Sometimes, people tell me random things and then stories happen. Like that time a friend told me to write a Doctor Who stapler monster. Stuff like that
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Re: Study in Pink remix: part 4.1bendingsignpostJuly 20 2011, 21:25:56 UTC
"I didn't come here for you to complain at me. Talk, or I leave."
"You're not walking out of here, Mr. Holmes, sad to say."
"And why's that?"
"Because I'm not just a funny little man driving around in a cab," says the cabbie. "I'm clever, Mr. Holmes. More than even you. You may not know it now, but you're going to. Chances are, it'll be the last thing you ever know."
"All right," John says. "Give me the test, then."
"There's a good bottle and a bad bottle. Pick the good bottle, you live. Pick the bad bottle, you die."
"And I'm going to do this... why?"
"I haven't told you the best bit yet," the cabbie says. "Whatever bottle you don't take the pill from, I will. And then, together-" he pauses, a practiced line "-we take our medicine."
John makes an incredulous noise. It's a bit much.
"I won't cheat," the cabbie assures him. "It's your choice. I'll take whatever pill you don't. Didn't expect that, did you, Mr. Holmes?"
"Did you do this to all those people?" John asked. "This exact scenario?"
"I did," the cabbie agrees. "No rush, take your time, get yourself together. I want your best game."
"No," John says, because he knows what this is and, frankly, it's all a bit insane. "You want my simple maths. You not dying once, that's a fifty percent chance. Twice is four to one, three times is eight to one, four times is sixteen to one. Whatever you're playing, it's not fair."
"You're not playing the numbers, you're playing me," the cabbie says. "Like this. One move." With that, with the utmost seriousness, he slides one of the bottles across the table. "Which bottle did I just give you? The good bottle or the bad bottle?"
"They're both the bad bottle," John says. "I've seen this film before."
"Wrong," the cabbie says.
"No," John replies. "No, I'm pretty sure I've seen that film. You have an immunity or an antidote, I die gasping, no thank you."
"They're different," the cabbie says.
"And I should believe you, why? It's the most intelligent option and you've been sitting here praising your own genius. I'm not doing it."
Slowly but surely, the fury is building behind the cabbie's eyes. John grins. This man is lucky he only got John, not Sherlock.
The cabbie takes out his gun. Points it straight at John's head. "Yes you are."
"Um," John says, giving the gun a skeptical look. "No I'm not."
"It's your choice," the cabbie says.
"If I disarmed you, it'd break your finger," John answers. That's optional, actually, but the cabbie doesn't have to know that. "Lucky for you, I don't have to do that, do I?"
"I'm not bluffing."
John laughs, unable to help it. Like the stretching tension of a horror film, it's all dispelled by his show of amusement. He feels like he's laughing at a boggart. It's just so ridiculous. "You're all bluff."
After a long moment, the cabbie puts the fake gun down.
John leans back in his chair, feels the press of a true weapon against his back. He fishes his mobile out of his pocket, saying, "You were holding it wrong, by the way." He skims through his contacts and dials. And, because he's going to have to stop being Sherlock in a moment and being Sherlock is just too much fun, he adds, "I love this bit. You don't get it yet, but you're about to."
The cabbie stares at him, Sherlock picks up, and John says, "Hi, Sherlock, it's John. Are the police still with you? Oh, good. I've caught the serial killer."
The wide-eyed cabbie pulls a runner, John's ready for it, and by the time the police arrive, John's had the cabbie in a joint lock against the wall for twenty minutes.
Re: Study in Pink remix: final piecebendingsignpostJuly 20 2011, 22:40:24 UTC
They put a blanket on him.
As the blanket helps to further disguise the gun beneath his jacket, he keeps it on. It's the questions he'd rather do without. "He never so much as touched me," John says for the fifth time. "I'm fine. If you're treating me for shock, there should be some hot, sweetened tea around now, but I'm pretty sure I'm fine."
"Dr. Watson," Lestrade says slowly, as he has several times before, "you knowingly climbed into a car with a serial killer."
"Who'd shown me his fake gun," John replies. He may have fudged the order of events, just a little.
"You knew straight off it was fake?" As if Lestrade is asking this for the first time.
"Yes," John says. "I was in the army, I know what guns look like. I wasn't in danger."
Lestrade gives him a long look.
"Also, I have piss awful PTSD," John adds.
Lestrade gives him a longer look, then sighs. "Dr. Watson, if this is a cry for help-"
"It's not."
"You're moving in with Sherlock Holmes, of course it is." It's a quick brush-off, fully meant, yet not in the least condescending. "But once you get that help, have you ever considered law enforcement?"
John hasn't, though he knows they do appreciate a military background. "Right now," he says honestly, "I'm considering that cup of tea."
Lestrade makes a "fair enough" gesture, and that's when Sherlock finally gets around a very frustrated Sally Donovan. John hears this happen before he sees it and when he sees it, he's immediately helpless with laughter.
Sherlock is just so angry.
Lestrade stares at him, clearly taking back his previous suggestion, and Sherlock huffs right on up to him.
"What the hell do you think you were-"
"He thought I was you!"
Sherlock's expression holds for roughly two seconds.
Then they're a pair of giggling messes.
Somehow, this winds up with Sherlock sitting on the back of the ambulance with him, Lestrade walking away out of self-preservation, and John physically hurting from the amount of laughing he's done today. He recovers, gasping for breath, only for Sherlock to lean over and whisper "Welcome to London" right into his ear. That sets him off again and by the time it passes, he's loose and twitchy.
"Okay," he lets out in a shuddering, satisfied sigh. "Maybe I'm in shock."
"No," Sherlock says. "You're just having fun. I told you this was better."
"God yes. Still want me to help pay rent?"
Sherlock shrugs, not looking at him, but he's grinning. There's a slight pause before the man asks, "Dinner?"
"Starving."
They slip away from the police, giggling like schoolboys. The food is excellent, the company bizarre, and when they get back in at 221b Baker, John remembers he has no sheets for his bed. Much to Sherlock's displeasure, he takes the sofa and, to Sherlock's even greater displeasure, he curls up under the shock blanket. He sleeps and dreams and wakes, at last, to sunlight rather than fear.
Re: Study in Pink remix: final piecewendymrJuly 21 2011, 00:09:26 UTC
This. Is. Brilliant.
I love the idea that John goes instead of Sherlock. I love the idea that John, with his military experience, medical training and the common sense and bullshit-ometer that Sherlock often lacks, sees right through the cabbie from the start and just refuses to play the game. (He doesn't have Sherlock's ego, so of course he's not under any compulsion to prove that he's clever).
Best bit: "I love this bit. You don't get it yet, but you're about to."
The cabbie stares at him, Sherlock picks up, and John says, "Hi, Sherlock, it's John. Are the police still with you? Oh, good. I've caught the serial killer."
The wide-eyed cabbie pulls a runner, John's ready for it, and by the time the police arrive, John's had the cabbie in a joint lock against the wall for twenty minutes.
Fan-bloody-tastic.
And the icing on the cake? Sherlock arriving furious, then bursting out laughing when he realises the cabbie thought John was him. Honourable mention: Lestrade talking to John.
I hope you're going to post this all in one piece to the Sherlock comms? It needs a wider readership, and I want to rec it!
Re: Study in Pink remix: final piecebendingsignpostJuly 21 2011, 00:43:43 UTC
I love the idea that John goes instead of Sherlock. I love the idea that John, with his military experience, medical training and the common sense and bullshit-ometer that Sherlock often lacks, sees right through the cabbie from the start and just refuses to play the game. (He doesn't have Sherlock's ego, so of course he's not under any compulsion to prove that he's clever).
The thing that made the cabbie so wonderfully terrifying in the show was that he was so incredibly, specifically tailored to Sherlock. The grip he had over him was beyond belief. But anyone else? Hell no. For all the mind games, it was seriously depending on the prop gun in the four other instances. And if John was under any compulsion to prove he's clever, he would've killed Sherlock in his sleep, fast. I'm not sure why John vs. cabbie is such a hilarious match-up, but it feels a bit like Sherlock style rock-paper-scissors. Cabbie kills Sherlock, Sherlock berates John, John pwns cabbie.
As for posting, I think I'll have to rewrite the first section with the changes I mentioned to Calliope, but then I think we're good to go. Might ask a beta to give it a glance (Vyc, as you're probably reading this, I'm sorry I've killed your inbox today and, um, yes? Or I could ask A?) beforehand. The entire thing is pretty brisk - not my usual style, as I imagine you've noticed - so I don't know if the ending seems rushed. I keep rushing them lately.
XD It's been kind of hilarious this evening, because not only was there this, but someone put up a meme on luceti at the same time. SO...MANY...NOTIFICATIONS.
That said, I'm totally cool with betaing this. I'm actually almost done the next thing, so I could start this on Friday, I think. Shouldn't take more than a weekend, especially since it's shaping up to be a quiet one.
And on a different note, fucking hell, but I loved this. John the Drama Slayer, heeheehee.
Internet used Email Flood! It's super-effective! Vyc is out of usable inbox space! Vyc whited out.
Oh, excellent. I really gotta prod A on that (the hangover one, not this guy), much of our communication has gone down. This is a quick one, so, solo job? Compiled, revised beginning, now in your inbox. I hope you can find it in there.
There reached a point where I kinda felt bad. Once you remove the soundtrack and the extremely proud sociopath, the cabbie rather falls flat.
Re: Study in Pink remix: final piecewendymrJuly 21 2011, 02:11:29 UTC
The ending completely worked for me: once John made his phone call, it was really all over bar the Lestrade and Sherlock snark. Didn't feel rushed at all.
And, by the way, I liked themusecalliope's suggestion of A Study in Sherlock as a title :)
Re: Study in Pink remix: final piecebendingsignpostJuly 21 2011, 02:46:43 UTC
I like the idea of it, but the focus here is on John. Sounds a bit like a character study, which would be misleading. Something with "Understudy", maybe?
"You're not walking out of here, Mr. Holmes, sad to say."
"And why's that?"
"Because I'm not just a funny little man driving around in a cab," says the cabbie. "I'm clever, Mr. Holmes. More than even you. You may not know it now, but you're going to. Chances are, it'll be the last thing you ever know."
"All right," John says. "Give me the test, then."
"There's a good bottle and a bad bottle. Pick the good bottle, you live. Pick the bad bottle, you die."
"And I'm going to do this... why?"
"I haven't told you the best bit yet," the cabbie says. "Whatever bottle you don't take the pill from, I will. And then, together-" he pauses, a practiced line "-we take our medicine."
John makes an incredulous noise. It's a bit much.
"I won't cheat," the cabbie assures him. "It's your choice. I'll take whatever pill you don't. Didn't expect that, did you, Mr. Holmes?"
"Did you do this to all those people?" John asked. "This exact scenario?"
"I did," the cabbie agrees. "No rush, take your time, get yourself together. I want your best game."
"No," John says, because he knows what this is and, frankly, it's all a bit insane. "You want my simple maths. You not dying once, that's a fifty percent chance. Twice is four to one, three times is eight to one, four times is sixteen to one. Whatever you're playing, it's not fair."
"You're not playing the numbers, you're playing me," the cabbie says. "Like this. One move." With that, with the utmost seriousness, he slides one of the bottles across the table. "Which bottle did I just give you? The good bottle or the bad bottle?"
"They're both the bad bottle," John says. "I've seen this film before."
"Wrong," the cabbie says.
"No," John replies. "No, I'm pretty sure I've seen that film. You have an immunity or an antidote, I die gasping, no thank you."
"They're different," the cabbie says.
"And I should believe you, why? It's the most intelligent option and you've been sitting here praising your own genius. I'm not doing it."
Slowly but surely, the fury is building behind the cabbie's eyes. John grins. This man is lucky he only got John, not Sherlock.
The cabbie takes out his gun. Points it straight at John's head. "Yes you are."
"Um," John says, giving the gun a skeptical look. "No I'm not."
"It's your choice," the cabbie says.
"If I disarmed you, it'd break your finger," John answers. That's optional, actually, but the cabbie doesn't have to know that. "Lucky for you, I don't have to do that, do I?"
"I'm not bluffing."
John laughs, unable to help it. Like the stretching tension of a horror film, it's all dispelled by his show of amusement. He feels like he's laughing at a boggart. It's just so ridiculous. "You're all bluff."
After a long moment, the cabbie puts the fake gun down.
John leans back in his chair, feels the press of a true weapon against his back. He fishes his mobile out of his pocket, saying, "You were holding it wrong, by the way." He skims through his contacts and dials. And, because he's going to have to stop being Sherlock in a moment and being Sherlock is just too much fun, he adds, "I love this bit. You don't get it yet, but you're about to."
The cabbie stares at him, Sherlock picks up, and John says, "Hi, Sherlock, it's John. Are the police still with you? Oh, good. I've caught the serial killer."
The wide-eyed cabbie pulls a runner, John's ready for it, and by the time the police arrive, John's had the cabbie in a joint lock against the wall for twenty minutes.
It might just be the best night he's ever had.
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As the blanket helps to further disguise the gun beneath his jacket, he keeps it on. It's the questions he'd rather do without. "He never so much as touched me," John says for the fifth time. "I'm fine. If you're treating me for shock, there should be some hot, sweetened tea around now, but I'm pretty sure I'm fine."
"Dr. Watson," Lestrade says slowly, as he has several times before, "you knowingly climbed into a car with a serial killer."
"Who'd shown me his fake gun," John replies. He may have fudged the order of events, just a little.
"You knew straight off it was fake?" As if Lestrade is asking this for the first time.
"Yes," John says. "I was in the army, I know what guns look like. I wasn't in danger."
Lestrade gives him a long look.
"Also, I have piss awful PTSD," John adds.
Lestrade gives him a longer look, then sighs. "Dr. Watson, if this is a cry for help-"
"It's not."
"You're moving in with Sherlock Holmes, of course it is." It's a quick brush-off, fully meant, yet not in the least condescending. "But once you get that help, have you ever considered law enforcement?"
John hasn't, though he knows they do appreciate a military background. "Right now," he says honestly, "I'm considering that cup of tea."
Lestrade makes a "fair enough" gesture, and that's when Sherlock finally gets around a very frustrated Sally Donovan. John hears this happen before he sees it and when he sees it, he's immediately helpless with laughter.
Sherlock is just so angry.
Lestrade stares at him, clearly taking back his previous suggestion, and Sherlock huffs right on up to him.
"What the hell do you think you were-"
"He thought I was you!"
Sherlock's expression holds for roughly two seconds.
Then they're a pair of giggling messes.
Somehow, this winds up with Sherlock sitting on the back of the ambulance with him, Lestrade walking away out of self-preservation, and John physically hurting from the amount of laughing he's done today. He recovers, gasping for breath, only for Sherlock to lean over and whisper "Welcome to London" right into his ear. That sets him off again and by the time it passes, he's loose and twitchy.
"Okay," he lets out in a shuddering, satisfied sigh. "Maybe I'm in shock."
"No," Sherlock says. "You're just having fun. I told you this was better."
"God yes. Still want me to help pay rent?"
Sherlock shrugs, not looking at him, but he's grinning. There's a slight pause before the man asks, "Dinner?"
"Starving."
They slip away from the police, giggling like schoolboys. The food is excellent, the company bizarre, and when they get back in at 221b Baker, John remembers he has no sheets for his bed. Much to Sherlock's displeasure, he takes the sofa and, to Sherlock's even greater displeasure, he curls up under the shock blanket. He sleeps and dreams and wakes, at last, to sunlight rather than fear.
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Any title suggestions? Looks like this one is going up. Right now all I've got is "A Study in Jumpers" or "John Watson, the Smartest Idiot".
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Dude, awesomeness. I would very much love to take you up on that.
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I love the idea that John goes instead of Sherlock. I love the idea that John, with his military experience, medical training and the common sense and bullshit-ometer that Sherlock often lacks, sees right through the cabbie from the start and just refuses to play the game. (He doesn't have Sherlock's ego, so of course he's not under any compulsion to prove that he's clever).
Best bit:
"I love this bit. You don't get it yet, but you're about to."
The cabbie stares at him, Sherlock picks up, and John says, "Hi, Sherlock, it's John. Are the police still with you? Oh, good. I've caught the serial killer."
The wide-eyed cabbie pulls a runner, John's ready for it, and by the time the police arrive, John's had the cabbie in a joint lock against the wall for twenty minutes.
Fan-bloody-tastic.
And the icing on the cake? Sherlock arriving furious, then bursting out laughing when he realises the cabbie thought John was him. Honourable mention: Lestrade talking to John.
I hope you're going to post this all in one piece to the Sherlock comms? It needs a wider readership, and I want to rec it!
Reply
The thing that made the cabbie so wonderfully terrifying in the show was that he was so incredibly, specifically tailored to Sherlock. The grip he had over him was beyond belief. But anyone else? Hell no. For all the mind games, it was seriously depending on the prop gun in the four other instances. And if John was under any compulsion to prove he's clever, he would've killed Sherlock in his sleep, fast. I'm not sure why John vs. cabbie is such a hilarious match-up, but it feels a bit like Sherlock style rock-paper-scissors. Cabbie kills Sherlock, Sherlock berates John, John pwns cabbie.
As for posting, I think I'll have to rewrite the first section with the changes I mentioned to Calliope, but then I think we're good to go. Might ask a beta to give it a glance (Vyc, as you're probably reading this, I'm sorry I've killed your inbox today and, um, yes? Or I could ask A?) beforehand. The entire thing is pretty brisk - not my usual style, as I imagine you've noticed - so I don't know if the ending seems rushed. I keep rushing them lately.
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That said, I'm totally cool with betaing this. I'm actually almost done the next thing, so I could start this on Friday, I think. Shouldn't take more than a weekend, especially since it's shaping up to be a quiet one.
And on a different note, fucking hell, but I loved this. John the Drama Slayer, heeheehee.
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Oh, excellent. I really gotta prod A on that (the hangover one, not this guy), much of our communication has gone down. This is a quick one, so, solo job? Compiled, revised beginning, now in your inbox. I hope you can find it in there.
There reached a point where I kinda felt bad. Once you remove the soundtrack and the extremely proud sociopath, the cabbie rather falls flat.
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And, by the way, I liked themusecalliope's suggestion of A Study in Sherlock as a title :)
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