A Timeless Tryst III
Title: A Timeless Tryst
Rating: R
Warnings: Slash, Alternative Universe, Violence, Language
Disclaimer: Robert Downey Junior, Jude Law, and anyone else who is a living, breathing person who appears in this story belong to God clearly do not belong to me. Anyone from the Sherlock Holmes stories who appear in this story don't belong to me either.
Summary: What happens when an actor meets their character?
Author's Notes: My first ever real person fic (RPF), please be gentle. Also, this is kinda a crossover with Sherlock Holmes....'Hey Jude' by the Beatles; 'I Made It Through the Rain' by John Barrowman.
Chapter Three: Drinking Games
That evening, Holmes took Robert on a tour of Victorian London. They didn't return until just before dawn the following morning, completely sloshed--or at least, Robert was soundly drunk.
And singing at the top of his lungs what was probably Jude's least favorite song in the whole-wide world as well.
"Hey Jude, don't let me down. You have found her, now go and get her," Robert was singing--he actually wasn't all that bad a singer, Jude had to admit--as Holmes led the drunken actor into the sitting room where Watson and Jude had spent the night awaiting their return. "Remember to let her into your heart. Then you can start to make it better."
"Where have you two been all night, Holmes?" the doctor demanded as the detective practically dropped Robert onto Jude's lap.
"Dealing with a murder, Watson," Holmes replied. "Mister Downey needed a stiff drink afterwards, so we dropped by the nearest pub."
"It looks like he's had more than one stiff drink, Holmes," observed Watson as Robert looked dreamily into Jude's chameleon eyes.
Their conversation faded into the background of Jude's consciousness as Robert drunkenly declared, "Judsie, I think I just invented the banana daiquiri a couple decades early."
Jude rolled his eyes as he said, "No more pubs for you, Robert...and no more Doctor Who for you either."
"Don't roll your eyes at me, Judsie," Robert insisted.
"Don't say stupid things then," Jude shot back.
"I'm not saying stupid things," Robert replied. "I'm drunk, if you haven't noticed."
"It's hard not to notice that."
Robert smirked before breaking back into song.
"We dreamers have our ways of facing rainy days," he sang, "And somehow we survive."
"Robert, no more singing, please," moaned Jude. It was bad enough that they were here in Baker Street, but his friend's drunken concert was not helping matters, he was sure of it.
Robert, of course, ignored his plea.
"We keep the feelings warm, protect them from the storm," he sang, before abruptly dropping off into a drunken stupor, his head on Jude's lap.
~*~
Robert woke to the worse hangover he had ever had--at least that he could remember without straining himself in the process of remembering.
"Good afternoon, Mister Downey."
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Rating: R
Warnings: Slash, Alternative Universe, Violence, Language
Disclaimer: Robert Downey Junior, Jude Law, and anyone else who is a living, breathing person who appears in this story belong to God clearly do not belong to me. Anyone from the Sherlock Holmes stories who appear in this story don't belong to me either.
Summary: What happens when an actor meets their character?
Author's Notes: My first ever real person fic (RPF), please be gentle. Also, this is kinda a crossover with Sherlock Holmes....'Hey Jude' by the Beatles; 'I Made It Through the Rain' by John Barrowman.
Chapter Three: Drinking Games
That evening, Holmes took Robert on a tour of Victorian London. They didn't return until just before dawn the following morning, completely sloshed--or at least, Robert was soundly drunk.
And singing at the top of his lungs what was probably Jude's least favorite song in the whole-wide world as well.
"Hey Jude, don't let me down. You have found her, now go and get her," Robert was singing--he actually wasn't all that bad a singer, Jude had to admit--as Holmes led the drunken actor into the sitting room where Watson and Jude had spent the night awaiting their return. "Remember to let her into your heart. Then you can start to make it better."
"Where have you two been all night, Holmes?" the doctor demanded as the detective practically dropped Robert onto Jude's lap.
"Dealing with a murder, Watson," Holmes replied. "Mister Downey needed a stiff drink afterwards, so we dropped by the nearest pub."
"It looks like he's had more than one stiff drink, Holmes," observed Watson as Robert looked dreamily into Jude's chameleon eyes.
Their conversation faded into the background of Jude's consciousness as Robert drunkenly declared, "Judsie, I think I just invented the banana daiquiri a couple decades early."
Jude rolled his eyes as he said, "No more pubs for you, Robert...and no more Doctor Who for you either."
"Don't roll your eyes at me, Judsie," Robert insisted.
"Don't say stupid things then," Jude shot back.
"I'm not saying stupid things," Robert replied. "I'm drunk, if you haven't noticed."
"It's hard not to notice that."
Robert smirked before breaking back into song.
"We dreamers have our ways of facing rainy days," he sang, "And somehow we survive."
"Robert, no more singing, please," moaned Jude. It was bad enough that they were here in Baker Street, but his friend's drunken concert was not helping matters, he was sure of it.
Robert, of course, ignored his plea.
"We keep the feelings warm, protect them from the storm," he sang, before abruptly dropping off into a drunken stupor, his head on Jude's lap.
~*~
Robert woke to the worse hangover he had ever had--at least that he could remember without straining himself in the process of remembering.
"Good afternoon, Mister Downey."
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