Fic: Spring Picnic: Gen
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holmes_minorTitle: Spring Picnic
Rating: Gen
Length: 500
Notes: dialogue only
Summary: Holmes and Watson on a picnic.
“I can’t help but think our landlady, Holmes, indulges in a spot of augury from time to time.”
“Indeed. Ham or cold tongue?”
“Ham, please, thank you. What I mean to say is, we’d abandoned our plans for an out-of-doors picnic in favour of a similar one at our own table, under our own roof…”
“Yes.”
“…when that good woman blew in and told us to do nothing of the sort, contradicting our best supposition…”
“And not a few highly scientific instruments.”
“…that the rain would continue and make any kind of openair dining, to say nothing of recreation, highly unadvisable.”
“Yes, she told us to stop being silly and get on with our scheduled frivolity.”
“I say, Holmes, what are those?”
“Hard boiled eggs, my good man.”
“No, the other.”
“Cheese, a ripe Manchego if I’m not mistaken. You know I’ve written a monograph on…”
“Blast your monograph! Would you kindly tell me what those things are?”
“Fruit tarts.”
“They’re not like any fruit tarts I’ve ever seen.”
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Watson…”
“Don’t I know it? But, tarts?”
“Look.”
“By Jove, you’re right!”
“It’s sort of a fruit purse. I gather Mrs. Hudson has been improving upon a recipe of Mrs. Beaton’s. Try it.”
“Uncommonly good.”
“Yes.”
“I mean, in all seriousness, Holmes, these are jolly good.”
“Don’t eat them all. Save room for eggs!”
“You are proud of your eggs.”
“They were my only contribution to our feast. And the possible Manchego, which was, along with the hamper, was a gift from last week’s grateful client. Mrs. Hudson outdid herself on the rest.”
“And Mrs. Hudson also wisely pointed us to this alternate venue for our picnic. I shouldn’t have liked to make camp on the soggy ground, but this lovely, uh, shelter is perfect.”
“Oh, that was me as well. Well, a collaboration. Mrs. Hudson began describing the ideal location for our picnic, and I remembered a murder in just this very spot.”
“Oh, Lord, please tell me you aren’t going looking for clues. I shall eat every last tart in that hamper if you do and feed your niffy cheese to the first dog I see.”
“No need to get so testy, Watson. The murder was in 1823.”
“Ha! As if that mattered. Trust you to investigate a case as cold as…hello, are those bottles of beer?!”
“Mrs. Hudson is a wonder.”
“None better! Cheers, to our landlady and the weather she correctly predicted and the fruit purses she baked and all the rest of it.”
“Long may she reign.”
“That’s an awful lot of beer, Holmes.”
“Yes, I suspect we’re to stay and drink it until dusk. It’s Mrs. Hudson’s turn to host the landladies’ tea and she wants us out of her hair for the afternoon.”
“Oh!”
“Yes, it wasn’t just benevolence, Watson, that prompted Mrs. Hudson to encourage our picnic. It was also avoidance of crumbs on the premises.”
“The mess?”
“The mess.”
“Well, cheers to that, too!”
Rating: Gen
Length: 500
Notes: dialogue only
Summary: Holmes and Watson on a picnic.
“I can’t help but think our landlady, Holmes, indulges in a spot of augury from time to time.”
“Indeed. Ham or cold tongue?”
“Ham, please, thank you. What I mean to say is, we’d abandoned our plans for an out-of-doors picnic in favour of a similar one at our own table, under our own roof…”
“Yes.”
“…when that good woman blew in and told us to do nothing of the sort, contradicting our best supposition…”
“And not a few highly scientific instruments.”
“…that the rain would continue and make any kind of openair dining, to say nothing of recreation, highly unadvisable.”
“Yes, she told us to stop being silly and get on with our scheduled frivolity.”
“I say, Holmes, what are those?”
“Hard boiled eggs, my good man.”
“No, the other.”
“Cheese, a ripe Manchego if I’m not mistaken. You know I’ve written a monograph on…”
“Blast your monograph! Would you kindly tell me what those things are?”
“Fruit tarts.”
“They’re not like any fruit tarts I’ve ever seen.”
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Watson…”
“Don’t I know it? But, tarts?”
“Look.”
“By Jove, you’re right!”
“It’s sort of a fruit purse. I gather Mrs. Hudson has been improving upon a recipe of Mrs. Beaton’s. Try it.”
“Uncommonly good.”
“Yes.”
“I mean, in all seriousness, Holmes, these are jolly good.”
“Don’t eat them all. Save room for eggs!”
“You are proud of your eggs.”
“They were my only contribution to our feast. And the possible Manchego, which was, along with the hamper, was a gift from last week’s grateful client. Mrs. Hudson outdid herself on the rest.”
“And Mrs. Hudson also wisely pointed us to this alternate venue for our picnic. I shouldn’t have liked to make camp on the soggy ground, but this lovely, uh, shelter is perfect.”
“Oh, that was me as well. Well, a collaboration. Mrs. Hudson began describing the ideal location for our picnic, and I remembered a murder in just this very spot.”
“Oh, Lord, please tell me you aren’t going looking for clues. I shall eat every last tart in that hamper if you do and feed your niffy cheese to the first dog I see.”
“No need to get so testy, Watson. The murder was in 1823.”
“Ha! As if that mattered. Trust you to investigate a case as cold as…hello, are those bottles of beer?!”
“Mrs. Hudson is a wonder.”
“None better! Cheers, to our landlady and the weather she correctly predicted and the fruit purses she baked and all the rest of it.”
“Long may she reign.”
“That’s an awful lot of beer, Holmes.”
“Yes, I suspect we’re to stay and drink it until dusk. It’s Mrs. Hudson’s turn to host the landladies’ tea and she wants us out of her hair for the afternoon.”
“Oh!”
“Yes, it wasn’t just benevolence, Watson, that prompted Mrs. Hudson to encourage our picnic. It was also avoidance of crumbs on the premises.”
“The mess?”
“The mess.”
“Well, cheers to that, too!”
