fic: the hunt: gen
Apr. 10th, 2023 03:13 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: the hunt
Length: 420
Rating: Gen
Note/warning: I'm doing a word crawl at GYWO and the task was to 'free write' for 20 minutes so I wrote a stream of consciousness about Holmes searching for something in a pile of mess using the 'M' of his index book as guide, no capitalization or proper punctuation
…oh, god, no, I don’t need those maps of switzerland, best shove them back under the rug where they belong, oh, dear that stain on floorboards does resemble that criminal mastermind’s profile, i wonder if it’s his ghost haunting, ha, ha, you fell down instead of me, not very sporting, but there you have it, where in the blazes is it, oh, so there’s my compendium on rare and exotic poisons, i was wondering where you’d go to, never would’ve caught merridew without you, my pretty, let’s keep you in safer place than near the coal scuttle, now, i say, a tooth, a human tooth, a canine, i wonder whose tooth you are, let us deduce you, Sir Enamel, oh, yes, how silly of me, it’s mine, Charing Cross waiting room, never, ever determine aloud the marital status of a boxer, especially when there were no fewer than three mrs. matthews, and especially, especially when said boxer has a score to settle with you for a sneaky left jab about a hundred years ago, what an afternoon that was, ol’ matthews, you got the jump on me there, didn’t you? wonder if watson would like this tooth this as a souvenir, as tokens of affection go, it’s a jolly rotten one, so no, back you go to the heap, where is it, where is it, i say, what’s this? hmm, tastes like a bit of that bust moran shot to pieces, after all these years, a shard of that remains, extraordinary, no, maybe, oh, dear me, here’s a mouse in house, a dead mouse, entombed in my papers, would’ve been better if he’d accidently decapitated himself on this frightfully exact miniature guillotine, i must get rid of the dead mouse at once, that’s a most unsavory finding, yes, watson’s slipper is an excellent hiding place for a dead mouse, i’ll blame the cat, though we haven’t got a cat, note to self: acquire a cat before supper, god, this place is a mess, i can’t find anything, mustn’t say it aloud, especially not within earshot of watson and mrs. hudson, they’ll combined forces and surgically attach a broom and dustpan to my palms, condemn me to an eternal purgatory of tidy and orderly and, oh, there you are, no sense playing hide and seek with me, my little one, i see you and you allow me to see everything, everything worth seeing, that is, oh, my first love, i’m so glad I found you, my beautiful, beautiful magnifying glass …
Length: 420
Rating: Gen
Note/warning: I'm doing a word crawl at GYWO and the task was to 'free write' for 20 minutes so I wrote a stream of consciousness about Holmes searching for something in a pile of mess using the 'M' of his index book as guide, no capitalization or proper punctuation
…oh, god, no, I don’t need those maps of switzerland, best shove them back under the rug where they belong, oh, dear that stain on floorboards does resemble that criminal mastermind’s profile, i wonder if it’s his ghost haunting, ha, ha, you fell down instead of me, not very sporting, but there you have it, where in the blazes is it, oh, so there’s my compendium on rare and exotic poisons, i was wondering where you’d go to, never would’ve caught merridew without you, my pretty, let’s keep you in safer place than near the coal scuttle, now, i say, a tooth, a human tooth, a canine, i wonder whose tooth you are, let us deduce you, Sir Enamel, oh, yes, how silly of me, it’s mine, Charing Cross waiting room, never, ever determine aloud the marital status of a boxer, especially when there were no fewer than three mrs. matthews, and especially, especially when said boxer has a score to settle with you for a sneaky left jab about a hundred years ago, what an afternoon that was, ol’ matthews, you got the jump on me there, didn’t you? wonder if watson would like this tooth this as a souvenir, as tokens of affection go, it’s a jolly rotten one, so no, back you go to the heap, where is it, where is it, i say, what’s this? hmm, tastes like a bit of that bust moran shot to pieces, after all these years, a shard of that remains, extraordinary, no, maybe, oh, dear me, here’s a mouse in house, a dead mouse, entombed in my papers, would’ve been better if he’d accidently decapitated himself on this frightfully exact miniature guillotine, i must get rid of the dead mouse at once, that’s a most unsavory finding, yes, watson’s slipper is an excellent hiding place for a dead mouse, i’ll blame the cat, though we haven’t got a cat, note to self: acquire a cat before supper, god, this place is a mess, i can’t find anything, mustn’t say it aloud, especially not within earshot of watson and mrs. hudson, they’ll combined forces and surgically attach a broom and dustpan to my palms, condemn me to an eternal purgatory of tidy and orderly and, oh, there you are, no sense playing hide and seek with me, my little one, i see you and you allow me to see everything, everything worth seeing, that is, oh, my first love, i’m so glad I found you, my beautiful, beautiful magnifying glass …
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