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acdholmesfest2015-05-19 09:21 am
spacemutineer.livejournal.com) wrote in acdholmesfest2015-05-19 09:21 am
Fic for scfrankles: Literary Shortcomings; G
Title: Literary Shortcomings
Recipient:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
scfrankles
Author:rachelindeed
Rating: G
Characters, including any pairing(s): John Watson; main focus is on Watson & Holmes, also touches on John/Mary marriage
Warnings: minor character death, non-specific references to illness and depression
Summary: Glimpses of a shared life.
Author’s note: Many thanks tothesmallhobbit for the beta! I know that scfrankles has a special love for micro-fiction, so I chose to use the "1sentence" format, wherein one takes a prompt table of 50 words, writes one sentence for each prompt, and ultimately combines them to examine a character or relationship.
Disclaimer: Thank you, Sir Arthur. Also, I am grateful to the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
1sentence LJ community for the format and also for the prompt table (I used their theme set Epsilon).
Sudden
The shrapnel did its work in under a second, but if I live to a hundred, I shall feel it still.
Wrong
“You don't know Sherlock Holmes yet,” young Stamford demurred; “perhaps you would not care for him as a constant companion.”
Mad
In those first weeks, for the only time in our acquaintance, I was more bored than he; his eccentricity proved a godsend.
Learn
Rooming with one of the greatest forensic minds of our generation taught me many valuable lessons, and the first was to avoid the butter dish.
Motion
When making music, Holmes, like all violinists, became an awkward clash of crooked limbs, head listing while his arms flew out, all elbow.
Cool
Thank heaven we quarreled but rarely, for my temper ran hot and his cold; as in nature, any return to equilibrium required collisions both thunderous and brief.
Naked
I viewed my newly bared flesh with distaste and resolved never again to surrender my mustache.
King
I used to fancy myself a natural bohemian, but on closer examination, that allegiance is less to my liking.
Book
Only once did I fail to make rent; I was preparing to pawn my pistol when I found that Holmes, without a word, had locked it -- and my cheque-book -- in his desk.
Vision
My stories contain no printed acknowledgements, but privately I consider them as dedicated to Mr. Victor Trevor and his father; the one was the first to see in Holmes the makings of a great friend, the other the first to see in him the makings of a great detective, and the public no less than myself shall be forever in their debt.
Harm
Holmes chose to ignore the law when he felt the arrest of a criminal would do more harm than good; I needed no convincing to act as his accessory, for these ethics were mine by oath -- felonies be damned.
History
As he relived his early triumph in deciphering the Musgrave Ritual, I shared his exaltation, for the excavation of his past was as rare a prize as any crown.
Hunger
He had a keen appetite for interest and applause, but I learned with some unease that he considered common fame a step too far.
Command
He summoned me to Lyon by means of a telegram which consisted of only two words -- ILL SH -- for he knew I would need no further instruction.
Torn
“When it comes to tearing incriminating notes from the stiffened hands of corpses, the modern criminal cannot be relied on to do a thorough job,” Holmes remarked with some asperity.
Fool
I am aware that he plays upon me too readily, yet the marvelous results he achieves so far outweigh his trespasses that I cannot resent them -- but if I have learnt the wisdom of trust, cannot he?
Need
He referred to his drugs as his solution.
Stop
I knew what he must do, but it took me a long time to find the courage to tell him.
Fortune
She preferred my hand, empty as it was, to a treasure of untold price -- has ever a man married into such good fortune?
Sing
Afghanistan has never left my dreams, but gradually its beauties rather than its terrors have grown predominant -- last night I stood in the Hindu Kush, surrounded by snow, while the proud notes of a distant azan called the faithful to their prayer.
Ghost
Holmes was so well-versed in Shakespeare that it surprised me to find him no admirer of Hamlet; he resented the implication that a man of resolution could ill afford deep thought, of course, but I believe the secret root of his antipathy lay in the Bard’s decision to solve the murder by means of ghost within five minutes.
Gentle
Many mistook my wife for the retiring sort, but self-effacement was no virtue for a lighthouse; she faced the dark and blazed.
Attention
From January to the close of April, my friend’s worst enemy knew far more of his doings than did I.
Never
When he judged the danger had grown too great, Holmes proposed that I should leave him and return to England; I was forced to remind him that he must begin by eliminating the impossible.
Goodbye
“Pray give my greetings to Mrs. Watson, and believe me to be, my dear fellow, very sincerely yours.”
Young
Holmes had been only thirty-seven; Mary, the following year, was twenty-nine.
Wait
My wife’s was not the first deathbed I have attended, but a quarter hour after her last breath I found myself still staring down at my clenched hands, waiting to hear another.
Wall
Death was a chasm and grief a cliff wall, and I had no heart left to climb or to fall.
Blur
As I slid to the floor I caught a confused glimpse of ‘tree worship’ and brown mahogany; my dazed brain informed me: he has only been buried until the sun cleared the oak and the shadow fell under the elm.
Thousand
I may have been owed a thousand apologies, but regardless, accepted the first.
Hold
The water pouring into the Friesland’s hold was near to freezing; I caught his hand, determined that if he were to drown, this time it should be in good company.
Picture
“I begin to notice, Watson, that these accounts of yours, embroidered as they are, provide vivid descriptions of everyone except yourself -- what are we to make of that?”
Power
Our humble sitting room has hosted many an eminent guest; at times I tried to observe what effect these commanding presences produced on my companion, but I found that his eyes -- when they were open -- turned less often to them than to me.
Wash
“Mr. Holmes,” our landlady said, “I read The Strand the same as everyone, and if you can solve a man’s disappearance with a bit of soap and water, like you did with Mr. St. Clair, then rinsing out your chemicals before they stain is not beyond you.”
Hide
Crouched behind the headboard, I listened to Culverton Smith and slowly grasped the extent and aim of Holmes’s performance; he was a keen emotional tactician, for he had secured me in such arrangements that I could not storm out, but had to sit in silence until the first flush of both relief and anger passed.
Eye
Most days his cravings lie, if not quiet, then at least submerged, but in idle hours his eyes glaze over and his hard-won peace can neither be seen nor observed.
Soul
Holmes turned his great powers to the pursuit of justice, yet in the face of guilt he still found place for charity; a remarkable brain he undoubtedly possessed, but his true pre-eminence was that of spirit.
Bother
Unsolved mysteries rankled him as nothing else could; one afternoon, a full five years after my Mary’s passing, he finally buckled under the strain and humbly asked, “why James?”
Safe
No secrets were safe from him, but a vast number were safe with him.
Precious
“Watson, please,” he said, “at this late date the subject is hardly worth discussing, but if you must know, I found your absence costly and the price of your practice a pittance in comparison.”
God
It was hope, rather than faith, that Holmes placed in God, but that hope was as profound, perhaps, as any mystery.
Child
Age has crept in on me so gradually, I barely noticed when our lovely clients ceased to evoke ‘my dear lady’ and became instead ‘my poor child.’
Now
When I asked him if he had given any thought to retirement, I assumed he would defer the subject -- I’d have thought he’d sooner settle on the moon than in the countryside, but he tells me he has actually bought a cottage.
Shadow
The borrowed, broad-brimmed hat with its sheer veil covered my face in friendly shadow; the approaching bees, however, seemed decidedly less friendly.
Time
Where are the days going, where the years...how can it be so long since we have spoken?
Drive
I’ve a telegram in my pocket, a German scowling at the back of my head, and a song in my heart.
Change
Dear God, what a hideous goatee.
One
I am not the one fixed point in our changing age; he has always moved me and he always will.
Believe
He tells me our dear country will survive the coming storm.
Last
There will be last words for us, of course there shall…but I do not think that there will be an ending.
Recipient:
scfranklesAuthor:
rachelindeedRating: G
Characters, including any pairing(s): John Watson; main focus is on Watson & Holmes, also touches on John/Mary marriage
Warnings: minor character death, non-specific references to illness and depression
Summary: Glimpses of a shared life.
Author’s note: Many thanks to
thesmallhobbit for the beta! I know that scfrankles has a special love for micro-fiction, so I chose to use the "1sentence" format, wherein one takes a prompt table of 50 words, writes one sentence for each prompt, and ultimately combines them to examine a character or relationship.Disclaimer: Thank you, Sir Arthur. Also, I am grateful to the
1sentence LJ community for the format and also for the prompt table (I used their theme set Epsilon).Sudden
The shrapnel did its work in under a second, but if I live to a hundred, I shall feel it still.
Wrong
“You don't know Sherlock Holmes yet,” young Stamford demurred; “perhaps you would not care for him as a constant companion.”
Mad
In those first weeks, for the only time in our acquaintance, I was more bored than he; his eccentricity proved a godsend.
Learn
Rooming with one of the greatest forensic minds of our generation taught me many valuable lessons, and the first was to avoid the butter dish.
Motion
When making music, Holmes, like all violinists, became an awkward clash of crooked limbs, head listing while his arms flew out, all elbow.
Cool
Thank heaven we quarreled but rarely, for my temper ran hot and his cold; as in nature, any return to equilibrium required collisions both thunderous and brief.
Naked
I viewed my newly bared flesh with distaste and resolved never again to surrender my mustache.
King
I used to fancy myself a natural bohemian, but on closer examination, that allegiance is less to my liking.
Book
Only once did I fail to make rent; I was preparing to pawn my pistol when I found that Holmes, without a word, had locked it -- and my cheque-book -- in his desk.
Vision
My stories contain no printed acknowledgements, but privately I consider them as dedicated to Mr. Victor Trevor and his father; the one was the first to see in Holmes the makings of a great friend, the other the first to see in him the makings of a great detective, and the public no less than myself shall be forever in their debt.
Harm
Holmes chose to ignore the law when he felt the arrest of a criminal would do more harm than good; I needed no convincing to act as his accessory, for these ethics were mine by oath -- felonies be damned.
History
As he relived his early triumph in deciphering the Musgrave Ritual, I shared his exaltation, for the excavation of his past was as rare a prize as any crown.
Hunger
He had a keen appetite for interest and applause, but I learned with some unease that he considered common fame a step too far.
Command
He summoned me to Lyon by means of a telegram which consisted of only two words -- ILL SH -- for he knew I would need no further instruction.
Torn
“When it comes to tearing incriminating notes from the stiffened hands of corpses, the modern criminal cannot be relied on to do a thorough job,” Holmes remarked with some asperity.
Fool
I am aware that he plays upon me too readily, yet the marvelous results he achieves so far outweigh his trespasses that I cannot resent them -- but if I have learnt the wisdom of trust, cannot he?
Need
He referred to his drugs as his solution.
Stop
I knew what he must do, but it took me a long time to find the courage to tell him.
Fortune
She preferred my hand, empty as it was, to a treasure of untold price -- has ever a man married into such good fortune?
Sing
Afghanistan has never left my dreams, but gradually its beauties rather than its terrors have grown predominant -- last night I stood in the Hindu Kush, surrounded by snow, while the proud notes of a distant azan called the faithful to their prayer.
Ghost
Holmes was so well-versed in Shakespeare that it surprised me to find him no admirer of Hamlet; he resented the implication that a man of resolution could ill afford deep thought, of course, but I believe the secret root of his antipathy lay in the Bard’s decision to solve the murder by means of ghost within five minutes.
Gentle
Many mistook my wife for the retiring sort, but self-effacement was no virtue for a lighthouse; she faced the dark and blazed.
Attention
From January to the close of April, my friend’s worst enemy knew far more of his doings than did I.
Never
When he judged the danger had grown too great, Holmes proposed that I should leave him and return to England; I was forced to remind him that he must begin by eliminating the impossible.
Goodbye
“Pray give my greetings to Mrs. Watson, and believe me to be, my dear fellow, very sincerely yours.”
Young
Holmes had been only thirty-seven; Mary, the following year, was twenty-nine.
Wait
My wife’s was not the first deathbed I have attended, but a quarter hour after her last breath I found myself still staring down at my clenched hands, waiting to hear another.
Wall
Death was a chasm and grief a cliff wall, and I had no heart left to climb or to fall.
Blur
As I slid to the floor I caught a confused glimpse of ‘tree worship’ and brown mahogany; my dazed brain informed me: he has only been buried until the sun cleared the oak and the shadow fell under the elm.
Thousand
I may have been owed a thousand apologies, but regardless, accepted the first.
Hold
The water pouring into the Friesland’s hold was near to freezing; I caught his hand, determined that if he were to drown, this time it should be in good company.
Picture
“I begin to notice, Watson, that these accounts of yours, embroidered as they are, provide vivid descriptions of everyone except yourself -- what are we to make of that?”
Power
Our humble sitting room has hosted many an eminent guest; at times I tried to observe what effect these commanding presences produced on my companion, but I found that his eyes -- when they were open -- turned less often to them than to me.
Wash
“Mr. Holmes,” our landlady said, “I read The Strand the same as everyone, and if you can solve a man’s disappearance with a bit of soap and water, like you did with Mr. St. Clair, then rinsing out your chemicals before they stain is not beyond you.”
Hide
Crouched behind the headboard, I listened to Culverton Smith and slowly grasped the extent and aim of Holmes’s performance; he was a keen emotional tactician, for he had secured me in such arrangements that I could not storm out, but had to sit in silence until the first flush of both relief and anger passed.
Eye
Most days his cravings lie, if not quiet, then at least submerged, but in idle hours his eyes glaze over and his hard-won peace can neither be seen nor observed.
Soul
Holmes turned his great powers to the pursuit of justice, yet in the face of guilt he still found place for charity; a remarkable brain he undoubtedly possessed, but his true pre-eminence was that of spirit.
Bother
Unsolved mysteries rankled him as nothing else could; one afternoon, a full five years after my Mary’s passing, he finally buckled under the strain and humbly asked, “why James?”
Safe
No secrets were safe from him, but a vast number were safe with him.
Precious
“Watson, please,” he said, “at this late date the subject is hardly worth discussing, but if you must know, I found your absence costly and the price of your practice a pittance in comparison.”
God
It was hope, rather than faith, that Holmes placed in God, but that hope was as profound, perhaps, as any mystery.
Child
Age has crept in on me so gradually, I barely noticed when our lovely clients ceased to evoke ‘my dear lady’ and became instead ‘my poor child.’
Now
When I asked him if he had given any thought to retirement, I assumed he would defer the subject -- I’d have thought he’d sooner settle on the moon than in the countryside, but he tells me he has actually bought a cottage.
Shadow
The borrowed, broad-brimmed hat with its sheer veil covered my face in friendly shadow; the approaching bees, however, seemed decidedly less friendly.
Time
Where are the days going, where the years...how can it be so long since we have spoken?
Drive
I’ve a telegram in my pocket, a German scowling at the back of my head, and a song in my heart.
Change
Dear God, what a hideous goatee.
One
I am not the one fixed point in our changing age; he has always moved me and he always will.
Believe
He tells me our dear country will survive the coming storm.
Last
There will be last words for us, of course there shall…but I do not think that there will be an ending.
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I'm not sure the comment box is big enough to name all the best. Learn, Vision, Command, Ghost, Never...and most definitely Bother. I hope we find out, someday.
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...and most definitely Bother. I hope we find out, someday.
Hee, I'm so glad that one made you smile! I do have a personal headcanon about why Mary calls John "James," actually -- a story for another day! Thanks so much for reading, I always look forward to your comments <3 <3
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And so there never has been.
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I’m not sure I’m going to be able to express how I feel about your story but I’ll have a go.
It’s wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. I was intrigued when I read the header, but a little uncertain. I’d never come across this particular form of microfiction before and I wondered what could be said in single sentences, even when combining them into something bigger. (For me, microfiction is about setting up a situation and then commenting on it. Even within six word stories I like to use as many sentences as possible.)
Then I started reading… and I was just blown away. You say so much using so little. Your writing style is gorgeous—the individual scenes and stories are so, so beautiful. And though they stand alone, they seem to go so naturally together—the cumulative effect had a powerful impact on me.
Really, I could quote everything back at you but I’ll try and pick out the sentences that made the greatest impression on me. “Learn” made me laugh. “Vision” made me nod in agreement with Watson. “Torn” made me smile. “Need” made me come to a complete halt—you so elegantly express a truth. And then there were the ones for Mary: “Fortune”, and “Gentle”—you took that rather bizarre metaphor that Watson uses and gave it such a perfect reinterpretation. And talking about perfect: “Never” ^^ Other ones I especially liked: “Fool”, “Sing”, “Ghost”, “Wall”, “Blur”, “Hold”, “Wash” (^_^), “Bother” (again, ^_^).
Your portrayal of Watson’s grief over Holmes and Mary brought me to tears, and then once I’d recovered, your final sentences made me cry all over again—especially the last three. ...but I do not think that there will be an ending is such a lovely conclusion.
I’m aware that I didn’t give my future assigned writer much to go on in my sign-up. I’m so touched that you took a kind of writing that is very personal and dear to me, and used it to produce this magnificent story. And you even got a pun into the title ^_^ Thank you so very much.
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It was a pleasure to work on it, getting down a few sentences every night and gradually developing a sense of what fit where and how it should come together. One of the things I particularly enjoy about this format of writing is that it invites you to try to make each individual piece as meaningful as possible but also to think about how they can play off of each other and carry on the longer story that the earlier pieces have started. It's very satisfying to work on. And I agree with you that one of the great things about microfiction is the ability to set up a situation, theme, or expectation and then comment on it, and I find that putting those one word titles up front and then showing your readers which way you have spun them is particularly fun in that respect.
Thanks so much for telling me which individual pieces were particular stand-outs for you, that's so fun to hear! And as it happens you picked many of my personal favorites, too. I'm especially glad that you liked the ones about Mary. I've always thought it was beautiful that Watson, the famous 'conductor of light' and 'stormy petrel,' referred to the woman he loved as a lighthouse who stood as a beacon to birdlike, storm-tossed souls.
Ha, yes, also glad you noticed the pun in the title! That line of Watson's from The Copper Beeches is possibly my favorite bit of his snark in the whole canon (though the opening of Musgrave Ritual and Valley of Fear give it stiff competition). I can just hear his wry tones in my head saying from which he emerged, in no very sweet temper, to lecture me upon my literary shortcomings -- so I was very gleeful about having a chance to steal it :)
Thanks again for your lovely and generous feedback, and for the inspiration to write this piece. It has made me happy, and I'm very glad you were happy with it, too <3 <3
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I feel so terribly lucky that you were matched to me. You're an exceptional writer - thank you again for writing this brilliant piece. I hope many, many more readers see it and enjoy it!
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Let the Squee Resound Throughout the Fandom!
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Very well done...and my pleasure.
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I had never heard of micro fiction before this fic, but I am instantly a fan. So, so beautifully and poignantly done! Bravo.
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<3 <3 <3
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He referred to his drugs as his solution.
This is BRILLIANT. It could not be more compact and yet it carries such important character meaning through clever and apt word choice. I am seriously impressed. Please keep writing microfiction! You have a true gift for it.
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And "Wash" made me laugh outright.
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Thank you so much for your lovely comment, I'm so happy that you enjoyed this both as a story and as a writing form. It's a fun challenge to shape a story around a tight kind of structure, and sometimes I surprised myself with the associations that came to mind with particular words. Thanks again for reading -- I always admire your writing and I'm very glad you liked this <3 <3
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I think this is the best description/interpretation of Mary that I have ever read.
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July Tomorrow...