Fic: From the Journal of… Sherlock Holmes?
Title: From the Journal of… Sherlock Holmes?
Author: agaryulnaer86
Rating: PG
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Disclaimer: Not mine… yet.
Summary: I know, it blows my mind, too. Next thing you know, Dr. Watson will be solving crimes in a socially inept, yet strangely charming manner.
Spoilers: The boat sinks. It was an iceberg.
Warnings: The title is all the warning you need. You all know how this is going to go.
Word Count: 908
Author's Notes: Vaguely Letters-verse, but only if you’re really keeping up on the saga of Holmes’ pen.
--
Watson says this will be cathartic. I wonder if he recalls the etymology of that word.
--
I’ve been informed that “one sentence is hardly keeping a journal.” When I demonstrated to Watson that I had not written one sentence but rather two, he scowled at me (as he does) and then began what I feel reasonably safe in assuming was a lecture regarding the necessity of expressing one’s emotions and admitting one has emotions and etcetera and so forth. However, as I was at that time quite engaged in mentally reconstructing the path the culprit of my most recent case had taken from the nearby bakery to the house of Madame Van Gate, I cannot be more than 86% certain of this assumption’s accuracy.
Rest assured, however, that the general meaning was made clear to me: Watson thinks me unable to keep a journal in the fashion he is so fond of doing himself, chronicler as he is in his particular Boswellian fashion. I admit that the tales fashioned around his recountings of our exploits are certainly more enjoyable to the general public than the logic and reasoning and true workings behind it all might be. I am not certain, however skilled I trust Watson to be as a doctor and a storyteller, that that is a particularly respectable quality of the general public. It is, in fact, rather worrisome to me that a recounting of one of my cases needs be “enhanced” in Artistic fashion in order for the great majority of the public to enjoy it, when one would assume an intelligent man (or woman, I suppose) should read such a recounting on the basis of its intellectual merit. However, I digress.
In any case, Watson clearly meant this as a challenge, one that he gave the impression he never expected me to take seriously, which of course means that he knew perfectly well that I would. In that sense, I am giving in entirely to his expectations, which does not sit well with me, and yet, I feel as though succeeding in keeping a journal of sorts- to his standards, more or less, subjective and ill-defined as they may be- would be going above and beyond his expectations.
In essence, Dr. Watson expects me to fail miserably, and in doing so, for me to learn a lesson in humility and to better appreciate his works of near-fiction. Or, he expects that should I succeed, I will learn a valuable lesson regarding expressing myself or some other such nonsense. In my mind’s eye that is what he is saying, anyway, and I am pleased to note that he is much easier to tune out in my mind than in person. Either way, he assumes he wins. However, should I succeed and fail to make any such vast and valuable realization or learn any supposed life-lesson, well, proving myself right is a worthy pastime.
Anyway, that’s four paragraphs today, I think that’s quite enough, don’t you agree, Watson? It’s very clever of you to read the reflection of what I’m writing in the window over my shoulder, however it is also completely obvious as you haven’t turned a page of that paper you are supposedly reading in six-point-eight minu
--
He moved my pen again. He is absolutely doing this on purpose.
--
Watson- as I know you read this-
the dead man’s left shoe, missing ring- not actually married do not tell Lestrade as soon as you read this meet me at second crime scene bring charcoal
--
Wrapping broken fingers in attempt to hide from Watson in order to carry on without interruption is a poor idea and results in unnecessary pain, lesson learned. But to be fair I am right-handed and said fingers were an equally unnecessary bother at the time. Case solved on account of the liner of the widow’s coat. Will regain use of left hand provided Watson does not actually remove it if I should succumb to sleep. Very violent for a doctor
--
I have determined that I shall give lessons on being an effective criminal. When approached with this idea, Watson seemed skeptical of its social value. I assured him that there was little social value to be had, but perhaps would lead to an interesting case in several years’ time, at which point the intelligent, dangerous criminals would be caught by yours truly and the incompetents would remain so and at large, easy for Scotland Yard to catch, in theory. My subsequent and thoroughly detailed explanation of the flaw in always assuming an action must have social value in order to be of any value at all, and the analysis of the psychological conditioning that a man such as Watson must undergo since birth for this to be his first thought at all times (as it so painfully often is with the dear doctor) appears to have been completely ignored despite my best efforts and the obvious merit of the discussion. In any case, the criminal mind is a mind as any other and needs must be expanded if I am to ever leave these rooms again.
Am not convinced Watson would actually change the locks if I attempted this as he so loudly threatens. It’s worth an experiment.
--
Living on the streets for three days would have been much more enjoyable had Watson at least thrown my pipe out the window to me as asked instead of calling for a constable.
Author: agaryulnaer86
Rating: PG
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Disclaimer: Not mine… yet.
Summary: I know, it blows my mind, too. Next thing you know, Dr. Watson will be solving crimes in a socially inept, yet strangely charming manner.
Spoilers: The boat sinks. It was an iceberg.
Warnings: The title is all the warning you need. You all know how this is going to go.
Word Count: 908
Author's Notes: Vaguely Letters-verse, but only if you’re really keeping up on the saga of Holmes’ pen.
--
Watson says this will be cathartic. I wonder if he recalls the etymology of that word.
--
I’ve been informed that “one sentence is hardly keeping a journal.” When I demonstrated to Watson that I had not written one sentence but rather two, he scowled at me (as he does) and then began what I feel reasonably safe in assuming was a lecture regarding the necessity of expressing one’s emotions and admitting one has emotions and etcetera and so forth. However, as I was at that time quite engaged in mentally reconstructing the path the culprit of my most recent case had taken from the nearby bakery to the house of Madame Van Gate, I cannot be more than 86% certain of this assumption’s accuracy.
Rest assured, however, that the general meaning was made clear to me: Watson thinks me unable to keep a journal in the fashion he is so fond of doing himself, chronicler as he is in his particular Boswellian fashion. I admit that the tales fashioned around his recountings of our exploits are certainly more enjoyable to the general public than the logic and reasoning and true workings behind it all might be. I am not certain, however skilled I trust Watson to be as a doctor and a storyteller, that that is a particularly respectable quality of the general public. It is, in fact, rather worrisome to me that a recounting of one of my cases needs be “enhanced” in Artistic fashion in order for the great majority of the public to enjoy it, when one would assume an intelligent man (or woman, I suppose) should read such a recounting on the basis of its intellectual merit. However, I digress.
In any case, Watson clearly meant this as a challenge, one that he gave the impression he never expected me to take seriously, which of course means that he knew perfectly well that I would. In that sense, I am giving in entirely to his expectations, which does not sit well with me, and yet, I feel as though succeeding in keeping a journal of sorts- to his standards, more or less, subjective and ill-defined as they may be- would be going above and beyond his expectations.
In essence, Dr. Watson expects me to fail miserably, and in doing so, for me to learn a lesson in humility and to better appreciate his works of near-fiction. Or, he expects that should I succeed, I will learn a valuable lesson regarding expressing myself or some other such nonsense. In my mind’s eye that is what he is saying, anyway, and I am pleased to note that he is much easier to tune out in my mind than in person. Either way, he assumes he wins. However, should I succeed and fail to make any such vast and valuable realization or learn any supposed life-lesson, well, proving myself right is a worthy pastime.
Anyway, that’s four paragraphs today, I think that’s quite enough, don’t you agree, Watson? It’s very clever of you to read the reflection of what I’m writing in the window over my shoulder, however it is also completely obvious as you haven’t turned a page of that paper you are supposedly reading in six-point-eight minu
--
He moved my pen again. He is absolutely doing this on purpose.
--
Watson- as I know you read this-
the dead man’s left shoe, missing ring- not actually married do not tell Lestrade as soon as you read this meet me at second crime scene bring charcoal
--
Wrapping broken fingers in attempt to hide from Watson in order to carry on without interruption is a poor idea and results in unnecessary pain, lesson learned. But to be fair I am right-handed and said fingers were an equally unnecessary bother at the time. Case solved on account of the liner of the widow’s coat. Will regain use of left hand provided Watson does not actually remove it if I should succumb to sleep. Very violent for a doctor
--
I have determined that I shall give lessons on being an effective criminal. When approached with this idea, Watson seemed skeptical of its social value. I assured him that there was little social value to be had, but perhaps would lead to an interesting case in several years’ time, at which point the intelligent, dangerous criminals would be caught by yours truly and the incompetents would remain so and at large, easy for Scotland Yard to catch, in theory. My subsequent and thoroughly detailed explanation of the flaw in always assuming an action must have social value in order to be of any value at all, and the analysis of the psychological conditioning that a man such as Watson must undergo since birth for this to be his first thought at all times (as it so painfully often is with the dear doctor) appears to have been completely ignored despite my best efforts and the obvious merit of the discussion. In any case, the criminal mind is a mind as any other and needs must be expanded if I am to ever leave these rooms again.
Am not convinced Watson would actually change the locks if I attempted this as he so loudly threatens. It’s worth an experiment.
--
Living on the streets for three days would have been much more enjoyable had Watson at least thrown my pipe out the window to me as asked instead of calling for a constable.