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This is Just to Say
Jul. 6th, 2011 08:06 pmWith apologies to William Carlos Williams
This is to just to say
That I have binned the toes
Which you had in the refrigerator*
and which you were probably saving for something
even if they put me off my breakfast.**
Don't bother thanking me.
They were disgusting.
So round.
And purple.
And oozy.
*Which is to say that I have turned them over to Molly for proper and respectful disposal at the morgue, not wanting a repeat of last month's eyeball incident. ***
**And no, I will not be purchasing plums at any time in the near future.****
***Even if they were cow's eyeballs.
****Or prunes.
For the July 6 writing prompt at Watson's Woes. This is about as cracky as I could think of!
This is to just to say
That I have binned the toes
Which you had in the refrigerator*
and which you were probably saving for something
even if they put me off my breakfast.**
Don't bother thanking me.
They were disgusting.
So round.
And purple.
And oozy.
*Which is to say that I have turned them over to Molly for proper and respectful disposal at the morgue, not wanting a repeat of last month's eyeball incident. ***
**And no, I will not be purchasing plums at any time in the near future.****
***Even if they were cow's eyeballs.
****Or prunes.
For the July 6 writing prompt at Watson's Woes. This is about as cracky as I could think of!
It was on the way back to the hotel, after leaving the thief that they had come all this way to find in police custody, that Sherlock suddenly cried, "This way, John!" and took off at a run down a crowded alleyway.
John blinked, but followed, and it wasn't until he turned a corner and stumbled headlong into the particoloured crowd of dancers that he thought to wonder what on earth Sherlock was up to. Then Sherlock appeared at his shoulder, teeth white in a face suddenly gone blue, a fistful of coloured powder at the ready.
"Sherlock, wait!"
*Poof!*
The prompt for today at Watson's Woes was a non-British holiday. How could I resist?
John blinked, but followed, and it wasn't until he turned a corner and stumbled headlong into the particoloured crowd of dancers that he thought to wonder what on earth Sherlock was up to. Then Sherlock appeared at his shoulder, teeth white in a face suddenly gone blue, a fistful of coloured powder at the ready.
"Sherlock, wait!"
*Poof!*
The prompt for today at Watson's Woes was a non-British holiday. How could I resist?
April 17, 1917
Jul. 3rd, 2011 08:53 pmA command of the channel and a strong glass comprised more temptation than Sherlock Holmes could resist, particularly when combined with rather more information about the movement of hospital ships than had been yet made available to the general public. He spotted HMHS Lanfranc by her bright green and red lights when she was a mere speck upon the horizon and scanted his supper, preferring to spend his time watching the ship lumber slowly towards home. He wondered if Watson were looking back, binoculars trained upon the villa on the shoulder of the downs.
Then came nightfall, and the explosion.
written for the July 3 prompt at watson's woes. And researched entirely too thoroughly. See here, or here if interested.
Then came nightfall, and the explosion.
written for the July 3 prompt at watson's woes. And researched entirely too thoroughly. See here, or here if interested.
John the Ogre Killer
Jul. 2nd, 2011 05:20 pmHe sat a while longer, but there was no sign that any more creatures like the thing which lay dead at his feet were going to appear. It was raining now, melting away the deep snow. His footprints were devolving, flowers pushing up through the muddy gaps with unnatural alacrity. There'd be no tracing them soon. He wiped off his sword with his handkerchief before sliding it back into the cane he would need on this uncertain ground.
That way to the Lamp-post, he told himself, and beyond it, with luck, will be the wardrobe and Mrs. Hudson's spare room.
written for the July 2 prompt at Watson's Woes -- with thanks to gayalondiel who encouraged me to post it
That way to the Lamp-post, he told himself, and beyond it, with luck, will be the wardrobe and Mrs. Hudson's spare room.
written for the July 2 prompt at Watson's Woes -- with thanks to gayalondiel who encouraged me to post it
In Practice
Jul. 2nd, 2011 05:17 pmI was taking the night shift at Barts, supervising, when a Lacerated Lower Leg came in, sopping wet and reeking of oil and Thames-water, accompanied by flotilla of Street Arabs. They hovered anxiously and chirped unwanted questions as I coached my students through the process of disinfecting the wounds and placing the sutures so as to minimize the damage. I didn't even look at the patient's face until he caught one of the boys and sent him off to tell "Holmes" that he was in good hands.
I looked then all right, and found him smiling back. "Hello, Stamford."
"Watson?"
written for the Watsons Woes July 1 prompt. Beta by gayalondiel
I looked then all right, and found him smiling back. "Hello, Stamford."
"Watson?"
written for the Watsons Woes July 1 prompt. Beta by gayalondiel
