storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2013-03-16 09:56 pm
storypaint) wrote2013-03-16 09:56 pm
[Elementary/Doctor Who] her story (Joan gen)
Title: her story
Fandom: Elementary/Doctor Who
Length: 611 words
Prompt: Joan meets the TARDIS and they commiserate for Jansen
Pairing: Joan gen
Other: n/a
Excerpt: Sherlock and the Doctor are arguing again, something about the laws of thermodynamics, and Joan, personally, knows a lost cause when she sees one. She's perfectly willing to accept that modern science doesn't know everything about the universe. Sherlock wants an explanation.
Sherlock and the Doctor are arguing again, something about the laws of thermodynamics, and Joan, personally, knows a lost cause when she sees one. She's perfectly willing to accept that modern science doesn't know everything about the universe. Sherlock wants an explanation.
Joan wants to explore. There's a shadowy corridor calling to her and she slips away without saying anything. There are so many doors. Some of them have nameplates and some are unlabeled. One says "Bowties." She snickers, and she walks, turning corners at her whim. Somehow, she doesn't think she'll get lost.
She's found three swimming pools, two beautiful libraries, and a ball pit, before she realizes that there's someone walking beside her, and she starts in surprise. The person smiles. She is a woman, with messy dark curls and a beautiful, old-fashioned dress.
"Sorry," she says, "I will have been curious." She wrinkles her nose. "Tenses, tenses," she explains, enigmatically.
"Do you live here?" Joan asks, recovering and returning a friendly smile. She'd gotten so caught up in exploring that she hadn't been paying attention. It's no wonder she didn't see the woman approaching.
"Oh, yes!" the woman answers, laughing as if Joan has told a joke. Joan looks around herself again, thoughtfully. Perhaps the Doctor has so much space because he travels with a lot of people.
"Are there others?" Joan asks.
"Oh," the woman says, considering, "Always. Never. I can see them running through the corridors, sleeping in my beds. Bigger on the inside, you know."
She spins in a slow circle. Joan wonders if she's not understanding the woman properly. Her accent is British, but she is having issues with the pronouns. And tenses.
"Maybe I'd better go," Joan says, hesitant. She looks back in the direction from which she came. The woman seizes her hands for a moment, dancing her around in a semi-circle.
"I wanted to meet you," she says, and she's so genuine and warm. "You should stay. He could use someone sensible like you."
"Watson!"
Sherlock sounds frustrated. She can hear his footsteps approaching. Joan thinks he's probably lost the argument. The Doctor is going to bend time, whether or not Sherlock thinks that's possible.
"I'm here," she answers, and the woman drops her hands. Sherlock comes around a curve, resting his hand on one of the little round things on the wall.
"The Doctor says he can take us to Agincourt," he announces. "I said I'd believe it when I saw it."
Joan hears a giggle, barely audible. She turns to introduce the strange woman to Sherlock, but the woman has disappeared. She must have gone into one of the rooms, Joan supposes.
"I imagine he took that as a challenge," Joan says, her tone light. They're too much alike, Sherlock and the Doctor -- she's only known the Doctor for a few hours, most of that spent in peril of her life, but she knows it already.
"If there aren't arrows whizzing past my head in ten minutes, he'll give a full formal apology," Sherlock says, sounding oddly pleased by the possibility of such danger. "Were you speaking to someone?"
"Oh," Joan says, brow furrowing, "there was -- I was talking to myself."
"I know you're quite the conversationalist, but that's a bit much," he answers her, turning back in the direction of the console room. "Come on. You can witness my apology."
Joan briefly contemplates the gigantic wardrobe she'd located earlier, and wonders if there's any armor in there. She wouldn't be surprised. There were sweaters in there for an individual with six arms.
"Coming," she says, catching up with him, and she only glances back once.
Fandom: Elementary/Doctor Who
Length: 611 words
Prompt: Joan meets the TARDIS and they commiserate for Jansen
Pairing: Joan gen
Other: n/a
Excerpt: Sherlock and the Doctor are arguing again, something about the laws of thermodynamics, and Joan, personally, knows a lost cause when she sees one. She's perfectly willing to accept that modern science doesn't know everything about the universe. Sherlock wants an explanation.
Sherlock and the Doctor are arguing again, something about the laws of thermodynamics, and Joan, personally, knows a lost cause when she sees one. She's perfectly willing to accept that modern science doesn't know everything about the universe. Sherlock wants an explanation.
Joan wants to explore. There's a shadowy corridor calling to her and she slips away without saying anything. There are so many doors. Some of them have nameplates and some are unlabeled. One says "Bowties." She snickers, and she walks, turning corners at her whim. Somehow, she doesn't think she'll get lost.
She's found three swimming pools, two beautiful libraries, and a ball pit, before she realizes that there's someone walking beside her, and she starts in surprise. The person smiles. She is a woman, with messy dark curls and a beautiful, old-fashioned dress.
"Sorry," she says, "I will have been curious." She wrinkles her nose. "Tenses, tenses," she explains, enigmatically.
"Do you live here?" Joan asks, recovering and returning a friendly smile. She'd gotten so caught up in exploring that she hadn't been paying attention. It's no wonder she didn't see the woman approaching.
"Oh, yes!" the woman answers, laughing as if Joan has told a joke. Joan looks around herself again, thoughtfully. Perhaps the Doctor has so much space because he travels with a lot of people.
"Are there others?" Joan asks.
"Oh," the woman says, considering, "Always. Never. I can see them running through the corridors, sleeping in my beds. Bigger on the inside, you know."
She spins in a slow circle. Joan wonders if she's not understanding the woman properly. Her accent is British, but she is having issues with the pronouns. And tenses.
"Maybe I'd better go," Joan says, hesitant. She looks back in the direction from which she came. The woman seizes her hands for a moment, dancing her around in a semi-circle.
"I wanted to meet you," she says, and she's so genuine and warm. "You should stay. He could use someone sensible like you."
"Watson!"
Sherlock sounds frustrated. She can hear his footsteps approaching. Joan thinks he's probably lost the argument. The Doctor is going to bend time, whether or not Sherlock thinks that's possible.
"I'm here," she answers, and the woman drops her hands. Sherlock comes around a curve, resting his hand on one of the little round things on the wall.
"The Doctor says he can take us to Agincourt," he announces. "I said I'd believe it when I saw it."
Joan hears a giggle, barely audible. She turns to introduce the strange woman to Sherlock, but the woman has disappeared. She must have gone into one of the rooms, Joan supposes.
"I imagine he took that as a challenge," Joan says, her tone light. They're too much alike, Sherlock and the Doctor -- she's only known the Doctor for a few hours, most of that spent in peril of her life, but she knows it already.
"If there aren't arrows whizzing past my head in ten minutes, he'll give a full formal apology," Sherlock says, sounding oddly pleased by the possibility of such danger. "Were you speaking to someone?"
"Oh," Joan says, brow furrowing, "there was -- I was talking to myself."
"I know you're quite the conversationalist, but that's a bit much," he answers her, turning back in the direction of the console room. "Come on. You can witness my apology."
Joan briefly contemplates the gigantic wardrobe she'd located earlier, and wonders if there's any armor in there. She wouldn't be surprised. There were sweaters in there for an individual with six arms.
"Coming," she says, catching up with him, and she only glances back once.