Mulled Wine (Christmas Fic) (G)
Title: Mulled Wine
Author(s): Jenny Starseed
Rating: G
Character(s): Lestrade, Sally
Summary: A scene from the Scotland Yard Christmas Party.
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 305
Author's Notes: Originally scrapped because I centered the fic around eggnog, until I found out Brits generally don’t drink Eggnog. Too bad, because I liked that fic a lot, but I try my best to have my fics be as plausibly British as possible. I’m not a Brit, so if you see any mistakes, politely let me know.
Unbeta-ed and unBrit-picked, so comments and (polite) concrit is welcomed.
None of the Characters are mine.
Lestrade sat at the corner of the room with a glass of mulled wine by his elbow. The Scotland Yard employee Christmas party was in full swing. There was loud chatter, drunken dancing to bad holiday music and people clustering over the cheap beer, crisps, biscuits and a lonely vegetable and dip tray.
Sally Donovan spotted him in the corner and approached him with a wry expression on her face.
“Haven’t got the memo?”she asked, handing Lestrade a glass of water. “No maudlin drunks at the Christmas party, only foolish drunks allowed. Take a look at Sherlock.”
Lestrade took a sip of the water and couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Sherlock doing an awkward dance that would make a schizophrenic robot proud. Lestrade knew exactly who provided the 15 year old bottle of Glenfiddich to the office party; despite it being anonymously delivered in a velvet box every year with an elegant card that said “For your amusement, serve at the Scotland Yard Christmas party at exactly 7:05pm.”
“I’m not being maudlin, Sally,” corrected Lestrade. “I’m honestly enjoying myself. My father used to sit by the corner, watching our festivities. He would pour the mulled wine in my cup, giving me just enough to taste and decide it was disgusting before asking for hot chocolate. As a lad, it was the only time of year that we were allowed to have something alcoholic without getting in trouble....honestly, I forgot the point of that story...except that well, I never understood why he sat so quietly in the corner, away from the food, presents and friends until I started doing it myself at these silly Christmas parties. It’s very nice to just watch people being happy from the sidelines.”
“Sir, you’ve had too much,” replied Sally with a wry smile. “You’re now a sentimental drunk.”
Author(s): Jenny Starseed
Rating: G
Character(s): Lestrade, Sally
Summary: A scene from the Scotland Yard Christmas Party.
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 305
Author's Notes: Originally scrapped because I centered the fic around eggnog, until I found out Brits generally don’t drink Eggnog. Too bad, because I liked that fic a lot, but I try my best to have my fics be as plausibly British as possible. I’m not a Brit, so if you see any mistakes, politely let me know.
Unbeta-ed and unBrit-picked, so comments and (polite) concrit is welcomed.
None of the Characters are mine.
Lestrade sat at the corner of the room with a glass of mulled wine by his elbow. The Scotland Yard employee Christmas party was in full swing. There was loud chatter, drunken dancing to bad holiday music and people clustering over the cheap beer, crisps, biscuits and a lonely vegetable and dip tray.
Sally Donovan spotted him in the corner and approached him with a wry expression on her face.
“Haven’t got the memo?”she asked, handing Lestrade a glass of water. “No maudlin drunks at the Christmas party, only foolish drunks allowed. Take a look at Sherlock.”
Lestrade took a sip of the water and couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Sherlock doing an awkward dance that would make a schizophrenic robot proud. Lestrade knew exactly who provided the 15 year old bottle of Glenfiddich to the office party; despite it being anonymously delivered in a velvet box every year with an elegant card that said “For your amusement, serve at the Scotland Yard Christmas party at exactly 7:05pm.”
“I’m not being maudlin, Sally,” corrected Lestrade. “I’m honestly enjoying myself. My father used to sit by the corner, watching our festivities. He would pour the mulled wine in my cup, giving me just enough to taste and decide it was disgusting before asking for hot chocolate. As a lad, it was the only time of year that we were allowed to have something alcoholic without getting in trouble....honestly, I forgot the point of that story...except that well, I never understood why he sat so quietly in the corner, away from the food, presents and friends until I started doing it myself at these silly Christmas parties. It’s very nice to just watch people being happy from the sidelines.”
“Sir, you’ve had too much,” replied Sally with a wry smile. “You’re now a sentimental drunk.”