Fic: Case Closed: Gen
Jul. 11th, 2019 04:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stonepicnicking_okapi posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
holmes_minorTitle: Case Closed
Rating: Gen
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Warning: Reference to drug use.
Length: 400
Summary: Watson gets a surprise on his birthday.
Notes: for the monthly prompt: needles
“Oh, no, Holmes.”
By mutual agreement, our meal that evening was a very light tea that consisted mostly of tea.
I recognised the look on Holmes’s face as he rose from the table.
He was going to fetch a gift for me.
“Really,” I said, following up the first mild protest, “it’s been the best birthday I can remember. The lying-in and the waking-up were exquisite,” I shot Holmes a knowing glance, “and then luncheon fit for king in the very best company and a walk through the new exhibit in the very best solitude,” Holmes had had the rare foresight and thoughtfulness to spare me the aggravation of his crude commentary on modern art, “and an evening ramble. I really couldn’t ask for more, Holmes.”
“Nevertheless, I have one thing more to give you. You may…well, we’ll just have to see, won’t we?”
It was not a bauble; of that, I was certain. Holmes knew I didn’t go in for such things.
He reappeared and placed it beside me on the table.
His Moroccan case.
At least, it looked like his Moroccan case. I opened it to confirm. Yes, there was the syringe and the needles and other accoutrement. No vial.
I closed the case and looked up at him.
“You may regret—” he began.
“Nonsense.”
“There will be relapses and rows and fits of temper and a host of other unpleasantries, but,” he coughed, “I put myself under your care in the matter.”
I nodded, unable to speak, my eyes brimming.
“When I considered what token to bestow to commemorate the occasion, every trinket seemed wanting. What did you genuinely want that I could give you? I realised, with humility, that what you wanted was an unfettered companion who would stand a greater likelihood of surviving to our shared dotage.”
The tears spilled.
“Thank you, Holmes,” I murmured as I folded myself in his arms.
As in most things, Holmes was right. There were relapses and rows and fits of temper, but looking back, I hardly remember them. I do, however, remember that evening. It did not end as I’d anticipated, but nevertheless, the scene is fixed in my mind. Age hasn’t withered it one jot.
We lay curled together on the sofa, Holmes in my arms, and we stared at the fire in silence, the Moroccan case resting on the table, closed, once and for all.
Rating: Gen
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Warning: Reference to drug use.
Length: 400
Summary: Watson gets a surprise on his birthday.
Notes: for the monthly prompt: needles
“Oh, no, Holmes.”
By mutual agreement, our meal that evening was a very light tea that consisted mostly of tea.
I recognised the look on Holmes’s face as he rose from the table.
He was going to fetch a gift for me.
“Really,” I said, following up the first mild protest, “it’s been the best birthday I can remember. The lying-in and the waking-up were exquisite,” I shot Holmes a knowing glance, “and then luncheon fit for king in the very best company and a walk through the new exhibit in the very best solitude,” Holmes had had the rare foresight and thoughtfulness to spare me the aggravation of his crude commentary on modern art, “and an evening ramble. I really couldn’t ask for more, Holmes.”
“Nevertheless, I have one thing more to give you. You may…well, we’ll just have to see, won’t we?”
It was not a bauble; of that, I was certain. Holmes knew I didn’t go in for such things.
He reappeared and placed it beside me on the table.
His Moroccan case.
At least, it looked like his Moroccan case. I opened it to confirm. Yes, there was the syringe and the needles and other accoutrement. No vial.
I closed the case and looked up at him.
“You may regret—” he began.
“Nonsense.”
“There will be relapses and rows and fits of temper and a host of other unpleasantries, but,” he coughed, “I put myself under your care in the matter.”
I nodded, unable to speak, my eyes brimming.
“When I considered what token to bestow to commemorate the occasion, every trinket seemed wanting. What did you genuinely want that I could give you? I realised, with humility, that what you wanted was an unfettered companion who would stand a greater likelihood of surviving to our shared dotage.”
The tears spilled.
“Thank you, Holmes,” I murmured as I folded myself in his arms.
As in most things, Holmes was right. There were relapses and rows and fits of temper, but looking back, I hardly remember them. I do, however, remember that evening. It did not end as I’d anticipated, but nevertheless, the scene is fixed in my mind. Age hasn’t withered it one jot.
We lay curled together on the sofa, Holmes in my arms, and we stared at the fire in silence, the Moroccan case resting on the table, closed, once and for all.
no subject
Date: 2019-07-11 09:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-11 09:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-11 09:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-11 09:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-11 11:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-12 12:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-12 01:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-12 02:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-21 04:32 pm (UTC)I really love the lines: "What did you genuinely want that I could give you? I realised, with humility, that what you wanted was an unfettered companion who would stand a greater likelihood of surviving to our shared dotage.”
no subject
Date: 2019-07-21 04:44 pm (UTC)[Also, btw, my Watson's Woes fill for yesterday included the tattoo artist from the Jermyn Street bath. He has seen many a fic since the Sherlock60 comm]
no subject
Date: 2019-09-01 11:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-09-02 12:57 am (UTC)