Holiday Drabble - 18 Dec 2012
A short while for dreaming
BBC Sherlock
Rating: PG
Length: 221
A 221b continuing The Case of the Dead Caroller. By the way, I haven’t the foggiest clue where this story is going to end up.
Thanks to methylviolet10b once again for her bizarre and inspirational prompt. And thank goodness for search engines.
A gust of wind picked up the pages, turning them over on myrrh-scented draughts. John caught a few titles as they flipped past and when the breeze died, he turned the pages more carefully. "God. I wouldn't have wanted her carolling at my house. These are the most depressing Christmas carols ever written."
"What's that?" Sherlock was beside him in an instant.
"Look. 'In the Bleak Midwinter', 'The Little Boy that Santa Claus Forgot', 'Bethlehem Down'."
"The last one isn't bad," argued Lestrade, quoting lyrics. "'Here He has peace and a short while for dreaming--"
John quoted back. "'Myrrh for embalming and wood for a crown.' Seriously? And here. 'We Three Kings'? Isn't that the only common carol in a minor key or something?"
Bells broke the otherwise quiet morning, heralding advent services in a nearby church. Only--
"That pattern's wrong," said Anderson. "I recognise it from when I was a bell-ringer as a kid." At everyone's stunned looks, he said smugly (and mostly at Sherlock), "You don't know everything about me. There's a hitch in the pattern. Listen."
The sequence repeated and they all heard it this time. "Sounds like someone didn't show up this morning."
Sherlock knelt again by the body and pulled the dead woman's mittens from her stiff hands. "We've found who's missing from that bell."
BBC Sherlock
Rating: PG
Length: 221
A 221b continuing The Case of the Dead Caroller. By the way, I haven’t the foggiest clue where this story is going to end up.
Thanks to methylviolet10b once again for her bizarre and inspirational prompt. And thank goodness for search engines.
A gust of wind picked up the pages, turning them over on myrrh-scented draughts. John caught a few titles as they flipped past and when the breeze died, he turned the pages more carefully. "God. I wouldn't have wanted her carolling at my house. These are the most depressing Christmas carols ever written."
"What's that?" Sherlock was beside him in an instant.
"Look. 'In the Bleak Midwinter', 'The Little Boy that Santa Claus Forgot', 'Bethlehem Down'."
"The last one isn't bad," argued Lestrade, quoting lyrics. "'Here He has peace and a short while for dreaming--"
John quoted back. "'Myrrh for embalming and wood for a crown.' Seriously? And here. 'We Three Kings'? Isn't that the only common carol in a minor key or something?"
Bells broke the otherwise quiet morning, heralding advent services in a nearby church. Only--
"That pattern's wrong," said Anderson. "I recognise it from when I was a bell-ringer as a kid." At everyone's stunned looks, he said smugly (and mostly at Sherlock), "You don't know everything about me. There's a hitch in the pattern. Listen."
The sequence repeated and they all heard it this time. "Sounds like someone didn't show up this morning."
Sherlock knelt again by the body and pulled the dead woman's mittens from her stiff hands. "We've found who's missing from that bell."