"A folded square of paper with no markings upon it" (Sherlock Holmes, July 22 prompt)
Title: A folded square of paper with no markings upon it
Author: gardnerhill
Rating: G
Characters: John Watson (2009 film canon)
Summary: No one else had chosen the third option in today's prompt.
Warnings: Disgustingly schmoopy.
Word Count: 189
Author's Notes: For the July 22 prompt (epistolary tale).
###
It lay upon the nightstand beside his hospital bed.
A folded square of paper with no markings upon it.
Nothing upon it. It spoke loudly.
One-handed, Watson opened it, and closed his eyes.
In one corner, the sweet and strong odors of shag and ship's tobacco.
("I suppose it is pretty thick, now that you mention it.")
Beside it, mid-paper, the heavy, redolent smell of dog.
Another corner held pungent stenches of sulfur, camphor, chloramine.
("You come at a crucial moment. If this paper turns red it's a man's life."
Further down, on the right (east), the aroma of the smoky tea that began their day. Across the way (west), the brandy that concluded it.
A touch of violin rosin. A whiff of carbolic.
And from edge to edge of what was meant to be the bottom of this missive - Mary's perfume.
The bastard.
Here, in this cold and sterile room, the scents of Baker Street, and of his loved ones. A touch of home.
He knew the sisters would think his tears were only from the pain.
***
Author: gardnerhill
Rating: G
Characters: John Watson (2009 film canon)
Summary: No one else had chosen the third option in today's prompt.
Warnings: Disgustingly schmoopy.
Word Count: 189
Author's Notes: For the July 22 prompt (epistolary tale).
###
It lay upon the nightstand beside his hospital bed.
A folded square of paper with no markings upon it.
Nothing upon it. It spoke loudly.
One-handed, Watson opened it, and closed his eyes.
In one corner, the sweet and strong odors of shag and ship's tobacco.
("I suppose it is pretty thick, now that you mention it.")
Beside it, mid-paper, the heavy, redolent smell of dog.
Another corner held pungent stenches of sulfur, camphor, chloramine.
("You come at a crucial moment. If this paper turns red it's a man's life."
Further down, on the right (east), the aroma of the smoky tea that began their day. Across the way (west), the brandy that concluded it.
A touch of violin rosin. A whiff of carbolic.
And from edge to edge of what was meant to be the bottom of this missive - Mary's perfume.
The bastard.
Here, in this cold and sterile room, the scents of Baker Street, and of his loved ones. A touch of home.
He knew the sisters would think his tears were only from the pain.
***