Sherlock fic: Well Meaning (2019 JWP #7)
Title: Well Meaning
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Alternate Postings: AO3
Rating/Content: PG, job hunting, discouragement, early season 1
Word Count: 360
Disclaimer: Not my world.
Notes: Written for
watsons_woes 2019 July Writing Prompt #7 - Lost in Translation. "Use a phrase in a different language."
Summary: Sherlock might be trying to be helpful in some way, but he's really, absolutely not.
-.-
Well Meaning
-.-
John slogged up the stairs from the street. Another day of job hunting and nothing to show for it. He wanted a cup of tea, desperately.
Going place to place, being told they had no openings, being rejected, going home, trying to sleep, and then going back out and doing it all over again the next day. He might not be a surgeon anymore, but his tremoring hand didn't mean he'd forgotten his medical training, like some of the administrators at the bigger hospitals seemed to think.
Keeping a positive attitude in the face of daily rejection was hard, but something would come up. It had to. John couldn't let the bastards grind him down.
"Nil illegitimi carborundum," John declared gamely, shrugging off his coat as he stepped into the kitchen and began plodding towards the kettle.
Sherlock was at the table with his microscope again. Or possibly still. "You are of course aware that is not actually proper Latin, John."
"Sorry?" John said, stopping his disheartened journey toward tea.
Sherlock glanced up, then poked at something noisome in an egg cup. "Latin for bastard is more commonly nothus or spurius, and carborundum is a reference to a component of the industrial grinding process that has been in use since the late 1800's."
John sighed. "Sherlock, I'm really not-"
"If you directly translated what you just said from Latin by force, the closest it would get to what you think it means would be 'No unlawful person is made of silicon carbonate.'" Sherlock scooped a dab of the goo from the egg cup and smeared it onto a slide before putting the slide under the microscope. "You are a doctor after all, John. You really should know the basics of Latin."
John took a breath. Then held it. And started to count to ten, but gave up around three when he noticed that the kettle he had been heading toward like it was the Holy Grail had some sort of tendrilly green thing slumping out of it.
Pulling his coat back on with an aggrieved growl, John went back down the stairs to find a café. Or a pub.
-.-.-
(that's it)
Originally posted at Dreamwidth. if you want to, you can comment there with your LJ account using OpenID.
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Alternate Postings: AO3
Rating/Content: PG, job hunting, discouragement, early season 1
Word Count: 360
Disclaimer: Not my world.
Notes: Written for
watsons_woes 2019 July Writing Prompt #7 - Lost in Translation. "Use a phrase in a different language."
Summary: Sherlock might be trying to be helpful in some way, but he's really, absolutely not.
-.-
Well Meaning
-.-
John slogged up the stairs from the street. Another day of job hunting and nothing to show for it. He wanted a cup of tea, desperately.
Going place to place, being told they had no openings, being rejected, going home, trying to sleep, and then going back out and doing it all over again the next day. He might not be a surgeon anymore, but his tremoring hand didn't mean he'd forgotten his medical training, like some of the administrators at the bigger hospitals seemed to think.
Keeping a positive attitude in the face of daily rejection was hard, but something would come up. It had to. John couldn't let the bastards grind him down.
"Nil illegitimi carborundum," John declared gamely, shrugging off his coat as he stepped into the kitchen and began plodding towards the kettle.
Sherlock was at the table with his microscope again. Or possibly still. "You are of course aware that is not actually proper Latin, John."
"Sorry?" John said, stopping his disheartened journey toward tea.
Sherlock glanced up, then poked at something noisome in an egg cup. "Latin for bastard is more commonly nothus or spurius, and carborundum is a reference to a component of the industrial grinding process that has been in use since the late 1800's."
John sighed. "Sherlock, I'm really not-"
"If you directly translated what you just said from Latin by force, the closest it would get to what you think it means would be 'No unlawful person is made of silicon carbonate.'" Sherlock scooped a dab of the goo from the egg cup and smeared it onto a slide before putting the slide under the microscope. "You are a doctor after all, John. You really should know the basics of Latin."
John took a breath. Then held it. And started to count to ten, but gave up around three when he noticed that the kettle he had been heading toward like it was the Holy Grail had some sort of tendrilly green thing slumping out of it.
Pulling his coat back on with an aggrieved growl, John went back down the stairs to find a café. Or a pub.
-.-.-
(that's it)
Originally posted at Dreamwidth. if you want to, you can comment there with your LJ account using OpenID.