charleygirl (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
charleygirl) wrote2009-03-04 06:05 pm
charleygirl) wrote2009-03-04 06:05 pm
Entry tags:
Fic | Sherlock Holmes | Jottings from a Doctor's Journal 13/?
Title: Jottings from a Doctor's Journal 13/?
Author: charleygirl
Rating: G
Words: 762
Characters involved: Sherlock Holmes, Doctor Watson
Genre: Friendship, fluff
Disclaimer: These characters, while out of copyright, were created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and do not belong to me.
Summary: A collection of scenes and fragments that are too long to be drabbles and too undisciplined to be 221Bs.
ALL TIED UP
“Four and a half hours.”
I tried to ignore the words, having heard them, with various alterations with regards to the time, repeatedly since I had woken from a chloroform-induced sleep. A few seconds of blessed silence passed, and then,
“Four. And a half. Hours.”
“Holmes,” I said between gritted teeth, “please stop saying that. I am begging you now, for the sake of our friendship.”
He took no notice of me, too caught up in his own misery. “Is it actually possible for a man to die of boredom, Watson?”
“I should think so.”
Though I could not see his face, back to back as we were, I could almost hear him raising his eyebrows. “Really?”
“Oh, yes. Particularly if one annoys one’s companion so much that said companion has no option but to resort to murder in order to retain what little sanity he has left,” I replied, with complete seriousness.
There was another pause, thankfully longer this time, and I turned my attention once again to the loosening of my bonds. I had made several such attempts during our incarceration, all to no avail. Our captors, well-versed in such matters, had made sure that the knots were as complex as possible. The rope bit into my wrists as I struggled, chafing against already raw skin.
“You will only make them tighter,” Holmes said wearily, this time putting up with my shoulder blades digging into his back without complaint.
“Really? Well, I don’t see you making any attempt to escape,” I countered irritably. “What happened to that razor blade you keep hidden in your shirt cuff?”
He sighed. “It is there. Unfortunately, due to our current predicament I am unable to reach it. Being tied fast to a chair has the effect of limiting one’s movement to a quite unbearable degree.”
“I had noticed something of the sort myself. If we had only - ”
“Damn and blast it all!” Holmes cried suddenly, startling me. “I am the greatest fool in Christendom. How could I have fallen into so obvious a trap? I fear your adding this case to your annals will do my reputation no favours. Caught like a fly in a web!”
“You weren’t to know,” I said, a little alarmed at this sudden change of mood. I hoped that he was not already starting to sink into one of his black moods –it would be more than I could cope with at that moment. “Lady Carmarthen is a splendid actress.”
“Ha!” He snorted derisively. “”The ways of women. I am reminded once again why they should never be trusted.”
“That is a little harsh, old man. You cannot judge their entire sex by one example.”
“In this instance I feel I may be justified. Do you not agree?”
“We will be found,” I said firmly, and felt his shoulders shift against mine as he tried to turn to look at me.
“By whom, precisely?” he enquired.
“By Lestrade, of course. He knew where we were going and what we intended to do.”
Holmes gave a humourless bark of laughter. “You show remarkable faith in the ability of the denizens of the Yard to follow a trail when not specifically instructed to do so.”
“That is unfair, Holmes. Lestrade will get there in the end, he just may take… rather longer than you would in the same situation,” I replied with confidence I did not entirely feel when I managed to crane my neck round and glimpse the disbelieving expression on the detective’s face.
There was another long pause.
“How long have we been here now?” I asked eventually. The light was getting rather the dim in the dusty little room.
“Nigh-on five hours. It must be nearly seven o’clock.”
“And at what time did you intend to call in the Yard?”
“At ten.”
“So, if he works out what has happened, Lestrade will not be here at least until then,” I said, feeling my heart sink into my boots.
“That would seem to be an accurate assessment of the situation,” Holmes agreed, in a tone laced with more than a little sarcasm. “Have you any idea as to how we are to pass the time until the cavalry arrives?”
The pause this time seemed to stretch on into eternity.
At last, seeing no alternative, I cleared my throat and began,
“I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with ‘D’…”
Though it unfortunately brought no one any quicker to our aid, I swear that Holmes’s howl of dismay could be heard for miles around.
Author: charleygirl
Rating: G
Words: 762
Characters involved: Sherlock Holmes, Doctor Watson
Genre: Friendship, fluff
Disclaimer: These characters, while out of copyright, were created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and do not belong to me.
Summary: A collection of scenes and fragments that are too long to be drabbles and too undisciplined to be 221Bs.
ALL TIED UP
“Four and a half hours.”
I tried to ignore the words, having heard them, with various alterations with regards to the time, repeatedly since I had woken from a chloroform-induced sleep. A few seconds of blessed silence passed, and then,
“Four. And a half. Hours.”
“Holmes,” I said between gritted teeth, “please stop saying that. I am begging you now, for the sake of our friendship.”
He took no notice of me, too caught up in his own misery. “Is it actually possible for a man to die of boredom, Watson?”
“I should think so.”
Though I could not see his face, back to back as we were, I could almost hear him raising his eyebrows. “Really?”
“Oh, yes. Particularly if one annoys one’s companion so much that said companion has no option but to resort to murder in order to retain what little sanity he has left,” I replied, with complete seriousness.
There was another pause, thankfully longer this time, and I turned my attention once again to the loosening of my bonds. I had made several such attempts during our incarceration, all to no avail. Our captors, well-versed in such matters, had made sure that the knots were as complex as possible. The rope bit into my wrists as I struggled, chafing against already raw skin.
“You will only make them tighter,” Holmes said wearily, this time putting up with my shoulder blades digging into his back without complaint.
“Really? Well, I don’t see you making any attempt to escape,” I countered irritably. “What happened to that razor blade you keep hidden in your shirt cuff?”
He sighed. “It is there. Unfortunately, due to our current predicament I am unable to reach it. Being tied fast to a chair has the effect of limiting one’s movement to a quite unbearable degree.”
“I had noticed something of the sort myself. If we had only - ”
“Damn and blast it all!” Holmes cried suddenly, startling me. “I am the greatest fool in Christendom. How could I have fallen into so obvious a trap? I fear your adding this case to your annals will do my reputation no favours. Caught like a fly in a web!”
“You weren’t to know,” I said, a little alarmed at this sudden change of mood. I hoped that he was not already starting to sink into one of his black moods –it would be more than I could cope with at that moment. “Lady Carmarthen is a splendid actress.”
“Ha!” He snorted derisively. “”The ways of women. I am reminded once again why they should never be trusted.”
“That is a little harsh, old man. You cannot judge their entire sex by one example.”
“In this instance I feel I may be justified. Do you not agree?”
“We will be found,” I said firmly, and felt his shoulders shift against mine as he tried to turn to look at me.
“By whom, precisely?” he enquired.
“By Lestrade, of course. He knew where we were going and what we intended to do.”
Holmes gave a humourless bark of laughter. “You show remarkable faith in the ability of the denizens of the Yard to follow a trail when not specifically instructed to do so.”
“That is unfair, Holmes. Lestrade will get there in the end, he just may take… rather longer than you would in the same situation,” I replied with confidence I did not entirely feel when I managed to crane my neck round and glimpse the disbelieving expression on the detective’s face.
There was another long pause.
“How long have we been here now?” I asked eventually. The light was getting rather the dim in the dusty little room.
“Nigh-on five hours. It must be nearly seven o’clock.”
“And at what time did you intend to call in the Yard?”
“At ten.”
“So, if he works out what has happened, Lestrade will not be here at least until then,” I said, feeling my heart sink into my boots.
“That would seem to be an accurate assessment of the situation,” Holmes agreed, in a tone laced with more than a little sarcasm. “Have you any idea as to how we are to pass the time until the cavalry arrives?”
The pause this time seemed to stretch on into eternity.
At last, seeing no alternative, I cleared my throat and began,
“I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with ‘D’…”
Though it unfortunately brought no one any quicker to our aid, I swear that Holmes’s howl of dismay could be heard for miles around.