A Consultant and a Skull for tsef
Author: Misura
Recipient: tsef
Title: A Consultant and a Skull
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,000+ words
Pairing/Character(s): John Watson, Bob, Sherlock Holmes, Harry Dresden
Notes/Warnings: Crossover with Sherlock (wild card request).
Summary: When John met Bob.
Running around London to look for criminals was all very well, John thought, but sometimes, you just wanted a quiet night in with a nice cup of tea, a biscuit and something decent to watch on TV.
Would probably get rather boring if it was the same thing every night, but there you were.
"So tell me, how are things with you and Sarah?"
"Me and - " It wasn't that he didn't remember her name. Obviously. It was more that he was a bit surprised Sherlock would remember it. "Fantastic." A small victory won there, perhaps. Musn't get his hopes up, of course, but progress was progress. "In fact, we made dinner plans for tomorrow evening, so it would be really good if you could - "
Well. Typical, and much more like Sherlock, to walk out in the middle of a conversation.
(Or so John thought at the time.)
By the next morning, John had more or less forgotten about the whole thing or rather: he'd decided there wasn't really anything to it. Sherlock would be Sherlock, and John would go to dinner with Sarah tonight, and if he was really, really lucky, perhaps Sherlock wouldn't text him during the soup.
Meanwhile, there was a bit of grocery shopping to be done - by John, obviously, since Sherlock couldn't be bothered, being entirely too busy doing nothing at all.
'Bring biscuits.' Sherlock texted him barely five seconds after John'd finished paying, which was definitely also typical Sherlock. John considered texting him back to tell him to get his own biscuits, then decided he might as well accept the inevitable.
'Also: cheap romance novels.' was a bit strange, but probably related to some new case or another, which meant that John's chances of getting to enjoy a proper dinner date had begun to shrink.
'Possibly porn.' was pushing it and besides, even if John had known where to get it, he doubted he'd have wanted to. There were limits, after all.
Sherlock's visitor looked - well. Not the first time John had met some ... interesting people in Sherlock's company, although Sherlock generally seemed to prefer to meet them on their own turf.
"John, Harry - Harry, John." Sherlock frowned slightly. "Not confusing, is it?"
"Hello." At least the gray cloak looked more or less practical. The wand just looked like a too big walking stick.
"John's sister is called Harry, too," Sherlock informed his visitor. "Short for Harriet."
"You've never met my sister," John said.
"No, but I'd assume you have."
"I've never met his sister either. Is she hot?"
John turned slowly. "I beg your pardon?"
"Don't mind Bob," Sherlock's visitor said. John suspected he might be missing a bit more than just a last name, given that he was referring to people clearly not there. Might be a few screws loose there.
On the other hand, it didn't quite seem like Sherlock to be putting up with that sort of thing. "Sorry, don't mind who now?"
Sherlock sighed the way he tended to do when someone was missing the obvious. "Table."
John looked. There was Sherlock's laptop - not named, as far as John knew, a stack of books, none of which would seem sentient, some papers, some more papers, a skull, a mug of (probably cold) tea -
The skull winked at him. "Bob. Nice to meet someone who knows his literature."
"You really spoilt him," Harry said, shaking his head as he collected the romance novels John had acquired in a five-for-the-price-of-three package deal, complete with discrete brown bag that had made him feel like he'd bought porn after all.
John didn't quite know yet whether or not he was relieved they hadn't been for Sherlock after all.
"Some people simply do know how to appreciate me - unlike a certain wizard I could mention," the skull - Bob said. It probably said something about John's life that he found the idea of Sherlock reading cheap romance novels a lot more disturbing than the idea of a talking skull.
Although, of course, it wasn't actually the skull who talked (or so Sherlock had explained, in his best 'this should be obvious to everyone, but alas, I am surrounded by slow-witted idiots' voice.)
"You're a ... magician?" John asked. It made a certain kind of sense, he supposed, what with the cloak and the wand and all. Not exactly the kind of thing people walked around in in their day-to-day life.
"Wizard," Sherlock said. Consulting wizard."
"I'm in the phonebook," Harry said, looking like he got the sort of look John was giving him rather a lot, which made sense. "Under the W."
Sherlock had to be in a good mood, given that he added: "In Chicago." In case John had missed the accent, presumably. "And no, there's no such school as Hogwarts."
Harry grinned a bit sheepishly.
"Consulting wizard," John repeated. Well, that explained ... nothing, actually, given that there was nothing to explain. "That sounds very ... very ... well."
"Enough to make a living," Harry said. Bob made a sound that sounded like a snort. "Most of the time."
If John had woken up the next day and found both the skull and the wizard gone, he might have decided the entire thing had been a dream after all, and far from the strangest one he'd had since meeting Sherlock. As it was, he found both wizard and skull still there, having breakfast.
"You could say I'm a consultant's consultant," Bob said.
Harry sipped his tea, grimaced and reached for the milk.
"Centuries of accumulated wisdom are at my disposal," Bob went on. "Want to know the secrets from the ancient world? Just ask me."
John poured himself some tea. Sherlock seemed absorbed in his laptop.
"Or, I guess, you can just do without them. Your choice." Bob sighed. "Used to be a time when people would sell their souls for stuff like this. Those were the days. Not a lot of romance novels, I'll grant you, although Catullus sure came up with some racy stuff. No porn whatsoever, but, you know, there's always the real thing. Up, close and personal, baby."
"In a monastery." Harry reached for the toast. John wondered how long it would be before Mrs. Hudson would let him forget she'd made it for them.
"You'd be surprised at some of the stuff I've seen," Bob said.
"Unlikely," Sherlock said absently.
"Really? And what would you know about that kind of stuff, Sherlock?" Bob asked. "At least John here's been on a few dates this past month. Not that he got anywhere, but hey, at least he's got a girlfriend. That's more than I can say about you or Harry."
"Everything's on the internet these days, isn't it?" John said. "Not that I've - not me, no thanks. But that's what they say, isn't it? That everything's on the internet?"
"Thanks for reminding me why this century sucks."
Harry sighed. "Technology tends to get a bit unreliable around magic," he explained. "So no on-line adventures for Bob, and no cell-phone for me."
"You don't need a cell-phone, Harry. There's nobody who'd want to call you anyway."
Recipient: tsef
Title: A Consultant and a Skull
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,000+ words
Pairing/Character(s): John Watson, Bob, Sherlock Holmes, Harry Dresden
Notes/Warnings: Crossover with Sherlock (wild card request).
Summary: When John met Bob.
Running around London to look for criminals was all very well, John thought, but sometimes, you just wanted a quiet night in with a nice cup of tea, a biscuit and something decent to watch on TV.
Would probably get rather boring if it was the same thing every night, but there you were.
"So tell me, how are things with you and Sarah?"
"Me and - " It wasn't that he didn't remember her name. Obviously. It was more that he was a bit surprised Sherlock would remember it. "Fantastic." A small victory won there, perhaps. Musn't get his hopes up, of course, but progress was progress. "In fact, we made dinner plans for tomorrow evening, so it would be really good if you could - "
Well. Typical, and much more like Sherlock, to walk out in the middle of a conversation.
(Or so John thought at the time.)
By the next morning, John had more or less forgotten about the whole thing or rather: he'd decided there wasn't really anything to it. Sherlock would be Sherlock, and John would go to dinner with Sarah tonight, and if he was really, really lucky, perhaps Sherlock wouldn't text him during the soup.
Meanwhile, there was a bit of grocery shopping to be done - by John, obviously, since Sherlock couldn't be bothered, being entirely too busy doing nothing at all.
'Bring biscuits.' Sherlock texted him barely five seconds after John'd finished paying, which was definitely also typical Sherlock. John considered texting him back to tell him to get his own biscuits, then decided he might as well accept the inevitable.
'Also: cheap romance novels.' was a bit strange, but probably related to some new case or another, which meant that John's chances of getting to enjoy a proper dinner date had begun to shrink.
'Possibly porn.' was pushing it and besides, even if John had known where to get it, he doubted he'd have wanted to. There were limits, after all.
Sherlock's visitor looked - well. Not the first time John had met some ... interesting people in Sherlock's company, although Sherlock generally seemed to prefer to meet them on their own turf.
"John, Harry - Harry, John." Sherlock frowned slightly. "Not confusing, is it?"
"Hello." At least the gray cloak looked more or less practical. The wand just looked like a too big walking stick.
"John's sister is called Harry, too," Sherlock informed his visitor. "Short for Harriet."
"You've never met my sister," John said.
"No, but I'd assume you have."
"I've never met his sister either. Is she hot?"
John turned slowly. "I beg your pardon?"
"Don't mind Bob," Sherlock's visitor said. John suspected he might be missing a bit more than just a last name, given that he was referring to people clearly not there. Might be a few screws loose there.
On the other hand, it didn't quite seem like Sherlock to be putting up with that sort of thing. "Sorry, don't mind who now?"
Sherlock sighed the way he tended to do when someone was missing the obvious. "Table."
John looked. There was Sherlock's laptop - not named, as far as John knew, a stack of books, none of which would seem sentient, some papers, some more papers, a skull, a mug of (probably cold) tea -
The skull winked at him. "Bob. Nice to meet someone who knows his literature."
"You really spoilt him," Harry said, shaking his head as he collected the romance novels John had acquired in a five-for-the-price-of-three package deal, complete with discrete brown bag that had made him feel like he'd bought porn after all.
John didn't quite know yet whether or not he was relieved they hadn't been for Sherlock after all.
"Some people simply do know how to appreciate me - unlike a certain wizard I could mention," the skull - Bob said. It probably said something about John's life that he found the idea of Sherlock reading cheap romance novels a lot more disturbing than the idea of a talking skull.
Although, of course, it wasn't actually the skull who talked (or so Sherlock had explained, in his best 'this should be obvious to everyone, but alas, I am surrounded by slow-witted idiots' voice.)
"You're a ... magician?" John asked. It made a certain kind of sense, he supposed, what with the cloak and the wand and all. Not exactly the kind of thing people walked around in in their day-to-day life.
"Wizard," Sherlock said. Consulting wizard."
"I'm in the phonebook," Harry said, looking like he got the sort of look John was giving him rather a lot, which made sense. "Under the W."
Sherlock had to be in a good mood, given that he added: "In Chicago." In case John had missed the accent, presumably. "And no, there's no such school as Hogwarts."
Harry grinned a bit sheepishly.
"Consulting wizard," John repeated. Well, that explained ... nothing, actually, given that there was nothing to explain. "That sounds very ... very ... well."
"Enough to make a living," Harry said. Bob made a sound that sounded like a snort. "Most of the time."
If John had woken up the next day and found both the skull and the wizard gone, he might have decided the entire thing had been a dream after all, and far from the strangest one he'd had since meeting Sherlock. As it was, he found both wizard and skull still there, having breakfast.
"You could say I'm a consultant's consultant," Bob said.
Harry sipped his tea, grimaced and reached for the milk.
"Centuries of accumulated wisdom are at my disposal," Bob went on. "Want to know the secrets from the ancient world? Just ask me."
John poured himself some tea. Sherlock seemed absorbed in his laptop.
"Or, I guess, you can just do without them. Your choice." Bob sighed. "Used to be a time when people would sell their souls for stuff like this. Those were the days. Not a lot of romance novels, I'll grant you, although Catullus sure came up with some racy stuff. No porn whatsoever, but, you know, there's always the real thing. Up, close and personal, baby."
"In a monastery." Harry reached for the toast. John wondered how long it would be before Mrs. Hudson would let him forget she'd made it for them.
"You'd be surprised at some of the stuff I've seen," Bob said.
"Unlikely," Sherlock said absently.
"Really? And what would you know about that kind of stuff, Sherlock?" Bob asked. "At least John here's been on a few dates this past month. Not that he got anywhere, but hey, at least he's got a girlfriend. That's more than I can say about you or Harry."
"Everything's on the internet these days, isn't it?" John said. "Not that I've - not me, no thanks. But that's what they say, isn't it? That everything's on the internet?"
"Thanks for reminding me why this century sucks."
Harry sighed. "Technology tends to get a bit unreliable around magic," he explained. "So no on-line adventures for Bob, and no cell-phone for me."
"You don't need a cell-phone, Harry. There's nobody who'd want to call you anyway."