Sherlock Fanfic: Nothing to Phone Home About
Title: Nothing to Phone Home About
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Rating/Content: PG-13. Huge liberties taken with minor character background. Dubious depiction of an American character and his entirely hypothetical career and relationship. Story formatted as a "one side of a telephone conversation" monolog delivered by a very minor character in ASiP.
Word Count: 1000-ish
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or their respective worlds.
A/N: Written for watsons_woes July Writing Prompt #30:Mirror, Mirror: Write a story from a minor character's point of view, where he or she sees something similar between him/herself and Sherlock Holmes John Watson. (Minor alteration to prompt because I missed it at first, and then I had him identify with John in a mad rush of editing, and it's watsons_woes after all, so I hoped a bit of identifying with John might be okay...? *crossing fingers*) May be revised without warning later. [LJ-Only]
Summary: Welcome to London.
-.-
Nothing to Phone Home About
by Caffienekitty
-.-
Naw, it's not too late. the production meeting's not until three tomorrow, and then they're taking me around to scout locations...
London? London is nuts. Absolutely frigging nuts... No, no, not just the driving on the wrong side of the road, I'm not even going there. I was gonna rent a car but one look at the goddamn roads around Heathrow and I went "hell with that", so I'm taking cabs...
Better than renting a car and trying to drive! But the cab drivers are nuts too if the first one's anything to go by.... For a start, parked on some street corner for a couple minutes for no reason.... Just sat and looked in the mirror, not saying a goddamn word.
I didn't think so, 'cause I turned around to see what he was looking at and there was nothing behind the cab. I mean, there was a literal ass-ton of traffic behind the cab, and the "street" was, I kid you not, maybe ten feet wide and covered in frigging cobblestones. If anyone ever finds the balls to write that steampunk caper script treatment, parts of this town wouldn't even need an art department.... I know, right?
But then it gets weird. The cab's parked there and I'm looking out the back and these two guys come out of this restaurant behind us. One looked like he could audition for the role of Neil Gaiman's Morpheus if they'd ever greenlight that damn Sandman project, and the other one looked like central casting's wet dream of the Everyman Dad, only blander. So they stand there, and then look straight at me sitting in the cab...
I know, goddamn shivers. The tall one, he had super-pale eyes, like Ian Somerhalder eyes, and it was like, like, I don't even know. The cheekbones, my god.... No, don't be jealous, babe! You're my type, not Tall Dark and Cheekbones, or his little Daddish buddy. So I told the cabbie to get a move on, and he starts driving. End of story you think, right? Nooo!
The cab drives around a billion corners and one way streets, then down another cobblestone road, and bam! Those same two guys come running out of an alley- No, really, the same two goddamn guys! I don't know if all Brits can out-run a cab, but if these were average British guys, then the US is gonna get creamed in the Olympics two years from now.
Anyway, they run into the street, right into the hood of the cab. Bang! It stops, they're yelling something about police and yank my door open.... Yeah! Really! So I figure they can't be cops or they'd be chasing the cab in a car, not like the low budget Six Million Dollar Wonder Twins, and I'm thinking now "what kind of crack are these guys on, trying to car-jack a cab they just out-ran?" and thinking maybe I'm gonna get killed for my suitcases...
No, no, it's okay, I'm okay! I mean, I'm on the phone so obviously I didn't get killed. They didn't even touch me. But it's weird.
So. Mr Morpheus Guy, he stares at me, says something about my teeth, then tells me- absolutely no word of a lie, tells me I'm from Cali, just from looking at me for a second.... No idea... Thanks, babe, yours are better though. You should try out for more toothpaste commercials... No, I'm not just saying that! You wore braces all though school, you earned those teeth!
But anyway, these guys were disappointed I'd just gotten into town, so I guess they were after someone local... Cheekbones looking at the tags on my luggage, and how the cab was driving.... Yeah, he's like the goddamn Mentalist or something.
I figure out at that point I'm not getting killed and ask them if they're the police, since they were yelling that and I just wanted to give them an exit and get behind a locked door ASAP. Tall Dark and Cheekbones flashed something that's supposed to be a police badge I guess, looked like a business card in a wallet, waves it at me, asks me if everything's alright...
Ha, yeah, no, I couldn't tell them that, they might have gone psycho.
So I said "Yeah," and he says "Welcome to London" and walks off like he owns the place. His bland little buddy - who up close was cute as a goddamn button, in a crinkly greying kind of way...
No, he's not my type either! If anything, he reminded me of me... Thanks, I'm glad you don't think I'm crinkly. I just mean, I got the feeling for a second there like he was chasing around after Tall Dark and Cheekbones, not really knowing why or what he was getting into, but out to kick its ass anyway. Reminds me of me, because, well, I followed you, met Kazanjian at that party you dragged me to, and all of a sudden I'm scouting locations in Britain, and I got here because I was following you and not really knowing what I was getting into, but willing to just follow you and see...
Yeah. I love you too.
Ahem. Anyway, after The High Cheekbones of the Law left, Little Buddy leans in and says "Any problems, just let us know," shuts my door and walks off after Mr. Morpeus.
No idea, maybe it was a James Bond training exercise or something. Anyway, there was a real cop in uniform less than a block away, so I had the cab stop there and told him what happened, pointed them out and the two guys start running away like jackrabbits.
I don't even know. I seriously do not even know. It's crazy, right?
Yeah, I gotta get to bed. What time is it there?... Aw damn, you should've said! Are you still at the office? Don't let me get you in trouble...
Ha ha ha! Just wait until I get home, you!
Miss you. See you in a week.
-.-.-
(that's it)
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Rating/Content: PG-13. Huge liberties taken with minor character background. Dubious depiction of an American character and his entirely hypothetical career and relationship. Story formatted as a "one side of a telephone conversation" monolog delivered by a very minor character in ASiP.
Word Count: 1000-ish
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or their respective worlds.
A/N: Written for watsons_woes July Writing Prompt #30:Mirror, Mirror: Write a story from a minor character's point of view, where he or she sees something similar between him/herself and Sherlock Holmes John Watson. (Minor alteration to prompt because I missed it at first, and then I had him identify with John in a mad rush of editing, and it's watsons_woes after all, so I hoped a bit of identifying with John might be okay...? *crossing fingers*) May be revised without warning later. [LJ-Only]
Summary: Welcome to London.
-.-
Nothing to Phone Home About
by Caffienekitty
-.-
Naw, it's not too late. the production meeting's not until three tomorrow, and then they're taking me around to scout locations...
London? London is nuts. Absolutely frigging nuts... No, no, not just the driving on the wrong side of the road, I'm not even going there. I was gonna rent a car but one look at the goddamn roads around Heathrow and I went "hell with that", so I'm taking cabs...
Better than renting a car and trying to drive! But the cab drivers are nuts too if the first one's anything to go by.... For a start, parked on some street corner for a couple minutes for no reason.... Just sat and looked in the mirror, not saying a goddamn word.
I didn't think so, 'cause I turned around to see what he was looking at and there was nothing behind the cab. I mean, there was a literal ass-ton of traffic behind the cab, and the "street" was, I kid you not, maybe ten feet wide and covered in frigging cobblestones. If anyone ever finds the balls to write that steampunk caper script treatment, parts of this town wouldn't even need an art department.... I know, right?
But then it gets weird. The cab's parked there and I'm looking out the back and these two guys come out of this restaurant behind us. One looked like he could audition for the role of Neil Gaiman's Morpheus if they'd ever greenlight that damn Sandman project, and the other one looked like central casting's wet dream of the Everyman Dad, only blander. So they stand there, and then look straight at me sitting in the cab...
I know, goddamn shivers. The tall one, he had super-pale eyes, like Ian Somerhalder eyes, and it was like, like, I don't even know. The cheekbones, my god.... No, don't be jealous, babe! You're my type, not Tall Dark and Cheekbones, or his little Daddish buddy. So I told the cabbie to get a move on, and he starts driving. End of story you think, right? Nooo!
The cab drives around a billion corners and one way streets, then down another cobblestone road, and bam! Those same two guys come running out of an alley- No, really, the same two goddamn guys! I don't know if all Brits can out-run a cab, but if these were average British guys, then the US is gonna get creamed in the Olympics two years from now.
Anyway, they run into the street, right into the hood of the cab. Bang! It stops, they're yelling something about police and yank my door open.... Yeah! Really! So I figure they can't be cops or they'd be chasing the cab in a car, not like the low budget Six Million Dollar Wonder Twins, and I'm thinking now "what kind of crack are these guys on, trying to car-jack a cab they just out-ran?" and thinking maybe I'm gonna get killed for my suitcases...
No, no, it's okay, I'm okay! I mean, I'm on the phone so obviously I didn't get killed. They didn't even touch me. But it's weird.
So. Mr Morpheus Guy, he stares at me, says something about my teeth, then tells me- absolutely no word of a lie, tells me I'm from Cali, just from looking at me for a second.... No idea... Thanks, babe, yours are better though. You should try out for more toothpaste commercials... No, I'm not just saying that! You wore braces all though school, you earned those teeth!
But anyway, these guys were disappointed I'd just gotten into town, so I guess they were after someone local... Cheekbones looking at the tags on my luggage, and how the cab was driving.... Yeah, he's like the goddamn Mentalist or something.
I figure out at that point I'm not getting killed and ask them if they're the police, since they were yelling that and I just wanted to give them an exit and get behind a locked door ASAP. Tall Dark and Cheekbones flashed something that's supposed to be a police badge I guess, looked like a business card in a wallet, waves it at me, asks me if everything's alright...
Ha, yeah, no, I couldn't tell them that, they might have gone psycho.
So I said "Yeah," and he says "Welcome to London" and walks off like he owns the place. His bland little buddy - who up close was cute as a goddamn button, in a crinkly greying kind of way...
No, he's not my type either! If anything, he reminded me of me... Thanks, I'm glad you don't think I'm crinkly. I just mean, I got the feeling for a second there like he was chasing around after Tall Dark and Cheekbones, not really knowing why or what he was getting into, but out to kick its ass anyway. Reminds me of me, because, well, I followed you, met Kazanjian at that party you dragged me to, and all of a sudden I'm scouting locations in Britain, and I got here because I was following you and not really knowing what I was getting into, but willing to just follow you and see...
Yeah. I love you too.
Ahem. Anyway, after The High Cheekbones of the Law left, Little Buddy leans in and says "Any problems, just let us know," shuts my door and walks off after Mr. Morpeus.
No idea, maybe it was a James Bond training exercise or something. Anyway, there was a real cop in uniform less than a block away, so I had the cab stop there and told him what happened, pointed them out and the two guys start running away like jackrabbits.
I don't even know. I seriously do not even know. It's crazy, right?
Yeah, I gotta get to bed. What time is it there?... Aw damn, you should've said! Are you still at the office? Don't let me get you in trouble...
Ha ha ha! Just wait until I get home, you!
Miss you. See you in a week.
-.-.-
(that's it)