A Huge Patchwork Wodge of Friday Fives
"Oh, I can think of several. Should you ever find yourself in need of an umbrella in a pinch, perhaps. Or possibly an emergency stretcher. None of them, however, include practical use as a headcovering."
"Mrs. Hudson did mention poor Wiggins was almost grown out of his old mackintosh..."
"That will do admirably. Pop it down to her, will you?"
2. When a gleefully inebriated Watson thought it would be rather amusing to climb a plinth in Hyde Park and glue the deerstalker upon the head of a spectacularly haughty-looking horse.
Holmes wasn't amused, and Watson was banished to sleeping on the sofa for a week.
3. When a gleefully inebriated medical student acquaintance of Watson's thought it would be rather amusing to glue it to one of a pair of carefully-positioned (and, ahem, explicitly-positioned) laboratory skeletons. The skeleton underneath was wearing an army surgeon's pith helmet.
Amazingly, Watson suddenly found he was in complete sympathy with Holmes' opposition to recklessly adorning inanimate objects with hats after all.
4. When the replacement, Sherlock-sized hat from Burke & Sons was intercepted by Moran en route to Baker Street - the Colonel having only seen the order form, and being under the erroneous impression that the word was rather more literal in intention, and actually referred to a new and deadly-accurate Bambi-hunting assault firearm...
5. When Watson (a week after the exciting chase of - and shoot-out with - a criminal gang which led to the deerstalker being plucked from Holmes' head by a badly-aimed bullet, unfound in the aftermath and apparently lost forever) was cheerfully informed by Lestrade that the missing item of headwear had finally turned up at Scotland Yard Lost Property, popped down to collect it - yet returned to 221B that night empty-handed...
"Well?"
"No go, I'm afraid, Holmes. I would consider it lost for good if I were you."
"Damn. It wasn't mine then? I would have considered that highly improbable. It's not as if anyone else wears the things in the middle of a non-rural, metropolitan area on a regular basis-"
"Oh, it was yours alright. I saw it. That distinctive little acid-stain on the brim, and that tear in the earflap I stitched up for you that time you-"
"Watson, cut to the chase. Why have you failed to retrieve it?"
"The constable on duty swore it was...well, not yours. Anyhow. Would you like a drink-"
"Not mine - it has my initials in it, man! The letters which, I recollect, you positively insisted upon stitching into the lining, with your quaint ex-military insistence on labelling all and sundry with one's name, rank and num-"
"Holmes, I know. I know. Believe me, dear fellow, I argued this point and many more for twenty minutes straight, but was eventually forced to conclude the deerstalker was irretrievable."
"That is absolutely preposterous. You confess you saw the item, and observed it was my own by virtue of its distinguishing features. Ergo, it was inarguably mine and you would have been entirely justified in circumventing the obstinate policeman and taking it anyhow. Why, may I ask, did you not simply grab it and -"
"It would have been rather a daunting task to 'simply grab it', Holmes. The officer had it tucked into his...ah, well, perhaps you should merely consider it lost, it's a shame, but-"
"Watson."
"Mmm?"
"Stop prevaricating. Precisely where was it?"
"Tucked into a...box, yes, that's it, a box....on a ...very high shelf...yes...so...so, neither of us could reach it, and it's very sad, but I'll purchase a new one for you, and are you sure you won't have a drink? How was your day? You wouldn't believe the patient I had to deal with today, he was-"
"John. Tucked. Into. What."
[sigh] "Alright. It was stuffed - mostly, it wouldn't quite fit all the way - into his breast pocket."
"Stuffed into his- Who the hell was this on duty at the desk?"
"Hopkins."
[silence]
"Ah."
"Yes."
"Oh, Lord."
"Yeeeees..."
"Dare I ask what...condition...the poor thing was in...?"
"He looked rather smug, yet oddly pitiful, certainly-"
"The bloody hat, man!"
[sigh] "Rather crumpled. As if it had been kept in said pocket for quite a while. I believe he was actually nuzzling a protruding earflap when I walked in unannounced. It looked singularly...loved."
"I'm sure it did. That is an unsurprising revelation, I'm sorry to say, though hardly a particularly welcome one."
"Well, perhaps it is for the best. For I made a discreet enquiry of Mrs. Hudson on my way up just now..."
"And?"
"She assures me that 'saliva and...suchlike' are 'devilish tricky to get out of tweed'."
"'Suchlike'."
"Yeeees...."
"Dare I ask what you mea-"
"It seemed the most...delicate way of phrasing it to a lady."
"'Delicate'. Hmm."
"Quite."
[silence]
"Please tell me you didn't actually see any proof of-"
"No no, I admit it's pure speculation on my part, but...well, my dear Holmes, my instincts tell me you might not want it back in light of those...assumptions..."
"I am singularly inclined to agree with you there."
[silence]
"You know, I was very fond of that hat, Watson."
"I know, love. Never mind. Come here."
"Are you smirking?"
"Not a bit, dear chap, I assure you."
---------
[SILV]
ONE hat Holmes discarded before deciding to wear the "ear-flapped travelling cap".
"It’s eminently practical."
"Holmes, it’s a beekeeper’s hat and veil. Not exactly subtle."
"There might be all kinds of odd and possibly dangerous insects down there in the countryside. The horses may have fleas."
"You are likely to regret it nonetheless. You know it always mysteriously attracts that Russell woman instantly if you ever wear it outside."
"God, you’re right…" [shudders and tears it off faster than Mycroft ripping the wrapper from a bar of Bournville]
Five things that happened while H&W were "flying along en route for Exeter". (The train conductor was well paid for his silence at witnessing the fifth thing)
1. A brief, unseemly (and, if truth be told, frankly childish) scuffle for the favoured backwards-facing window seat.
2. The conductor being summoned by a sharp tug on the emergency cord, and bursting frantically into the compartment to be greeted by a panting tangle of detective and doctor, and an irate "Now look here, my good sir, we require an objective witness to settle this matter. Tell me truthfully -- based on the relative positions of our bodies, which of us would you say won the prior claim to the backwards-facing window seat?"
3. A muffled and energetic reconciliation quickie. (Shame to waste an unintentional panting tangle, after all.)
4. Passing the compartment the second time, the conductor seeing Holmes in a state of exquisite frustration at being, for an hour, one clue short of completing the ‘Times’ crossword.
5. This was bad enough, but when he returned to check the tickets -- as at last a moment of inspiration struck and Holmes triumphantly proclaimed, "Ah! Ten across simply cannot be anything else!" -- the conductor chose this moment as the optimum timing to lean over his shoulder and helpfully enquire whether "Shouldn't six down be ‘caterpillar’ with a 'C', sir?" (which misspelling had of course buggered up the entire premise upon which half the rest of the answers were based.)
Five uses for Watson's field glasses.
1. Post-Hiatus (when he swanned back full of Eastern Tibetan ideas on philosophy, religion and interior decor), Holmes discovered they made pretty cool wind-chimes if you knocked the lenses out first.
2. "See, Holmes, if you look through them this way round, you can make the cows go all tiny!"
"Watson, quite apart from wondering why you have elected to pursue such an asinine method of amusing oneself during the train journey, I admit I have no idea what possible benefit could be gained from making cows appear smaller -"
"I confess that cows terrify me, dear chap. I know it’s a little silly, but the further away they seem, the more tranquil is my state of mind."
"My God, no wonder Maiwand ended in such a bloody massacre of the Berkshires... ‘''Oh, not to worry, Sergeant, look through the glass this way round and the hordes of ravening Ghazis seem ever such a long way off! Time to get a quick cuppa in first!’"
"That’s most insensitive of you, Holmes."
"Mooo."
3. Winding up your lover in revenge for the above. Specifically, propping them right way round against his aquiline nose as he sleeps, gently placing a fuzzy caterpillar on the far lens, and sitting back waiting for the exciting scenes upon awakening...
("JESUSCHRISTWHATTHEHELLISTHAT...
...DON'TJUSTSTANDTHERELAUGHING,MAN,GETYOURREVOLVER...
...getitoffme,getitoffme...
...ohdearGodit'sjusta...aperfectlynormal-sized...
...John Watson, you utter bastard!")
4. Excellent hollow storage tubes employed on cases in order to smuggle narrow cocaine-bottles past the doctor. (Cue a deep fit of the sulks when a slightly desperate detective huddled in the inn bedroom and eagerly unscrewed the lenses only to find that Watson had twigged and the field-glasses had now been redeployed as storage tubes for emergency chocolate rations.
Which is a wee bit of a Catch-22 situation where a comeback is concerned, what with the warring dual impulses of either leaving it there [and therefore allowing Watson to smugly consume the stash later] or scoffing the lot [and therefore pleasing Watson that he's actually eating something]. Compromise = feed it to Silver Blaze. [Chocolate covered in residual cocaine traces from the tubes' interior, that is. Why did you think the horse won so dramatically, eh? ;-)] )
5. Winding up your lover in revenge for the above.
"Holmes, what on earth are you doing with my...for Heaven’s sake, old chap, the print isn’t that small in the Strand."
"I am engaged upon a reconnaissance mission of sorts."
"Of course you are. May one ask for what you are looking? Just one moment...isn’t that story one of mi--"
"I am searching singularly unsuccessfully through the text for the most microscopic sliver of credible narrative and the slightest soupcon of instructive literary value...Ouch."
Five blunders Holmes made in the past. (It seems Watson has only been privy to the third one)
1. "Oh, ye of little faith, Mrs. Hudson. It is the substance in the larger retort here that is unstable and precariously flammable, not the -- oh, damn --"
2. The mistaken interpretation that Mrs. Hudson’'s stern injunction to "find some damned way of repair that ensures that wretched VR in my wallpaper is barely noticeable by the time I return" actually meant "pinch the doctor’s revolver and pepper the walls with a veritable spray of pocks so the VR blends in nicely amongst the rest".
3. Being under the erroneous impression that Watson's food-to-enthusiasm ratio is similar to Rucastle’s mastiff's. You know, the old "feed him once a day, and not too much then, so that he is always as keen as mustard" idea… This lasted until the Curious Incident Of The Sharpened Fork Suddenly Appearing Vibrating In The Wall Inches From A Consulting Detective'’s Head.
4. Being pedantic by nature, instinctively taking double negatives literally.
("Well, Lestrade, when you said "I'm not into none of that sort of molly-stuff", I naturally assumed --")
5. Apparently, that law about policemen being obliged to make their helmets available on request for employment as emergency urinals is purely for the use of pregnant ladies only*, and is not a legitimate channel by which a British citizen may exercise his democratic right of expressing contempt for Scotland Yard and its "miserable pack of simpering careerist minions who wouldn’t recognise a vital clue if it rugby-tackled them to the ground and raped them with their own silver whistles".
("Really, officer. You’re positive? Hm. Well, you learn something new every day.")
*Opinion is apparently divided as to whether the whole "expectant ladies can request a policeman’s helmet to do the necessary in, and the poor bugger has to offer it" is actually true or an urban myth. However, for the sake of the Fives, let’s assume that at least Holmes and the copper believe it’s on the books.
Five reasons Holmes will never be invited to a garden party again
1. Since that time when, in a rare moment of philanthropy, he brought along the entire pack of the Irregulars as a treat - who proceeded to swarm over the buffet table like so many rabid locusts and, it was later discovered, discreetly pickpocket enough wallets, jewellery and posh handkerchiefs to see them through the next five years, all whilst Holmes watched with an indulgent and proud expression.
("Him? He’s doing what? Wiggins? Wiggins! Desist! Oh, good Lord, no...that’s simply appalling...these people will think I never taught you anything…do excuse me, Lady Grosse-Chatte… [sotto voce] For heaven’s sake, boy, you ease the watch-chain out slowly and delicately, not tug on it as if you’re trying to land a particularly stubborn carp…yes, good lad!")
2. His little habit of getting drunk and piercingly criticising the sloppy variations in corner angle measurements on the little triangular cucumber sandwiches. (OT - Anyone else remember that Father Ted episode with the ‘Lovely Girls’ competition, where he checks the thickness of the entrants’ sandwiches with a pair of callipers? :-D)
3. And then proceeding to construct perfectly-balanced five-foot triangular towers out of them, accompanied by a running commentary on how best to compensate for the aforementioned variations in corner angle measurements.
4. His friend the doctor’s little habit of getting drunk and demonstrating open-chest surgical procedures on the whole cooked chickens on the buffet table.
5. And then proceeding to perform an emotional solo re-enactment of the Tragic Last Stand Of The Berkshires At Maiwand with the aid of the serving ladles*, random fowling pieces**, odd tablecloths*** shaken-up bottles of champagne**** and random passing small dogs*****.
*Swords
**Rifles
***Colours
****Artillery
*****Cavalry
-----------
[COPP]
Five rewards Watson received for saving Mr. Rucastle from the mastiff. (He truly enjoyed the fourth one)
1. A nice warm feeling inside at having proved himself to be The Better Person by saving the life of a sadistic patriarchal dickhead whom ninety-nine out of a hundred people would have left to be dismembered.
2. An inner glow of satisfaction that his skills in aiming and shooting small firearms haven’t diminished since his days in Her Majesty’s Service.
3. The chance to show off his physician’s credentials in skilfully patching Rucastle up again afterwards.
4. Holmes suddenly turning extremely pale and solicitous and concerned for Watson’s welfare after the doctor running up without pause to a hulking great savage canine. (Watson might have played up the shock just a little, moaned just a bit more pitifully, and maybe acted as if he was feeling just a little more faint in the train carriage later.)
5. The mastiff’s collar of finest leather with nice shiny studs. Watson was extremely excited about this; Holmes, meanwhile, spectacularly missed the point of all Watson’s smouldering leers on the train home; and Watson was ultimately most chagrined to discover that Holmes’ casually expressed intention of “using it as a restraint in order to further a very specialised and stimulating area of research” actually turned out to mean “Marvellous - it is an ideal replacement for the broken brace holding that vital test-tube in position…”
Five ways Holmes apologized to Watson for his earlier foul temper.
1. Played him the piece previously referred to as "that insipid little tinkling apology of a melody of Mozart's you inexplicably adore" every night for a week.
2. [Through clenched teeth] "Your writing these days, dear chap, is actually really very goo-...rather fi-...most ex-.........-tensive." (Damn. I can't even lie to him anymore these days.)
3. Let him have first bath when they returned to Baker Street. (And proceeded to thoroughly molest him once he was in it.)
4. Chivalrously slept in the wet patch that night.
5. Briefly indulged Watson’s irritating post-coital sandwich habit (damned crumbs get everywhere).
Watson's five observations about Holmes' moods and his pipes. (Holmes grudgingly admits Watson is right about the clay pipe and the matching mood)
(Look, Holmes likes expressing his intentions via subtle acronyms, 'k?…)
1. Mood = Smug
Pipe = Ceramic - Case Evidence Renders All My Instincts Correct.
2. Mood = Chastised
Pipe = Birch - Bloody Interfering Room-Cleaning Hudson.
3. Mood = Frisky
Pipe = Calabash - Clothes All Loosened, Anticipating Beginning Army Surgeon Humping.
4. Mood = In the fogs of depression
Pipe = Pine - Piss-off,* I’m Not Eating.
5. Mood = Watson-studying
Pipe = Meerschaum - Mind Entertaining Erotic Racy Speculations Concerning Hamish** Arranged Under Me.
* Holmes is also not above a little grammatical distortion for his own purposes.
** Ditto for convenient (alleged) middle names that fit better.
----------
[BERYL]
Five things that happened when Holmes returned to Baker Street to "look in as he passed"... (The noise from the second thing made Mrs. Hudson think an owl had gotten into the fire)
1. Watson completely freaked out when Holmes turned up with the old boot in his hand, and accused him of planning to set “that diabolical Hound” on somebody. (Homes blinked twice, stared at him, and then gently enquired, “Watson, have you been at your nitrous oxide again?”)
2. Holmes had barely taken a sip from his cup of tea when there was a horrendous cacophony of yelling and crashing from overhead, a blinding flash of green light in the sky, a cod-Latin incantation, an ominous
rattle on the slates followed by a birdcage spinning down outside the window, and, would you believe it, a very dead snowy owl came tumbling down the chimney to sprawl sootily in the fire. Holmes delicately fished it out with the tongs; Watson immediately dropped to his knees on the rug and began spectacularly unsuccessful attempts at avian CPR; and Mrs. Hudson dashed into the room, took in the sorry scene before her, rolled her eyes and began giving vent to dark and incomprehensible mutters about “bloody multi-fandom crossover-fics and their oh-so-convenient magical rips in the space-time continuum...”
3. Watson lurked behind the sitting-room door, gleefully leapt on the entering “common loafer in a red cravat”, and proceeded to set about ravishing him, delighted in the enthusiasm of the response. Matters were going swimmingly and they were thrashing about merrily on the rug, until an appalled ejaculation in very familiar stentorian tones emanated from the doorway at the very moment Watson registered the Scotland Yard Undercover Investigation Division label in the squirming loafer’s shirt.
4. Lestrade’s resultant black left eye from Watson lasted for three days.
Lestrade’s resultant black right eye from Holmes lasted for three weeks.
5. Watson’s banishment to sleeping on the couch lasted for a month.
-------------
Five disguises Watson keeps hidden in the back of his wardrobe. (Holmes is well-aware of one of them)
1. Mrs. Hudson. Prior to the [ahem] “recent development of further intimacy in mine and my companion’s association”, it was the only way Watson could get away with doing the following to Holmes: a) feeding, b)
giving orders to, c) generally nurturing, d) saying affectionate motherly things to.
2. Carefully pre-bloodied bandages. When you spend the majority of your existence dashing round patching up other people, sometimes it’s nice to be looked after for a change.
3. Milverton’s housemaid, Aggie. Holmes knows, alright, and is secretly rather relieved (if slightly peeved that all that time spent working with the drains was ultimately for nothing; purely case-wise, that is).
4. A snake suit. No, it’s never been used. No, Holmes has no idea about it. It’s being kept carefully for a well-coordinated revenge should Holmes ever be dumb enough to do something appallingly hurtful to his
Boswell, such as…oh, faking his own death and disappearing without trace for several years, or something…
(Not that that’ll ever happen, of course, but Watson likes to be prepared for every possible eventuality.)
5. Afghan infantry warrior outfit. Now retired, and only retained for sentimental value. Look, Watson’s no coward, but it’s always prudent to have one last card up your sleeve should one be suddenly required to remove oneself from a situation which is rapidly becoming very scary indeed…
(Besides, it used to give Murray a real thrill when Watson wore it.)
Five reasons Holmes doesn't want Watson to go out in disguise.
1. His pride is rather wounded at the realisation he never once noticed “Mrs. Hudson’s” moustache.
2. Because Holmes got “Really, really, INCREDIBLY frightened just now, John, I MEAN it, point TAKEN, alright?” when Watson pulled that bloodstained “Dying Doctor” stunt from hurt feelings.
3. “Aggie” had another man chasing her affections, after all…
4. The denizens of the London criminal underworld have long since grown wise to the fact that J.H.W.’s cover when posing as a criminal can be instantly blown by the simple expedient of suddenly collapsing groaning upon the ground and writhing in agony. Holmes has never been able to succeed in eradicating Watson’s instinctive response of bounding across shouting, “It’s alright, let me through, I’m a doctor!”
5. He’s never quite bought Watson’s airy line about the Afghan kit having been just “reserve supplies for potential emergency espionage work”.
Five times Holmes used his "easy, soothing tones" on Watson. (Hopkins heard him once, and hasn't been the same since.)
1. As he administered a necessary medical injection in a rather awkward place* to the doctor. Whilst Watson can certainly dish it out with syringes, taking it is an entirely different matter. It’s perhaps just as well he focused completely upon the calming, soothing, reassuring tone of Holmes’ voice, and therefore didn’t register all the sardonic little revenge-comments upon what a delicious irony this whole situation was…
* I haven’t a clue what for. Something innocuous, anyway - anti-tetanus or similar - so stop sniggering at the back there. ;-)
2. 1881. Trying to coax him out of the bedroom after a particularly violent explosion from the miniature chemical laboratory had terrified poor, tense, wounded, shell-shocked Watson into practically clawing up the walls. Progress in the area of the desired calming effect was somewhat undone by Holmes’ eventual testy comment that for God’s sake, man, you were in the British Army for a year, surely you should be quite
accustomed to sudden loud noises by now?
3. “My dear, dear Watson…there, there, old chap…come along, you’re making the shoulder of my jacket positively sodden…I do appreciate that losing a patient can be a tremendous shock to the emotions…shh, I know, I know…we must all accept that we are not infallible…what? Well, of course I am the exception, obviously…no, you did absolutely everything you could…here, have another hanky…ssh, John, it’s alright…I assure you it’s no reflection upon your personal skills as a physician…Look, it was only a damned owl, when all’s said and done!”
4. “I’m well aware it is four in the morning, but this may prove to be a most important case…you can throw as many pillows at me as you like…ouch…or even vases, yes…my dear chap, we simply must catch that early train in an hour…gracious, such language…please?…Oh Lord, I swore I would never resort to this…[sighs]…Look! Biscuit!…That’s better…into your clothes, quickly now.”
5. During a quickie in some country stables with a highly-strung Watson whose enthusiasm and fear of discovery were rapidly vying with each other for supremacy. Hopkins, who happened to be passing…then stopping outside…then lurking…then shamelessly eavesdropping through the wall to savour the rich cadence of Holmes' tenor…assumed Holmes was alone and calming down a tense Silver Blaze before the big steeplechase. Even when the vocabulary broadened to start encompassing erotic activities that
should never, ever (on combined grounds of legality, morality and physicality) be attempted with equine partners…
Consequentially, poor Hopkins hasn’t been able to look Holmes in the face since, and was subsequently forced to request a transfer well away from the mounted police division owing to the resultant highly distracting (to say nothing of frankly disturbing) thoughts whilst on duty.
----------
[SPEC]
Five things Watson (really) said when he awoke to Holmes standing at his bedside smoking and watching him sleep.
1. “Let me deduce this one. It’s seven-fifteen in the morning, and you’re moving about. Is your bed on fire?”*
*[Nicked shamelessly, and almost verbatim, from ‘Blackadder III’. It was too good an opportunity to pass up. ;-)]
2. “Oh, I love the smell of tobacco smoke in the morning. Smells like…hmm, let me see…a harbinger of a certain doctor and his boyfriend being summarily despatched to some Godforsaken rural backwater to pass a freezing and tedious night in another rundown country inn, attempt to interact with inbred bucolic
locals, and possibly risk life and limb into the bargain. Marvellous. Yes, I wish I was joking. No, I see you aren’t.”
3. “Ow! Arrrghhh…eeeee…what the fu-- oh, it’s you. Of course it is. For God’s sake, man, will you be careful where you’re waving that wretched cigarette? You’re dropping ash and embers all over the bed, and you just singed half my moustache right off!”
4. “You’re up! But I thought you were…and I was…oh, it’s the pillow. Ah. No, I’m willing to wager I most certainly did not look ‘rather cute’ wrapped around it. Look, I was asleep, and I thought it was… Yes, I’m so touched you found it ‘singularly endearing’. Now bugger off.”
5. [Yawns and blinks] “This is a case, isn’t it? It had better be good, Holmes. And I mean really good. Not just some pettifogging affair of fraud or blackmail. I’m warning you, for waking me up at this hour, I expect at least a fantastical and savage murder involving…a…an amazing performing snake, and…milk, or something….”
Five naughty thoughts that flitted through Watson's mind when Holmes straightened the fire poker.
1. “Good heavens, that expression’s exactly like the one he doesn’t believe he pulls when he --”
2. “Ah, he’s so damn sexy when he’s proving a point of superiority. Which is, of course, quite fortunate.”
3. “Wonder if I should tell him the arse seam of his trousers ripped with the exertion…Nah. Nice view of the long johns from here. And when he bends down to put the poker back…”
4. “Hmm…that poker’s not the only thing that’s suddenly restored to a straight and rigid state…good Lord, that’s appallingly cliched innuendo. And I call myself a writer.”
5. “If he’d put even half the effort into certain activities as he just did into straightening that poker, then he’d have a far happier and tireder doctor on his hands.”
Five things Mrs. Hudson encountered when she went to tell Holmes of Miss Stoner's arrival. (one of them still makes her blush)
1. A pistol shot from the bed, which missed her head by a whisker. Holmes was under the erroneous impression that everyone surely knows better than to even countenance the thought of waking him before twelve, and consequentially assumed the hand tapping his shoulder belonged to either a burglar or an assassin.
2. The realisation that the trying pest of a man actually looks quite endearing and boyish asleep, with his hair all floppy and disarrayed like that, and the thought that maybe she is a little hard on him at times. (These reflections lasted all of three seconds after she’d woken him).
3. A hand which flew out from beneath the bedclothes to grab her collar and pull her down into a passionate kiss, to the accompaniment of: “Mmmm, Watson…dear boy, you’re up and about early…good Lord, have you shaved off your - ah. Good morning, Mrs Hudson.”
4. A flushed and grinning Watson sneaking out of Holmes’ bedroom, and almost bumping into her on the landing. Both parties assumed, as always, a convincing case of temporary blindness. Also, one reason why Watson went on to spell out so explicitly that I Was Really, Really Asleep By The Time Holmes Came Into My Bedroom, Honest To God, It Frightened The Life Out Of Me To See Him Awake At This Hour in his account for the Strand.
5. Holmes standing by the window, smiling, washed, shaven and dressed at seven a.m., and singing a cheerful little song about it being a positively wonderful morning to the robin on the outside sill. Whilst this almost made her have a fit of the vapours from profound shock, it didn’t make her blush. The sheer language of Holmes’ blisteringly savage retort when she commented on his state of motion and sarcastically enquired if the bed was on fire* still does, though.
* Look, if you’re going to pinch a good line, you milk it [sorry ;-)] for all
that it’s worth.
Five things Watson learned about snakes while writing this tale.
1. They’re an oppressed species, who are framed with alarming regularity. Mysterious murder? Pin it on the snake! No-one’ll care!
2. That Mrs Hudson actually has a particular landlady's clause specifically prohibiting tenants from bringing snakes onto the premises and crawling about after them, brandishing saucers of milk, muttering “C’mon, you bastard, drink it, you know you want to!”
At least, she does now.
3. They make great props for impromptu games of charades.
“Oh, come on, Holmes! Look, I’ll do it again…I’m being you in the bedroom just now, when you struck the match and started whipping the bell-rope…no, it’s a theatrical production of sorts…oh, for God’s sake, it’s ‘Snake's on a Cane’!”
4. If you put a bicycle pump down their throat, inflate them with air, secure a rubber band behind their head and tie them in complicated knots, you can make an amazing model of a mini-Hound of the Baskervilles.
5. They’re a highly erotic subject. Really. After all, every time Watson now (strategically) mentions snakes and milk in the same sentence, he gets rather dramatically kissed and ravished into silence by Holmes.
Five reasons Holmes insists snakes do drink milk, damn it! (with each reason, Watson finds it harder and harder not to burst out laughing)
1. “Watson, I shall not argue with you. If you really wish to continue labouring under your fallacious conviction that snakes are averse to the secretions of bovine lactation, then I am not so harsh as to disillusion you. No, dear fellow, I insist; I am not so cruel as to continue a discussion which will inevitably
result in you having been proved incorrect. Let us leave this contentious subject immediately, and turn to more pleasant occupations: come here and kiss me. Mmm, that’s nice…snakesdrinkmilk…my dear John…snakesdrinkmilk…oh, yes, there…theybloodywelldo…”
2. “The tubular physiognomy of their mouth and throat - and indeed, their whole body -- is a structure perfectly suited to the process of creeping up on unsuspecting cows at night and suckling milk from their udders. They simply must do. It’s elementary Darwinian theory.”
3. “Look, who died and made you Reptile Expert Extraordinaire, might I enquire?”
4. “Oh, come now, Watson. Have you ever offered a snake milk and had it turn up its nose in disgust? Hah! I rest my case. Answer that!”
5. “What, you really have? When? Oh, in India? Good God, is this what we really pay the British Army to do over there, fret that snakes receive adequate nourishment? No, I am NOT ‘changing the subject’. And it didn’t like it? Well, snakes in India obviously behave quite differently than ones here. Yes, I am well aware it was an Indian snake at Stoke Moran. But it had resided in England for quite some time, and had evidently developed a taste for English dairy products: I shouldn’t be surprised if Dr. Roylott had instilled in it a liking for Earl Grey tea, also. Oh, you tried that too, did you? Watson, what on earth were you and your fellow soldiers doing with the poor animal? Oh, your old flame Murray ‘thought it looked thirsty’, did he? Given your appalling sentimentality, I suppose he was trying to impress you, the miserable little -- FOR THE LAST TIME, I AM NOT ‘CHANGING THE SUBJECT’. It really wouldn’t take the tea either? Then it must have been a remarkably fastidious snake you had the misfortune to encounter, that is all I can say.”
"Mrs. Hudson did mention poor Wiggins was almost grown out of his old mackintosh..."
"That will do admirably. Pop it down to her, will you?"
2. When a gleefully inebriated Watson thought it would be rather amusing to climb a plinth in Hyde Park and glue the deerstalker upon the head of a spectacularly haughty-looking horse.
Holmes wasn't amused, and Watson was banished to sleeping on the sofa for a week.
3. When a gleefully inebriated medical student acquaintance of Watson's thought it would be rather amusing to glue it to one of a pair of carefully-positioned (and, ahem, explicitly-positioned) laboratory skeletons. The skeleton underneath was wearing an army surgeon's pith helmet.
Amazingly, Watson suddenly found he was in complete sympathy with Holmes' opposition to recklessly adorning inanimate objects with hats after all.
4. When the replacement, Sherlock-sized hat from Burke & Sons was intercepted by Moran en route to Baker Street - the Colonel having only seen the order form, and being under the erroneous impression that the word was rather more literal in intention, and actually referred to a new and deadly-accurate Bambi-hunting assault firearm...
5. When Watson (a week after the exciting chase of - and shoot-out with - a criminal gang which led to the deerstalker being plucked from Holmes' head by a badly-aimed bullet, unfound in the aftermath and apparently lost forever) was cheerfully informed by Lestrade that the missing item of headwear had finally turned up at Scotland Yard Lost Property, popped down to collect it - yet returned to 221B that night empty-handed...
"Well?"
"No go, I'm afraid, Holmes. I would consider it lost for good if I were you."
"Damn. It wasn't mine then? I would have considered that highly improbable. It's not as if anyone else wears the things in the middle of a non-rural, metropolitan area on a regular basis-"
"Oh, it was yours alright. I saw it. That distinctive little acid-stain on the brim, and that tear in the earflap I stitched up for you that time you-"
"Watson, cut to the chase. Why have you failed to retrieve it?"
"The constable on duty swore it was...well, not yours. Anyhow. Would you like a drink-"
"Not mine - it has my initials in it, man! The letters which, I recollect, you positively insisted upon stitching into the lining, with your quaint ex-military insistence on labelling all and sundry with one's name, rank and num-"
"Holmes, I know. I know. Believe me, dear fellow, I argued this point and many more for twenty minutes straight, but was eventually forced to conclude the deerstalker was irretrievable."
"That is absolutely preposterous. You confess you saw the item, and observed it was my own by virtue of its distinguishing features. Ergo, it was inarguably mine and you would have been entirely justified in circumventing the obstinate policeman and taking it anyhow. Why, may I ask, did you not simply grab it and -"
"It would have been rather a daunting task to 'simply grab it', Holmes. The officer had it tucked into his...ah, well, perhaps you should merely consider it lost, it's a shame, but-"
"Watson."
"Mmm?"
"Stop prevaricating. Precisely where was it?"
"Tucked into a...box, yes, that's it, a box....on a ...very high shelf...yes...so...so, neither of us could reach it, and it's very sad, but I'll purchase a new one for you, and are you sure you won't have a drink? How was your day? You wouldn't believe the patient I had to deal with today, he was-"
"John. Tucked. Into. What."
[sigh] "Alright. It was stuffed - mostly, it wouldn't quite fit all the way - into his breast pocket."
"Stuffed into his- Who the hell was this on duty at the desk?"
"Hopkins."
[silence]
"Ah."
"Yes."
"Oh, Lord."
"Yeeeees..."
"Dare I ask what...condition...the poor thing was in...?"
"He looked rather smug, yet oddly pitiful, certainly-"
"The bloody hat, man!"
[sigh] "Rather crumpled. As if it had been kept in said pocket for quite a while. I believe he was actually nuzzling a protruding earflap when I walked in unannounced. It looked singularly...loved."
"I'm sure it did. That is an unsurprising revelation, I'm sorry to say, though hardly a particularly welcome one."
"Well, perhaps it is for the best. For I made a discreet enquiry of Mrs. Hudson on my way up just now..."
"And?"
"She assures me that 'saliva and...suchlike' are 'devilish tricky to get out of tweed'."
"'Suchlike'."
"Yeeees...."
"Dare I ask what you mea-"
"It seemed the most...delicate way of phrasing it to a lady."
"'Delicate'. Hmm."
"Quite."
[silence]
"Please tell me you didn't actually see any proof of-"
"No no, I admit it's pure speculation on my part, but...well, my dear Holmes, my instincts tell me you might not want it back in light of those...assumptions..."
"I am singularly inclined to agree with you there."
[silence]
"You know, I was very fond of that hat, Watson."
"I know, love. Never mind. Come here."
"Are you smirking?"
"Not a bit, dear chap, I assure you."
---------
[SILV]
ONE hat Holmes discarded before deciding to wear the "ear-flapped travelling cap".
"It’s eminently practical."
"Holmes, it’s a beekeeper’s hat and veil. Not exactly subtle."
"There might be all kinds of odd and possibly dangerous insects down there in the countryside. The horses may have fleas."
"You are likely to regret it nonetheless. You know it always mysteriously attracts that Russell woman instantly if you ever wear it outside."
"God, you’re right…" [shudders and tears it off faster than Mycroft ripping the wrapper from a bar of Bournville]
Five things that happened while H&W were "flying along en route for Exeter". (The train conductor was well paid for his silence at witnessing the fifth thing)
1. A brief, unseemly (and, if truth be told, frankly childish) scuffle for the favoured backwards-facing window seat.
2. The conductor being summoned by a sharp tug on the emergency cord, and bursting frantically into the compartment to be greeted by a panting tangle of detective and doctor, and an irate "Now look here, my good sir, we require an objective witness to settle this matter. Tell me truthfully -- based on the relative positions of our bodies, which of us would you say won the prior claim to the backwards-facing window seat?"
3. A muffled and energetic reconciliation quickie. (Shame to waste an unintentional panting tangle, after all.)
4. Passing the compartment the second time, the conductor seeing Holmes in a state of exquisite frustration at being, for an hour, one clue short of completing the ‘Times’ crossword.
5. This was bad enough, but when he returned to check the tickets -- as at last a moment of inspiration struck and Holmes triumphantly proclaimed, "Ah! Ten across simply cannot be anything else!" -- the conductor chose this moment as the optimum timing to lean over his shoulder and helpfully enquire whether "Shouldn't six down be ‘caterpillar’ with a 'C', sir?" (which misspelling had of course buggered up the entire premise upon which half the rest of the answers were based.)
Five uses for Watson's field glasses.
1. Post-Hiatus (when he swanned back full of Eastern Tibetan ideas on philosophy, religion and interior decor), Holmes discovered they made pretty cool wind-chimes if you knocked the lenses out first.
2. "See, Holmes, if you look through them this way round, you can make the cows go all tiny!"
"Watson, quite apart from wondering why you have elected to pursue such an asinine method of amusing oneself during the train journey, I admit I have no idea what possible benefit could be gained from making cows appear smaller -"
"I confess that cows terrify me, dear chap. I know it’s a little silly, but the further away they seem, the more tranquil is my state of mind."
"My God, no wonder Maiwand ended in such a bloody massacre of the Berkshires... ‘''Oh, not to worry, Sergeant, look through the glass this way round and the hordes of ravening Ghazis seem ever such a long way off! Time to get a quick cuppa in first!’"
"That’s most insensitive of you, Holmes."
"Mooo."
3. Winding up your lover in revenge for the above. Specifically, propping them right way round against his aquiline nose as he sleeps, gently placing a fuzzy caterpillar on the far lens, and sitting back waiting for the exciting scenes upon awakening...
("JESUSCHRISTWHATTHEHELLISTHAT...
...DON'TJUSTSTANDTHERELAUGHING,MAN,GETYOURREVOLVER...
...getitoffme,getitoffme...
...ohdearGodit'sjusta...aperfectlynormal-sized...
...John Watson, you utter bastard!")
4. Excellent hollow storage tubes employed on cases in order to smuggle narrow cocaine-bottles past the doctor. (Cue a deep fit of the sulks when a slightly desperate detective huddled in the inn bedroom and eagerly unscrewed the lenses only to find that Watson had twigged and the field-glasses had now been redeployed as storage tubes for emergency chocolate rations.
Which is a wee bit of a Catch-22 situation where a comeback is concerned, what with the warring dual impulses of either leaving it there [and therefore allowing Watson to smugly consume the stash later] or scoffing the lot [and therefore pleasing Watson that he's actually eating something]. Compromise = feed it to Silver Blaze. [Chocolate covered in residual cocaine traces from the tubes' interior, that is. Why did you think the horse won so dramatically, eh? ;-)] )
5. Winding up your lover in revenge for the above.
"Holmes, what on earth are you doing with my...for Heaven’s sake, old chap, the print isn’t that small in the Strand."
"I am engaged upon a reconnaissance mission of sorts."
"Of course you are. May one ask for what you are looking? Just one moment...isn’t that story one of mi--"
"I am searching singularly unsuccessfully through the text for the most microscopic sliver of credible narrative and the slightest soupcon of instructive literary value...Ouch."
Five blunders Holmes made in the past. (It seems Watson has only been privy to the third one)
1. "Oh, ye of little faith, Mrs. Hudson. It is the substance in the larger retort here that is unstable and precariously flammable, not the -- oh, damn --"
2. The mistaken interpretation that Mrs. Hudson’'s stern injunction to "find some damned way of repair that ensures that wretched VR in my wallpaper is barely noticeable by the time I return" actually meant "pinch the doctor’s revolver and pepper the walls with a veritable spray of pocks so the VR blends in nicely amongst the rest".
3. Being under the erroneous impression that Watson's food-to-enthusiasm ratio is similar to Rucastle’s mastiff's. You know, the old "feed him once a day, and not too much then, so that he is always as keen as mustard" idea… This lasted until the Curious Incident Of The Sharpened Fork Suddenly Appearing Vibrating In The Wall Inches From A Consulting Detective'’s Head.
4. Being pedantic by nature, instinctively taking double negatives literally.
("Well, Lestrade, when you said "I'm not into none of that sort of molly-stuff", I naturally assumed --")
5. Apparently, that law about policemen being obliged to make their helmets available on request for employment as emergency urinals is purely for the use of pregnant ladies only*, and is not a legitimate channel by which a British citizen may exercise his democratic right of expressing contempt for Scotland Yard and its "miserable pack of simpering careerist minions who wouldn’t recognise a vital clue if it rugby-tackled them to the ground and raped them with their own silver whistles".
("Really, officer. You’re positive? Hm. Well, you learn something new every day.")
*Opinion is apparently divided as to whether the whole "expectant ladies can request a policeman’s helmet to do the necessary in, and the poor bugger has to offer it" is actually true or an urban myth. However, for the sake of the Fives, let’s assume that at least Holmes and the copper believe it’s on the books.
Five reasons Holmes will never be invited to a garden party again
1. Since that time when, in a rare moment of philanthropy, he brought along the entire pack of the Irregulars as a treat - who proceeded to swarm over the buffet table like so many rabid locusts and, it was later discovered, discreetly pickpocket enough wallets, jewellery and posh handkerchiefs to see them through the next five years, all whilst Holmes watched with an indulgent and proud expression.
("Him? He’s doing what? Wiggins? Wiggins! Desist! Oh, good Lord, no...that’s simply appalling...these people will think I never taught you anything…do excuse me, Lady Grosse-Chatte… [sotto voce] For heaven’s sake, boy, you ease the watch-chain out slowly and delicately, not tug on it as if you’re trying to land a particularly stubborn carp…yes, good lad!")
2. His little habit of getting drunk and piercingly criticising the sloppy variations in corner angle measurements on the little triangular cucumber sandwiches. (OT - Anyone else remember that Father Ted episode with the ‘Lovely Girls’ competition, where he checks the thickness of the entrants’ sandwiches with a pair of callipers? :-D)
3. And then proceeding to construct perfectly-balanced five-foot triangular towers out of them, accompanied by a running commentary on how best to compensate for the aforementioned variations in corner angle measurements.
4. His friend the doctor’s little habit of getting drunk and demonstrating open-chest surgical procedures on the whole cooked chickens on the buffet table.
5. And then proceeding to perform an emotional solo re-enactment of the Tragic Last Stand Of The Berkshires At Maiwand with the aid of the serving ladles*, random fowling pieces**, odd tablecloths*** shaken-up bottles of champagne**** and random passing small dogs*****.
*Swords
**Rifles
***Colours
****Artillery
*****Cavalry
-----------
[COPP]
Five rewards Watson received for saving Mr. Rucastle from the mastiff. (He truly enjoyed the fourth one)
1. A nice warm feeling inside at having proved himself to be The Better Person by saving the life of a sadistic patriarchal dickhead whom ninety-nine out of a hundred people would have left to be dismembered.
2. An inner glow of satisfaction that his skills in aiming and shooting small firearms haven’t diminished since his days in Her Majesty’s Service.
3. The chance to show off his physician’s credentials in skilfully patching Rucastle up again afterwards.
4. Holmes suddenly turning extremely pale and solicitous and concerned for Watson’s welfare after the doctor running up without pause to a hulking great savage canine. (Watson might have played up the shock just a little, moaned just a bit more pitifully, and maybe acted as if he was feeling just a little more faint in the train carriage later.)
5. The mastiff’s collar of finest leather with nice shiny studs. Watson was extremely excited about this; Holmes, meanwhile, spectacularly missed the point of all Watson’s smouldering leers on the train home; and Watson was ultimately most chagrined to discover that Holmes’ casually expressed intention of “using it as a restraint in order to further a very specialised and stimulating area of research” actually turned out to mean “Marvellous - it is an ideal replacement for the broken brace holding that vital test-tube in position…”
Five ways Holmes apologized to Watson for his earlier foul temper.
1. Played him the piece previously referred to as "that insipid little tinkling apology of a melody of Mozart's you inexplicably adore" every night for a week.
2. [Through clenched teeth] "Your writing these days, dear chap, is actually really very goo-...rather fi-...most ex-.........-tensive." (Damn. I can't even lie to him anymore these days.)
3. Let him have first bath when they returned to Baker Street. (And proceeded to thoroughly molest him once he was in it.)
4. Chivalrously slept in the wet patch that night.
5. Briefly indulged Watson’s irritating post-coital sandwich habit (damned crumbs get everywhere).
Watson's five observations about Holmes' moods and his pipes. (Holmes grudgingly admits Watson is right about the clay pipe and the matching mood)
(Look, Holmes likes expressing his intentions via subtle acronyms, 'k?…)
1. Mood = Smug
Pipe = Ceramic - Case Evidence Renders All My Instincts Correct.
2. Mood = Chastised
Pipe = Birch - Bloody Interfering Room-Cleaning Hudson.
3. Mood = Frisky
Pipe = Calabash - Clothes All Loosened, Anticipating Beginning Army Surgeon Humping.
4. Mood = In the fogs of depression
Pipe = Pine - Piss-off,* I’m Not Eating.
5. Mood = Watson-studying
Pipe = Meerschaum - Mind Entertaining Erotic Racy Speculations Concerning Hamish** Arranged Under Me.
* Holmes is also not above a little grammatical distortion for his own purposes.
** Ditto for convenient (alleged) middle names that fit better.
----------
[BERYL]
Five things that happened when Holmes returned to Baker Street to "look in as he passed"... (The noise from the second thing made Mrs. Hudson think an owl had gotten into the fire)
1. Watson completely freaked out when Holmes turned up with the old boot in his hand, and accused him of planning to set “that diabolical Hound” on somebody. (Homes blinked twice, stared at him, and then gently enquired, “Watson, have you been at your nitrous oxide again?”)
2. Holmes had barely taken a sip from his cup of tea when there was a horrendous cacophony of yelling and crashing from overhead, a blinding flash of green light in the sky, a cod-Latin incantation, an ominous
rattle on the slates followed by a birdcage spinning down outside the window, and, would you believe it, a very dead snowy owl came tumbling down the chimney to sprawl sootily in the fire. Holmes delicately fished it out with the tongs; Watson immediately dropped to his knees on the rug and began spectacularly unsuccessful attempts at avian CPR; and Mrs. Hudson dashed into the room, took in the sorry scene before her, rolled her eyes and began giving vent to dark and incomprehensible mutters about “bloody multi-fandom crossover-fics and their oh-so-convenient magical rips in the space-time continuum...”
3. Watson lurked behind the sitting-room door, gleefully leapt on the entering “common loafer in a red cravat”, and proceeded to set about ravishing him, delighted in the enthusiasm of the response. Matters were going swimmingly and they were thrashing about merrily on the rug, until an appalled ejaculation in very familiar stentorian tones emanated from the doorway at the very moment Watson registered the Scotland Yard Undercover Investigation Division label in the squirming loafer’s shirt.
4. Lestrade’s resultant black left eye from Watson lasted for three days.
Lestrade’s resultant black right eye from Holmes lasted for three weeks.
5. Watson’s banishment to sleeping on the couch lasted for a month.
-------------
Five disguises Watson keeps hidden in the back of his wardrobe. (Holmes is well-aware of one of them)
1. Mrs. Hudson. Prior to the [ahem] “recent development of further intimacy in mine and my companion’s association”, it was the only way Watson could get away with doing the following to Holmes: a) feeding, b)
giving orders to, c) generally nurturing, d) saying affectionate motherly things to.
2. Carefully pre-bloodied bandages. When you spend the majority of your existence dashing round patching up other people, sometimes it’s nice to be looked after for a change.
3. Milverton’s housemaid, Aggie. Holmes knows, alright, and is secretly rather relieved (if slightly peeved that all that time spent working with the drains was ultimately for nothing; purely case-wise, that is).
4. A snake suit. No, it’s never been used. No, Holmes has no idea about it. It’s being kept carefully for a well-coordinated revenge should Holmes ever be dumb enough to do something appallingly hurtful to his
Boswell, such as…oh, faking his own death and disappearing without trace for several years, or something…
(Not that that’ll ever happen, of course, but Watson likes to be prepared for every possible eventuality.)
5. Afghan infantry warrior outfit. Now retired, and only retained for sentimental value. Look, Watson’s no coward, but it’s always prudent to have one last card up your sleeve should one be suddenly required to remove oneself from a situation which is rapidly becoming very scary indeed…
(Besides, it used to give Murray a real thrill when Watson wore it.)
Five reasons Holmes doesn't want Watson to go out in disguise.
1. His pride is rather wounded at the realisation he never once noticed “Mrs. Hudson’s” moustache.
2. Because Holmes got “Really, really, INCREDIBLY frightened just now, John, I MEAN it, point TAKEN, alright?” when Watson pulled that bloodstained “Dying Doctor” stunt from hurt feelings.
3. “Aggie” had another man chasing her affections, after all…
4. The denizens of the London criminal underworld have long since grown wise to the fact that J.H.W.’s cover when posing as a criminal can be instantly blown by the simple expedient of suddenly collapsing groaning upon the ground and writhing in agony. Holmes has never been able to succeed in eradicating Watson’s instinctive response of bounding across shouting, “It’s alright, let me through, I’m a doctor!”
5. He’s never quite bought Watson’s airy line about the Afghan kit having been just “reserve supplies for potential emergency espionage work”.
Five times Holmes used his "easy, soothing tones" on Watson. (Hopkins heard him once, and hasn't been the same since.)
1. As he administered a necessary medical injection in a rather awkward place* to the doctor. Whilst Watson can certainly dish it out with syringes, taking it is an entirely different matter. It’s perhaps just as well he focused completely upon the calming, soothing, reassuring tone of Holmes’ voice, and therefore didn’t register all the sardonic little revenge-comments upon what a delicious irony this whole situation was…
* I haven’t a clue what for. Something innocuous, anyway - anti-tetanus or similar - so stop sniggering at the back there. ;-)
2. 1881. Trying to coax him out of the bedroom after a particularly violent explosion from the miniature chemical laboratory had terrified poor, tense, wounded, shell-shocked Watson into practically clawing up the walls. Progress in the area of the desired calming effect was somewhat undone by Holmes’ eventual testy comment that for God’s sake, man, you were in the British Army for a year, surely you should be quite
accustomed to sudden loud noises by now?
3. “My dear, dear Watson…there, there, old chap…come along, you’re making the shoulder of my jacket positively sodden…I do appreciate that losing a patient can be a tremendous shock to the emotions…shh, I know, I know…we must all accept that we are not infallible…what? Well, of course I am the exception, obviously…no, you did absolutely everything you could…here, have another hanky…ssh, John, it’s alright…I assure you it’s no reflection upon your personal skills as a physician…Look, it was only a damned owl, when all’s said and done!”
4. “I’m well aware it is four in the morning, but this may prove to be a most important case…you can throw as many pillows at me as you like…ouch…or even vases, yes…my dear chap, we simply must catch that early train in an hour…gracious, such language…please?…Oh Lord, I swore I would never resort to this…[sighs]…Look! Biscuit!…That’s better…into your clothes, quickly now.”
5. During a quickie in some country stables with a highly-strung Watson whose enthusiasm and fear of discovery were rapidly vying with each other for supremacy. Hopkins, who happened to be passing…then stopping outside…then lurking…then shamelessly eavesdropping through the wall to savour the rich cadence of Holmes' tenor…assumed Holmes was alone and calming down a tense Silver Blaze before the big steeplechase. Even when the vocabulary broadened to start encompassing erotic activities that
should never, ever (on combined grounds of legality, morality and physicality) be attempted with equine partners…
Consequentially, poor Hopkins hasn’t been able to look Holmes in the face since, and was subsequently forced to request a transfer well away from the mounted police division owing to the resultant highly distracting (to say nothing of frankly disturbing) thoughts whilst on duty.
----------
[SPEC]
Five things Watson (really) said when he awoke to Holmes standing at his bedside smoking and watching him sleep.
1. “Let me deduce this one. It’s seven-fifteen in the morning, and you’re moving about. Is your bed on fire?”*
*[Nicked shamelessly, and almost verbatim, from ‘Blackadder III’. It was too good an opportunity to pass up. ;-)]
2. “Oh, I love the smell of tobacco smoke in the morning. Smells like…hmm, let me see…a harbinger of a certain doctor and his boyfriend being summarily despatched to some Godforsaken rural backwater to pass a freezing and tedious night in another rundown country inn, attempt to interact with inbred bucolic
locals, and possibly risk life and limb into the bargain. Marvellous. Yes, I wish I was joking. No, I see you aren’t.”
3. “Ow! Arrrghhh…eeeee…what the fu-- oh, it’s you. Of course it is. For God’s sake, man, will you be careful where you’re waving that wretched cigarette? You’re dropping ash and embers all over the bed, and you just singed half my moustache right off!”
4. “You’re up! But I thought you were…and I was…oh, it’s the pillow. Ah. No, I’m willing to wager I most certainly did not look ‘rather cute’ wrapped around it. Look, I was asleep, and I thought it was… Yes, I’m so touched you found it ‘singularly endearing’. Now bugger off.”
5. [Yawns and blinks] “This is a case, isn’t it? It had better be good, Holmes. And I mean really good. Not just some pettifogging affair of fraud or blackmail. I’m warning you, for waking me up at this hour, I expect at least a fantastical and savage murder involving…a…an amazing performing snake, and…milk, or something….”
Five naughty thoughts that flitted through Watson's mind when Holmes straightened the fire poker.
1. “Good heavens, that expression’s exactly like the one he doesn’t believe he pulls when he --”
2. “Ah, he’s so damn sexy when he’s proving a point of superiority. Which is, of course, quite fortunate.”
3. “Wonder if I should tell him the arse seam of his trousers ripped with the exertion…Nah. Nice view of the long johns from here. And when he bends down to put the poker back…”
4. “Hmm…that poker’s not the only thing that’s suddenly restored to a straight and rigid state…good Lord, that’s appallingly cliched innuendo. And I call myself a writer.”
5. “If he’d put even half the effort into certain activities as he just did into straightening that poker, then he’d have a far happier and tireder doctor on his hands.”
Five things Mrs. Hudson encountered when she went to tell Holmes of Miss Stoner's arrival. (one of them still makes her blush)
1. A pistol shot from the bed, which missed her head by a whisker. Holmes was under the erroneous impression that everyone surely knows better than to even countenance the thought of waking him before twelve, and consequentially assumed the hand tapping his shoulder belonged to either a burglar or an assassin.
2. The realisation that the trying pest of a man actually looks quite endearing and boyish asleep, with his hair all floppy and disarrayed like that, and the thought that maybe she is a little hard on him at times. (These reflections lasted all of three seconds after she’d woken him).
3. A hand which flew out from beneath the bedclothes to grab her collar and pull her down into a passionate kiss, to the accompaniment of: “Mmmm, Watson…dear boy, you’re up and about early…good Lord, have you shaved off your - ah. Good morning, Mrs Hudson.”
4. A flushed and grinning Watson sneaking out of Holmes’ bedroom, and almost bumping into her on the landing. Both parties assumed, as always, a convincing case of temporary blindness. Also, one reason why Watson went on to spell out so explicitly that I Was Really, Really Asleep By The Time Holmes Came Into My Bedroom, Honest To God, It Frightened The Life Out Of Me To See Him Awake At This Hour in his account for the Strand.
5. Holmes standing by the window, smiling, washed, shaven and dressed at seven a.m., and singing a cheerful little song about it being a positively wonderful morning to the robin on the outside sill. Whilst this almost made her have a fit of the vapours from profound shock, it didn’t make her blush. The sheer language of Holmes’ blisteringly savage retort when she commented on his state of motion and sarcastically enquired if the bed was on fire* still does, though.
* Look, if you’re going to pinch a good line, you milk it [sorry ;-)] for all
that it’s worth.
Five things Watson learned about snakes while writing this tale.
1. They’re an oppressed species, who are framed with alarming regularity. Mysterious murder? Pin it on the snake! No-one’ll care!
2. That Mrs Hudson actually has a particular landlady's clause specifically prohibiting tenants from bringing snakes onto the premises and crawling about after them, brandishing saucers of milk, muttering “C’mon, you bastard, drink it, you know you want to!”
At least, she does now.
3. They make great props for impromptu games of charades.
“Oh, come on, Holmes! Look, I’ll do it again…I’m being you in the bedroom just now, when you struck the match and started whipping the bell-rope…no, it’s a theatrical production of sorts…oh, for God’s sake, it’s ‘Snake's on a Cane’!”
4. If you put a bicycle pump down their throat, inflate them with air, secure a rubber band behind their head and tie them in complicated knots, you can make an amazing model of a mini-Hound of the Baskervilles.
5. They’re a highly erotic subject. Really. After all, every time Watson now (strategically) mentions snakes and milk in the same sentence, he gets rather dramatically kissed and ravished into silence by Holmes.
Five reasons Holmes insists snakes do drink milk, damn it! (with each reason, Watson finds it harder and harder not to burst out laughing)
1. “Watson, I shall not argue with you. If you really wish to continue labouring under your fallacious conviction that snakes are averse to the secretions of bovine lactation, then I am not so harsh as to disillusion you. No, dear fellow, I insist; I am not so cruel as to continue a discussion which will inevitably
result in you having been proved incorrect. Let us leave this contentious subject immediately, and turn to more pleasant occupations: come here and kiss me. Mmm, that’s nice…snakesdrinkmilk…my dear John…snakesdrinkmilk…oh, yes, there…theybloodywelldo…”
2. “The tubular physiognomy of their mouth and throat - and indeed, their whole body -- is a structure perfectly suited to the process of creeping up on unsuspecting cows at night and suckling milk from their udders. They simply must do. It’s elementary Darwinian theory.”
3. “Look, who died and made you Reptile Expert Extraordinaire, might I enquire?”
4. “Oh, come now, Watson. Have you ever offered a snake milk and had it turn up its nose in disgust? Hah! I rest my case. Answer that!”
5. “What, you really have? When? Oh, in India? Good God, is this what we really pay the British Army to do over there, fret that snakes receive adequate nourishment? No, I am NOT ‘changing the subject’. And it didn’t like it? Well, snakes in India obviously behave quite differently than ones here. Yes, I am well aware it was an Indian snake at Stoke Moran. But it had resided in England for quite some time, and had evidently developed a taste for English dairy products: I shouldn’t be surprised if Dr. Roylott had instilled in it a liking for Earl Grey tea, also. Oh, you tried that too, did you? Watson, what on earth were you and your fellow soldiers doing with the poor animal? Oh, your old flame Murray ‘thought it looked thirsty’, did he? Given your appalling sentimentality, I suppose he was trying to impress you, the miserable little -- FOR THE LAST TIME, I AM NOT ‘CHANGING THE SUBJECT’. It really wouldn’t take the tea either? Then it must have been a remarkably fastidious snake you had the misfortune to encounter, that is all I can say.”