'A Story of Names', a Sherlock Holmes fanfic (6/6)
Title: A Story of Names
Fandoms: ACD Sherlock Holmes and BBC Sherlock crossover with AU aspects
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, original character
Rating: PG
Length: 6,500 words
Spoilers/Warnings: Major character death
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the BBC, Moffat, and ACD.
Thanks to: My betas, swissmarg and luzula, and to yeomanrand for the prompt.
Summary: Being an account of the adventures of a fae who finally earned his name.
Chapter One
Previous Chapter
Chapter 6: Doctor John Watson
I stood in the gents’ of the late-night Chinese restaurant Sherlock had found for us, washing my hands as thoroughly as if scrubbing in for surgery, in order to remove the powder residue from the gunshot that had saved his life. I looked in the mirror at the worry lines, smile lines, and battle scars that I’d collected over the years. I nodded. Doctor John Watson, indeed.
“Right,” I said as I returned to the table, continuing our earlier conversation. “That’s settled then. I agree to pay my half of the rent on time, to assist you at crime scenes, and to do my best to keep you from getting yourself killed. And in return you’ll pay your half of the rent on time, and keep the top shelf and left crisper in the fridge free of all human tissue.” There should be three conditions, shouldn’t there? I couldn’t resist. “Also, you must buy me a pint of milk each and every day.”
Sherlock, who had been lazing in the red upholstered booth like a cat in the sun, sat bolt upright. “A pint of milk?”
“Will that be a problem?”
“Not necessarily,” he said, eyes flickering over me as he tried to deduce the root of this unexpected demand. “Milk. Why milk, John?” Suspicion dawned in his eyes. “Did Mycroft put you up to this?” he demanded.
I huffed. “Of course not. We all have our little quirks. Some of us like to play the violin while thinking, and others like to have their flat-mate buy a pint of milk for them every day. Do we have a deal, Sherlock?”
Sherlock leaned across the table to study me intently, gathering what clues I couldn't imagine. He took a sharp breath, and I heard his pulse quicken. He nodded, a sudden grin lighting his face like fire catching in the hearth. Then Sherlock held out his hand, and we shook on it like gentlemen.
To: DeliverMilk.co.uk
From: sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk
Order: One pint of milk to be delivered daily to 221B Baker Street London, NW1 6XE, without fail. Holidays included. Cost no object. Order to begin immediately and continue until further notice.
Continued in Preconceived Notions.
Fandoms: ACD Sherlock Holmes and BBC Sherlock crossover with AU aspects
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, original character
Rating: PG
Length: 6,500 words
Spoilers/Warnings: Major character death
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the BBC, Moffat, and ACD.
Thanks to: My betas, swissmarg and luzula, and to yeomanrand for the prompt.
Summary: Being an account of the adventures of a fae who finally earned his name.
Chapter One
Previous Chapter
Chapter 6: Doctor John Watson
I stood in the gents’ of the late-night Chinese restaurant Sherlock had found for us, washing my hands as thoroughly as if scrubbing in for surgery, in order to remove the powder residue from the gunshot that had saved his life. I looked in the mirror at the worry lines, smile lines, and battle scars that I’d collected over the years. I nodded. Doctor John Watson, indeed.
“Right,” I said as I returned to the table, continuing our earlier conversation. “That’s settled then. I agree to pay my half of the rent on time, to assist you at crime scenes, and to do my best to keep you from getting yourself killed. And in return you’ll pay your half of the rent on time, and keep the top shelf and left crisper in the fridge free of all human tissue.” There should be three conditions, shouldn’t there? I couldn’t resist. “Also, you must buy me a pint of milk each and every day.”
Sherlock, who had been lazing in the red upholstered booth like a cat in the sun, sat bolt upright. “A pint of milk?”
“Will that be a problem?”
“Not necessarily,” he said, eyes flickering over me as he tried to deduce the root of this unexpected demand. “Milk. Why milk, John?” Suspicion dawned in his eyes. “Did Mycroft put you up to this?” he demanded.
I huffed. “Of course not. We all have our little quirks. Some of us like to play the violin while thinking, and others like to have their flat-mate buy a pint of milk for them every day. Do we have a deal, Sherlock?”
Sherlock leaned across the table to study me intently, gathering what clues I couldn't imagine. He took a sharp breath, and I heard his pulse quicken. He nodded, a sudden grin lighting his face like fire catching in the hearth. Then Sherlock held out his hand, and we shook on it like gentlemen.
To: DeliverMilk.co.uk
From: sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk
Order: One pint of milk to be delivered daily to 221B Baker Street London, NW1 6XE, without fail. Holidays included. Cost no object. Order to begin immediately and continue until further notice.
Continued in Preconceived Notions.