Drabble Post #4 (From the Drabble Me Prompt Post)
Title: London Calling
Author: Gillian Taylor (dark_aegis)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Ninth Doctor
Rated: All Ages
For: neadods who asked for Nine, Sherlock, text messages.
London Calling
He’s seen a lot of things in his life. War. Death. This is a first. Sherlock is turning down a case not because it’s beneath him, but because of something else. “Not my field,” Sherlock insists.
“It’s a crime,” Lestrade counters. “Murder.”
“Good job, Detective. Absolutely right. Not my field, though.”
“Why ever not?”
“I don’t deal with aliens.”
John feels his jaw drop. “Aliens?” That’s a load of rubbish, right? Sure, he’d heard about some window shop dummies coming to life but that was a bunch of students having a laugh. Well, not really. People died.
Sherlock’s already typing away at his mobile. “Yes, aliens. Do keep up. The Doctor should be here in-”
A sound that’s somewhere between a hoarse donkey’s bray and fingernails against a chalkboard fills the room.
“Now,” Sherlock says with satisfaction as a police public call box impossibly appears in the middle of the living room.
The doors squeak open and a tall man pokes his head out. “An’ who’re you, then?” he asks, looking directly at John.
“John Watson,” he replies, taking it in stride.
The Doctor grins. “Course you are.”
What’s that supposed to mean?
“An’ what’s this about a murder, Sherlock?”
END
Author: Gillian Taylor (dark_aegis)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Ninth Doctor
Rated: All Ages
For: neadods who asked for Nine, Sherlock, text messages.
London Calling
He’s seen a lot of things in his life. War. Death. This is a first. Sherlock is turning down a case not because it’s beneath him, but because of something else. “Not my field,” Sherlock insists.
“It’s a crime,” Lestrade counters. “Murder.”
“Good job, Detective. Absolutely right. Not my field, though.”
“Why ever not?”
“I don’t deal with aliens.”
John feels his jaw drop. “Aliens?” That’s a load of rubbish, right? Sure, he’d heard about some window shop dummies coming to life but that was a bunch of students having a laugh. Well, not really. People died.
Sherlock’s already typing away at his mobile. “Yes, aliens. Do keep up. The Doctor should be here in-”
A sound that’s somewhere between a hoarse donkey’s bray and fingernails against a chalkboard fills the room.
“Now,” Sherlock says with satisfaction as a police public call box impossibly appears in the middle of the living room.
The doors squeak open and a tall man pokes his head out. “An’ who’re you, then?” he asks, looking directly at John.
“John Watson,” he replies, taking it in stride.
The Doctor grins. “Course you are.”
What’s that supposed to mean?
“An’ what’s this about a murder, Sherlock?”
END