stonepicnicking_okapi (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stonepicnicking_okapi) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
holmes_minor2019-01-30 06:10 pm
stonepicnicking_okapi) wrote in holmes_minor2019-01-30 06:10 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Devil's Cottage: Gen
Title: Devil's Cottage
Length: 500
Rating: Gen
Characters: Mrs. Hudson and Mrs. Turner
Notes: Magic AU
Summary: Martha and Marie find themselves approaching a strange cottage.
Notes: for the January prompt, for picture prompt fun #99 (cottage with pond) & my Ladies' Bingo card B-1 'The Mind's Eye'
Dawn broke golden on the horizon, and the glow, in two shades of yellow, seemed to push the night into the firmament, shaping it into thick, cottony balls of dark blue.
Marie paused a moment to admire the beauty of the advancing of day and the retreating of night, and the handsome background it made for the stately trees which stood in a line like veterans of her father’s war and greeted the day as if it were a wealthy widow. For the first time, Marie wished for some artistic bent that she might render the scene in paint. A mist covered the ground, sending up wispy grey tendrils which smudged the canvas.
But there was no time for reverie. Martha was hurrying ahead. Marie hurried after her.
Marie’s pack was the weightier, but Marie did not resent this. Martha had taken upon herself the burden of course-charter and decision-maker. Marie understood the gravity of their quest, but she also revealed in the freedom of trousers and the indefatigable boots which Martha had selected and which, at the time of purchase, Martha had thought outrageously expensive.
But they’d been worth every penny. Marie tromped across the boggy field with well-shod impunity.
Martha slowed her pace when they came within view of the cottage. It was small and thatch-roofed with a wooden railed porch in front. It seemed incongruous, a manmade structure in the midst of a seemingly endless stretch of nature, and it was placed incongruously as well, on a square pedestal of island only as wide as the structure itself. It was surrounded by a pond, which reflected the tips of the trees like a well-polished looking glass.
“There,” said Martha.
And if Martha said ‘there,’ it was there.
But how to get from here to there? The pond appeared too deep to wade across.
As soon as they arrived at the edge where land met water, Martha began to give instructions, and together they assembled a kind of floating bridge. And as they worked, Martha muttered.
“Poor Mister Holmes. He thinks he can dabble in anything and the only consequence is a bit of singed rug or curtains. But when he inadvertently opened his mind’s eyes, well, there was, excuse my language, Marie, hell to pay, wasn’t there?”
“And I feel so bad for the poor doctor. He didn’t do anything, but he was caught in the same snare.”
“Doctor Watson wouldn’t have left his friend to suffer alone. And neither would you, Marie.”
Marie smiled and squeezed Martha’s hand.
When the raft was ready, they floated across the pond.
A smoking chimney jutted from at the rear corner of the cottage roof. The only window, which had been slightly open, was abruptly shuttered as they approached.
“Don’t worry, Marie,” advised Martha as they climbed the steps to the porch. “When the Devil closes a window, he opens a door. Now, let’s rescue my tenants.”
“Yes, let’s do!” cried Marie cheerily as Martha raised her fist to knock.
Length: 500
Rating: Gen
Characters: Mrs. Hudson and Mrs. Turner
Notes: Magic AU
Summary: Martha and Marie find themselves approaching a strange cottage.
Notes: for the January prompt, for picture prompt fun #99 (cottage with pond) & my Ladies' Bingo card B-1 'The Mind's Eye'
Dawn broke golden on the horizon, and the glow, in two shades of yellow, seemed to push the night into the firmament, shaping it into thick, cottony balls of dark blue.
Marie paused a moment to admire the beauty of the advancing of day and the retreating of night, and the handsome background it made for the stately trees which stood in a line like veterans of her father’s war and greeted the day as if it were a wealthy widow. For the first time, Marie wished for some artistic bent that she might render the scene in paint. A mist covered the ground, sending up wispy grey tendrils which smudged the canvas.
But there was no time for reverie. Martha was hurrying ahead. Marie hurried after her.
Marie’s pack was the weightier, but Marie did not resent this. Martha had taken upon herself the burden of course-charter and decision-maker. Marie understood the gravity of their quest, but she also revealed in the freedom of trousers and the indefatigable boots which Martha had selected and which, at the time of purchase, Martha had thought outrageously expensive.
But they’d been worth every penny. Marie tromped across the boggy field with well-shod impunity.
Martha slowed her pace when they came within view of the cottage. It was small and thatch-roofed with a wooden railed porch in front. It seemed incongruous, a manmade structure in the midst of a seemingly endless stretch of nature, and it was placed incongruously as well, on a square pedestal of island only as wide as the structure itself. It was surrounded by a pond, which reflected the tips of the trees like a well-polished looking glass.
“There,” said Martha.
And if Martha said ‘there,’ it was there.
But how to get from here to there? The pond appeared too deep to wade across.
As soon as they arrived at the edge where land met water, Martha began to give instructions, and together they assembled a kind of floating bridge. And as they worked, Martha muttered.
“Poor Mister Holmes. He thinks he can dabble in anything and the only consequence is a bit of singed rug or curtains. But when he inadvertently opened his mind’s eyes, well, there was, excuse my language, Marie, hell to pay, wasn’t there?”
“And I feel so bad for the poor doctor. He didn’t do anything, but he was caught in the same snare.”
“Doctor Watson wouldn’t have left his friend to suffer alone. And neither would you, Marie.”
Marie smiled and squeezed Martha’s hand.
When the raft was ready, they floated across the pond.
A smoking chimney jutted from at the rear corner of the cottage roof. The only window, which had been slightly open, was abruptly shuttered as they approached.
“Don’t worry, Marie,” advised Martha as they climbed the steps to the porch. “When the Devil closes a window, he opens a door. Now, let’s rescue my tenants.”
“Yes, let’s do!” cried Marie cheerily as Martha raised her fist to knock.
no subject
A quirky idea well realised:-)
no subject