Sherlock Fanfic: Dear Doctor Watson (JWP 2015 #22)
Title: Dear Doctor Watson
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Alternate Postings: AO3
Rating/Content: PG13, includes graphic, silly, poison, fanmail
Warnings: none
Word Count: 280
Disclaimer: Not my world.
Notes: Created for watsons_woes July Writing Prompt #22: While You were Out.
Summary: The notes were never actually for him.
Dear Doctor Watson
John rolled his eyes as he plucked the lilac-coloured envelope with his name on it from under the door knocker and opened it on the front step.
"Another one for you, Sherlock." John dropped the note in the designated 'unknown toxin' basket on top of the microwave.
"Hm?" Sherlock didn't look up from the microscope.
"Note from another mad fan, trying to abduct me this time." John peeled off his gloves, turning them inside out as he did. He put those in the basket as well. "Some sort of contact poison I expect."
John chose to interpret Sherlock's complete lack of response as an expressing of deep and intent interest. Why not? He's done the same to me often enough.
"Usual stuff in the letter, get your attention by getting at me, et cetera. More polite at the start than the last few, but I stopped reading halfway through when they started going on about poison and whatnot. At that point it probably went straight round the bend with the more typical ravings about-" John waved a hand. "Sticking me in a vat of jam, or tying me to the Paddington Line at quarter to five, or setting fire to - what was the last one? ...Toes, that's it. Setting fire to my toes. Whatever. The usual bollocks. Bloody annoying."
Still not looking up from the microscope, Sherlock gave a bored, "Mh."
Crossing his arms irritably, John stared at Sherlock. "Look, I realize it's a tremendous inconvenience to ask you to do anything for the sake of my limited reserves of sanity, but could you not just simplify my life and answer your bloody fanmail now and then?"
Sherlock looked up, raised an eyebrow, and went back to staring through his microscope.
"Right, of course, whyever would you want to simplify my life." John sighed and gazed wistfully at the mostly-full basket over the microwave. "I just bought those gloves."
-.-.-
(that's it.)
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Alternate Postings: AO3
Rating/Content: PG13, includes graphic, silly, poison, fanmail
Warnings: none
Word Count: 280
Disclaimer: Not my world.
Notes: Created for watsons_woes July Writing Prompt #22: While You were Out.
Summary: The notes were never actually for him.
Dear Doctor Watson
John rolled his eyes as he plucked the lilac-coloured envelope with his name on it from under the door knocker and opened it on the front step.
"Another one for you, Sherlock." John dropped the note in the designated 'unknown toxin' basket on top of the microwave.
"Hm?" Sherlock didn't look up from the microscope.
"Note from another mad fan, trying to abduct me this time." John peeled off his gloves, turning them inside out as he did. He put those in the basket as well. "Some sort of contact poison I expect."
John chose to interpret Sherlock's complete lack of response as an expressing of deep and intent interest. Why not? He's done the same to me often enough.
"Usual stuff in the letter, get your attention by getting at me, et cetera. More polite at the start than the last few, but I stopped reading halfway through when they started going on about poison and whatnot. At that point it probably went straight round the bend with the more typical ravings about-" John waved a hand. "Sticking me in a vat of jam, or tying me to the Paddington Line at quarter to five, or setting fire to - what was the last one? ...Toes, that's it. Setting fire to my toes. Whatever. The usual bollocks. Bloody annoying."
Still not looking up from the microscope, Sherlock gave a bored, "Mh."
Crossing his arms irritably, John stared at Sherlock. "Look, I realize it's a tremendous inconvenience to ask you to do anything for the sake of my limited reserves of sanity, but could you not just simplify my life and answer your bloody fanmail now and then?"
Sherlock looked up, raised an eyebrow, and went back to staring through his microscope.
"Right, of course, whyever would you want to simplify my life." John sighed and gazed wistfully at the mostly-full basket over the microwave. "I just bought those gloves."
-.-.-
(that's it.)