![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gardnerhill posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
holmes_minorTitle: Bold Hearts and Nodding Plumes
Author: gardnerhill
Fandom: ACD
Pairing: None
Word Count: 221b
Rating: G
Warning: None
Summary: A wise Englishman appreciates his Scots allies.
Author's Notes: Written for the July 2022 Holmes Minor monthly prompt “Scotland.”
Story in Dreamwidth
Story in AO3
I am a born-and-bred Englishman who owes much to two staunch Caledonians.
One is Martha Hudson, as frugal and fierce as could be desired in any landlady. In our early days when clients were few and shillings fewer, she still conjured up nourishing meals and well-laid fireplaces for two threadbare men. Mrs. Hudson is also fearless in the face of the most threatening visitors that my profession attracts – and has more than once helped me remove an unwanted guest via a well-wielded coal-scuttle. There are many reasons why I now pay thrice the going rent for our suite of rooms, but the chiefest of them is that now I can afford to reimburse my housekeeper as she truly deserves.
The other, of course, is John Watson. A soldier who remained good-natured despite early penury (“I’d have paid handsomely for rabbit stew in Candahar,” he said over our fourth such meal in a week instead of complaining), a keen sense of justice, and courageous to a fault. I suspect that Scots simply do not know what fear is, for no threat deters him from my side whether confronting deadly snakes or criminal masterminds – and he helped me defeat my cocaine addiction as unflinchingly as he’d faced Killer Evans.
These two are my fellow Londoners now – but I see Scotland in their bravery.
Author: gardnerhill
Fandom: ACD
Pairing: None
Word Count: 221b
Rating: G
Warning: None
Summary: A wise Englishman appreciates his Scots allies.
Author's Notes: Written for the July 2022 Holmes Minor monthly prompt “Scotland.”
Story in Dreamwidth
Story in AO3
I am a born-and-bred Englishman who owes much to two staunch Caledonians.
One is Martha Hudson, as frugal and fierce as could be desired in any landlady. In our early days when clients were few and shillings fewer, she still conjured up nourishing meals and well-laid fireplaces for two threadbare men. Mrs. Hudson is also fearless in the face of the most threatening visitors that my profession attracts – and has more than once helped me remove an unwanted guest via a well-wielded coal-scuttle. There are many reasons why I now pay thrice the going rent for our suite of rooms, but the chiefest of them is that now I can afford to reimburse my housekeeper as she truly deserves.
The other, of course, is John Watson. A soldier who remained good-natured despite early penury (“I’d have paid handsomely for rabbit stew in Candahar,” he said over our fourth such meal in a week instead of complaining), a keen sense of justice, and courageous to a fault. I suspect that Scots simply do not know what fear is, for no threat deters him from my side whether confronting deadly snakes or criminal masterminds – and he helped me defeat my cocaine addiction as unflinchingly as he’d faced Killer Evans.
These two are my fellow Londoners now – but I see Scotland in their bravery.
no subject
Date: 2022-07-11 07:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-07-11 07:24 am (UTC)