Author: embracetheweird PM
My response to Hades Lord of the Dead's December advent calendar challenge. Expect fun, christmassy randomness and whatever else my brain comes up withRated: Fiction T - English - Dr. Watson & Sherlock Holmes - Chapters: 12 - Words: 3,994 - Reviews: 58 - Favs: 1 - Follows: 8 - Updated: 12-17-12 - Published: 12-01-12 - id: 8755078
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: Hello! This is my response to the brilliant advent calender challenge by Hades Lord of the Dead.
Prompt from MadamGiry25- Rose Petals
"Well you did say that we have much to hope from flowers"
"That doesn't mean" cried Holmes flinging down the bunch of flowers mrs Hudson had managed to thrust into his arms "that she can invade our rooms and ambush us with her floral ammunition"
"Come on Holmes," I said "its not that bad. And they do make the room look nicer if maybe a bit colourful."
"And feminine! Its good enough of me to let her tidy up!"
I shook my head and tried to console him. "They won't be here forever. They'll have to die eventually."
He shrugged and retrieved his pipe starting to smoke as mrs hudson entered.
"Mr Holmes!" She shrieked "what do you think you're doing?!"
We both turned and looked at her in confusion.
"You are going to kill my plants with all those toxic fumes you insist on polluting the air with!"
And with that mrs Hudson strode forward snatching the pipe from between his lips and stalking over to his persian slipper which she confiscated guiltlessly.
He watched with horror as his precious tobacco was enslaved in our landlady's pocket and watched, his mouth hanging open, as she strode out the room.
Holmes eye started to twitch.
"Holmes, calm down! This is only temporary!"
"She can come in here and disrupt me, she can smother my poor rooms with her decorative, feminine touch but nobody, I repeat, NOBODY deprives me of my pipe."
I slowly backed away and left, full of apprehension of what he might do to get his tobacco back, the wild, mad glint in his eye scaring me.
I think it must have scared Mrs Hudson, too, because on my return, I found baker street restored to its former self, pipe and persian slipper included, and not so much as a rose petal in sight.