Fic: Misery's Faithful Companion
Title: Misery's Faithful Companion
Author: louie x
Pairing/Characters: Holmes/Watson
Rating: PG
Word Count: 478
Spoilers: Only for the '09 movie
Notes/Warnings: Random wee email bunny for pixie_darling and it's a bit fluffy~
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the franchise, neither reboot nor original, I just like to play with the shiny.
Summary: Moments spent with good company should always be cherished.
Holmes lights his pipe with the evident ease of a man who's been able to do so in far dire situations with far less than the one hand that currently remained free. Beside him, his companion glares but then looks away from the detective's innocent offer to share the sweet-tasting tobacco when the pipe is extended in his direction.
"This is all your fault, you do realize," Watson says. His tone is less than jovial and Holmes cannot help the smirk that spreads upon his face. "Are you pouting, old man? Honestly, one would think that you would live in breathless anticipation for such moments to maintain a bit of excitement in your life."
Watson's eyes narrow sharply and Holmes thinks for a brief moment of the old adage, always spoken to him by his and Mycroft's nurse, of one's countenance remaining stuck in such an image of distaste. "Contrary to
what you may think, Holmes," the doctor starts with a weary, exhausted sigh, "Last I heard, the sun and other Heavenly bodies opted not to revolve around you. Apparently your schedule is too fluid for their fixed orbits to comply with."
A puff of smoke escapes from Holmes' nose as he laughs softly. He supposes there are worse ways to spend one's evening than handcuffed to his best companion atop a newly constructed portion of the Thames bridge.
"LeStrade will not let this go, you do realize," Watson carries on. "That is, if you choose to just sit here rather than encouraging the lock on these restraints to open."
Another miniature cloud answers him, as brown eyes behold Watson with feigned innocence. "What ever would give you the impression that I could pick locks?"
"You're lucky that we're bound together up here Holmes, or I would shove you over the edge myself."
"Well, they do say keep your friends close and your enemies closer."
He waits, a delicate game of patience, and observes Watson out of the corner of his eye. Counting the beats of his heart, Holmes knows he has a few precious moments before the vein begins to thump
angrily against the skin of Watson's throat. The man had lost his hat in the evening's prior scuffle -which explained much of his less than pleasant company, as it was a rather handsome hat indeed- and that they had been tricked into being bound together by their opponents has left a sour taste in their mouths. Holmes can sympathize with the frustration, but prodding Watson had steadily become a most enjoyable pastime in their
years of partnership. So, bound together to a support beam with the iron keeping Watson's hand, so warm and so close, scant inches from Holmes' own, he waits....
"Say, Watson?" Holmes' question receives a quiet grunt of acknowledgment from the usually more eloquent doctor. "What does that cloud look like to you?"
Author: louie x
Pairing/Characters: Holmes/Watson
Rating: PG
Word Count: 478
Spoilers: Only for the '09 movie
Notes/Warnings: Random wee email bunny for pixie_darling and it's a bit fluffy~
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the franchise, neither reboot nor original, I just like to play with the shiny.
Summary: Moments spent with good company should always be cherished.
Holmes lights his pipe with the evident ease of a man who's been able to do so in far dire situations with far less than the one hand that currently remained free. Beside him, his companion glares but then looks away from the detective's innocent offer to share the sweet-tasting tobacco when the pipe is extended in his direction.
"This is all your fault, you do realize," Watson says. His tone is less than jovial and Holmes cannot help the smirk that spreads upon his face. "Are you pouting, old man? Honestly, one would think that you would live in breathless anticipation for such moments to maintain a bit of excitement in your life."
Watson's eyes narrow sharply and Holmes thinks for a brief moment of the old adage, always spoken to him by his and Mycroft's nurse, of one's countenance remaining stuck in such an image of distaste. "Contrary to
what you may think, Holmes," the doctor starts with a weary, exhausted sigh, "Last I heard, the sun and other Heavenly bodies opted not to revolve around you. Apparently your schedule is too fluid for their fixed orbits to comply with."
A puff of smoke escapes from Holmes' nose as he laughs softly. He supposes there are worse ways to spend one's evening than handcuffed to his best companion atop a newly constructed portion of the Thames bridge.
"LeStrade will not let this go, you do realize," Watson carries on. "That is, if you choose to just sit here rather than encouraging the lock on these restraints to open."
Another miniature cloud answers him, as brown eyes behold Watson with feigned innocence. "What ever would give you the impression that I could pick locks?"
"You're lucky that we're bound together up here Holmes, or I would shove you over the edge myself."
"Well, they do say keep your friends close and your enemies closer."
He waits, a delicate game of patience, and observes Watson out of the corner of his eye. Counting the beats of his heart, Holmes knows he has a few precious moments before the vein begins to thump
angrily against the skin of Watson's throat. The man had lost his hat in the evening's prior scuffle -which explained much of his less than pleasant company, as it was a rather handsome hat indeed- and that they had been tricked into being bound together by their opponents has left a sour taste in their mouths. Holmes can sympathize with the frustration, but prodding Watson had steadily become a most enjoyable pastime in their
years of partnership. So, bound together to a support beam with the iron keeping Watson's hand, so warm and so close, scant inches from Holmes' own, he waits....
"Say, Watson?" Holmes' question receives a quiet grunt of acknowledgment from the usually more eloquent doctor. "What does that cloud look like to you?"