
For axmxz: Holmes/Watson, Watson defends Holmes when he is ill/hurt
Just One Last Bullet
I could hear the footsteps coming closer. Holmes's face was deathly pale in the moonlight and the blood that stained his white shirt appeared black. My heart stopped at the sight.
"You must stay here, Holmes, while I lead them away."
"Unless my counting is off," he said with difficulty, for each word brought fresh blood to his lips, "you have but one bullet left, Watson."
"It shan't be wasted." I kissed his forehead. "I promise you that, my dear Holmes."
"Go. Now."
I stood and smiled. I knew that even at my last breath, I would come back for him.
* * * * *
For snapesgrrl: Holmes/Watson, first kiss
An Evening in the Hedgerows
I passed the newspaper to Holmes. "Page twenty-three."
"Something of interest, I gather?"
"Mr. Eddings of Whitechapel faced the assizes today." I smiled. "Remember that long evening spent in the hedgerows?"
"Indeed, I do. A fortuitous evening in many ways, wasn't it, Watson?"
"It was," said I. That evening, I had taken liberties with Holmes's flask, after which I kissed him.
"Though that evening, I also erred."
I frowned. "Holmes?"
"Remember when I said that I could not possibly become fonder of you than I was at that moment?" he said and touched the back of my hand. "I was wrong."
* * * * *
For metridious: Holmes/Watson, study and bee-farming on the Sussex Downs
The Adventure of Three Prussian Gloves
'Tell them of the three Prussian gloves for all I care. -H.'
Thus said Holmes's tetchy telegraph in reply to my query as to which adventure of his I should reveal next. I laughed; he had named the one unwritable case, for it had concluded with him laying his lips on mine in a broom cupboard.
"I shan't ever write that one, my dear Holmes," said I and rang for the maid. "When Mrs. Watson returns, tell her that I have left for the South Downs."
"An urgent patient call, sir?"
I smiled. "Just an urgent bee in my bonnet."
* * * * *
Elsewhere, in the life of yours truly:
1. I have moved from statistical analysis into physics, and after today, I sincerely wish I'd gone into the arts. Goddamn relativistic dynamics and goddamn Heisenberg.
2. I can't wait -- can't wait! -- for V for Vendetta to hit the big screens. Not only is it based on one kick-assy graphic novel that I can't recommend enough, it also features Natalie Portman (rrowrrr!), Stephen Fry (my gay boyfriend homg!), and Hugo Weaving (*swoon*)!
3. I have been a bad, bad student of Heisenberg et al. and have been writing. LotR writing. *sporks self* I swear it's not a new fandom. I swear!
In that vein, I'm in need of a beta reader for a 5,000 word fic (mostly Bilbo and *cough* Elrond/Gil-galad *cough*), preferably someone who knows Tolkien's voice and will nitpick my hobbits and my Second Age elves alike, and is not afraid to beat me about the head with their copies of Morgoth's Ring and The Hobbit. Please? Anyone? Bueller? Will beta in return, sing songs of praise, enclose first-born child, etc.
Anyways. Drabble-wise, I'm thirty-three down, a googolplex to go! Next, the rest of the Harry Potter drabbles.
ETA: My Anakin action figure just jumped off the shelf because Mas Amedda, staff and all, fell on top of him. I don't blame the poor Jedi.