Just a bit of nonsense
Inspired by redconverse's HDM/Holmes crossover, and thus without a name for Holmes's daemon. ^_~ Just a little version of how Holmes finally goes about asking for that date. Not so much edited, so please forgive me for any flubs.
Holmes and his daemon had been acting oddly all afternoon. Every time I glanced their way I found them engaged in what looked like a heated argument, always conducted in undertones just beyond my range of hearing. Finally I managed to catch Holmes saying, in irritable tones, “If it is the only way to stop this incessant nagging, very well. But I shall do it in my own way.” Suleviae and I spent the next ten minutes trying to decipher what this could have meant, but to no avail.
We gave their disagreement little thought afterwards, engaged as we all were in tracking down our brazen thief. That evening we returned to Baker Street in the flush of victory to recount our more heroic moments, as had become our habit. We had been engaged thus for half an hour or so when, to my astonishment, Holmes suffered a sharp nip from his kestrel daemon’s beak.
“The time!” he exclaimed, jumping up to look at the clock on the mantelpiece. “Come, Watson! I have tickets for the new play at The Royal Court. We shall have just enough time for a bite of dinner before the curtain goes up.” He glanced over at me. “That is,” he added belatedly, “if you would care to accompany me?”
It was the last thing I had expected, but I was deeply pleased. That Sherlock Holmes wished to spend time with me, in a social context outside of his work, seemed a great step forward. It seemed that he did consider me his friend, after all.
“I would be delighted, Holmes.”
A look of great relief passed over his face and was gone in an instant, though his daemon was hopping excitedly from one foot to the other. “Then let us be off! And on our way, tell me,” he said as we hurriedly donned our coats, “if you have heard anything of this W. S. Gilbert.”
Holmes and his daemon had been acting oddly all afternoon. Every time I glanced their way I found them engaged in what looked like a heated argument, always conducted in undertones just beyond my range of hearing. Finally I managed to catch Holmes saying, in irritable tones, “If it is the only way to stop this incessant nagging, very well. But I shall do it in my own way.” Suleviae and I spent the next ten minutes trying to decipher what this could have meant, but to no avail.
We gave their disagreement little thought afterwards, engaged as we all were in tracking down our brazen thief. That evening we returned to Baker Street in the flush of victory to recount our more heroic moments, as had become our habit. We had been engaged thus for half an hour or so when, to my astonishment, Holmes suffered a sharp nip from his kestrel daemon’s beak.
“The time!” he exclaimed, jumping up to look at the clock on the mantelpiece. “Come, Watson! I have tickets for the new play at The Royal Court. We shall have just enough time for a bite of dinner before the curtain goes up.” He glanced over at me. “That is,” he added belatedly, “if you would care to accompany me?”
It was the last thing I had expected, but I was deeply pleased. That Sherlock Holmes wished to spend time with me, in a social context outside of his work, seemed a great step forward. It seemed that he did consider me his friend, after all.
“I would be delighted, Holmes.”
A look of great relief passed over his face and was gone in an instant, though his daemon was hopping excitedly from one foot to the other. “Then let us be off! And on our way, tell me,” he said as we hurriedly donned our coats, “if you have heard anything of this W. S. Gilbert.”