Fic: That One May Smile And Smile
Title: That One May Smile And Smile
Rating: G
Universe: ACD Canon
Characters: Doctor Watson, Professor Moriarty, Stamford
Word Count: 266
Author's Notes: Written in response to JWP Practice Prompt #8 (Poem Prompt) on Watson's Woes.
Stamford looked quizzically at me as we left the university. No doubt he was puzzled by me not jumping at the opportunity, especially after hearing me lament my position not two hours ago.
The gentleman, a professor, was pleasant enough, with a warm smile and a firm handshake. He was looking for someone to share a place on Conduit Street, which he said would suit us down to the ground.
He admitted his two vices were a nervous tic and overworking, what with his writing a book on asteroids and holding consultations with his students at strange hours. I thought my own list of vices would sour him to the idea of taking me on as a fellow lodger, but the friendly smile remained. He said he appreciated honesty, and joked that having an ex-soldier with his own bull-pup would be useful in keeping wayward students in line. He seemed cheerfully eager to start moving in as soon as possible.
Even if I was not in such dire financial straits, I would be foolish indeed to refuse. A quiet abode with a quiet scholar-an ideal arrangement for a crippled veteran with shattered nerves.
And yet...
I politely shook his hand in farewell and told him I would consider it, but I knew my final answer would be no.
My army career might have brought me misfortune and disaster, but it also taught me to trust my instincts, and they warned me off from throwing my lot in with this man.
For not once in our conversation did that warm, amiable smile reach his cold, calculating eyes.
Rating: G
Universe: ACD Canon
Characters: Doctor Watson, Professor Moriarty, Stamford
Word Count: 266
Author's Notes: Written in response to JWP Practice Prompt #8 (Poem Prompt) on Watson's Woes.
Stamford looked quizzically at me as we left the university. No doubt he was puzzled by me not jumping at the opportunity, especially after hearing me lament my position not two hours ago.
The gentleman, a professor, was pleasant enough, with a warm smile and a firm handshake. He was looking for someone to share a place on Conduit Street, which he said would suit us down to the ground.
He admitted his two vices were a nervous tic and overworking, what with his writing a book on asteroids and holding consultations with his students at strange hours. I thought my own list of vices would sour him to the idea of taking me on as a fellow lodger, but the friendly smile remained. He said he appreciated honesty, and joked that having an ex-soldier with his own bull-pup would be useful in keeping wayward students in line. He seemed cheerfully eager to start moving in as soon as possible.
Even if I was not in such dire financial straits, I would be foolish indeed to refuse. A quiet abode with a quiet scholar-an ideal arrangement for a crippled veteran with shattered nerves.
And yet...
I politely shook his hand in farewell and told him I would consider it, but I knew my final answer would be no.
My army career might have brought me misfortune and disaster, but it also taught me to trust my instincts, and they warned me off from throwing my lot in with this man.
For not once in our conversation did that warm, amiable smile reach his cold, calculating eyes.