Another short story dedicated to my passion of the moment ...
Title: Tradition
Genre: General, friendship
Rating: for all
Characters: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, Lestrade OF
N. words: 629
Genre: General, friendship
Rating: for all
Characters: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, Lestrade OF
N. words: 629
John Watson had just finished a long shift at the clinic and he was tired and cold. All I wanted tonight was to be able to sink into and relax on the couch watching television. Dream unlikely since when he had a case to be resolved Sherlock rarely settle elsewhere.
The sofa was miraculously free. His roommate had been lying on the couch, intent on plucking distractedly the strings of the violin with grim expression. The sound of doors opened and closed attracted the attention of the doctor toward the kitchen. She looked in that direction, expecting to see that Mrs. Hudson, despite her protests, often impersonating an efficient ruler, but instead he was confronted by Lestrade. The inspector gave him a grin and waved a hand, on which it was impossible not to notice the latex glove, and went back to rummage through the cans.
- Because no one told me that there was a chance? - John asked his eyes going from one to another. Now the mock raids were familiar as the evening news.
- There is no case - Sherlock muttered, continuing to mistreat the violin.
The doctor sighed resignedly, before asking:
- So what have you done this time to annoy Scotland Yard?
- It 's almost Christmas - Lestrade answered for him, as if that explained everything.
John did not see that link was there.
- It 's why it lacks the usual crowd of volunteers? - Asked puzzled.
Lestrade looked at him curiously, then turned to Sherlock.
- Do not you tell him?
- not to him, - the young man replied dryly while a series of shrill sounds came from his instrument.
John snorted and sat on the other chair, before you ask, impatiently
- One of you would be kind enough to explain why this improvised?
There was an exchange of glances, followed by other conflicting sounds which highlights all of the opposition of his roommate. Lestrade shrugged his shoulders, his good humor in contrast to the expression of Sherlock sullen and resentful.
- Part of our agreement. Once a year check that our friend is really clean and in return he is allowed to set foot in my investigations throughout the following year - said the inspector.
Watson said both carefully. Sherlock was acting like a kid in which one parent was making an unnecessary sermon while Lestrade was relaxed and smiling.
As a father proud of the results of a rebellious son.
was a strange thought, but suited to the complex relationship between the two men. Patience and unpredictable availability of the inspector to his roommate was more than a working relationship and knew that Sherlock admired, albeit in his own way, the policeman. John felt that there was a story behind this, linked to increased dependence on any drug Sherlock had chosen to fight the boredom. A story that did not need to know. The important thing was that the brilliant investigative consultant had passed that stage and Lestrade had found a good friend, though he would never have allowed.
He got up and went rummaging through the papers scattered on his desk.
- inspectors, would have dinner with us? Perhaps you could even get to taste something Sherlock, - waving the proposed menu of Chinese restaurant down the street.
Lestrade hesitated, and both turned to look at that Sherlock, laid the violin, had joined hands under his chin and stared at them intently.
- If not, should be part of tradition - argued John, hoping to convince his friend.
Sherlock gave a short nod and grabbed the menu from the hands of the doctor.
- OK, but I want to know everything about the murder they were talking about yesterday's news.
The other two smiled, everything was absolutely normal at 221b Baker Street.
The sofa was miraculously free. His roommate had been lying on the couch, intent on plucking distractedly the strings of the violin with grim expression. The sound of doors opened and closed attracted the attention of the doctor toward the kitchen. She looked in that direction, expecting to see that Mrs. Hudson, despite her protests, often impersonating an efficient ruler, but instead he was confronted by Lestrade. The inspector gave him a grin and waved a hand, on which it was impossible not to notice the latex glove, and went back to rummage through the cans.
- Because no one told me that there was a chance? - John asked his eyes going from one to another. Now the mock raids were familiar as the evening news.
- There is no case - Sherlock muttered, continuing to mistreat the violin.
The doctor sighed resignedly, before asking:
- So what have you done this time to annoy Scotland Yard?
- It 's almost Christmas - Lestrade answered for him, as if that explained everything.
John did not see that link was there.
- It 's why it lacks the usual crowd of volunteers? - Asked puzzled.
Lestrade looked at him curiously, then turned to Sherlock.
- Do not you tell him?
- not to him, - the young man replied dryly while a series of shrill sounds came from his instrument.
John snorted and sat on the other chair, before you ask, impatiently
- One of you would be kind enough to explain why this improvised?
There was an exchange of glances, followed by other conflicting sounds which highlights all of the opposition of his roommate. Lestrade shrugged his shoulders, his good humor in contrast to the expression of Sherlock sullen and resentful.
- Part of our agreement. Once a year check that our friend is really clean and in return he is allowed to set foot in my investigations throughout the following year - said the inspector.
Watson said both carefully. Sherlock was acting like a kid in which one parent was making an unnecessary sermon while Lestrade was relaxed and smiling.
As a father proud of the results of a rebellious son.
was a strange thought, but suited to the complex relationship between the two men. Patience and unpredictable availability of the inspector to his roommate was more than a working relationship and knew that Sherlock admired, albeit in his own way, the policeman. John felt that there was a story behind this, linked to increased dependence on any drug Sherlock had chosen to fight the boredom. A story that did not need to know. The important thing was that the brilliant investigative consultant had passed that stage and Lestrade had found a good friend, though he would never have allowed.
He got up and went rummaging through the papers scattered on his desk.
- inspectors, would have dinner with us? Perhaps you could even get to taste something Sherlock, - waving the proposed menu of Chinese restaurant down the street.
Lestrade hesitated, and both turned to look at that Sherlock, laid the violin, had joined hands under his chin and stared at them intently.
- If not, should be part of tradition - argued John, hoping to convince his friend.
Sherlock gave a short nod and grabbed the menu from the hands of the doctor.
- OK, but I want to know everything about the murder they were talking about yesterday's news.
The other two smiled, everything was absolutely normal at 221b Baker Street.
End
December 3, 2010
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