Sport: Gen
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holmes_minorTitle: Sport
Length: 400
Rating: Gen
Notes: Holmes/Watson. Based on this article about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
Summary: When Watson returns from judging a bodybuilding contest, Holmes has a bit of a jealous sulk.
Author's Note: For the June prompt: sport.
“I say, Holmes, you aren’t, by any chance, jealous?”
“Jealous?” Holmes huffed. “Certainly not. I’ve been absorbed in a monograph on various types of moss while you’ve elected to spend this evening ogling—”
“Judging,” I corrected.
“—what some consider paragons of the male physical form in near nude states. Yours was, by far, the duller enterprise.”
I smiled. “You know very well that I only agreed, Holmes, because the contest was for a good cause, raising funds for a home for invalided soldiers, and one of judges was, at the last moment, unable to attend. The contest organisers simply wanted a physician on the panel.”
“And, naturally, physicians are scarce in a place like London,” said Holmes dryly.
I ignored the remark. “And while it was something to see—”
“Gawk at,” interjected Holmes.
“—these fellows carved in the manner of Renaissance sculptures, I arrived at the conclusion that not one of them could hold a candle to the work of art I have at home.”
Holmes beamed as I punctuated my statement with a kiss to his temple, but his expression reverted to its original censorious.
“Nevertheless, you are late,” he observed, his grey eyes following me closely as I settled into my armchair.
“Curious thing. On my way here, I spotted Murray, the winner of the event, walking with his prize, a gold statuette, under his arm. I stopped to offer him a ride, but he said he had no money, just a return ticket to Blackburn, and was planning to walk the streets until his train left. Well, that didn’t seem right at all, so I took him to Motley’s and got him a room. We had a chat in the bar. He’d said he was going to sell his prize, and I recommended against it. I suggested he open a gymnasium in his hometown and use the trophy as advertising.”
“Sound advice,” admitted Holmes.
“So that’s why I’m so late, Mother,” I teased. “And speaking of paragons of the male physical form in near nude states…”
Holmes’s eyebrows rose. “Oh yes?” he asked with a cheeky lilt.
“…what say we retire to discuss the merits of brains versus brawn?”
“With demonstrations of both?”
“Of course, but you must remember one vital point, my dear man.”
“And what’s that?”
“The judge’s decision is final,” I said with mock solemnity.
Holmes hummed. “That sounds promising.”
Length: 400
Rating: Gen
Notes: Holmes/Watson. Based on this article about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
Summary: When Watson returns from judging a bodybuilding contest, Holmes has a bit of a jealous sulk.
Author's Note: For the June prompt: sport.
“I say, Holmes, you aren’t, by any chance, jealous?”
“Jealous?” Holmes huffed. “Certainly not. I’ve been absorbed in a monograph on various types of moss while you’ve elected to spend this evening ogling—”
“Judging,” I corrected.
“—what some consider paragons of the male physical form in near nude states. Yours was, by far, the duller enterprise.”
I smiled. “You know very well that I only agreed, Holmes, because the contest was for a good cause, raising funds for a home for invalided soldiers, and one of judges was, at the last moment, unable to attend. The contest organisers simply wanted a physician on the panel.”
“And, naturally, physicians are scarce in a place like London,” said Holmes dryly.
I ignored the remark. “And while it was something to see—”
“Gawk at,” interjected Holmes.
“—these fellows carved in the manner of Renaissance sculptures, I arrived at the conclusion that not one of them could hold a candle to the work of art I have at home.”
Holmes beamed as I punctuated my statement with a kiss to his temple, but his expression reverted to its original censorious.
“Nevertheless, you are late,” he observed, his grey eyes following me closely as I settled into my armchair.
“Curious thing. On my way here, I spotted Murray, the winner of the event, walking with his prize, a gold statuette, under his arm. I stopped to offer him a ride, but he said he had no money, just a return ticket to Blackburn, and was planning to walk the streets until his train left. Well, that didn’t seem right at all, so I took him to Motley’s and got him a room. We had a chat in the bar. He’d said he was going to sell his prize, and I recommended against it. I suggested he open a gymnasium in his hometown and use the trophy as advertising.”
“Sound advice,” admitted Holmes.
“So that’s why I’m so late, Mother,” I teased. “And speaking of paragons of the male physical form in near nude states…”
Holmes’s eyebrows rose. “Oh yes?” he asked with a cheeky lilt.
“…what say we retire to discuss the merits of brains versus brawn?”
“With demonstrations of both?”
“Of course, but you must remember one vital point, my dear man.”
“And what’s that?”
“The judge’s decision is final,” I said with mock solemnity.
Holmes hummed. “That sounds promising.”
no subject
Date: 2019-06-09 03:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-06-09 12:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-06-09 07:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-06-09 12:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-06-09 10:12 pm (UTC)“Jealous?” Holmes huffed. “Certainly not. I’ve been absorbed in a monograph on various types of moss while you’ve elected to spend this evening ogling—”
“Judging,” I corrected.
“—what some consider paragons of the male physical form in near nude states..."
I love poor Holmes being jealous ^___^ But of course he'll always win the gold where Watson is concerned.
no subject
Date: 2019-06-09 11:21 pm (UTC)Thank you for the Sherlock60 archives. I re-read through the cycling, swimming, and exercise ones trying to come up with an idea. You did a lot of hard work there and it was appreciated.
Yes, Holmes has no reason to be jealous, but it's fun to write.
no subject
Date: 2019-06-11 04:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-06-11 08:12 pm (UTC)