(no subject)
Title: Emoting isn't just a smilie
Author: beansidhe_baby
Wordcount: 471
Summary: Sally and Sherlock are taken prisoner together; they bicker (in a nice way).
Characters/Pairing: Sherlock Holmes, Sally Donovan, hints of John/Sherlock
Author's Note: I recently came to the conclusion that Sally and Sherlock ARE McCoy and Spock, and, in celebration of this discovery, blatantly plagiarised adapted this scene from Star Trek into a fic about them. Thanks to errantcomment for holding my hand.
“You know,” Sally said, quite casually considering the circumstances, “In my experience, cell doors don’t just unlock themselves, no matter how cross you get with them.”
Sherlock scowled at the corner where she’d propped herself up against the wall, before going back to pulling impotently at the bars on the door.
“I’m simply testing the strength of the door,” he replied under his breath. This had seemed so much easier in that pirate film John had insisted they watch.
“I’m sure it’s not gotten any weaker since the last fifteen times you tried.” Sure it hasn’t, Sherlock corrected mentally.
“Look, Sherlock...” Oh dear, no good could come of this. “I know we don’t exactly get on. I don’t know, but... you saved me back there and you didn’t have to do that. And, well...”
Rather than face Sally Donovan’s awkward, scrunched up and very sincere face, Sherlock went back to trying to lift the door off its hinges.
“Sergeant, I’m trying to secure a means of escape, I have limited attention to spare to listen to you recount a list of things I can remember perfectly well for myself. What’s your point?” He could hear her exhale and stand up suddenly.
“I’m trying to thank you, you fucking unfeeling freak!”
Feeling much more comfortable facing an angry Sally than a Sally who was trying to make amends, Sherlock turned to her with a superior sneer.
“Oh yes, I forgot, ‘normal’ people express gratitude. If it makes you feel any better, I was motivated purely by unemotional, logical reasons. One, Lestrade’s investigative efforts would hardly be helped by the loss of one of his team, regardless of my own estimations of your relative value to him. Two-”
“Oh, would you shut up! What’s even wrong with you? You say things like that-”
“Sociopath, remember,” he replied, curtly, attentions now back on the door. He braced his shoulders against it when he heard Sally’s snort of derision.
“Oh please, you’ve been frantic since Dr. Watson got snatched. And you can’t deal with that, can you? You’d honestly rather be a sociopath than risk actually living and having, heaven forbid, feelings for someone.”
Now that his ploy of getting her angry to avoid talking had backfired, Sherlock focused on blocking her out.
“You wouldn’t know what to do with a simple, decent human feeling,” she went on, disgusted, and seemingly oblivious to Sherlock’s new plan of ignoring her. He let his shoulder’s sag and rested his forehead against the bars.
“Really, Sally?” he asked, dully.
They stood in silence for a second, before she finally put a hand on his shoulder.
“Look, I’m worried too, stop being a prick and we’ll figure something out.” Her voice was a little brusque, and exactly the right mixture of concerned and no-nonsense.
“Thank you, Sally.”
Author: beansidhe_baby
Wordcount: 471
Summary: Sally and Sherlock are taken prisoner together; they bicker (in a nice way).
Characters/Pairing: Sherlock Holmes, Sally Donovan, hints of John/Sherlock
Author's Note: I recently came to the conclusion that Sally and Sherlock ARE McCoy and Spock, and, in celebration of this discovery, blatantly plagiarised adapted this scene from Star Trek into a fic about them. Thanks to errantcomment for holding my hand.
“You know,” Sally said, quite casually considering the circumstances, “In my experience, cell doors don’t just unlock themselves, no matter how cross you get with them.”
Sherlock scowled at the corner where she’d propped herself up against the wall, before going back to pulling impotently at the bars on the door.
“I’m simply testing the strength of the door,” he replied under his breath. This had seemed so much easier in that pirate film John had insisted they watch.
“I’m sure it’s not gotten any weaker since the last fifteen times you tried.” Sure it hasn’t, Sherlock corrected mentally.
“Look, Sherlock...” Oh dear, no good could come of this. “I know we don’t exactly get on. I don’t know, but... you saved me back there and you didn’t have to do that. And, well...”
Rather than face Sally Donovan’s awkward, scrunched up and very sincere face, Sherlock went back to trying to lift the door off its hinges.
“Sergeant, I’m trying to secure a means of escape, I have limited attention to spare to listen to you recount a list of things I can remember perfectly well for myself. What’s your point?” He could hear her exhale and stand up suddenly.
“I’m trying to thank you, you fucking unfeeling freak!”
Feeling much more comfortable facing an angry Sally than a Sally who was trying to make amends, Sherlock turned to her with a superior sneer.
“Oh yes, I forgot, ‘normal’ people express gratitude. If it makes you feel any better, I was motivated purely by unemotional, logical reasons. One, Lestrade’s investigative efforts would hardly be helped by the loss of one of his team, regardless of my own estimations of your relative value to him. Two-”
“Oh, would you shut up! What’s even wrong with you? You say things like that-”
“Sociopath, remember,” he replied, curtly, attentions now back on the door. He braced his shoulders against it when he heard Sally’s snort of derision.
“Oh please, you’ve been frantic since Dr. Watson got snatched. And you can’t deal with that, can you? You’d honestly rather be a sociopath than risk actually living and having, heaven forbid, feelings for someone.”
Now that his ploy of getting her angry to avoid talking had backfired, Sherlock focused on blocking her out.
“You wouldn’t know what to do with a simple, decent human feeling,” she went on, disgusted, and seemingly oblivious to Sherlock’s new plan of ignoring her. He let his shoulder’s sag and rested his forehead against the bars.
“Really, Sally?” he asked, dully.
They stood in silence for a second, before she finally put a hand on his shoulder.
“Look, I’m worried too, stop being a prick and we’ll figure something out.” Her voice was a little brusque, and exactly the right mixture of concerned and no-nonsense.
“Thank you, Sally.”