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Title: The Singular Affair of the Aluminium Pole
Author: gardnerhill
Fandom: ACD
Pairing: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Word Count: 500
Rating: G
Warning: None
Summary: Sherlock Holmes has a lot of problems with some people.
Author's Notes: Written for the December 2022 Holmes Minor monthly prompt “Shared Festivities.”
Story in Dreamwidth
Story in AO3
Spending a winter evening lying in wait for a precious metal broker suspected of robbing his wealthy clients can be a long, dark, dull business. Because of the immense value of the merchandise involved, more than a few of Scotland Yard’s highest-ranking officers – Lestrade, Hopkins, Gregson, Jones – waited along with Sherlock Holmes and myself, as well as a few luckless constables, in Mr. Atwell Cuthbert’s office. We were all acutely aware that we were spending December 23 in an icy dark room and not by a blazing hearth with a steaming mug of seasonal spirits; it did not improve any of our moods.
But when Lestrade blew his nose one too many times, Holmes whirled on the man, his voice barely above a hiss. “IN-spector Lestrade, must you make that abominable snuffling noise every time we are on stakeout!”
“It’s abominably cold, Mr. Holmes,” snapped Lestrade – just as quietly. “Or hadn’t you deduced that yet? We’re not all as adamantine as yourself, you know.”
“He’s right, Holmes,” I said before my friend could react. “You often express little regard for others’ weaknesses.”
“And I’d appreciate a dram of respect for the police once in a while from an amateur detective,” Gregson added in the same heated tone.
“What a coincidence, Inspector! I myself would heartily appreciate a dram of competence from some Scotland Yarders!”
Fortunately our mutual exchange was halted by Constable Rance gesturing from the door that our target was approaching. We waited in the cold in utter silence once again, but now all oddly warmed by the verbal airing-out we had all just done.
Still in hiding, we watched Mr. Atwell Cuthbert come into his office – and pull out what had looked like a slender support pillar, holding the long metal pole easily. Only then did Holmes step forward with Lestrade – and the other police blocked the exits as the frantic man turned to flee. Gregson clapped the derbies on him.
Holmes hefted the painted pole, which would have required two men to lift had it been iron. “Aluminium, Watson! Very light and strong for its weight. And worth a fortune – easily the value of the missing goods.”
I lifted it and was astonished at how easily I held the heavy-looking thing. Rance and Jones tried their hand at it too, astonished at the sheer volume of the precious metal.
“No great feats of strength are needed to carry this to the station, Lestrade,” Holmes laughed. “But it was clever of you, Mr. Cuthbert, to hide the stolen goods in plain sight.”
“The best part is that we can all go back to the station now.” Hopkins grinned. “There’s a steaming bowl of something seasonal we can all enjoy. If Mr. Holmes thinks we’re competent enough to stir up a good punch.”
Holmes laughed as heartily as did the police, now that the end of the business was done. “I only hope the other constables at the station have left enough festive cheer for the rest of us!”
Author: gardnerhill
Fandom: ACD
Pairing: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Word Count: 500
Rating: G
Warning: None
Summary: Sherlock Holmes has a lot of problems with some people.
Author's Notes: Written for the December 2022 Holmes Minor monthly prompt “Shared Festivities.”
Story in Dreamwidth
Story in AO3
Spending a winter evening lying in wait for a precious metal broker suspected of robbing his wealthy clients can be a long, dark, dull business. Because of the immense value of the merchandise involved, more than a few of Scotland Yard’s highest-ranking officers – Lestrade, Hopkins, Gregson, Jones – waited along with Sherlock Holmes and myself, as well as a few luckless constables, in Mr. Atwell Cuthbert’s office. We were all acutely aware that we were spending December 23 in an icy dark room and not by a blazing hearth with a steaming mug of seasonal spirits; it did not improve any of our moods.
But when Lestrade blew his nose one too many times, Holmes whirled on the man, his voice barely above a hiss. “IN-spector Lestrade, must you make that abominable snuffling noise every time we are on stakeout!”
“It’s abominably cold, Mr. Holmes,” snapped Lestrade – just as quietly. “Or hadn’t you deduced that yet? We’re not all as adamantine as yourself, you know.”
“He’s right, Holmes,” I said before my friend could react. “You often express little regard for others’ weaknesses.”
“And I’d appreciate a dram of respect for the police once in a while from an amateur detective,” Gregson added in the same heated tone.
“What a coincidence, Inspector! I myself would heartily appreciate a dram of competence from some Scotland Yarders!”
Fortunately our mutual exchange was halted by Constable Rance gesturing from the door that our target was approaching. We waited in the cold in utter silence once again, but now all oddly warmed by the verbal airing-out we had all just done.
Still in hiding, we watched Mr. Atwell Cuthbert come into his office – and pull out what had looked like a slender support pillar, holding the long metal pole easily. Only then did Holmes step forward with Lestrade – and the other police blocked the exits as the frantic man turned to flee. Gregson clapped the derbies on him.
Holmes hefted the painted pole, which would have required two men to lift had it been iron. “Aluminium, Watson! Very light and strong for its weight. And worth a fortune – easily the value of the missing goods.”
I lifted it and was astonished at how easily I held the heavy-looking thing. Rance and Jones tried their hand at it too, astonished at the sheer volume of the precious metal.
“No great feats of strength are needed to carry this to the station, Lestrade,” Holmes laughed. “But it was clever of you, Mr. Cuthbert, to hide the stolen goods in plain sight.”
“The best part is that we can all go back to the station now.” Hopkins grinned. “There’s a steaming bowl of something seasonal we can all enjoy. If Mr. Holmes thinks we’re competent enough to stir up a good punch.”
Holmes laughed as heartily as did the police, now that the end of the business was done. “I only hope the other constables at the station have left enough festive cheer for the rest of us!”