storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2015-02-08 07:54 pm
storypaint) wrote2015-02-08 07:54 pm
[Sherlock Holmes] the gift of reverie (Sherlock/Watson)
Title: the gift of reverie
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Length: 914 words
Prompt: Sherlock Holmes fic battle: steampunkverse, John and Shirley, how he weaned her off of cocaine.
Pairing: Sherlock/Watson established
Other: Set in an AU-verse where Sherlock was born Shirley, but the setting is (mostly) retained with some occasional steampunk elements that don't show up in this fic. There is some implied sex in this.
Excerpt: She smiled back at him. "It's like being on a case," she said. "The human body can be quite as unpredictable as the average criminal."
It had been John's strong desire for years to convince Shirley to give up what he considered to be her most dangerous habit: cocaine. He'd made half a dozen valiant attempts over the years, but gave up on all but disapproving looks for a couple of years before her disappearance, and a couple afterward.
Afterward, she was his wife, but somehow, he couldn't bring himself to order her to quit. (For one thing, she'd just laugh at him, and although he afforded himself precious little dignity, this would break it.)
So it was time for other tactics.
The first thing he attempted was the simple dilution of her solution. He really should have known better to attempt that kind of sneakiness with Shirley,and she let him know that in no uncertain terms. And she'd thrown the bottle at him, too, which meant that the wall had a nice new splotch to match the bullet hole decorations she'd put in sometime after he'd left for his first marriage.
After that, he decided to take a different approach. After all, she had been right in some of the things she'd shouted at him (the others were too offensive even to consider). He didn't need to treat her like a child and water down her supply. She was an adult and made her own choices.
But there was nothing wrong with providing her alternatives, right? For a couple of weeks, whenever she started sighing with boredom, he took her to bed. This was a better idea than the dilution, although Mrs. Hudson began to complain of the noise. And then he threw his back out.
While he was lying on the couch for two weeks, not moving very much, he had plenty of time to contemplate his next alternative.
The next idea was completely reasonable. Shirley was only bored when she didn't have cases. Therefore, he should make sure she didn't have time to get bored. He was a doctor, so he knew a lot of people. Surely some of these people were nursing strange happenings or missing children or something of the like. He'd just have to ask.
Shirley had a very busy spring. The cocaine bottle began to get dusty, and Shirley began to get a bit snippy. He tried to convince her that she should at least attempt to sleep and eat regularly when they were on a case. He always did, after all, and the cases still got solved, didn't they? (He hadn't much liked her response to that.)
In mid-May, she shut the door on a woman explaining that she hadn't seen her cat in over a fortnight, and Shirley and John had an amazing row. Then she went to bed and slept for approximately 70% of the next three days.
Although, on the positive side, she hadn't used in nearly six months.
When Shirley was feeling better and she would talk to him again, she eased back into cases and John eased back into his practice, still pondering how he could help her. Perhaps, he thought, she'd been without for so long that the craving would have passed.
But one day, he was preparing to go out when he saw her take the little bottle off the shelf. His heart sank, and he did the only thing he could think of to do: he invited her to go out on his rounds with him. To his surprise, she perked up a bit and agreed. He gave her a few moments to get out of her dressing gown and into something more appropriate for nursing, and then they went.
It was strange to him at first. He was used to deferring to Shirley's wisdom when they were on cases. Now she was listening to him (and making her own suggestions, sure, but this was his area of expertise, and he gave more than one gentle correction). He wasn't sure how she'd deal with the blood or the illnesses, but then again, she'd certainly seen worse than a broken leg or attack of brain fever in her time. In short, she was quite a capable nurse, and he told her so on the way home. He was even earlier than usual because he'd had a second pair of hands to help.
She smiled back at him. "It's like being on a case," she said. "The human body can be quite as unpredictable as the average criminal."
He laughed, because he'd never thought about it like that. And the next day, when he put on his hat, there she was beside him, fastening her own buttons.
She didn't go out with him every day, of course. Cases took priority, and sometimes she just didn't feel like it. Still, he thought it was a good drug deterrent. And actually, more importantly, he quite enjoyed the company.
The little bottle on the mantelpiece grew dustier still, and one day he poured its contents out and replaced it. He was certain that she'd notice -- after all, he hadn't bothered to wipe his fingerprints off -- but she didn't seem to care. After a while he put a daisy in it. She tacked correspondence to the wood and turned back to him.
"That's a bit much," she said. He shrugged sheepishly. She shook her head and returned to the problem at hand, a difficult case with international implications.
Her brain was well-stimulated these days, after all. It was hard to be too mad at him.
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Length: 914 words
Prompt: Sherlock Holmes fic battle: steampunkverse, John and Shirley, how he weaned her off of cocaine.
Pairing: Sherlock/Watson established
Other: Set in an AU-verse where Sherlock was born Shirley, but the setting is (mostly) retained with some occasional steampunk elements that don't show up in this fic. There is some implied sex in this.
Excerpt: She smiled back at him. "It's like being on a case," she said. "The human body can be quite as unpredictable as the average criminal."
It had been John's strong desire for years to convince Shirley to give up what he considered to be her most dangerous habit: cocaine. He'd made half a dozen valiant attempts over the years, but gave up on all but disapproving looks for a couple of years before her disappearance, and a couple afterward.
Afterward, she was his wife, but somehow, he couldn't bring himself to order her to quit. (For one thing, she'd just laugh at him, and although he afforded himself precious little dignity, this would break it.)
So it was time for other tactics.
The first thing he attempted was the simple dilution of her solution. He really should have known better to attempt that kind of sneakiness with Shirley,and she let him know that in no uncertain terms. And she'd thrown the bottle at him, too, which meant that the wall had a nice new splotch to match the bullet hole decorations she'd put in sometime after he'd left for his first marriage.
After that, he decided to take a different approach. After all, she had been right in some of the things she'd shouted at him (the others were too offensive even to consider). He didn't need to treat her like a child and water down her supply. She was an adult and made her own choices.
But there was nothing wrong with providing her alternatives, right? For a couple of weeks, whenever she started sighing with boredom, he took her to bed. This was a better idea than the dilution, although Mrs. Hudson began to complain of the noise. And then he threw his back out.
While he was lying on the couch for two weeks, not moving very much, he had plenty of time to contemplate his next alternative.
The next idea was completely reasonable. Shirley was only bored when she didn't have cases. Therefore, he should make sure she didn't have time to get bored. He was a doctor, so he knew a lot of people. Surely some of these people were nursing strange happenings or missing children or something of the like. He'd just have to ask.
Shirley had a very busy spring. The cocaine bottle began to get dusty, and Shirley began to get a bit snippy. He tried to convince her that she should at least attempt to sleep and eat regularly when they were on a case. He always did, after all, and the cases still got solved, didn't they? (He hadn't much liked her response to that.)
In mid-May, she shut the door on a woman explaining that she hadn't seen her cat in over a fortnight, and Shirley and John had an amazing row. Then she went to bed and slept for approximately 70% of the next three days.
Although, on the positive side, she hadn't used in nearly six months.
When Shirley was feeling better and she would talk to him again, she eased back into cases and John eased back into his practice, still pondering how he could help her. Perhaps, he thought, she'd been without for so long that the craving would have passed.
But one day, he was preparing to go out when he saw her take the little bottle off the shelf. His heart sank, and he did the only thing he could think of to do: he invited her to go out on his rounds with him. To his surprise, she perked up a bit and agreed. He gave her a few moments to get out of her dressing gown and into something more appropriate for nursing, and then they went.
It was strange to him at first. He was used to deferring to Shirley's wisdom when they were on cases. Now she was listening to him (and making her own suggestions, sure, but this was his area of expertise, and he gave more than one gentle correction). He wasn't sure how she'd deal with the blood or the illnesses, but then again, she'd certainly seen worse than a broken leg or attack of brain fever in her time. In short, she was quite a capable nurse, and he told her so on the way home. He was even earlier than usual because he'd had a second pair of hands to help.
She smiled back at him. "It's like being on a case," she said. "The human body can be quite as unpredictable as the average criminal."
He laughed, because he'd never thought about it like that. And the next day, when he put on his hat, there she was beside him, fastening her own buttons.
She didn't go out with him every day, of course. Cases took priority, and sometimes she just didn't feel like it. Still, he thought it was a good drug deterrent. And actually, more importantly, he quite enjoyed the company.
The little bottle on the mantelpiece grew dustier still, and one day he poured its contents out and replaced it. He was certain that she'd notice -- after all, he hadn't bothered to wipe his fingerprints off -- but she didn't seem to care. After a while he put a daisy in it. She tacked correspondence to the wood and turned back to him.
"That's a bit much," she said. He shrugged sheepishly. She shook her head and returned to the problem at hand, a difficult case with international implications.
Her brain was well-stimulated these days, after all. It was hard to be too mad at him.