Fic: Blue Star Encore: G
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holmes_minorTitle: Blue Star Encore
Rating: G
Length: 500
Content Notes: Holmes/Watson; fluff
Summary: On Guy Fawkes Night, Holmes and Watson discuss fireworks.
Author's Note: Sequel to Blue Star Confession; for November prompt: fireworks; mostly because I need some fluff.
BOOM!
White light rained down upon the masked revelers in the street as they shouted and danced and twined their procession between us.
“That was the finale,” said Holmes. “What do you make of it, Watson?”
“Beautiful spectacle,” I said. “Would you care to walk home?”
“No doubt the most expedient method of transport on a night like tonight.”
We wove our way through the crowd of merrymakers.
“Thank you for sharing your mastery of disguise with me, Holmes. I don’t think even my own mother would recognise me like this.”
“As with so many things, there is method in my madness, Watson. No one will think anything of two clowns doing this.”
And with that, he grabbed my hand and began skipping, no, prancing, no, frolicking down the street. I laughed and hopped alongside him, to the cheers and laughter of those we passed.
Holmes only slowed when we found ourselves in a deserted side-street. “What was your favourite part of the evening, Watson?”
“Apart from what we just did?!” I cried, still panting.
“Yes.”
“The fireworks, of course, especially the coloured ones. Let’s see if I remember my chemistry lesson, strontium carbonate…”
“For red, the colour of life, of blood,” said Holmes as we walked side-by-side.
“Calcium chloride,” I continued.
“For orange, the colour of healing, of scar tissue, of warm fires, of your art.”
“And yours, too. Sodium nitrate…”
“For yellow and sunlight.”
He stopped and turned and looked at me. His voice was soft and solemn, like a wedding vow.
“That one day we might walk together like this in daylight hours, not hiding ourselves in shadows and behind masks and amidst drunken crowds.”
And it was at that moment that I realised my hand was still in his. I smiled and squeezed his fingers and flung a silent prayer into the night sky that his words might one day come to fruition.
“And barium chloride,” I said when we resumed our walk and turned toward Baker Street.
“For green and Nature.”
“Mother’s?”
“And our own,” he added.
“But there was one colour that I did not see tonight, Holmes,” I said with a teasing grin.
“Ah-ha! Then you see them for the amateurs they are!” He laughed, then drew closer. “My dear Watson, what say we hurry back to our cosy rooms and remedy this oversight at once? Chemically-speaking, of course.”
I giggled like the clown that I was. “I shouldn’t like to risk your eyebrows again, Holmes, but…"
“Yes?”
“I do find myself in the mood for some explosions of a certain colour.”
“And you shall have them, my beloved,” he replied with bow and a gallant kiss of my gloved hand. “Mrs. Hudson is visiting her sister, and we are at liberty to be…”
“I’ll race you!” I taunted as I released his grip and sped down the lane.
“…as loud and as explosive and as blue as we desire!” he cried and gave gleeful chase all the way back to Baker Street.
Rating: G
Length: 500
Content Notes: Holmes/Watson; fluff
Summary: On Guy Fawkes Night, Holmes and Watson discuss fireworks.
Author's Note: Sequel to Blue Star Confession; for November prompt: fireworks; mostly because I need some fluff.
BOOM!
White light rained down upon the masked revelers in the street as they shouted and danced and twined their procession between us.
“That was the finale,” said Holmes. “What do you make of it, Watson?”
“Beautiful spectacle,” I said. “Would you care to walk home?”
“No doubt the most expedient method of transport on a night like tonight.”
We wove our way through the crowd of merrymakers.
“Thank you for sharing your mastery of disguise with me, Holmes. I don’t think even my own mother would recognise me like this.”
“As with so many things, there is method in my madness, Watson. No one will think anything of two clowns doing this.”
And with that, he grabbed my hand and began skipping, no, prancing, no, frolicking down the street. I laughed and hopped alongside him, to the cheers and laughter of those we passed.
Holmes only slowed when we found ourselves in a deserted side-street. “What was your favourite part of the evening, Watson?”
“Apart from what we just did?!” I cried, still panting.
“Yes.”
“The fireworks, of course, especially the coloured ones. Let’s see if I remember my chemistry lesson, strontium carbonate…”
“For red, the colour of life, of blood,” said Holmes as we walked side-by-side.
“Calcium chloride,” I continued.
“For orange, the colour of healing, of scar tissue, of warm fires, of your art.”
“And yours, too. Sodium nitrate…”
“For yellow and sunlight.”
He stopped and turned and looked at me. His voice was soft and solemn, like a wedding vow.
“That one day we might walk together like this in daylight hours, not hiding ourselves in shadows and behind masks and amidst drunken crowds.”
And it was at that moment that I realised my hand was still in his. I smiled and squeezed his fingers and flung a silent prayer into the night sky that his words might one day come to fruition.
“And barium chloride,” I said when we resumed our walk and turned toward Baker Street.
“For green and Nature.”
“Mother’s?”
“And our own,” he added.
“But there was one colour that I did not see tonight, Holmes,” I said with a teasing grin.
“Ah-ha! Then you see them for the amateurs they are!” He laughed, then drew closer. “My dear Watson, what say we hurry back to our cosy rooms and remedy this oversight at once? Chemically-speaking, of course.”
I giggled like the clown that I was. “I shouldn’t like to risk your eyebrows again, Holmes, but…"
“Yes?”
“I do find myself in the mood for some explosions of a certain colour.”
“And you shall have them, my beloved,” he replied with bow and a gallant kiss of my gloved hand. “Mrs. Hudson is visiting her sister, and we are at liberty to be…”
“I’ll race you!” I taunted as I released his grip and sped down the lane.
“…as loud and as explosive and as blue as we desire!” he cried and gave gleeful chase all the way back to Baker Street.
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no subject
Date: 2016-11-09 10:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-11-09 10:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-11-09 10:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-11-09 10:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-11-09 11:07 pm (UTC)Happy, funny and poetic ^^ With, of course, just a touch of poignancy too.
no subject
Date: 2016-11-09 11:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-11-09 11:15 pm (UTC)And so colourful:-)
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Date: 2016-11-09 11:21 pm (UTC)