pompey_01 | Entries tagged with acd

Title: ’Phone Plans

Author: Pompey

Universe: ACD Canon

Rating: PG

Warnings: none

Word count: 461

Summary: Holmes takes exception to one of Watson’s publications.

Prompt: July 8 – unreliable narrator

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A/N: “The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge” was published in Sept-Oct 1908 in two parts. It is likely that Doyle really was inspired by the unsolved death of Mary Money in 1905 when writing BRUCE.

Title: Chemical Warfare

Author: Pompey

Universe: ACD-ish

Rating: PG

Warnings: none?

Word count: 350

Summary: Holmes and Watson uncover a major danger to London

Prompt: July 1 – What’s going on here? (pic prompt)

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I had anticipated that searching the disused underground sewers would be unpleasant on principle. Certainly I was prepared for an assault upon the senses, particular the olfactory one. As Holmes and I walked, however, the organic stink of our surroundings changed slowly into one more chemical – though equally foul – in nature.

I looked to Holmes to comment but his face had tightened into a mask of grim determination. “Do you recognize the smell?” I asked instead.

In response, he nodded tightly and pressed a finger to his lips. A moment later, I heard faint voices coming from ahead of us and saw faintly flickering lights. We slowed our pace and I fell behind him so as to walk single file, pressing closely to the wall. All the while the unpleasant chemical smell grew stronger, and rather garlic-like, to the point that a headache began to throb at my temples.

At last we came to a curve in the tunnel and a doorway of sorts. Yellow lantern light poured from it. Holmes gestured for me to stop while he peered into the next tunnel. A minute later he turned back to me and angled his head towards the direction we had come from.

I turned around and began walking back as silently as I could but Holmes darted around me and set a pace I was hard-pressed to match. We did not slow until at last the sound of voices faded away. It was only then that I dared ask my friend what he had seen.

“An undertaking that I fear threatens the very seat of English government,” Holmes replied quietly. “You noted that wretched odor? It is the smell of unpurified carbon disulfide and white phosphorous together.”

I stopped abruptly, suddenly understanding the danger we faced. “Fenian fire,” I breathed in horror.

Holmes nodded at me over his shoulder but continued walking. I quickly followed suit. “We haven’t a moment to waste. There are at least two dozen arsonists hard at work as we speak. The scale of their production could produce enough incendiary material to raze half of London.”

Title: The Case of the Bickering Inspectors

Author: Pompey

Universe: ACD

Rating: G

Warnings: gratuitous ridiculousness

Word count: 450

Summary: Holmes and Watson may bicker like an old married couple but Lestrade and Gregson go at it like Abbott and Costello.

Prompt: July 30 – Include at least one homonym pair

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Lestrade gave an experimental tug on the door in the brick enclosure wall. “Locked.”

Gregson looked to Watson. “You’re sure Mr. Holmes is inside?”

“I’m sure,” Watson said grimly. “His telegram said he was going in. I can’t imagine a locked door stopping him. He probably scaled it already.”

“I don’t think I’m able to do that,” Lestrade admitted, tilting his head back to get a better look at the top of the wall.

“I know I can’t,” replied Watson, and sighed. “I suppose there’s no helping it then.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pick kit. “Holmes is far better at this than I but it’s Hobson’s choice.”

“Doctor!” Gregson protested. “We’re agents of the law. We can’t allow you to – ”

“Then turn your backs and don’t watch what I do. I’m not leaving Holmes to take on how many forgers by himself.” So saying, Watson selected a tool and crouched down to begin picking the lock.

Bowing to the inevitable, both inspectors turned around and feigned ignorance at the goings-on behind them. After a time, Gregson started fidgeting and Lestrade was lightly drumming his fingers against the hem of his coat.

“Did that case with the fowler from Graveshead ever get wrapped up?” Lestrade eventually asked.

“Yes, finally but unsuccessfully,” said Gregson. “Poor bugger will never see that ten quid again but perhaps he’s learned a lesson for the future.”

“Well, you know what they say about a fool and his money,” Lestrade said. “I know I haven’t ten pounds to waste on an obvious scam like that. Have you?”

“I don’t, no.”

“You don’t know?”

“No, of course I know.”

“Well, if you don’t want to tell me, just say so.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why not what?”

“Why not just tell me if you don’t want to tell me?”

“I am telling you! No!”

“No, you won’t tell me?”

“For goodness sake, gentlemen!” Watson finally shouted. “Lestrade, Gregson’s answer is no, he hasn’t got the ten pounds. Gregson, be more clear with your phrasing. Now, may I please have some quiet so I can concentrate? This isn’t as easy as it looks.”

There was a minute of silence.

“You could have just said that, you know,” Lestrade muttered under his breath.

“Said what?” Gregson whispered back.

“That you don’t have ten pounds to waste on a scam.”

“I did say that. You weren’t listening carefully.”

“I was listening. You weren’t being clear.”

“I was being perfectly clear. It’s not my fault if you can’t understand plain English.”

Behind them, Watson finally succeeded in opening the door. He stood, spared a glance back at the oblivious inspectors, and quietly slipped inside to find Holmes.

Title: Unrealistic
Author: Pompey
Universe: ACD
Rating: PG
Warnings: spoilers for an opera?
Word count: 350
Summary: Watson likes the music but he cannot stand watching most operas.
Prompt: July 29 – at the opera
A/N: La bohème opened in London on Oct 2, 1897. Also, sorry for the abrupt ending; brain wasn’t cooperating.

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“You do not appear to have enjoyed La bohème,” Holmes observed mildly as we rode to Baker Street.

“The music was lovely,” I replied carefully. My friend had purchased the tickets and I did not wish to seem ungrateful. “ ‘Musetta’s Waltz’ is particularly memorable.”

“And yet you do not care for the opera itself,” Holmes persisted.

I sighed, briefly debated with myself over continued prevarication, and gave it up as a futile pursuit. “No, I do not. I thought I would, given its popularity, but . . .”

“I should have thought so too, given the romanticism of the story,” Holmes commented after I had made no attempt to finish my sentence.

“The romanticism is what annoys me.”

My friend’s eyebrows shot up in amazement. “Is this the Watson I know, who waxes so poetical in his descriptions of every countryside?”

“Countryside descriptions are one thing. Romanticizing poverty and disease is quite another. There is nothing romantic about freezing cold or starvation or the threat of imminent eviction. There is nothing romantic about dying of consumption, as anyone who has witnessed such a death could tell you, and no girl that close to death could possibly have enough breath to sing a full duet with her lover.” I paused to take a breath of my own and added weakly, “But I did like the music.”

Holmes looked blankly at me for a moment and then roared with laughter. “Just when I think I get your limits, Watson, you find a way to surprise me,” he chuckled. “But the works of Gilbert and Sullivan are no less unrealistic and you enjoy those.”

“True, but they are designed to be caricatures poking fun at modern conventions,” I replied, relieved that Holmes had taken no offense. “They begin with a ridiculous premise, follow the storyline’s internal logic, and conclude with inevitable absurdity.”

“So do most operas, my dear Watson, though few of them are self-aware enough to realize it,” countered Holmes. “Ah, well. At least I may add the music of La bohème to my repertoire without fear of unduly annoying you.”

Title: Running Late

Author: Pompey

Universe: ACD

Rating:G

Warnings: none

Word count: 315

Summary: A sequel to July 24 but works as a stand-alone. Watson fears he's caused them to miss their train.

Prompt: July 25 - train time tables

I awoke feeling almost as sore as I had been when I retired but now with the addition of terrible stiffness. Our miles of trekking the day before had done me no favors. At first I was content to lay quietly in the inn's bed before curiosity caused me to reach for my watch. I read the time in horror and promptly sprung out of bed, heedless of the my protesting joints. There was barely five minutes to make our train.

As I threw on my clothes I couldn't help but wonder where Holmes was and why he had let me sleep so late. Moreover, his luggage was clearly unpacked as his articles were still strewn about the room. I had nearly finished tying my boots, badly, when my friend entered our room as nonchalantly as if he were taking the air through Regent Park.

"Holmes!"

"Watson? What on earth are you doing?"

"Packing!" I cried with some heat. "Do you not realize our train leaves in less than a minute? Why in the world did you not wake me sooner?"

"You needed the sleep," Holmes answered simply. "As for your first question . . . " He withdrew two tickets and handed them to me. "Our train now leaves in two hours."

I felt my tension drain away as I looked at the tickets. "You've just come back from exchanging them, haven't you."

He nodded. "When I realized you had gone to bed early without supper of your own volition, I rather suspected we would need a later train. You are rarely that exhausted, my dear fellow, and Baker Street shall be there no matter what time we arrive there. This change of plans allows us for a leisurely brunch with plenty of time to pack. And to re-lace your boots," he added with a smile and a knowing glance at my feet.

Title: Done In

Author: Pompey

Universe: ACD

Rating:G

Warnings: none

Word count: 600

Summary: Just some good ol' fashioned whumpage with a side of comfort.

Prompt: July 24 – So tired it hurts.

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With an effort, I managed to keep my sigh from turning into a groan as I sat. I had no idea how many miles of Suffolk countryside we had traversed on Holmes' most recent case but I had no doubt the number had double digits. Every joint from waist to toe ached fiercely, particularly my wounded leg. My back was complaining mightily from the constant stooping and bending over tracks and potential clues. Even my arms were sore from carrying the rucksack of supplies. Ascending the stairs of the local inn to our room had been a small torture. It was a mark of just how weary I was that I could barely accept the cup of tea Holmes handed me.

"I've asked for hot water to be sent up," said he, "but in the meantime, have you any objection if I used up the available water for a quick wash?"

I managed to shake my head and concentrated not dropping my tea cup. Somehow I managed, though I cannot swear I did not drop off to sleep. Certainly it seemed less than a minute before there was a knock on the door. I took a deep breath to steel myself against the pains standing would bring me. However, Holmes hurried past me with his collar undone and face still wet to answer.

"Best you bathe now, Watson, before the water cools," Holmes commented after depositing the water into the little side room.

"What about you?"

Holmes merely set about pouring himself tea. "I've banished the worst of the grime and I will see to having supper sent up. Besides, if you wait any longer you'll be falling asleep where you sit."

I considered arguing but decided against it. It would take far too much energy and at any rate, I knew Holmes was right. I made it to my feet and when I entered, found that Holmes had already laid out my nightclothes with dressing gown and slippers. There was a bathtub, so small it was more of a wash tub, but I eschewed it. Regardless of what Holmes said, I had no intentions of using more than half the hot water. My friend was no less deserving of it than I. So I told myself, though my motives were not entirely magnanimous: I simply did not know if I had ability to stay awake for a proper bath.

I re-entered the main room a good deal cleaner and more tired than I had been when I left it. The innkeeper had sent up a ploughman's lunch, which, to my surprise, Holmes had already begun to eat. The surprise was mutual, for his eyebrows shot up as I entered.

"You could not possibly have bathed that quickly."

"No quicker than you," I retorted, "and there is plenty of hot water left."

"You needn't," Holmes began, but suddenly gave me a long, searching look and did not finish his sentence. Instead, he stood and tossed down his napkin. "I daresay the water will cool faster than the cheese will warm."

The door closed behind me and I considered the meal before me. I was hungry, yes, but so sore and sleepy was I that any other needs paled. Besides, Holmes had wished to catch the early train tomorrow morning. Instead, I crawled into bed and was nearly asleep by the time I had arranged my aching limbs into a comfortable position.

I awoke slightly, however, when I felt the weight of a blanket draped over me and the lights in the room dimmed accommodatingly.

Title: Lion’s Mane Epilogue
Author: Pompey
Universe: ACD
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Word count: 300
Summary: Watson has a concern about the Lion’s Mane.
Prompt: July 16 – Seaside specimens

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In early August 1907 I received correspondence from Holmes, asking if I would join him that weekend in Sussex. As I was still in practice, an occasional weekend visit was the best I could manage to see my old friend. Why he did not come up to London was beyond me, but as he refused to do so, it fell to me to do the traveling. Therefore, Friday evening saw me arriving in Sussex.

That night he relayed to me the details of what I mentally titled “The Adventure of the Lion’s Mane.” I found I had several reactions to his narrative.

The first, embarrassingly enough, was jealousy. I was not opposed to Holmes making new friends, even close friends. Even so, it was a bit of a wrench to hear how Harold Stackhurst seemed to have taken my place as his regular companion – particularly in light of Holmes’ unwillingness to travel to London.

The second was longing. The mystery was a splendid one and one I should have been delighted to accompany him during.

The third was concern following a sudden thought. “Holmes, are you sure there were no other such jellyfish the storm brought up from the south?”

Holmes looked at me with some surprise. “Of course. No other such attacks have been reported and the storm was over a week ago. I shouldn’t think a subtropical jellyfish could survive that long in cooler English waters, at any rate.”

I leaned forward and met his eyes. “Are you sure enough that you are willing risk another such attack?”

Thoughtfully, Holmes refilled his pipe, lit it, and puffed on it a few times. “No, Watson, I am not,” he said at last. “Tomorrow morning, if you are willing, we shall reunite for an investigation of a somewhat different kind.”

Title: Healing

Author: Pompey

Universe: ACD

Rating: G

Warnings: none

Word count: 100

Summary: The worst part of an injury is the healing.

Prompt: July 14 - Sometimes it's the little pesky things that ruin your day.

A/N: This is a sequel to my July 13 story but it definitely works as a stand-alone.

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The first fortnight after his initial injury lived in Watson’s memory as only a morphine-blurred haze of vague pain, careful sips of liquids, and even more careful breathing. Holmes had remained in the inn with him the entire time, for travel with so many badly broken ribs was too risky.

By the end of it, they were both thankfully back in Baker Street. The soft tissue wound on his back had healed, the worst of the bruises were fading, and the pain was bearable with salicylic acid.

Yet one infernal, incessant symptom remained unresolved: the deep-seated itch of knitting bone.

Title: No Way to Beat Ghost Horse

Author: Pompey

Universe: ACD (with Carnacki the Ghost Finder)

Rating: PG

Warnings: supernatural

Word count: 225

Summary: Watson’s knowledge of ghost stories saves Holmes, but not himself.

Prompt: July 13 - Sensational fiction. Use Watson's love of sensational fiction in some way in your work today.

A/N: Much like A.J. Raffles the Amateur Cracksman by E.W.Hornung, Carnacki the Ghost Finder by W.H. Hodgson is a contemporary of Sherlock Holmes who needs to feature in more crossovers, IMHO. (Also, did I steal my title from the song “Fugue for Brotherhorns”? Yes. Yes, I did. #noregrets)

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Sherlock Holmes paced as silently as he could in the corner of the room. His agitation would not allow him to sit still. Even so, he did not dare leave Watson’s side while his condition remained so critical.

Watson’s willingness to sacrifice himself to protect Holmes was nothing new, lamentable though it remained. But how was it he had recognized the danger when Holmes had not?

Simply put, Watson was well-versed in the lurid but popular ghost stories. He had read Lord Dunsany and Le Faun and Stoker. More pertinently, he had read W. H. Hodgson’s story “The Horse of the Invisible,” in which a young woman was apparently haunted by a giant, invisible horse.

Nonsense, of course. Holmes had belittled Watson’s comparisons between the story and their case with the disdain he felt it deserved. Even so, it seemed Watson had never quite dismissed it.

Holmes might never find out exactly what it was Watson saw to make him give a cry of alarm and push Holmes away. But he had the subsequent images burned into his memory: the sight of Watson suddenly crushed to the ground by something unseen descending from above them. A something large and heavy enough to shatter several of Watson’s ribs and leave a bloodied imprint in his back – an imprint that eerily and undeniably resembled a giant horseshoe.

Title: Apologies

Author: Pompey

Universe: ACD

Rating: G

Warnings: none

Word count: 350

Summary: A Yarder observes and deduces more than Holmes.

Prompt: July 12 – Your favorite inspector

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Inspector Morton knocked on the door of Dr. Watson’s practice and hoped said doctor hadn’t been called away by a patient. He could have sent a note, of course, but what he had to say was better done in person.

Fortunately, the doctor WAS in and the greeting Morton received was friendly but more reserved than usual. It made Morton all the gladder he had come in person.

“You received my statement on the Smith case?” Dr. Watson asked.

Morton nodded. “Yes, and I’m very glad to have it. Your witness testimony will be most helpful at the trial.”

“Well, I am glad to be of service,” replied the doctor, although something in his tone did not entirely ring true. Regretfully, Morton decided his suspicions were correct and it was time to get to the heart of the issue.

“Truth be told, Dr. Watson, I came to apologize for how we handled Smith case. I knew Mr. Holmes planned to deceive you. He said it was an essential part of his trap. I went along with it happily enough at the time but . . . I’m sorry for it now. The more I think on it, the crueler it seems. I just wanted you to know I’m sorry for my part in tricking you.”

During his apology, Morton watched the doctor’s face carefully. The surprise was understandable. The genuine acceptance at the end was a relief. But the tiny flashes of anger when Morton had referenced the trickery worried him.

Of course Dr. Watson had been upset by Mr. Holmes’ deadly illness when the doctor had thought it was real. And of course Dr. Watson would have been upset to learn he had been fooled. But Morton’s instincts had told him the doctor was still far more upset by it than he was letting on.

And now, having been proven correct about Dr. Watson, Morton’s instincts were telling him Mr. Holmes had no idea how deeply his trick still rankled – or that it might be wise not to push the doctor like that again for a good long while.

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A/N: Truth be told, Morton isn’t my absolute favorite inspector but plot bunnies must be fed.

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.

Title: Stains
Author: Pompey
Universe: ACD
Rating: PG13
Warnings: mention of abortion
Word count: 250
Summary: Watson has a difficult medical case.
Prompt: July 9 – dirty laundry
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He had washed away the worst of the blood at the nearest public water pump but of course much remained. Fortunately, the night was only starting to wane. He was able to return home unnoticed.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Hudson was up early and gasped at the sight of him. He forestalled her anticipated exclamation by dropping his doctor’s bag and holding up a hand.

“I was called out to tend an emergency. A young, expectant mother . . . it didn’t end well.” Bitterness leeched into his tone with his last sentence.

He blessed the landlady’s tact when she nodded and began to remove his stained jacket. “I’ll see what I can do for this,” she said simply.

“If the stains don’t come out, burn it. Please,” he added in a whisper.

Mrs. Hudson froze at his initial vehemence but nodded again and took the jacket away with her.

Watson went up to his room, lay on the bed, and stared at the ceiling while the shadows faded. He had told the truth, but not all. The girl was young – too young to carry safely to term. She had been an expectant mother – by her own father. She was expectant no longer now.

But Watson was now a criminal.

He thought Holmes would understand his actions. He had no delusions that the law would. He only hoped that word of it would not seep into the public, and that Mrs. Hudson could work her usual laundering miracles on the blood-stained evidence.

Title: Grateful and Comforting
Author: Pompey
Universe: ACD
Rating: PG
Warnings: drug references
Word count: 150
Summary: Watson doesn’t like cocaine. In any form.
Prompt: July 7 - Sharing hot cocoa.
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The tenants of 221B Baker Street were well-known consumers of tea, coffee, wine, and spirits. However, neither Holmes nor Watson were opposed to the simple pleasures of hot cocoa on a frigid winter’s night.

It was always Epp’s Cocoa, though. Watson made sure of that. Of all the instant cocoa powders available, he was reasonably sure that Epp’s product really did contain only cocoa powder, sugar, and arrowroot.

Vi-Cocoa he never allowed to cross the threshold of their rooms, going so far as to specifically ask Mrs. Hudson to avoid purchasing it. He might have played shamelessly on her fears of adulterated foods, but if he did, he had his reasons.

William Tibbles, creator of Vi-Cocoa, had begun his business by selling concentrated cocaine. It was bad enough that Holmes kept a vial of the stuff for recreational injections. Watson wasn’t about to risk either of them drinking it too.

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A/N: Epp’s Cocoa and Vi-Cocoa were real Victorian products. I used Epp’s slogan as my title.

Title: Bicycle for Two?

Author: Pompey

Universe: ACD

Rating: G

Warnings: none

Word count: 100

Summary: Holmes falls in love and Watson is less than impressed.

Prompt: July 3 – Love at first sight.

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For a man who never took exercise for exercise’s sake, Sherlock Holmes was surprisingly enamored with bicycling. He had expressed interest during a case but soon after began researching them in earnest. Riding lessons followed shortly and Watson found himself badgered into learning as well.

Watson’s reaction was much more subdued. He found bicycle seats uncomfortable at best and cycling on certain terrain put more strain on his damaged Achilles tendon than walking. Still, he had to admit it made keeping up with Sherlock Holmes easier and he could not argue against anything that got Holmes out into fresh air.

Title: Flowing Water

Author: Pompey

Universe: ACD but AU

Rating: PG

Warnings: AU, supernatural, suicidal ideation (Wow, we’re starting off this year with some dark!)

Word count: 150

Summary: Watson has an existential crisis and for good reason.

Prompt: July 1 – picture prompt bridges.

Watson stood alone, watching the dark waves lap the bridge supports beneath him. Flowing water was the only thing that could make him feel somewhat human now. Holmes tried his best, of course, but his bailiwick was the objective, the concrete, the scientific. He had no experience with the supernatural.

Guilt, too, hindered Holmes’s help. If he’d never asked Watson to come along . . . if he’d taken the farmers’ warnings seriously . . . if Watson had been armed with a stake rather than bullets when attacked . . .

Watson didn’t blame Holmes for his vampiric condition, hellish though it was. He only hoped Holmes would not deduce certain things and interfere.

Watson had heard flowing water could block a vampire’s powers. Though it was not among the usual methods of killing the Undead, perhaps it also had the ability to end this miserable Un-life he lived.

Author’s Note: honestly, the bridge pictures reminded me of the THAMES opening that would always play before the opening credits of “Count Duckula” and my brain just went from there. See? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g9ZVWMPuZ2c