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FIC: Most Peculiar
Title: Most Peculiar
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (canon)
Ship: None (Lestrade gen)
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,133
Warnings: None
Summary: Inspector Lestrade considers the mystery of Doctor Watson.
Notes: This was my fic for holmestice 2010.
I like to think of myself as a reasonably clever, observant man. Not of Sherlock Holmes' calibre, no, but I wouldn't be an inspector of the Yard if I were half the idiot his comparative genius, on occasion, makes me appear to be. I also pride myself on being an excellent judge of character - any policeman worth his salt is. I can usually get a good read on a fellow within a few minutes of meeting him, which is why it perplexes me that I still, after several months of an acquaintance verging now on proper friendship, find myself unable to decipher John Watson.
At first glance, he's a simple man, is Doctor Watson. He's no Sherlock Holmes, of course (then again, who is, and who would want to be?), but that he's smart is undeniable. He’s a good doctor and was once, from what stories I’ve heard, quite the good soldier as well. That he's brave is certainly of no question, and he must be loyal to a fault to stand by Mister Holmes the way he has. And, of course, he's a good man. I would, in fact, go so far as to say that he's a very good man - an excellent example of what men can be.
But none of that is enough to tell even a very observant sort of fellow who John Watson is. 'Smart' and ‘brave’ and ‘good’ are excellent descriptions, but really can only mean so much. There's something else in him, some other quality, some hitherto unidentifiable something that makes John Watson more than any of those things. Something that makes him interesting enough to be Sherlock Holmes' friend (arguably his only friend, for all that he and I have grown into an amicable working relationship), the only person deemed worthy of being part of the man's solitary world. He seems ordinary enough to be mundane, good enough to be overlooked, yet somehow he manages to be neither and I cannot, for the life of me, determine why.
It isn't just Mister Holmes who's aware of it, either. Everyone who comes into contact with Doctor Watson seems to recognise it in some way. People genuinely like him without much of an effort on his part to endear himself to them, which is a rare quality in a man these days. It's an excellent trait to be found in a doctor, to be sure, and one that others could benefit from having themselves. The ability to put others at ease can only be invaluable when one's life is devoted to healing. What I really can't pin down, though, is exactly what it is about him that inspires such a reaction in those he meets. There's simply nothing remarkable about him that I can find, though I have hope that one day, if we maintain our acquaintance, I'll figure it out.
That isn't the greatest mystery surrounding him, however. No, that honour would have to go to something everyone in his acquaintance has, no doubt, wondered at some point or another: why does he stay with Mister Holmes?
Sherlock Holmes is, in many ways, John Watson's opposite. Where Doctor Watson is pleasantly courteous, Mister Holmes can be outrageously rude. Where Doctor Watson manages to endear himself to others with that indefinable quality I've mentioned, Mister Holmes has a knack for putting a man on the defensive in mere moments, alienating himself entirely if given a few moments more. It's a talent I am sorry to say I have yet to develop an appreciation for, even if I can’t deny it’s had its useful moments.
More than that, though, Doctor Watson is a man who has taken a vow to heal, while Mister Holmes is one with a history of self-destruction. There was a time, in fact, years prior to meeting the good doctor, that it might have been possible to construe some of his habits as a death wish. We've never spoken about it, Mister Holmes and I, but I know the sorts of things he has done to himself, and he knows I know, and that's enough for the both of us. There is no doubt in my mind that Doctor Watson knows as well, probably far better than I, but stays regardless. Sherlock Holmes is not the sort to be compelled to change, which suggests that Doctor Watson has chosen to tolerate his colleague’s unhealthier tendencies, just as he has chosen to accept his caustic personality, arrogance, and well-documented disdain for the world the rest of us inhabit.
And so the question remains: why?
It is all well and good to use their friendship as explanation, but that's not quite right. I know it's not, though I'm not sure how. The bounds of friendship can only be pushed so far, after all, and John Watson has put up with more from Sherlock Holmes than any man ought to. The man went to war, after all, and came back injured but alive, having unquestionably seen more by the age of thirty than most see in their entire lives. The case could be made that he's already suffered too much to be expected to allow his time to be monopolised by someone like Sherlock Holmes. Not that there are other men like Sherlock Holmes, but the point stands.
He does allow it, though. Not only that, but he seems to genuinely enjoy it. I wouldn't have thought it possible, prior to meeting Doctor Watson, but in him Mister Holmes seems to have found a counterpart; someone who is not only capable of dealing with him (no mean feat in itself), but who finds it agreeable to do so. Despite everything his association with Mister Holmes has put him through, and despite how challenging the man must be to live with, Doctor Watson has never struck me as being unhappy or discontent. If anything, he seems fitter now than when we first met, back in the early days of his life at Baker Street.
I'm not sure what it says about a man when life with Sherlock Holmes does him good, and sometimes I wonder about them. I can't help but do, what with the way the doctor manages to make Mister Holmes smile (and few men smile as rarely as Mister Holmes), but at the end of the day the how’s and why’s of their relationship are not of any real concern to me. Mister Holmes works better with Doctor Watson, and Doctor Watson is clearly happy with the arrangement. Nothing more need be said on the subject.
It is peculiar, though. After all, who could have predicted that, of 221B Baker Street's residents, the good doctor has proven the greater mystery?
Most peculiar, indeed.
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (canon)
Ship: None (Lestrade gen)
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,133
Warnings: None
Summary: Inspector Lestrade considers the mystery of Doctor Watson.
Notes: This was my fic for holmestice 2010.
I like to think of myself as a reasonably clever, observant man. Not of Sherlock Holmes' calibre, no, but I wouldn't be an inspector of the Yard if I were half the idiot his comparative genius, on occasion, makes me appear to be. I also pride myself on being an excellent judge of character - any policeman worth his salt is. I can usually get a good read on a fellow within a few minutes of meeting him, which is why it perplexes me that I still, after several months of an acquaintance verging now on proper friendship, find myself unable to decipher John Watson.
At first glance, he's a simple man, is Doctor Watson. He's no Sherlock Holmes, of course (then again, who is, and who would want to be?), but that he's smart is undeniable. He’s a good doctor and was once, from what stories I’ve heard, quite the good soldier as well. That he's brave is certainly of no question, and he must be loyal to a fault to stand by Mister Holmes the way he has. And, of course, he's a good man. I would, in fact, go so far as to say that he's a very good man - an excellent example of what men can be.
But none of that is enough to tell even a very observant sort of fellow who John Watson is. 'Smart' and ‘brave’ and ‘good’ are excellent descriptions, but really can only mean so much. There's something else in him, some other quality, some hitherto unidentifiable something that makes John Watson more than any of those things. Something that makes him interesting enough to be Sherlock Holmes' friend (arguably his only friend, for all that he and I have grown into an amicable working relationship), the only person deemed worthy of being part of the man's solitary world. He seems ordinary enough to be mundane, good enough to be overlooked, yet somehow he manages to be neither and I cannot, for the life of me, determine why.
It isn't just Mister Holmes who's aware of it, either. Everyone who comes into contact with Doctor Watson seems to recognise it in some way. People genuinely like him without much of an effort on his part to endear himself to them, which is a rare quality in a man these days. It's an excellent trait to be found in a doctor, to be sure, and one that others could benefit from having themselves. The ability to put others at ease can only be invaluable when one's life is devoted to healing. What I really can't pin down, though, is exactly what it is about him that inspires such a reaction in those he meets. There's simply nothing remarkable about him that I can find, though I have hope that one day, if we maintain our acquaintance, I'll figure it out.
That isn't the greatest mystery surrounding him, however. No, that honour would have to go to something everyone in his acquaintance has, no doubt, wondered at some point or another: why does he stay with Mister Holmes?
Sherlock Holmes is, in many ways, John Watson's opposite. Where Doctor Watson is pleasantly courteous, Mister Holmes can be outrageously rude. Where Doctor Watson manages to endear himself to others with that indefinable quality I've mentioned, Mister Holmes has a knack for putting a man on the defensive in mere moments, alienating himself entirely if given a few moments more. It's a talent I am sorry to say I have yet to develop an appreciation for, even if I can’t deny it’s had its useful moments.
More than that, though, Doctor Watson is a man who has taken a vow to heal, while Mister Holmes is one with a history of self-destruction. There was a time, in fact, years prior to meeting the good doctor, that it might have been possible to construe some of his habits as a death wish. We've never spoken about it, Mister Holmes and I, but I know the sorts of things he has done to himself, and he knows I know, and that's enough for the both of us. There is no doubt in my mind that Doctor Watson knows as well, probably far better than I, but stays regardless. Sherlock Holmes is not the sort to be compelled to change, which suggests that Doctor Watson has chosen to tolerate his colleague’s unhealthier tendencies, just as he has chosen to accept his caustic personality, arrogance, and well-documented disdain for the world the rest of us inhabit.
And so the question remains: why?
It is all well and good to use their friendship as explanation, but that's not quite right. I know it's not, though I'm not sure how. The bounds of friendship can only be pushed so far, after all, and John Watson has put up with more from Sherlock Holmes than any man ought to. The man went to war, after all, and came back injured but alive, having unquestionably seen more by the age of thirty than most see in their entire lives. The case could be made that he's already suffered too much to be expected to allow his time to be monopolised by someone like Sherlock Holmes. Not that there are other men like Sherlock Holmes, but the point stands.
He does allow it, though. Not only that, but he seems to genuinely enjoy it. I wouldn't have thought it possible, prior to meeting Doctor Watson, but in him Mister Holmes seems to have found a counterpart; someone who is not only capable of dealing with him (no mean feat in itself), but who finds it agreeable to do so. Despite everything his association with Mister Holmes has put him through, and despite how challenging the man must be to live with, Doctor Watson has never struck me as being unhappy or discontent. If anything, he seems fitter now than when we first met, back in the early days of his life at Baker Street.
I'm not sure what it says about a man when life with Sherlock Holmes does him good, and sometimes I wonder about them. I can't help but do, what with the way the doctor manages to make Mister Holmes smile (and few men smile as rarely as Mister Holmes), but at the end of the day the how’s and why’s of their relationship are not of any real concern to me. Mister Holmes works better with Doctor Watson, and Doctor Watson is clearly happy with the arrangement. Nothing more need be said on the subject.
It is peculiar, though. After all, who could have predicted that, of 221B Baker Street's residents, the good doctor has proven the greater mystery?
Most peculiar, indeed.