Fanfic: Knife-fight: G
Jun. 26th, 2016 12:52 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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holmes_minorTitle: Knife-fight
Rating: G
Length: 351
Content Notes: references to "The Dying Detective" and "The Retired Colourman," Watson is left-handed.
Summary: First impression at Simpson's
Author's Note: Not for any![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
holmes_minor activity or prompt. Just my 1_million_words bingo square: knife-fight.
“Mister Holmes, might we have a moment of your time?“
Holmes and Watson looked up from their plates.
“I am afraid—“ began Holmes
“By all means,” said Watson, quickly rising. “Here, you and your lovely—“
The older woman smiled. “Niece. Violet.”
Holmes snorted. “Naturally.”
The two woman stared for a moment, then Watson continued, “—niece, please sit here, I’ll just move around the table.” He set his plate and cutlery beside Holmes. “May we get you anything?” He gestured to the waiter.
“No, thank you.”
“Madame,” said Holmes, gesturing to his food, “I’ve not eaten in three days. And man cannot live by claret and biscuits alone.”
“By all means, sir, continue,” the older woman replied with a puzzled stare. “You, too, Doctor Watson.”
“Oh, I’ve not been dying, but putting up with his dying, does, work up the ol’ appetite.” He grinned.
“I see,” she said vaguely. “Well, we saw you through the window and are in desperate need of—“
Holmes returned to his meal, his right elbow jutting out as he cut the meat.
“Let me cut you some bread,” said Watson, reaching for the loaf, knife in his left hand.
“Watson—“
“Holmes—“
Their elbows clashed. Again. And again.
“You need to move your arm—“
“No, you—“
“Mine is the longer arm, so logically, mine goes forward while yours goes—“
“Holmes, the bread is in front, move your plate so that it’s a little—“
“Watson, this is ridiculous! You and your sinister ways! Why don’t you—?”
“I’m going to stab you between your stubborn, melodramatic ribs if you don’t—“
“I’d love to see you try!”
Their eyes met. They dropped their knives. And turned their heads.
The other side of the table was empty.
---
“My dear, they are most unsuitable. And, I believe, a bit mad.”
“I’ve heard of a Mister Barker in Surrey, Aunt, perhaps he can uncover what’s happened to dear Raymond.”
“The one with the ridiculous spectacles?”
She nodded.
“Needs must, but for goodness sake, let’s call on him during business hours!”
Rating: G
Length: 351
Content Notes: references to "The Dying Detective" and "The Retired Colourman," Watson is left-handed.
Summary: First impression at Simpson's
Author's Note: Not for any
holmes_minor activity or prompt. Just my 1_million_words bingo square: knife-fight.“Mister Holmes, might we have a moment of your time?“
Holmes and Watson looked up from their plates.
“I am afraid—“ began Holmes
“By all means,” said Watson, quickly rising. “Here, you and your lovely—“
The older woman smiled. “Niece. Violet.”
Holmes snorted. “Naturally.”
The two woman stared for a moment, then Watson continued, “—niece, please sit here, I’ll just move around the table.” He set his plate and cutlery beside Holmes. “May we get you anything?” He gestured to the waiter.
“No, thank you.”
“Madame,” said Holmes, gesturing to his food, “I’ve not eaten in three days. And man cannot live by claret and biscuits alone.”
“By all means, sir, continue,” the older woman replied with a puzzled stare. “You, too, Doctor Watson.”
“Oh, I’ve not been dying, but putting up with his dying, does, work up the ol’ appetite.” He grinned.
“I see,” she said vaguely. “Well, we saw you through the window and are in desperate need of—“
Holmes returned to his meal, his right elbow jutting out as he cut the meat.
“Let me cut you some bread,” said Watson, reaching for the loaf, knife in his left hand.
“Watson—“
“Holmes—“
Their elbows clashed. Again. And again.
“You need to move your arm—“
“No, you—“
“Mine is the longer arm, so logically, mine goes forward while yours goes—“
“Holmes, the bread is in front, move your plate so that it’s a little—“
“Watson, this is ridiculous! You and your sinister ways! Why don’t you—?”
“I’m going to stab you between your stubborn, melodramatic ribs if you don’t—“
“I’d love to see you try!”
Their eyes met. They dropped their knives. And turned their heads.
The other side of the table was empty.
---
“My dear, they are most unsuitable. And, I believe, a bit mad.”
“I’ve heard of a Mister Barker in Surrey, Aunt, perhaps he can uncover what’s happened to dear Raymond.”
“The one with the ridiculous spectacles?”
She nodded.
“Needs must, but for goodness sake, let’s call on him during business hours!”
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