In response to Deb Zorski's prompt for the 2nd of December – Bright.

Bright

"So… what do you think?"

"I… It's…"

"Yes..?"

"Well really Watson! This is hardly a fair representation!"

Watson sighed. "How so? I described in meticulous detail every process of your deductions!"

"I know but…" Watson was treated to the rare sight of Holmes struggling for words. When he did speak, it was in an oddly strangled voice, "I wasn't talking about the representation of me."

"Oh." Watson's brow furrowed in confusion. "But then, what-?"

"You!" Holmes finally exploded. He picked up the manuscript and gestured at it furiously. "In each and every one of your stories you come off as a… well a buffoon! No, worse – a Scotland Yarder!"

"I don't see why it bothers you so much," Watson responded, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Because you are not a buffoon! You are a Doctor, you served in Maiwand. I don't see why you dim yourself down to the level of… of this." He thrust the manuscript back onto Watson's desk and sat down in disgust.

Watson, looking thoughtful, neatened the pages of his work so that they would fit into an envelope for his publishers and said, with a proper smile this time, "I suppose I find it difficult to make anyone seem bright when put next to Sherlock Holmes."