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Title: Change
Author: gardnerhill
Form/Wordcount: 400
Characters/Pairings: None
Rating: G
Warnings/Content: None.
Summary: John Watson might be able to learn something from Neville St. Clair.
Author’s Notes: For the Holmes Minor April 2019 prompt: Change
My cheque-book was empty once again. Money slipped through my fingers so readily that no-one needed to be Sherlock Holmes to know I had once been a soldier. With a sigh I reached into one trouser pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, depositing the whole of my fortune on my night-stand.
I looked at them. A few shillings, one half-crown, some pennies; just over a quarter of a pound. I'd hardly noticed them in my pocket. Copper and silver; shillings to be pushed across a counter for another beer, half-crowns and crowns swept up by a racing tout or card sharp, pennies to beggars.
Beggars…
The most vivid image that remained in my mind from our last case had been the astonishing transformation of the twist-lipped and hideous beggar Hugh Boone into Mr. Neville St. Clair.
But now two other images from that case rose before me: my first view of St. Clair's home The Cedars, and the man's sodden coat weighted down with pennies and half-pennies to sink it in the river outside the opium den where St. Clair had kept a room in which he changed from respectable businessman to scarred pauper. Over 2 pounds sterling in small copper coin; a beggar's boon indeed. That mountain of copper, begged a penny and half-penny at a time, had paid for that villa.
For most of my life I had followed a soldier's pattern where money was concerned: receive my pay, spend it all, then languish in penury until I was paid again. I counted myself fortunate if I only had to pass a day or two with empty pockets. Now I had proof that those pennies in sufficient quantity could support a middle-class existence.
For one whimsical moment I thought about turning beggar and amassing my own fortune on the streets of London. Instead, I rummaged in my room and found an empty tobacco tin.
I scooped up the pennies and dropped them in. A short clatter; four small clanks at the bottom. My begging bowl, for myself.
And into it, I would put my day's-end coppers from now on – farthings, pennies and half-pennies – and see how long it took to fill the tin, and what value it would hold in the end. No great pledge; only a quiet promise to myself.
Tin and copper; they just might bring security to a man perpetually short of sterling.
Author: gardnerhill
Form/Wordcount: 400
Characters/Pairings: None
Rating: G
Warnings/Content: None.
Summary: John Watson might be able to learn something from Neville St. Clair.
Author’s Notes: For the Holmes Minor April 2019 prompt: Change
My cheque-book was empty once again. Money slipped through my fingers so readily that no-one needed to be Sherlock Holmes to know I had once been a soldier. With a sigh I reached into one trouser pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, depositing the whole of my fortune on my night-stand.
I looked at them. A few shillings, one half-crown, some pennies; just over a quarter of a pound. I'd hardly noticed them in my pocket. Copper and silver; shillings to be pushed across a counter for another beer, half-crowns and crowns swept up by a racing tout or card sharp, pennies to beggars.
Beggars…
The most vivid image that remained in my mind from our last case had been the astonishing transformation of the twist-lipped and hideous beggar Hugh Boone into Mr. Neville St. Clair.
But now two other images from that case rose before me: my first view of St. Clair's home The Cedars, and the man's sodden coat weighted down with pennies and half-pennies to sink it in the river outside the opium den where St. Clair had kept a room in which he changed from respectable businessman to scarred pauper. Over 2 pounds sterling in small copper coin; a beggar's boon indeed. That mountain of copper, begged a penny and half-penny at a time, had paid for that villa.
For most of my life I had followed a soldier's pattern where money was concerned: receive my pay, spend it all, then languish in penury until I was paid again. I counted myself fortunate if I only had to pass a day or two with empty pockets. Now I had proof that those pennies in sufficient quantity could support a middle-class existence.
For one whimsical moment I thought about turning beggar and amassing my own fortune on the streets of London. Instead, I rummaged in my room and found an empty tobacco tin.
I scooped up the pennies and dropped them in. A short clatter; four small clanks at the bottom. My begging bowl, for myself.
And into it, I would put my day's-end coppers from now on – farthings, pennies and half-pennies – and see how long it took to fill the tin, and what value it would hold in the end. No great pledge; only a quiet promise to myself.
Tin and copper; they just might bring security to a man perpetually short of sterling.
no subject
Date: 2019-04-15 11:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-04-15 03:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-04-15 03:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-04-15 03:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-04-15 07:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-04-15 07:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-04-16 11:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-04-17 01:01 am (UTC)I taught my nephew how to make a budget and now he's thrilled at how much money he can save just by being aware of his spending. (Same lesson I learned at a much later age!)
no subject
Date: 2019-04-20 01:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-04-20 05:06 pm (UTC)