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28. From Wordwielder - Watson has writer's block (Magical Creatures AU - THIS SNIPPET ONLY! Takes place early 1900s)
Irritated grumbling carried through the floor, then heavily uneven footsteps darted across Watson’s bedroom. The following thump announced he had missed.
“Get back here!”
No, judging by an obvious raspberry, and Holmes saw no reason to hide amusement from an empty room. Watson must have decided to write this afternoon.
“I got rid of that lockbox ages ago.”
And the rabbit had taken exception. “Writer’s block” in penning a monograph became a “stubborn creature” when Watson got the rabbits involved. That had sounded like a failed tackle.
“I’m not tired enough to let you hit me with that. You know I will not have time for the rest of the month.” Silence evidently caught some response Holmes could not hear. “Staying for the holidays does not mean more carrots as a treat! Unless you plan to pay for them?...I thought not. Are you coming out?” Another pause finally stood with a quiet grumble. “Fine. Be that way.”
Limping footsteps carefully tidied the room and put his supplies away, though he spoke once more from the upper landing.
“No, you had your chance. I’m going downstairs now, and you’re not allowed in the sitting room for another week. Go back to your nest.”
The door shut with a click, and Holmes quickly positioned a newspaper as Watson navigated the stairs. The uneven gait never paused before reaching the landing, but Holmes could no longer stay quiet when pain threaded the footsteps that slowly aimed for his chair.
“Did you injure yourself?”
“No, I’m alright.” A flinch belied the assertion and made Holmes set his paper aside. “Really. It’ll stop complaining in a minute. Stubborn creature refused to come out from under my bed.”
Which would have aggravated his leg, Holmes easily finished. A long glance confirmed no other problem before he started paging through an index. He would stay nearby for a while, but the weather probably contributed as well. Watson should stop limping before lunch.
He much preferred knowing both cause and effect over piecing together fragments of illogical information.
30. From Ennui Enigma - Mycroft plays an instrument
“Nice of you to join us, Sherlock.”
Mycroft’s mutter drifted across the entrance as I closed the door, and I could not halt a faint grin when Holmes abruptly found himself face to face with an irritated older brother.
“What part of ‘It is imperative you arrive on time,’” he continued, his nod for me carrying none of the anger directed at Holmes, “means sneaking in twenty minutes after everyone else?”
Holmes merely raised an eyebrow, as if he had not purposely delayed with the message as an excuse. “You did not want me to bring this, then?”
Mycroft pocketed the double bass string without ever looking away from his brother. I knew better than to think Holmes could hide something from the one that taught him how to deduce, and Mycroft’s tone confirmed as much.
“When I tell you I need something, Sherlock, it is because I need the item when you are supposed to arrive, not whenever you decide you can sneak in. You purchased this yesterday, yet you still made us delay because you ignored simple directions. If Her Majesty complains, you will receive an audience you will not soon forget.”
He strode away, probably to fix his instrument so they could start the production. The abrupt dismissal’s heavy reprimand left Holmes nearly flinching. His attempt to arrive just before Mycroft’s orchestra would begin had backfired—supremely.
Perhaps he would remember this the next time he tried to modify a set of directions to fit his wishes.
31. From Stutley Constable - The last of the Christmas crackers.
“One left, Holmes.”
“One of what?” He lowered his paper to see what I offered him, only to scowl at the brightly wrapped Christmas cracker. The grumbled “Humbug” could not hide the mischief creating lines around his mouth, however, when he pretended to go back to his paper.
“You are a week too late for me to pull that with you.”
I made no reply, silently continuing to hold out the cracker as if I had not heard him. He squirmed after only a few seconds.
“Go pull it with Mrs. Hudson, if you must. I am busy.”
Pretending to read, I noted. Silence still answered him even as my grin tried to escape.
We had spent the day in the sitting room, the snowstorm currently blanketing the city preventing Holmes from receiving any sort of case, and I had been cleaning out my desk when I found the cracker I had stashed in early December.
And he had been trying to feign disinterest in anything I did. Bored in a manner that made any movement riveting, my silent—and motionless—offer would annoy him better than the most well-worded pleading.
I merely had to be patient. Another glance over the paper found me still in front of him, then three more seconds finally grumbled a “fine.” He threaded one hand beneath the agony section to grip the other side, releasing the moment it cracked. Anything inside clearly belonged to me.
Not that I minded much. Mostly cheap trinkets the Irregulars would love, I claimed the two small pieces of candy before a glint caught my eye. What was—
Utter shock halted my attempts to gather the spent paper. That was not a trinket.
That was not even a slightly better prize. I absently set the cracker aside to retrieve the bright red—and crystal clear—stone catching the sun beneath Holmes’ chair.
“Holmes?” A grunt acknowledged the question. “Has anyone lost a ruby recently?”
No response, for about two seconds, then his newspaper fluttered to the floor to let only slightly wide eyes stare at the gem I held in the light of the window. Rapid inspection of the jewel, my hand, the cracker, and the surrounding floor finally sent him scrambling for his coat.
He enjoyed the “Christmas debris” a sight more when it came with a case.