Form/Word count: 282
Characters/Pairing: Mr Sherlock Holmes, Dr John Watson, Mrs Hudson, Inspector Stanley Hopkins
Warning/Content: Holmes believes he has been justified in conducting an experiment, Watson is less sure.
( We were once more alone )
Form/Word count: 339
Characters/Pairing: Mrs Hudson, Mrs Turner
Warning/Content: Mrs Hudson is going on holiday and therefore gives Mrs Turner and list of the items essential for the smooth running of 221 Baker Stret
( Mrs Hudson's Toolkit )
Form/Word count: 303
Characters/Pairing: Mr Sherlock Holmes, Dr John Watson, Inspector G Lestrade, Mrs Hudson, Inspector Stanley Hopkins
Warning/Content: In which Mrs Hudson disapproves of her tenants' behaviour once again.
( To an outsider )
Form/Word count: 362
Characters/Pairing: Mr Sherlock Holmes, Dr John Watson, Inspector Lestrade, Inspector Stanley Hopkins, Mrs Hudson
Warning/Content: Holmes is once more trying to get something past Mrs Hudson
Follows on directly from Where Is He?
Written in response to DW's Watson's Woes July Writing Prompt
( Very sweet )
Content Notes: Hopkins/Holmes; Lestrade/Watson; part of the Broom Cupboard 'verse by thesmallhobbit
Summary: Mrs. Hudson has a quiet Mother's Day.
Author's Note: for monthly prompt: flowers & Mother's Day in the US is next Sunday.
Prompt by thesmallhobbit: Sherlock Holmes (ACD): It's gone very quiet in the broom cupboard lately. Have the Holmes/Hopkins and Watson/Lestrade partnerships moved elsewhere, or has Mrs Hudson finally bought the unpickable lock?
( Read more... )
Form/Wordcount: 500 words
Characters/Pairings: Mrs. Hudson, Holmes, Watson, Lestrade
Author’s Notes: Written for the March Prompt: Temptations. Crack. And this is a crossover with... Well, I think it's probably self-evident ^^
( The Strange Case of Dr. Watson and Mr. Holmes )
Summary: Holmes & Watson swimming in a flooded Piazza San Marco (Venice).
Author's Note: At getyourwordsout
“Watson, our Venetian holiday has certainly taken a singular turn,” remarked Holmes as he emerged, hair flattened to his head. He stood, revealing a pallid, thin chest. The thinness and the pallor were, of course, part of what had brought us here.
A murky wave slapped my face like the rattle of an unruly infant. The water was that drab olive-brown colour that water always is when is exists in large quantities where it should not be. And in this case, it should definitely not have risen to the level of concealing my bare chest in the Piazza San Marco.
The water—and the air—were curiously warm. In England, such an overcast day would have had us layering wools, not stripping to our drawers and practicing our backstroke in ‘the drawing room of Europe.’
The grand basilica rose behind us, grey stone arch stacked within grey stone arch like nesting dolls. Above, bells tolled its grandeur while below, amongst us fishes, the intruding army of lapping water continued its occupation.
I cast aside my concerns about the effect that the turbid stream was having on my coiffure and simply enjoyed the surreal—and singular, as Holmes described it—experience. I suspected Holmes was far more keen that his head not be used as a perch for pigeons or sea birds
Summary: Mrs. Hudson's Valentine's Day is everything she dreamed of.
Author's Note: Greenaway's Language of Flowers gives 'patience' as the meaning of the ox-eye, which is an American daisy, white with yellow centre. Also, for those who don't want to click on the link. One Night Cough Syrup contains morphine, cannabis, alcohol, and chloroform. So pretty good for a cough :) For the monthly prompt: card.
Mrs. Hudson coughed.
“I can’t rest, Doctor Watson. Bessie’s worse than I am. I had to send her home. There’s the washing-up from breakfast and lunch; there’s curtains to replace, and the fire brigade’s so wonderful but they do track in so much mud!”
“At least take some medicine.”
“I’ve no taste for brandy, sir.”
He held up a spoon and a bottle. “One Night Cough Syrup.”
The light trickling into Mrs. Hudson’s room was much brighter than morning-light.
She sat up.
A bouquet of white-and-yellow daisies and a card sat on the bedside table.
“’For our most beloved on the day of love,’” she read. “No! That would mean I’ve missed a whole day!” She jumped out of bed, threw on her dressing gown, and ran to the kitchen.
It was clean, every pot and pan, scrubbed and shining.
“SURPRISE! HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!”
“Gentlemen! Oh, heavens!”
Her skin warmed; she dropped her head, catching sight of the stairs.
The mud was gone.
“And the curtains are replaced as well,” said Doctor Watson.
“And once you dress, you and your sister will be escorted to Simpson’s for lunch,” said Mister Holmes.
“And we will be taking care of ourselves.”
“And not destroying anything for the rest of the day.”
She beamed. “And my cough is so much better!”