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holmes_minorTitle: Under One Roof
Author: gardnerhill
Form/Wordcount: 300
Characters/Pairings: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Rating: G
Warnings/Content: None
Summary: One of these things is not like the others.
Author’s Notes: For the Holmes Minor November 2018 prompt: Family.
Helen and Julia Stoner's lively talk under a bright blue sky ceased as the great stone edifice of Stoke Moran loomed before them. Heedless of the baboon's screech or the cheetah's snarl, the twin sisters walked up the steps with their purchases and silently entered the house.
***
No sound but the clink of cutlery and the soft hiss of the gaslights. Mr. Holder looked at both his children – the son he'd accused and who either stared into his plate or glared across the table, and the daughter who would not meet either of their eyes. Back to deathly silence, a sawdust cutlet and red vinegar in his wineglass.
***
Bob Norbertson's boots echoed in the hall of Shoscombe Old Place. He'd saved his estate, was out of trouble with his creditors, and owned the finest racehorse in that part of the country. He'd done what he'd had to do. He strode up the stairs of his magnificent home, alone, past servants who would not look at him, and did not cast his eyes in the direction of the crypt. He did not flinch at the spaniel's sharp cry of reproach from outside. His sister would have understood. She would have understood. The brandy bottle in his room would be supper enough tonight, again. She would have understood.
***
John Watson, widowed and childless, came in out of the dark rainy night into his London bachelor flat. There he beamed and kissed his landlady on the cheek as she helped him shed his wet outerware, scolding like a mother; sent the sleepy scullery-girl back to her cot, tenderly reassuring the child that he could fetch his own tea; went upstairs to his rooms, and when the door was locked he was embraced and kissed by the man who had waited for his return.
Author: gardnerhill
Form/Wordcount: 300
Characters/Pairings: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Rating: G
Warnings/Content: None
Summary: One of these things is not like the others.
Author’s Notes: For the Holmes Minor November 2018 prompt: Family.
Helen and Julia Stoner's lively talk under a bright blue sky ceased as the great stone edifice of Stoke Moran loomed before them. Heedless of the baboon's screech or the cheetah's snarl, the twin sisters walked up the steps with their purchases and silently entered the house.
***
No sound but the clink of cutlery and the soft hiss of the gaslights. Mr. Holder looked at both his children – the son he'd accused and who either stared into his plate or glared across the table, and the daughter who would not meet either of their eyes. Back to deathly silence, a sawdust cutlet and red vinegar in his wineglass.
***
Bob Norbertson's boots echoed in the hall of Shoscombe Old Place. He'd saved his estate, was out of trouble with his creditors, and owned the finest racehorse in that part of the country. He'd done what he'd had to do. He strode up the stairs of his magnificent home, alone, past servants who would not look at him, and did not cast his eyes in the direction of the crypt. He did not flinch at the spaniel's sharp cry of reproach from outside. His sister would have understood. She would have understood. The brandy bottle in his room would be supper enough tonight, again. She would have understood.
***
John Watson, widowed and childless, came in out of the dark rainy night into his London bachelor flat. There he beamed and kissed his landlady on the cheek as she helped him shed his wet outerware, scolding like a mother; sent the sleepy scullery-girl back to her cot, tenderly reassuring the child that he could fetch his own tea; went upstairs to his rooms, and when the door was locked he was embraced and kissed by the man who had waited for his return.
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