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holmes_minorTitle: Flag of Distress
Author: gardnerhill
Fandom: ACD
Pairing: None
Word Count: 221b
Rating: G
Warning: Period attitude about homosexuality.
Summary: Stamford did not need to be Sherlock Holmes to see the signs.
Author's Notes: Written for the May 2023 Holmes Minor monthly prompt "flag."
***
Story on Dreamwidth
Story on AO3
That certainly looked like John Watson at the Criterion – or a pauper masquerading as Watson. No, no – that truly was my old Bart's colleague. What had happened to him?
He'd fallen on hard times, that was certain. He looked unwell and not merely impoverished. Gaunt as a workhouse man; burnt brown as a day-labourer but without the robust musculature of those fellows.
His clothes hung loose on his body – he'd lost a lot of weight far too quickly – and were out of style by a few years. But they were in good condition, as if he hadn't worn them since they were fashionable. It was the more vivid marker of destitution than if he'd worn slopshop rags, since he was clearly striving to look respectable here.
Sadly, one gets to know the signs of poverty and desperation at this particular watering-hole; it's rumoured that men came here to proposition wealthier clientele of their same unnatural bent, the way fallen women approached sailors in dockside taverns. Disbelief gripped me. Had Watson joined the ranks of those men?
That, I could not deduce, any more than I could make out anything further of my old colleague's history and what had led him to this appearance.
But I knew who could.
I walked up to John Watson and tapped his shoulder at the bar.
#
Further Note: "Flag of distress" was Victorian slang for visible signs of poverty.
Author: gardnerhill
Fandom: ACD
Pairing: None
Word Count: 221b
Rating: G
Warning: Period attitude about homosexuality.
Summary: Stamford did not need to be Sherlock Holmes to see the signs.
Author's Notes: Written for the May 2023 Holmes Minor monthly prompt "flag."
***
Story on Dreamwidth
Story on AO3
That certainly looked like John Watson at the Criterion – or a pauper masquerading as Watson. No, no – that truly was my old Bart's colleague. What had happened to him?
He'd fallen on hard times, that was certain. He looked unwell and not merely impoverished. Gaunt as a workhouse man; burnt brown as a day-labourer but without the robust musculature of those fellows.
His clothes hung loose on his body – he'd lost a lot of weight far too quickly – and were out of style by a few years. But they were in good condition, as if he hadn't worn them since they were fashionable. It was the more vivid marker of destitution than if he'd worn slopshop rags, since he was clearly striving to look respectable here.
Sadly, one gets to know the signs of poverty and desperation at this particular watering-hole; it's rumoured that men came here to proposition wealthier clientele of their same unnatural bent, the way fallen women approached sailors in dockside taverns. Disbelief gripped me. Had Watson joined the ranks of those men?
That, I could not deduce, any more than I could make out anything further of my old colleague's history and what had led him to this appearance.
But I knew who could.
I walked up to John Watson and tapped his shoulder at the bar.
#
Further Note: "Flag of distress" was Victorian slang for visible signs of poverty.
no subject
Date: 2023-05-27 11:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-05-27 11:57 pm (UTC)