![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smallhobbit) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
holmes_minor2019-06-09 05:45 pm
Fic: Just Not Cricket: G
Form/Word Count: 495
Characters/Pairing: Dr Watson/Mr Holmes
Rating: G
Warning/Content: Set in my Sussex Retirement 'verse, Watson muses on village cricket.
One of the joys of village cricket is that when you are no longer able to play you may sit outside the boundary line and watch, whilst drinking cider. All that is required is to occasionally say “good shot” before taking another thirst-quenching drink. As Honorary Medical Officer I was careful to restrict how much I drank, but otherwise my role was very similar to that of my companions.
Holmes occasionally accompanied me, but he was not particularly keen on the game, and would often remain at the cottage tending to his bees, and making notes, before wandering down when he estimated the game would be ending, to join us for supper at the Red Lion.
I was generally invited to join the team when they went to play in other villages. I had been slightly circumspect at the beginning, but after I had gone a couple of times and been greeted with, “We’re delighted you were able to come, Doctor. We’ve put a chair out ready for you,” I was quite happy in my role. There were very few injuries, but over the season I tended the occasional broken finger where a youngster had failed to catch a ball correctly, plus the inevitable stings which occur whenever families with young children are present.
However, I was surprised to be invited to attend the game at Much Weddling, for I knew there was a doctor who lived in the village. He had a practice in the nearby town and travelled there every morning by pony and trap. A young relative lived on the practice premises and dealt with the emergencies, whilst the doctor saw only the wealthier of his patients at a time convenient to himself. The previous year, the doctor had made it very clear I was not welcome in his village, accusing me of being out-of-date with modern medical practices. Our team captain had stood by me, and insisted the team had the right to bring their own Medical Officer if they wished. The doctor had been forced to permit this, but I told the captain I would not come the next year since it made it very awkward for the host team.
I said as much to Toby Dobbs, when he came to ask me if I would go to Much Weddling with them.
“There’ll be no trouble with that doctor this year,” he said. “He’s on a bit of a sticky wicket, on account of having bowled a maiden over.”
I must have looked rather blankly at him, because Holmes, who had overheard the conversation, said, “Ah, yes. I did read that Dr Lancrete had been accused of having an affair and forced to leave his practice.”
“In which case,” I said to Dobbs, “I shall be delighted to join you for the game at Much Weddling.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Dobbs said and departed.
I turned to Holmes, and with a smirk said, “That behaviour of Dr Lancrete simply wasn’t cricket!”
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
“He’s on a bit of a sticky wicket, on account of having bowled a maiden over.” And yes, very good ^____^
no subject
It was irresistible.