Dirtier, part 13
Dec. 8th, 2008 08:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rabidsamfanBy the time Sam got to the top of the tree, Peanut was singing rude versions of nursery rhymes in the high, clear soprano that had won him a place in the church choir right up until the day he'd been caught distributing crickets in the vestry. He might have been forgiven that if it hadn't come out that he'd released the crickets in the hope of catching the garter snakes he'd loosed upon the previous evening, one of which had found its way into one of the floral arrangements on the decani side and given the rector's wife palpitations when she'd gone around with the watering can. And of course it had been Sam who had had to catch both snakes and crickets, and put up with the verger's jokes about wanting to avoid the other eight plagues. But for the moment at least he was grateful for Peanut's infinite capacity for invention.
"I think that's enough music," Sam said, hooking a leg around the highest branch he could reach without setting the tree wobbling. "Come on down, Peanut, and tell me if it worked."
Peanut scrambled closer and shrugged. "I dunno. I wasn't looking down." At Sam's glare he put on a solemn air. "Well, you did say not to break anything expensive, and Dad says I cost him plenty already this year."
Sam shook his head. "You just forgot to look," he told his brother. "You can't fool me into thinking you've grown a grain of sense."
Peanut grinned, unrepentant. "Sounded good, though, dinnit?"
"Well, look now," Sam ordered, getting a hold of one of Peanut's belt-loops. "I want to know if the Watcher is still around." He hung on as his brother leaned out to try to peer down through the branches.
"I can't tell from here. We'll have to go lower."
"It can wait till we're on the ground, then," Sam decided. "It will look suspicious if we keep stopping along the way."
They started down, with Sam keeping Peanut in arms reach as best he could. He was surprised when Peanut asked, "Sam, if the Watcher's not a cop, what is he? And why was he fighting Gumby? You think Gumby's a cop?"
Sam caught his brother's collar and held him up a moment. "What makes you think they were fighting?"
"Both got bruises on their faces and hands, 'bout the same shade of green, too." Peanut looked up at Sam, waiting hopefully. "That's observation and dead-ducking isn't it?"
"Deduction." That was one word Sam always got right. It was too, and Sam had to admit the conclusion was probably valid. He'd have to confirm the bruises on the Watcher -- well, no, not really, Peanut usually got into more trouble for noticing things than not noticing them -- but it was a little heady to discover that Peanut was trying to emulate him. It hadn't happened often. "Very good."
"Does that mean I can be Watson tomorrow?" Peanut asked.
"Nah -- you'd look dead silly in a bowler hat," Sam answered, ruffling a hand through Peanut's hair. "I'll let you be Wiggins, though."
"I thought Orly was Wiggins."
Sam paused to rub at the bruise on his forehead. Properly, of course, Orly ought to be Watson all the time, being Sam's best friend and all, but he'd bowed out of the role so that everyone else could take a turn at it. Being Holmes's "dirty little lieutenant" had been second best, but they'd read a lot more of the stories now, and truth was, Sam thought that Orly was too tall to keep on not playing at being one of the grownups. Especially with Tinpot and Peanut around to be Irregulars. "It's about time I promoted him to Lestrade. Or maybe Mycroft. He'd be a good Mycroft."
Peanut wrinkled his nose. "Who's Mycroft?"
But Sam wasn't about to tell him that Mycroft was Sherlock Holmes' smarter brother. It was one thing to fail to discourage Peanut from making trouble and another thing entirely to put the cream pies into his hands and pretend not to know there'd be a pie fight. He started downwards again. "You'll find out when you read the books!"
Peanut followed, quickly. "Come on, Sam, just tell me!" he wheedled uselessly all the way down. Sam was just getting a foothold on the last branch when he finally changed his tune. "Cor... talk about bowlers!"
Sam looked down and missed his step, skinning his hands as he pushed away from the tree to keep from falling on the railings. He landed awkwardly and his shoes skidded on a fallen chestnut. Next thing he knew he was lying on the ground, looking up at Mrs. Potts, a pretty woman, and a tall man wearing a bowler, and desperately trying to get some air back into his lungs.
"Well, Mr. Holmes," said Mrs. Potts severely. "Now what have you been up to?"
***
"I think that's enough music," Sam said, hooking a leg around the highest branch he could reach without setting the tree wobbling. "Come on down, Peanut, and tell me if it worked."
Peanut scrambled closer and shrugged. "I dunno. I wasn't looking down." At Sam's glare he put on a solemn air. "Well, you did say not to break anything expensive, and Dad says I cost him plenty already this year."
Sam shook his head. "You just forgot to look," he told his brother. "You can't fool me into thinking you've grown a grain of sense."
Peanut grinned, unrepentant. "Sounded good, though, dinnit?"
"Well, look now," Sam ordered, getting a hold of one of Peanut's belt-loops. "I want to know if the Watcher is still around." He hung on as his brother leaned out to try to peer down through the branches.
"I can't tell from here. We'll have to go lower."
"It can wait till we're on the ground, then," Sam decided. "It will look suspicious if we keep stopping along the way."
They started down, with Sam keeping Peanut in arms reach as best he could. He was surprised when Peanut asked, "Sam, if the Watcher's not a cop, what is he? And why was he fighting Gumby? You think Gumby's a cop?"
Sam caught his brother's collar and held him up a moment. "What makes you think they were fighting?"
"Both got bruises on their faces and hands, 'bout the same shade of green, too." Peanut looked up at Sam, waiting hopefully. "That's observation and dead-ducking isn't it?"
"Deduction." That was one word Sam always got right. It was too, and Sam had to admit the conclusion was probably valid. He'd have to confirm the bruises on the Watcher -- well, no, not really, Peanut usually got into more trouble for noticing things than not noticing them -- but it was a little heady to discover that Peanut was trying to emulate him. It hadn't happened often. "Very good."
"Does that mean I can be Watson tomorrow?" Peanut asked.
"Nah -- you'd look dead silly in a bowler hat," Sam answered, ruffling a hand through Peanut's hair. "I'll let you be Wiggins, though."
"I thought Orly was Wiggins."
Sam paused to rub at the bruise on his forehead. Properly, of course, Orly ought to be Watson all the time, being Sam's best friend and all, but he'd bowed out of the role so that everyone else could take a turn at it. Being Holmes's "dirty little lieutenant" had been second best, but they'd read a lot more of the stories now, and truth was, Sam thought that Orly was too tall to keep on not playing at being one of the grownups. Especially with Tinpot and Peanut around to be Irregulars. "It's about time I promoted him to Lestrade. Or maybe Mycroft. He'd be a good Mycroft."
Peanut wrinkled his nose. "Who's Mycroft?"
But Sam wasn't about to tell him that Mycroft was Sherlock Holmes' smarter brother. It was one thing to fail to discourage Peanut from making trouble and another thing entirely to put the cream pies into his hands and pretend not to know there'd be a pie fight. He started downwards again. "You'll find out when you read the books!"
Peanut followed, quickly. "Come on, Sam, just tell me!" he wheedled uselessly all the way down. Sam was just getting a foothold on the last branch when he finally changed his tune. "Cor... talk about bowlers!"
Sam looked down and missed his step, skinning his hands as he pushed away from the tree to keep from falling on the railings. He landed awkwardly and his shoes skidded on a fallen chestnut. Next thing he knew he was lying on the ground, looking up at Mrs. Potts, a pretty woman, and a tall man wearing a bowler, and desperately trying to get some air back into his lungs.
"Well, Mr. Holmes," said Mrs. Potts severely. "Now what have you been up to?"
***
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-09 03:10 am (UTC)Great story! *devours*
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-09 06:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-09 04:24 pm (UTC)Impeccable logic, using crickets to catch the garter snakes -- one wonders what the next step would have been.
Loved the bit about the cream pies, too, and the big brother's pride in being the role model. Sam and his crew are coming through very vividly in what you've got so far. Marvelous viewpoint for the action.
I do love Peanut. But boy am I glad I'm not his minder.