The Study
Below is a Flashfic, inspired by the attached photo. Enjoy!
Story Starter
Originally uploaded by Kim-YvetteI'd followed them here, to the station. It was sparsely populated, people forward focussed, intent on reaching their destinations. My study was ahead of me, trim in dark clothing, bag flung over one shoulder. I stayed back enough to be unnoticeable, whilst still keeping them in my sight. It wasn't my place to wonder why I was tailing them - I just did as instructed. The boss didn't like questions.
The light-suited chap I was meandering along behind made a sudden dash for the nearest exit. I wondered what was biting him - the next departure wasn't for at least 10 minutes, plenty of time to get there without rushing. I was all for conserving energy. You never know when someone's going to pick up on you, then you have to make your decisions. At the moment, I was fine. We carried on through the station.
I stopped to grab a drink. Something cool and resealable - no point in getting a hot drink when you're tailing someone. You have to stop to dispose of a hot drink - unless you really want to draw attention to yourself. That's the way I do things. My way.
My earpiece buzzed. I hate that thing. Unfortunately, the boss insists I wear it and he's the boss. Anyone'd think he didn't trust me, using that to keep tabs on me. “Yeah, what d'you want? I've got a study!” My voice was low, words minimal.
“Leave the study, it's not important anymore. I need you here.”
Ahead of me, the study stopped to consult a destination board. We were at the furthest end of the station now. There was no one in sight - indeed, no one in earshot. It was a quiet, dimly lit area - strange place for a destination board to be, really.
“Wait a minute. We're in the right place, there's no one around... it's the ideal time for it.”
I walked up, quietly, tapped them on the shoulder, and handed the painting over. It wasn't my sort of art, really. The trunk was made from fire, for goodness' sake. I'd been studying it as I walked, it was surreal. The branches were made from ice, clouds and earth. You couldn't make this thing up, it was that bizarre.
“What is it?” I asked. I thought it worth checking. I still wasn't sure why all the secrecy. Or why the sudden volte-face from the boss, wanting me back.
“It's an element tree, my dear Watson,” was the reply. He sniggered.
I whimpered. “You bastards. You complete and utter bloody bastards! You know how much I hate my name! Bad enough I went into detective work, but you guys have to play practical jokes on me all the time!”
My earpiece fizzed. Someone was enjoying this.
Story Starter
Originally uploaded by Kim-YvetteI'd followed them here, to the station. It was sparsely populated, people forward focussed, intent on reaching their destinations. My study was ahead of me, trim in dark clothing, bag flung over one shoulder. I stayed back enough to be unnoticeable, whilst still keeping them in my sight. It wasn't my place to wonder why I was tailing them - I just did as instructed. The boss didn't like questions.
The light-suited chap I was meandering along behind made a sudden dash for the nearest exit. I wondered what was biting him - the next departure wasn't for at least 10 minutes, plenty of time to get there without rushing. I was all for conserving energy. You never know when someone's going to pick up on you, then you have to make your decisions. At the moment, I was fine. We carried on through the station.
I stopped to grab a drink. Something cool and resealable - no point in getting a hot drink when you're tailing someone. You have to stop to dispose of a hot drink - unless you really want to draw attention to yourself. That's the way I do things. My way.
My earpiece buzzed. I hate that thing. Unfortunately, the boss insists I wear it and he's the boss. Anyone'd think he didn't trust me, using that to keep tabs on me. “Yeah, what d'you want? I've got a study!” My voice was low, words minimal.
“Leave the study, it's not important anymore. I need you here.”
Ahead of me, the study stopped to consult a destination board. We were at the furthest end of the station now. There was no one in sight - indeed, no one in earshot. It was a quiet, dimly lit area - strange place for a destination board to be, really.
“Wait a minute. We're in the right place, there's no one around... it's the ideal time for it.”
I walked up, quietly, tapped them on the shoulder, and handed the painting over. It wasn't my sort of art, really. The trunk was made from fire, for goodness' sake. I'd been studying it as I walked, it was surreal. The branches were made from ice, clouds and earth. You couldn't make this thing up, it was that bizarre.
“What is it?” I asked. I thought it worth checking. I still wasn't sure why all the secrecy. Or why the sudden volte-face from the boss, wanting me back.
“It's an element tree, my dear Watson,” was the reply. He sniggered.
I whimpered. “You bastards. You complete and utter bloody bastards! You know how much I hate my name! Bad enough I went into detective work, but you guys have to play practical jokes on me all the time!”
My earpiece fizzed. Someone was enjoying this.