from bauble bc I like to steal things?
A writing meme:
Pick a trope from this list and provide a fandom/pairing and I'll tell you something about the story I'd write for that combination (i.e. write a snippet from the story or write not!fic or tell you the title and summary for the story I would write) Current fandoms: Primarily MCU/Avengers, but I want as many prompts as possible so ( Read more... )
Pick a trope from this list and provide a fandom/pairing and I'll tell you something about the story I'd write for that combination (i.e. write a snippet from the story or write not!fic or tell you the title and summary for the story I would write) Current fandoms: Primarily MCU/Avengers, but I want as many prompts as possible so ( Read more... )
***
Sherlock lies on his back, shooting the ceiling with an air rifle to study the dust pattern left behind. Joan Watson sweeps into the room with an armload of toddler that she quickly deposits on the floor.
"Explain this," she says, falling to the sofa.
Sherlock drops the bb gun and rolls onto his stomach. "Um, Caucasian female. About fifteen..." He pauses as the baby opens her mouth to laugh at him. "No, seventeen months old. Well looked after. Seems to share DNA with-" He scrambles to sit up. "Oh. Watson, I'm sorry."
"Explain this," she insists, her voice thick. Her eyes are red. "You knew. You knew my dad had fathered a child. How could you possibly have known?"
"Necklace," he mumbles, chewing on his thumbnail.
"What?"
"The necklace you wore for the policeman's benefit last month," he says, and he gets to his feet. "Could have been a personal indulgence. You do spend on yourself from time to time. But the color. Blue. You're far more fond of red. Could have been a gift, but anyone who would have given you something so awfully expensive doubtless would have kept your preferences in mind. Factor in your trip to Queens the weekend prior and obviously you'd borrowed it from your mum."
"Go on."
"Does it really matter?" he sighs, and her eyes widen with growing anger. "The cat is out of the bag, is all I meant."
"I'd like to know," she says. She crosses her legs and taps her fingernails against her thigh. "If I'm going to avoid getting blindsided by things like this, I need to learn."
"Well. As I said it's very expensive. The cut of the sapphires, the arrangement, indicates a certain breed of jewelers, who don't any of them work cheap. It's a guilt gift, clearly, and that's common enough for someone in your father's situation, second chances and whatnot. However, again, it is very, very expensive. Your mother has, or had, no idea just how much. Otherwise she never would have loaned it out, at least not without hiring someone to accompany you and ensure that it got back to her in one piece."
Joan absently touches her fingertips to a patch of skin a few inches below the base of her throat.
"Overcompensation. Secret overcompensation. He was making up for a crime he had yet to confess to. And given his proclivities, either he killed one of his mistresses--highly unlikely--or he..."
The baby stumbles over a pile of notebooks and falls to her knees with a confused cry. Joan picks her up, making sympathetic noises and patting her on the back until she stops whimpering.
"This is not the ideal stomping ground for a young child," he says.
"Yeah, well, she's-"
"Ill. The mother is, I mean." He picks up an empty soda can, a wax apple, and balled up pair of socks, and he begins to juggle. The baby is transfixed. "I could tell you how I-"
"Thanks, I've got this one," Joan says. Her half sister is still and quiet in her lap. "Former doctor, after all. My father's tastes ran to middle-aged women. The older the mother is at the time of pregnancy, the greater the chance of complications."
"Top marks," he says. "Not dying, though. Just in need of an extra set of hands. So she dropped little..."
"Gwendolyn."
"Gwen off at Daddy's, when unsuspecting Step-Mom happened to be home. And Step-Mom called half-sister to take the child for the day, thus allowing her to confront Daddy with no interruptions."
"Top marks," she echoes, with a barely perceptible smile.
Reply
OMG
PERFECTION
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment