Lewis drabble challenge
Who wants to play a writing game?
Here's how it works:
Here's how it works:
- I will post a drabble (drabble meaning a short fic of 100 words exactly)
- The next person to play will write another drabble starting with the last word of the drabble I post
- The next person after that must start their drabble with the last word of the previous one
- ...and so on and so on
- Play as ( Read more... )
Comments 106
“Good result, gentlemen. But I’m still at a loss to know how you put it together.”
Lewis shrugs. “Once I spoke to the sister, it was easy, ma’am.”
Innocent frowns. “She just said Phillips was seeing a psychologist. I don’t see...”
“It’s what the psychologist told us once we had the warrant. Phillips suffered from coulrophobia. But his girlfriend insisted on going to the circus, and he went a bit mad.”
“Hence the frenzied attack. But... coulrophobia?”
“Pathological-”
“Fear of clowns, ma’am. And thank you, sergeant - told you, I do know some big words.”
“You’re a true sesquipedalian, sir.”
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“Hmm?”
“You do realise you’re humming.”
Lewis glanced at Hathaway. “Humming what?”
“I would guess something from your sordid youth, sir.”
“My youth was very respectable, I’ll have you know.”
“Of course, and I would be a fool to suggest otherwise,” Hathaway said.
Lewis thought a moment. “Of course, there was the ill-advised interest in glam rock.”
Hathaway nearly choked. “Glam rock, sir?”
“Platform boots, glitter, the whole business.”
“I don’t suppose any photos exist of this?”
“None I’d tell you about,” Lewis said, folding his arms.
“No, of course,” Hathaway said, smiling a bit. “Silly of me really.”
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“Yes, really.”
“I’d like to see you do it. Tell you what, I’ll buy you a pint if you can.”
“You’re on, sir.”
Which is why, when Chief Superintendant Innocent comes into their office to enquire why she is still waiting for the figures that D I Lewis promised her she would have before lunch, she finds his sergeant turning slowly round in a circle with a telephone directory balanced on his head.
“Obviously, we are not giving you sufficient work to occupy your time,” she says frostily.
The directory lands on the floor with a thud.
“Sorry, ma’am.”
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Innocent raised her eyebrows. “In what way?”
Hathaway held up his gift. “It’s a cat toy.”
“I’m aware of that,” Innocent said.
“I don’t have a cat.”
Innocent gave him a withering look. “And no one you know has a cat?”
Hathaway looked perplexed. “You’re suggesting that I…”
“I’m more than suggesting it, Sergeant. I’m encouraging it, supporting it, and approving it. I’m tired of you and Lewis whinging about having terrible holidays.”
“He might already have--” Hathaway began.
“He doesn’t,” Innocent interrupted. “My suggestion is, bring wine.”
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"What do you think?"
"I'm not sure, sir. I saw a purple one that might be more suitable."
"Ah, go on with you." Robbie pretends not to see James's quicksilver grin - he's lucky he didn't get a mini-lecture on poinsettia history or symbolism or whatnot.
Robbie shrugs at the colour, adds it to the cart, and starts steering towards the check-out.
James stops him with a hand on his arm. "Sir? I believe you've forgotten the mistletoe."
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I love the unexpected direction you took this.
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