With all these Hiatus tales my brain keeps spawning, I figured I'd better just make it a collection. "Unraveling the Truth" and "Those Dark Hours" will not be moved to this little series, but they must be understood to be in the same universe. You may, if you've read my blog, have guessed by now that whatever ends up in this set may well fit into the planned Deliver Us from Evil series. I should also warn you that this will be completely non-linear—i.e. I'll probably be jumping around in time.
Anyway, I found this little piece this morning—I'd begun it a month ago and completely forgotten it! Unfortunately, that means that it's only about a quarter of its original length—there was a long conversation that entailed Lestrade telling Watson a tale of a young Sherlock Holmes coming down with fever and Lestrade helping him. And in returning to this story today, I just can't recover that conversation, nor can I currently attempt to rewrite it. *sad sigh* Oh, well, I'm sure y'all will still enjoy. =)
© 2011 by Aleine Skyfire.
All rights reserved.
==Tales from the Great Hiatus==
==1. Of Sick Inspectors==
"Doctor, I really don't need you fussing over m—"
"Lie back down, Lestrade, before I tie you down!"
Lestrade snorted. "Devil of a bedside manner, there, Doctor."
"A decade with the world's worst patient corrupted it," Watson said dryly. "Now lie down!"
"All right, all right!" Lestrade sank back into the bed and slid under the covers. "Better?"
"Much." Watson handed him a suspicious-smelling teacup. "Now drink that."
Lestrade peered cautiously at it. "What's in it?"
"Lemon and honey."
Lestrade blinked and scrunched up his face. "No, thank you—I think I'd prefer to be sick."
Watson wore a "heaven help me" look. "I think that the rest of us at the Yard prefer you not to be."
Lestrade grinned internally to hear John Watson identify himself with Scotland Yard. "Except Gregson, maybe?"
"Maybe. Now quit stalling—drink."
"All right, all right!" Lestrade took a sip and nearly spewed his drink back out. "Doctor!"
"That is what everyone says when I give them this," Watson mused. "I cannot imagine why…"
Lestrade scowled at the "pawky humor," as Mr. Holmes used to say. "Have you ever tried it?"
Watson met the scowl with a perfectly unruffled countenance. "Yes."
Lestrade resisted the urge to sigh—it could be just as hard to get anything out of Dr. Watson as it had been with Mr. Holmes. "And?"
"Rather vile, certainly, but effective." Lestrade groaned, then coughed. Watson lifted an eyebrow—oh, no, the man had spent far too much time around the late Sherlock Holmes. "There you are. Now, really, Lestrade, I can't imagine you'd want to be out of commission when our dear Colonel finally makes his attack on the Yard. Or me," he added as an afterthought.
Lestrade's face darkened. "Ohhh, that's blackmail, Watson."
"Take it how you will, just so long as you take that drink."
Lestrade gave him one last glare before raising the cup to his lips and taking long draughts to get it done with quickly. He set the cup down and folded his arms over the bedclothes. "Happy?"
I have to say, I loved finishing this! I just… started typing, and Lestrade and Watson took over with their little battle of wits! I was just along for the ride. It was terrific!
The more I write Lestrade, the more I love him. He's just adorable—stubborn, a tad feisty, good-natured, humble, and intelligent in his own way. No wonder Holmes calls him "the best of professionals." And writing him and Watson together is just fantastic—it's not best friends, but it's certainly comrades-in-arms.
Cookies, btw, to anybody who figures out what the title is inspired by. Next time I write (no guarantees when), I'll probably go post-Hiatus to when Lestrade learns of Holmes's survival. ;D