July 10 - Case of the Misplaced Modifier

Title: The Case of the Misplaced Modifier
Author: Pompey
Universe: ACD / meta
Rating: G
Warnings: crackiness and blatant authorial intrusion
Word count: 200
Summary: Watson lets me (Pompey) beta read a story. He becomes somewhat displeased.
Prompt: July 10 - Editorial woes. 

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Watson eyed the manuscript I placed in front of him. “What happened? Did you buy stock in red ink?”

“What happened?” I retorted. “Did you buy stock in mediocre writing?”

“Mediocre!”

“Shut up,” I warned Holmes, as he looked over at us and started to open his mouth.  He paused and went back to reading his newspaper. I turned back to Watson. “Yes, this is mediocre. You can do way better than this. I’ve seen you do it.”

“What is mediocre about it?”

“Well, you start off teasing us for two paragraphs with cases you’ll never write up and have no bearing on this story’s case. You could cut them out entirely without missing them. And by the time you start setting the scene, you’re almost leaning into purple prose to create the atmosphere."

“There’s nothing purple about this sentence,” Watson protested, pointing into the third paragraph.

I sighed. “Read it aloud.”

“ ‘As evening drew in, the storm grew higher and louder, and the wind cried and sobbed like a child in the chimney.’”(1)

When finished, Watson looked at me expectantly. I sighed again. “OK, now tell me: how exactly does a child in the chimney cry and sob?”

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A/N: 1) The Five Orange Pips

2) If you have never read “The Annotated Sherlock Holmes” or “The New Annotated Sherlock Holmes” then you should do so. They pick up on so many little details and put in so many little tidbits it’s a veritable nursery for plot bunnies. Like this one.

July 11 - Caught

Title: Caught
Author: Pompey
Universe: Basil of Baker Street (book-verse)
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Word count: 221B
Summary: Holmes sees everything.
Prompt: July 11 - Where did you get that hat? 

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Basil and I had crept up to the sitting room of The Master once again. As usual, we remained on the floor where it was easier to hide (and to run away, if necessary.) We thought we were quite safe, for we were hidden in the space under the coatrack created by the elevated legs. Even when The Master suddenly gave an exclamation, sprang to his feet, and called for The Doctor to follow him, we did not worry. Their boots were already well-laced; they had no reason to look down towards us to get their coats and hats.

No reason, that is, until The Doctor knocked his hat to the ground and The Master bent to pick it up.

We froze, hoping our utter stillness would let us go unnoticed. It was folly, of course. The Master observes everything and we were no exception.

Those piercing grey eyes fixed upon us and blinked once in astonishment. Then twice.

Basil grabbed my paw and whispered, “Dawson, run.” But I could not move a whisker.

“Come on!” he cried and pulled me along to the decorative knob in the baseboard that concealed our tunnel. 

“Holmes,” we heard the Doctor ask behind us, “what is it?”

There was a pause and then The Master spoke. “A sudden insight, Watson, one unexpected but beneficial.”