Mud, Oil, and Cowards: A Sherlock Holmes Story
Title: Mud, Oil, and Cowards
Author: azuhra
Fandom: ACD-Bookverse Sherlock Holmes
Word Count: 442
Rating: PG13
Characters: Watson, Holmes
Pairing(s): None. Friendship is the key here.
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys. I just take them out to play.
Prompt: JWP #10 at watsons_woes
Summary:
The boys make their way out on a late night stake-out with a client in tow.
Chapter eight of my JWP story: The Case of Antique Massacre
Chapter One: Rain for the Cab Man
Chapter Two: Less Than Benign
Chapter Three: Word Games
Chapter Four: Relief and a Quote
Chapter Five: The Horror Unfolds
Chapter Six: Undercover Detective
Chapter Seven: Plan of Attack
A/N: So I picked a vampire book, and yet the first word on a random page I pointed at was rising. Appropriate, or boring? I dunno.
---
Rising from where he had stooped to look over what was obviously a hand-drawn map, Holmes tapped the telegram he had set beside it. “Mr. Hunt will be here shortly and we may then embark.”
“I am at your command, as always.”
I had had the chance in the week since Holmes's proud announcement of his discovery to prepare myself. My friend had explained, at my aghast prompting, that his clumsy accident occurred after getting caught up in a rowdy fight outside a tavern and stumbling inside to escape it.
We each stood in dark clothing, the shine carefully smudged from our shoes and oily dirt spread across our cheekbones. I felt both filthy and exhilarated. It was always thrilling to set about the climax of a case. I had my revolver tucked in my coat pocket should the climax become violent.
Holmes had insisted that Mr. Hunt join us, suggesting in a round-about way that our client should have a better time of predicting his fellow's movements than we. I doubted the whole truth of this wholeheartedly, knowing my friend's skills in such areas.
“A fact for which I am quite grateful, Watson. You are not the cleverest of men, but you are a most steadfast companion in adversity, if you will not take that as belittlement.”
---
I was fast to assure the detective that I begrudged him nothing in such comments. In fact, to be considered a worthy companion despite my far lesser deductive skills was rather a compliment of sorts. Our client soon rang and I went to greet him. Holmes assured himself of Mr. Hunt's own clothing choice before smearing more of the mud and oil concoction on the young man's face.
The rain over London yet prevailed as we slipped from 221B and out into the gloom on a single-minded track toward the Webern Mansion and the antiques that made it so attractive a target. Holmes and myself were quite geared for action. Mr Hunt, all that he was a thief, was also something of a coward. Perhaps that wasn't fair. Hunt's terror was overwhelming and he had, after all, still agreed to company us despite how I could fairly hear his toes quaking in his boots.
“You are quite certain there is no other way to approach this problem, Mr. Holmes?”
“I could send word to Scotland Yard and have them step in from here, with your aide and details, of course.”
“No, no, Mr. Holmes,” Mr. Hunt said with a shiver that had nothing to do with his rain-soaked clothing, “This method will do as well, I believe.”
Author: azuhra
Fandom: ACD-Bookverse Sherlock Holmes
Word Count: 442
Rating: PG13
Characters: Watson, Holmes
Pairing(s): None. Friendship is the key here.
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys. I just take them out to play.
Prompt: JWP #10 at watsons_woes
Summary:
The boys make their way out on a late night stake-out with a client in tow.
Chapter eight of my JWP story: The Case of Antique Massacre
Chapter One: Rain for the Cab Man
Chapter Two: Less Than Benign
Chapter Three: Word Games
Chapter Four: Relief and a Quote
Chapter Five: The Horror Unfolds
Chapter Six: Undercover Detective
Chapter Seven: Plan of Attack
A/N: So I picked a vampire book, and yet the first word on a random page I pointed at was rising. Appropriate, or boring? I dunno.
---
Rising from where he had stooped to look over what was obviously a hand-drawn map, Holmes tapped the telegram he had set beside it. “Mr. Hunt will be here shortly and we may then embark.”
“I am at your command, as always.”
I had had the chance in the week since Holmes's proud announcement of his discovery to prepare myself. My friend had explained, at my aghast prompting, that his clumsy accident occurred after getting caught up in a rowdy fight outside a tavern and stumbling inside to escape it.
We each stood in dark clothing, the shine carefully smudged from our shoes and oily dirt spread across our cheekbones. I felt both filthy and exhilarated. It was always thrilling to set about the climax of a case. I had my revolver tucked in my coat pocket should the climax become violent.
Holmes had insisted that Mr. Hunt join us, suggesting in a round-about way that our client should have a better time of predicting his fellow's movements than we. I doubted the whole truth of this wholeheartedly, knowing my friend's skills in such areas.
“A fact for which I am quite grateful, Watson. You are not the cleverest of men, but you are a most steadfast companion in adversity, if you will not take that as belittlement.”
---
I was fast to assure the detective that I begrudged him nothing in such comments. In fact, to be considered a worthy companion despite my far lesser deductive skills was rather a compliment of sorts. Our client soon rang and I went to greet him. Holmes assured himself of Mr. Hunt's own clothing choice before smearing more of the mud and oil concoction on the young man's face.
The rain over London yet prevailed as we slipped from 221B and out into the gloom on a single-minded track toward the Webern Mansion and the antiques that made it so attractive a target. Holmes and myself were quite geared for action. Mr Hunt, all that he was a thief, was also something of a coward. Perhaps that wasn't fair. Hunt's terror was overwhelming and he had, after all, still agreed to company us despite how I could fairly hear his toes quaking in his boots.
“You are quite certain there is no other way to approach this problem, Mr. Holmes?”
“I could send word to Scotland Yard and have them step in from here, with your aide and details, of course.”
“No, no, Mr. Holmes,” Mr. Hunt said with a shiver that had nothing to do with his rain-soaked clothing, “This method will do as well, I believe.”