Gifts a Plenty
Considerably late, but this is for wolfie_sara and spikejem
Title: The Fountain Incident
Rating: 12-ish
Synopsis: Holmes is a typical Englishman at heart really.
Of all the quaint and unusual things that our English soil has to offer the noble sport of cricket is perhaps the hardest to comprehend. What moves one Englishman in a misty eyed remembrance of long summers listening to the delightful sounds of willow on leather, causes others to suffer from an involuntarily aneurysm as they try to understand a sport that has a silly point.
I am this latter fellow, and one of the few things that will rouse Holmes's sporting interest is this bewildering game. I spent many summers being thoroughly useless with a cricket bat in my hand, longing for winter when I could swap the gentle slowness of the crease for the rough and tumble of the rugger field.
Holmes once tried to explain the game to me as an epic chess game combined with the strength and timing of ballet but clearly this spectacle is wasted upon me as I once fell asleep in the pavilion at Lords whilst Holmes, excited as a school boy, met with WG Grace. It was all he could talk about for weeks later and after snidely suggesting that if I grew a bushy beard and wore a pair of white flannel trousers he might pay me a bit more attention, I found myself once again back in my old bedroom.
Unfortunately, after an excellent three year run of holding onto the Ashes in spite of Australia's determination to win them back, England slumped to a spectacular four match defeat in March of 1898. Holmes was largely inconsolable, this was only the second time since the creation of the Ashes tournament that Australia had defeated the lions and for some reason he took this rather personally. On the 4th March, 1898 a full two days after the defeat I found myself escorting an incredibly inebriated Sherlock Holmes through Trafalgar Square in the early hours of the morning.
Lestrade had invited the pair of us to join him for drinks at a tavern near Covent Garden, he too was a fanatical cricket fan and soon he and Holmes were drowning their sorrows many times over and lamenting the 'death of English cricket', I joined in when I could and did my best to keep Holmes sober. This it turned out was a loosing battle, of all the many things Holmes is able to do hold is drink is not one of them and so that is how in the early hours of the morning I was trying my hardest to get Holmes to step down from the main fountain ledge.
"Holmes, come on, you're going to slip." I pleaded with him as he wobbled closer to the water.
"Oh, don't fuss Doctor. You always fuss." He responded a little sulkily.
"I'm not fussing, if you fall in you'll get wet..."
"Obviously!"
"Holmes, don't be like this. Come on, please."
"Watson, Watson, Watson... you need to learn to relax."
"It's very hard to relax when someone you love is about to make a complete idiot of themselves."
"I assure you, that will not happen."
"You can barely walk in a straight line... HOLMES!" I yelled and leaped forward as he tottered off the edge and with an almighty splash fell sideways into the fountain.
"Why didn't you catch me?" Holmes muttered as he pulled himself upright, his hair plastered to his skull and every inch of him dripping with water.
"I warned you." I stepped forward to offer him my hand out of the fountain, he gripped me tightly and before I could prevent what was obviously about to happen he'd pulled me into the fountain. "Damn you!" I flung water at him as he clapped his hands together and roared with laughter. "It's not that funny." I snapped, wading towards to the edge.
"Spoil sport."
"Let's just get home and put you to bed, shall we?"
"Only if you join me." He playfully stroked the front of my trousers, blushing I pushed his hands away.
"Not in public." I hissed.
"There's no one here."
"We could get arrested."
"It hasn't stopped you before." To my horror, Holmes started to unfasten his trousers.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
"Did I ever tell you what my ultimate fantasy was?"
"No, you didn't. Button your trousers, you can tell me at home."
"My ultimate fantasy," he continued, "is to ravish a certain doctor beneath the watchful eyes of Nelson's column. It's certainly quite fitting." He dropped his trousers and was starting to unfasten his underwear when I felt a hand fall upon my soaked shoulder.
"Excuse me sir." My face drained with horror was I turned round to be greeted by a police constable. "Would you mind telling me exactly what you think you're up to?"
"My... my friend here, has had a bit too much to drink." I started to explain, "he fell into the fountain and I went to help him out..."
"We were planning to have a good old romp." Holmes blurted out, I felt myself turning many many shades of red as the constables eyes burned into mine.
"He's had too much to drink." Was my weak willed attempt to cancel out what Holmes had said.
"I see. Perhaps you'd both better accompany me down to the station."
The next morning, red-faced and considerably worse of wear Sherlock Holmes did his best to slink quietly out of the police station without being noticed. I followed meekly behind thanking Lestrade for ensuring that we were let off without charge, in return Lestrade was allowed to bring up the 'fountain incident' whenever he felt that Holmes was getting a bit too sure of himself. Secretly I thought that this was an excellent arrangement but publicly I was forced to sympathise with Holmes
It took a long time before either of us was able to walk though Trafalgar Square without feeling ashamed, but several months later I allowed Holmes his fantasy and thankfully this time we managed to escape the eyes of the law.
Finished reading 'Marely and Me' by John Grogan - beautiful memoir of a life with an incredibly badly behaviour but fantastic dog. Excellent read, definitely recommended if you have a dog (or just want an amusing look at life with one) - 4/5.