Fic: Red Poppy, White Poppy: Gen
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holmes_minorTitle: Red Poppy, White Poppy
Length: 500
Rating: Gen
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Mrs. Hudson
Prompts: Holmes Minor February prompt: cupboards, cabinets, and chests; Flash Fiction DAY 3: the language of flowers, pajamas, and a secret passageway; I also selected at random a card from my Edward Gorey card pack The Helpless Doorknob: A disguised person came to one of the side doors.
Summary: Holmes recounts a case.
“Esme’s instincts were very good,” said Holmes.
“Of course, they were,” countered Mrs. Hudson, quick to defend any suggestion, unspoken or otherwise, that a maid for whom she had given a glowing reference would have any other kind of instincts.
“From a glance, reflected in a mirror—”
“A well-polished mirror,” interjected Mrs. Hudson.
“—she was able to determine that something untoward was happening at Ormond House. At the same hour every Tuesday, a disguised person came to one of the side doors, not the same person but always disguised as a beggar. That person made the expected supplication. The housekeeper went to a certain cupboard and gave them bread wrapped in a handkerchief. No other servant was permitted this task.”
“That should have been your first clue that something was amiss, Mister Holmes,” said Mrs. Hudson who had mastered the fine art of the delegation of domestic tasks in the cradle.
“Yes, it took many days of careful surveillance and a host of wardrobe and character changes—thank you for the loan of the corsets, by the way—”
“My pleasure. It was nice to get them off my chest.”
“—but I finally established the code and its meaning. It was the embroidery on the handkerchief which had significance. Always a poppy. Often white—”
“Meaning ‘sleep, my bane, my antidote,’” offered Mrs. Hudson, looking fondly toward the cabinet which held the medicinal bottle of gin.
“Just so but once month it was red.”
“Meaning ‘fantastic extravagance.’”
“And so, the shipment which had arrived was! Smuggling goods from the Continent, naturally. The items were distributed from a seamstress shop specialising in pajamas.”
Mrs. Hudson’s brow crinkled. “Pajamas?” she echoed, disliking the way the word bounced on her tongue.
“Sleepwear. Nightdresses, undergarments, and the like. The shop had a secret passageway leading to a side door where the goods might be collected by their purchasers.”
“It all sounds complicated.”
“It was. That is why it took so long to uncover. I dare not make my presence known in the slightest or the whole scheme would have been shut down in an instant.”
“But did you make your presence known, Mister Holmes?”
“No, I didn’t. As far as I can tell, no one is being harmed in the process, and I have not been hired to remedy the deficiencies of the Custom and Excise Officials. I have informed Esme.”
“And what did she say?”
“She simply smirked and said she thought as much.”
Mrs. Hudson smirked and said, “I thought as much.”
“But she was very pleased at the silk shift and lace camisole I brought her.”
“Mister Holmes!”
“There is a little something for you, too,” he said, producing a box wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.
Mrs. Hudson flushed, then her expression sobered. “You didn’t forget Doctor Watson.”
“Do I ever?”
“And what is there for you, Mister Holmes?”
“The satisfaction of the puzzle solved. And this.” He held up the handkerchief. “Fantastic extravagance, indeed.”
Length: 500
Rating: Gen
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Mrs. Hudson
Prompts: Holmes Minor February prompt: cupboards, cabinets, and chests; Flash Fiction DAY 3: the language of flowers, pajamas, and a secret passageway; I also selected at random a card from my Edward Gorey card pack The Helpless Doorknob: A disguised person came to one of the side doors.
Summary: Holmes recounts a case.
“Esme’s instincts were very good,” said Holmes.
“Of course, they were,” countered Mrs. Hudson, quick to defend any suggestion, unspoken or otherwise, that a maid for whom she had given a glowing reference would have any other kind of instincts.
“From a glance, reflected in a mirror—”
“A well-polished mirror,” interjected Mrs. Hudson.
“—she was able to determine that something untoward was happening at Ormond House. At the same hour every Tuesday, a disguised person came to one of the side doors, not the same person but always disguised as a beggar. That person made the expected supplication. The housekeeper went to a certain cupboard and gave them bread wrapped in a handkerchief. No other servant was permitted this task.”
“That should have been your first clue that something was amiss, Mister Holmes,” said Mrs. Hudson who had mastered the fine art of the delegation of domestic tasks in the cradle.
“Yes, it took many days of careful surveillance and a host of wardrobe and character changes—thank you for the loan of the corsets, by the way—”
“My pleasure. It was nice to get them off my chest.”
“—but I finally established the code and its meaning. It was the embroidery on the handkerchief which had significance. Always a poppy. Often white—”
“Meaning ‘sleep, my bane, my antidote,’” offered Mrs. Hudson, looking fondly toward the cabinet which held the medicinal bottle of gin.
“Just so but once month it was red.”
“Meaning ‘fantastic extravagance.’”
“And so, the shipment which had arrived was! Smuggling goods from the Continent, naturally. The items were distributed from a seamstress shop specialising in pajamas.”
Mrs. Hudson’s brow crinkled. “Pajamas?” she echoed, disliking the way the word bounced on her tongue.
“Sleepwear. Nightdresses, undergarments, and the like. The shop had a secret passageway leading to a side door where the goods might be collected by their purchasers.”
“It all sounds complicated.”
“It was. That is why it took so long to uncover. I dare not make my presence known in the slightest or the whole scheme would have been shut down in an instant.”
“But did you make your presence known, Mister Holmes?”
“No, I didn’t. As far as I can tell, no one is being harmed in the process, and I have not been hired to remedy the deficiencies of the Custom and Excise Officials. I have informed Esme.”
“And what did she say?”
“She simply smirked and said she thought as much.”
Mrs. Hudson smirked and said, “I thought as much.”
“But she was very pleased at the silk shift and lace camisole I brought her.”
“Mister Holmes!”
“There is a little something for you, too,” he said, producing a box wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.
Mrs. Hudson flushed, then her expression sobered. “You didn’t forget Doctor Watson.”
“Do I ever?”
“And what is there for you, Mister Holmes?”
“The satisfaction of the puzzle solved. And this.” He held up the handkerchief. “Fantastic extravagance, indeed.”
no subject
Date: 2021-02-03 06:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-02-03 07:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-02-03 08:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-02-03 09:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-02-04 12:30 am (UTC)I also loved the lines:
“Of course, they were,” countered Mrs. Hudson, quick to defend any suggestion, unspoken or otherwise, that a maid for whom she had given a glowing reference would have any other kind of instincts.
“That should have been your first clue that something was amiss, Mister Holmes,” said Mrs. Hudson who had mastered the fine art of the delegation of domestic tasks in the cradle.
Btw, I just noticed today that the shop where I work sells gin glasses. They're enormous. I looked at them and thought fondly of Mrs. Hudson ^___^
no subject
Date: 2021-02-04 11:23 am (UTC)Thank you!
That's interesting. So Mrs. Hudson could replenish her stock if she broke too many hurling them in frustration at the wall---or trampling them unawares.
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Date: 2021-02-14 08:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-02-14 09:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-09-09 11:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-09-10 12:20 am (UTC)