#Sherlocktember2024

[justanobsessedpan]

Forgetting something?

"Victorian" & "stairs" as 7th & 8th of @sherlocktember2024 's prompts

Lots of love!!

@totallysilvergirl @helloliriels @dontfuckmylifewtf @sussexinchelsea @loki-lock @topsyturvy-turtely @matixsstuff @ohlooktheresabee @boredsushi @ohmrshudsontookmyskull @nathan-no @astudyin221b @oetkb12 @psychosociogentleman @darkkitty1208 @zira-and-crowley @beesholmes @mydogwatson @liv-olive-oliver @tiverrr @peanitbear @sunshineinyourmind @a-victorian-girl @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @weeesi @strawberrywinter4 @iheardyou @unusuallysubtext @bumblee27 @calaisreno

(Any changes to the taglist, just tell me! <3)

[edosianorchids901]

Beyond the Mists

@sherlocktember2024 prompt - "poison"

“I really am extremely sorry,” Holmes gasped, and Watson’s expression softened from panicked anger to tenderness.

Watson was still shaking though, shaking as badly as Holmes was. They clutched at each other, Watson’s fingers digging into his arms, Holmes struggling to keep his own hands raised to hold on at all. His limbs were weak, and he kept losing hold.

He twisted his fingers on Watson’s jacket, desperate to be reassured that he was here and all right, and attempted to evaluate the situation. Stone under his back, cold even though his coat. Bushes and grass to either side. Fresh, chilly air without a trace of noxious smoke bearing a deadly poison.

“You have…” Holmes coughed again, and nearly lost hold of Watson’s jacket. “You have carried me outside, I presume.”

Watson nodded, still pale and shaking. He rubbed Holmes’ upper arm, as if in apology for holding onto him so tightly, or perhaps for shouting at him. He need not have apologized at all. “I saw your face. I came out of that fog, and I saw your face.”

“Ah.”

“The look on your face, Holmes.” A shudder rippled through Watson again, and he briefly closed his eyes. He opened them again quickly, as if terrified to let Holmes out of view for even a moment. “I have only seen such a look on the faces of the dead and insane here. I thought I had lost you to that terrible poison. That I had lost you again.

Watson’s voice broke, and his eyes filled with tears. Weakly, Holmes patted his chest. “It’s all right, Watson. You have not lost me.”

“I pulled you out of your seat and held you to my chest, half carrying you outside. You screamed while I held you, and after I laid you down. My God, Holmes, the way you screamed.”

Holmes had been lost in visions of evil and malice, consumed by terror far more severe than he had experienced in years. It still lingered even now, a terribly heightened fear. “I was not myself.”

“I know. You did not know me, you were not answering me…” Tears slipped down Watson’s cheeks. “I’ve hardly ever been so terrified. I did not know what horrors were tormenting you, and there was nothing I could do to protect you from them. Just like at Reichenbach Falls.”

“It was the Falls that I saw.” All at once, Holmes could not breathe again. He could not stop shaking either, and his heart beat faster and faster. “The Falls, and Moriarty, and…”

Quite suddenly, he burst into tears. It was not the sort of thing he was in the habit of doing, and especially not in front of someone else. But the terror of those visions rose again, sudden unbearable distress, and he clutched desperately at Watson as sobs wrenched through him.

“My God, Holmes!” Watson bent, scooped him up off the path, and cradled him close. One hand curled around the back of his head, other arm wrapped under his shoulder blades. “Holmes, what is it? Is something else wrong?”

“N-no, I’m all right, just…” Holmes sobbed again, hiding his face in Watson’s neck. Terrible tremors struck, and he could not calm himself. “Oh, Watson. I am so very glad to be with you.”

“My dear Holmes.” Watson clutched him tighter, holding him up. “I’m here. You’re safe now. We’re both safe now. Just breathe.”

“I fear that is a little difficult.” Another cough shook him, and his head spun. He dug his fingers into Watson’s coat again, seizing the fabric to keep his hand from falling. He was so very weak. “I still do not feel myself.”

“I know.” Breathing hard, Watson combed his fingers through Holmes’ hair, then cradled him even more securely. Watson, thankfully, did not seem to be suffering the same sort of weakness. Without his strength, Holmes could not have remained upright. “We have both just been poisoned. The effect may linger for a while.”

It was certainly lingering. Holmes’ head pounded, crashing pain in his temples, and aches spread through the rest of his body. He still couldn’t stop shaking, and the state of heightened emotions remained. His tears dripped to Watson’s jacket.

But his quick, hyperventilating breaths had slowed, even with the those images of terror still threading through his mind. Moriarty seemed close, still grappling with him, and the crash of the Falls echoed in his ears. But he was in Watson’s arms, the safest place in all the world. He need not be afraid.

Watson was calming too, and although he let out a few sobs of his own, they sounded like those of relief. He simply held Holmes close, his chest heaving as well, yet his breaths beginning to settle.

Neither of them spoke now. Instead they clung to each other, shivering despite the warm sunlight. It felt almost as if speaking might shatter the moment of fragile peace and relief.

Which was not remotely logical. And yet, the impression was so strong that Holmes maintained his silence as long as he could stand, merely focusing on the solidity of the man beside him.

“Your shoulder and leg,” he finally murmured, low, unwilling to disturb the peace even with his worry. “Am I harming you?”

Watson’s arm tightened around him, and one hand slid down to cradle the nape of Holmes’ neck. “My old wounds are of no consideration to me right now.”

So it was causing him at least a little pain. Holmes still could not bring himself to pull back, and he suspected Watson would not have wished to let go of him.

Ordinarily, Holmes did not easily tolerate long physical contact. Watson’s gentle hand on his arm for a moment was one thing. An embrace was something else, generally too restrictive, the sort of contact that made him wish to retreat.

At the moment, however, he wished to stay here for the foreseeable future. It was only Watson’s arms around him that kept him from falling to pieces again.

“It seems I owe you a thousand thanks in addition to the apologies.” Letting out a long breath, Holmes managed at last to relax into the embrace, although he found himself unable to stop desperately clinging to Watson’s jacket. If he released his grip, he would lose what balance he would manage to regain, and likely hurt Watson worse. “You saved my life, Watson, and my sanity. I am deeply indebted to you.”

“No, you’re not. You don’t owe me anything.” With a shaky exhale, Watson ran a gentle stroke across his hair. “I am so relieved you’re all right, old man. I cannot possibly express how relieved I am.”

Holmes still wasn’t entirely certain that he was all right. Those horrible visions remained, looming so prominently in his mind, and he still could not stop trembling. The poison and resulting fear had been a severe strain on his already overtaxed body, hardly a helpful thing after his long illness.

“Are you all right?” he asked, nuzzling into Watson’s shoulder. “I poisoned you as well, and I fear I have neglected to properly inquire after your well being.”

Watson gave a soft snort, arms tightening around him again. “Well, I don’t think I’m nearly as affected by the poison as I am by seeing you so frightened. My own state is of very little concern to me.”

“Good old Watson. You are truly remarkable.” Exhausted, Holmes closed his eyes and sank deeper into the embrace. “Dear me. We should likely rise and dispose of that deadly lamp, but I am a little reluctant to abandon the support of your shoulder.”

“There is no rush.” Letting out another long breath, Watson stroked his hair again. “You are welcome to my shoulder for as long as you would like, Holmes.”

As it was entirely Holmes’ fault that they were in this situation, he could not help a twinge of guilt for begging Watson’s indulgence. But Watson still seemed just as eager to be close to him, and had shown no sign of wishing to let go. So for a little while longer, they would sit in the sunlight, and take comfort in the simple relief of holding onto each other.

[sherlocktember2024]

Prompt List!

Here is the prompt list! Good luck, Irregulars!

[possibility221]

Sherlocktember 2024, day 16, prompt: wounds

Elementary episode: 4x04

[ficwriting-account]

1. Watches

The constant torrent of rain outside must have been barely liquid. If that weren't enough to keep living things indoors, the wind would have swept them to the Thames. Probably it was doubly so for any possible clients of Sherlock Holmes, which, to be fair, were few at this time of year in any case. Not even tax fraud was popular during the long winter months, and most street criminals had retreated to whatever holes they had crawled out of by November.

Fortunately Dr. Watson was in Baker Street to comfort the not-so-consulting detective, along with a bottle of scotch whiskey. She was reading a book which Holmes could tell was mediocre at best, and so she decided it would only be courteous to distract her companion.

“When you see a Rolex on a man’s wrist and infer that he’s wealthy, should that be called a deduction at all?” she asked.

“Huh?” Watson said. Holmes repeated the question.

“Why, is there a reason it shouldn’t be called a deduction?” (She was wise enough to not add: “Other than it actually being abductive reasoning.”)

Holmes sat in her chair like a gargoyle and drank from her glass like a shipman. Her eyebrows settled into a position on her forehead that alerted Watson to an incoming rant.

“People are generally aware of how wealth is signalled. In fact, it’s so ingrained in the public consciousness that people even emulate those signals. Things that look expensive are good enough for gaining social status points, or for bolstering one’s ego, or whatever. Another, more conniving group of people is aware of this, and so they capitalize on selling, like, Chanel knockoffs on Aliexpress. But many consumers know this, and so they try to be wary of these sellers — maybe for moral reasons, or because it feels disingenuous, or because wearing an obvious fake sometimes gives you negative social status points. Because any idiot can tell that this whole pattern exists, it’s kind of a lackluster to deduce that a man wearing a Rolex is wealthy. It’s what everyone thinks, what everyone knows that everyone thinks, and everyone also knows that everyone knows that!”

“I don’t see your point, and I’ve studied your methods for quite some time. Is this a concern at all if the part about the man being wealthy is correct?”

“People judge deductions' worth based on their impressiveness,” Holmes stated, as if the word "people” tasted sour in her mouth, “and impressiveness hinges on how many others could make that same deduction — or more precisely, how many others people think could make that deduction. I think there are far better metrics for judging any thought’s worth than the probability of it emerging from any random person's mind, but this kind of thing keeps people entertained. However, if you looked at two different deductions under a microscope, one being this impressive type and the other one not so, would you be able to tell them apart? What do you think, my dear fellow?”

“I suppose that a more impressive deduction takes more work. Maybe a different kind of work, even.”

“But let’s say that no psychological processes can be seen through the microscope. We're not looking at the brain just now. What about the deduction itself, its structure and properties?”

Watson shrugged, attempting to conceal her increasing boredom with the topic.

“I have noticed that structurally simple deductions can be impressive if they just seem unexpected somehow. And expectations are contained outside deductions. If you were to compare a thousand deductions that some normie finds impressive to another thousand unimpressive ones, I think you would find that often there is nothing in the deductions' guts or gears or p's and q's to meaningfully set them apart! That is, nothing in their workings, in their logical structure. Instead, perceived impressiveness may be due to more annoying factors such as a lack of practical knowledge or experience on the observer’s part — for example, maybe she doesn't know enough about different types of dance shoes, so she cannot tell that someone's a ballroom dancer. Reasoning isn't the problem in scenarios like that, it's knowledge. Really, it’s a shame that reasoning just so happens to be the part that you can exert the most control over.

“This sounds discouraging, since reasoning is also the hard part… What I mean is, if you had all the necessary knowledge, you could just sit down and ponder. Then eventually you might be able to solve the puzzle just by connecting some X's to some Y's, checking plausibility and alternative explanations after every step. But you can never be entirely certain that you have all the necessary knowledge.

“But I digress. The point is: impressiveness is a function of an observer's ignorance. It's vapid compared to the otherworldly grace of a satisfying logical structure.

“Watson, are you snoring? It’s not even eight o’clock yet!”

[topsyturvy-turtely]

in honor of @sherlocktember2024 s prompts (9&10 war & stars) (honestly also inspired to reblog this by @justanobsessedpan s adorable fanart)

... i am reblogging this silliness because eh why not :)

OTP challenge - day 14

IT IS BACK YOU GUYS!!! I am bringing it back! ✨turtely's otp challenge✨

please someone tell me they are excited- i need that, lol.

I had the BIGGEST writer's block ever: didn't come up with an idea for mOnThs and when I finally did have one I was like "idk how to wriiiiite that" but today I was like *slams table* yk what?! Fuck that! I am bringing it back! Soooo yeah. Here we go? please lmk what you think!

Btw it is a bit (a lot) different then my other stories sooo bear with me yeah?

[Link to day 13]

14. Geeking out over something

Blue vs. red. Grunts vs. robotic breathing. Good vs. bad. Two lighsabers meet, trying to push the other away. Two male counterparts, fighting for what they think is the right way, which looks decidedly different from each view.

Suddenly - the taller, darker haired, with the black mask - strikes and-

"AAAAAAHHH", the shorter, blonder, with perspiration in his shaggy hair - cries in agony. His hand has been separated from his arm. (Or was he just hiding it in is sleeve?) The boy steps back, covering his injured arm under the healthy one. His weapon is lost. The dark guy steps closer and the blond is trapped on a small part of the treehouse platform.

The other boy man speaks up, "There is no escape. Don’t make me destroy you. You do not yet
realize your importance. You have only begun to discover your power. Join me and I will complete your training. With our combined strength, we can end this destructive conflict and bring order to the
galaxy."

But the blond boy - even with no escape in sight, even being greatly injured - refuses. Brave soldier until the bitter end, he counters, "I’ll never join you!"

But the masked one does not give up, "If you only knew the power of the dark side. Obi-Wan never told
you what happened to your father."

Desperately holding onto the tree branch the metal construct the blond boy speaks through gritted teath, "He told me enough! It was you
who killed him."
Perhaps you would see a sad smile behind the mask as his friend enemy speaks. "No. I am your father."

Shocked, the blond stares at his counterpart. Refusing to believe even one word, he yells, "No. No. That’s not true! That’s impossible!"

The taller argues in his deep voice, "Search your feelings. You know it to be true."

But the smaller won't believe. "No! No! No!"


"Luke. You can destroy the Emperor. He has foreseen this. It is your destiny. Join me, and together we can rule the galaxy as father
and son. Come with me. It is the
only way." He puts away his sword, and offers his hand to the shorter boy man.

The injured breathes deeply, indescribable but pronounced tranquility waving over him. He looks over the edge, looks back at the masked man and-

He jumps off, landing safely in a trampoline underneath, falling into the endlessness of the galaxy.

The taller boy rips his mask off and reveals messy dark curls. With one jump he follows the blond boy and lands next to him on the trampoline. The shorter boy giggles and turns around on his belly. His face prepped on his palm, blue eyes sparkling as he looks at his friend. The dark haired boy grins widely and lays onto his back, with one arm under his head. "Nice acting there, Martin"

The blond laughs, "Yours was pretty good too, Ben"

Ben, the taller, dark-haired boy, grabs his own hand and imitates the shout of pain from the act, that appeared minutes before, "AAAAAHHHH!"

The blond - Martin - playfully nudges Ben's shoulder with his hand. "Oh, shut up!"

The dark haired boy smiles at him. Then his face turns serious, "Join me when I go to acting school, after high school."

"We could be Holmes and Watson", Martin grins.

Ben grabs Martin's hand, "Whatever happens you'll forever be the Holmes to my Watson."

But as soon as he says that, Martin has to visibly fight a laugh back.

"What? What is it?"

"It's just-", now Martin can't help laughing. "Have you looked at yourself?! You definitely got the looks for a genius. You- with your cheekbones..."

"My cheekbones?!"

"Yeah! And the dark hair and all that." Martin waves generally at Ben's face. "Gotta be you."

Ben considers that. Then he shrugs. "Alright. As long as it is us."

"Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.", Martin says with a gentle smile, squeezing Ben's hand.

"John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.", Ben replies.

"Yeah, could work." Martin grins.

"BBC is gonna love us." Ben says, a dreamy expression on his face.

"Everyone is gonna love us." Martin says, shrugging, completely unaware how true these words will be.

~The story about how Freebatch turned into Johnlock because of Star Wars.

---

(tags and info under the cut)

sooo yeah I guess that was a multi crossover? Ever looked for a "young Freebatch geeking out over Star Wars and then talking about becoming Johnlock"-fanfic? Well there you go! xDD This was my first freebatch fic ever (I don't usually write or read that because I think the actors deserve some privacy...) and probably my last so don't hate please :P

The dialogue (the one written in italics) is taken from the Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back movie. Check out my Source.

All I've got left to say is: Thank you for sticking with me and reading, my lovely turtles!

tag list! (please tell me if you wanna be added/removed or if i forgot you!) @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @boredsushi @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @7arantellgrrl @ssmeowl123 @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @pansherlock @the-smol-bean-libby-blog @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @almosttinycowboy @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee

[kitchenwarearchives]

Quick summary of all the tags used (I hope to expand this later into something more...well. sensible.)

#kitchenwarearchives - is a tag for ALL art posts reblogged here

#sherlock - all fanart of Sherlock (mostly BBC)

#johnlock - fanart with Johnlock

#not sherlock - art not linked with the series

#bloopos with friendos - posts containing friendos

#Arie hugs - where I hug people

#based on a fic - just art based on fics

#people appreciation - I just love people okay...

Challenges:

February: #fluffbruary + #fluffbruary 2022 + #fluffbruary 2023 + #fluffbruary 2024 + #fluffbruary 2025

May: #30daysofdoodles + #30daysofdoodles2022 #mayprompts2024

June: #cuddly june

July: #july challenge #artfight #artfight2024

December: #sherlocktember2024

...

~Arie / @justanobsessedpan :) <3

[justanobsessedpan]

Watch me.

Hi guys, so apparently I'm starting this thing? Life is not the best rn but why not try.

(Also it's a little wink towards one of my old works :P)

"1. Watch" from @sherlocktember2024 prompt list

Sending so much love!

@totallysilvergirl @helloliriels @dontfuckmylifewtf @sussexinchelsea @loki-lock @topsyturvy-turtely @matixsstuff @ohlooktheresabee @boredsushi @ohmrshudsontookmyskull @nathan-no @astudyin221b @oetkb12 @psychosociogentleman @darkkitty1208 @zira-and-crowley @beesholmes @mydogwatson @liv-olive-oliver @tiverrr @peanitbear @sunshineinyourmind @a-victorian-girl @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @weeesi @strawberrywinter4 @iheardyou @unusuallysubtext @bumblee27

(Any changes to the taglist, just tell me! <3)

[justanobsessedpan]

Poison *cough* Tea

Poor John has no trust for unprompted gifts anymore...

Day 3 of @sherlocktember2024 's prompts

Hugs! ♡

@totallysilvergirl @helloliriels @dontfuckmylifewtf @sussexinchelsea @loki-lock @topsyturvy-turtely @matixsstuff @ohlooktheresabee @boredsushi @ohmrshudsontookmyskull @nathan-no @astudyin221b @oetkb12 @psychosociogentleman @darkkitty1208 @zira-and-crowley @beesholmes @mydogwatson @liv-olive-oliver @tiverrr @peanitbear @sunshineinyourmind @a-victorian-girl @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @weeesi @strawberrywinter4 @iheardyou @unusuallysubtext @bumblee27 @calaisreno

(Any changes to the taglist, just tell me! <3)

[justanobsessedpan]

-Stone Rock-

-G U N !!!

This is not how you play the game, Sherlock....but seriously what was he expecting

5th & 6th of @sherlocktember2024 's prompts

Much love <3

@totallysilvergirl @helloliriels @dontfuckmylifewtf @sussexinchelsea @loki-lock @topsyturvy-turtely @matixsstuff @ohlooktheresabee @boredsushi @ohmrshudsontookmyskull @nathan-no @astudyin221b @oetkb12 @psychosociogentleman @darkkitty1208 @zira-and-crowley @beesholmes @mydogwatson @liv-olive-oliver @tiverrr @peanitbear @sunshineinyourmind @a-victorian-girl @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @weeesi @strawberrywinter4 @iheardyou @unusuallysubtext @bumblee27 @calaisreno

(Any changes to the taglist, just tell me! <3)

[justanobsessedpan]

Dogs

Well, I never said I could draw them 💁‍♀️

"2. Dogs" from @sherlocktember2024 's prompts :P

All the love!

@totallysilvergirl @helloliriels @dontfuckmylifewtf @sussexinchelsea @loki-lock @topsyturvy-turtely @matixsstuff @ohlooktheresabee @boredsushi @ohmrshudsontookmyskull @nathan-no @astudyin221b @oetkb12 @psychosociogentleman @darkkitty1208 @zira-and-crowley @beesholmes @mydogwatson @liv-olive-oliver @tiverrr @peanitbear @sunshineinyourmind @a-victorian-girl @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @weeesi @strawberrywinter4 @iheardyou @unusuallysubtext @bumblee27 @calaisreno

(Any changes to the taglist, just tell me! <3)

[sherlocktember2024]

Good day, Irregulars

Mod speaking here, run by @sadieb798. I started this blog because of recent events in the last month everything feels Awful, and I just wanted a little bit of fun and sparkle to do during the month of December.

Every day of December there will be a fun prompt, and all Holmes and Watsons are welcome! Whether you're a fan of Sherlock, House MD, Bruce and Rathbone, or even just your own interpretations -- they can all be featured! Each prompt will have something to do with the Canon as well as something that is winter-related.

All forms of art are accepted: fic, fanart, embroidery, whatever your hearts desire! If you want to participate, be sure to use the tag sherlocktember24 or send in your art to us for them to be displayed here!

Have a great day, and keep an eye out for those prompts! They'll be up soon!

[justanobsessedpan]

Rosie, I am your father...ow, my foot-!

For the prompts "war" & "stars" - 9th and 10th of @sherlocktember2024 . Lol!

All the love!

@totallysilvergirl @helloliriels @dontfuckmylifewtf @sussexinchelsea @loki-lock @topsyturvy-turtely @matixsstuff @ohlooktheresabee @boredsushi @ohmrshudsontookmyskull @nathan-no @astudyin221b @oetkb12 @psychosociogentleman @darkkitty1208 @zira-and-crowley @beesholmes @mydogwatson @liv-olive-oliver @tiverrr @peanitbear @sunshineinyourmind @a-victorian-girl @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @weeesi @strawberrywinter4 @iheardyou @unusuallysubtext @bumblee27 @calaisreno

(Any changes to the taglist, just tell me! <3)

[justanobsessedpan]

Snow

Well, so much for peace...

4th of @sherlocktember2024 prompts

Sending looove! (And a snowball flying at you)

@totallysilvergirl @helloliriels @dontfuckmylifewtf @sussexinchelsea @loki-lock @topsyturvy-turtely @matixsstuff @ohlooktheresabee @boredsushi @ohmrshudsontookmyskull @nathan-no @astudyin221b @oetkb12 @psychosociogentleman @darkkitty1208 @zira-and-crowley @beesholmes @mydogwatson @liv-olive-oliver @tiverrr @peanitbear @sunshineinyourmind @a-victorian-girl @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @weeesi @strawberrywinter4 @iheardyou @unusuallysubtext @bumblee27 @calaisreno

(Any changes to the taglist, just tell me! <3)

[edosianorchids901]

And Yet Not Cold

@sherlocktember2024 prompt - "scarlet"

“I have a gift for you,” Watson said suddenly.

Holmes, who had been automatically noting the professions and quirks of each person they passed on their walk, glanced up in surprise. “You have brought a gift for me on our walk?”

“No, no. I mean I have a gift for you back at Baker Street.” Cheeks red, Watson avoided his gaze. “It’s not for any special occasion.”

“Mm.” Uncertain what to say, Holmes simply kept walking. He and Watson were rambling about with arms linked this evening, sharing some little warmth against the chilly wind. “You might have waited an additional week, as Mrs. Hudson is once again enforcing her deeply ingrained belief that we must give each other Christmas gifts.”

Watson chuckled. “Oh, I have something else for you for Christmas. This is something extra. You have been working yourself particularly hard, and I thought you could use something nice. Well, hopefully nice.”

“I see.” Holmes had yet to do his own Christmas shopping. He did enjoy giving Watson gifts, but he preferred practical ones, such as a box of his favorite cigars or a bottle of fine brandy. Last year’s gift, a warm green cloak, was being put to practical use by Watson at this very moment. “Shall we return to Baker Street, then? I am a little cold.”

Watson gave him a knowing look. “Certainly, we may return to Baker Street.”

Holmes flashed a quick smile in response. He was indeed cold, but that was not what compelled him to return. Curiosity overruled all else. He could never resist a mystery.

He contemplated his available data in regard to the unexpected gift, and discovered that he had virtually none. It was likely something somewhat unusual, or else Watson should not be blushing and nervous. Unusual, and emotional or personal?

By the time they reached Baker Street, walking more slowly than they would have done in their younger years, Holmes had still come to no conclusions. This merely made him more eager.

“I hope you like it,” Watson said, and now his voice was taut with anxiety. “It’s all right if you don’t.”

“How could I not like a gift from my Watson?” Holmes said, indignant at the thought. “Deliver it to me this moment.”

Watson chuckled and extracted his arm from Holmes’ grasp, then limped upstairs. Holmes watched him, smiling. They would perhaps at some point require two beds down here, as it was becoming more difficult for Watson to ascend the stairs. Neither of them were young anymore.

On his way down, Watson groaned, but he was beaming as he entered the sitting room with a wrapped box. “Sit down, old man.”

“So I do not collapse from surprise?” Holmes said wryly.

“So you do not collapse from exhaustion.”

“Mm. I am a little tired, admittedly.” Holmes was always tired these days. It did not stop him in his work, although he was certainly not climbing up and down the side of buildings anymore. But on certain days, especially after a long stretch of cases, even a short walk left him breathless.

He sank into his armchair, and Watson promptly set the package in his lap. Watson did not sit, instead watching Holmes with considerable nervousness.

Still catching his breath, Holmes opened the package, and drew out a scarf. It was a rich scarlet, a brighter red than he usually wore, and knitted in somewhat uneven stitches.

“You made this, Watson?” Holmes asked, skimming his fingers across the soft weave.

Watson winced, cheeks going as scarlet as the scarf again. “I did. I know it’s brighter than you normally like, but the lighting in the yarn shop was deceptive. And I’ve only just learned to knit, so it’s—”

“It is excellent, Watson.” Pleased, Holmes turned it over in his hands. “It is certainly a bright scarlet, but I do not mind brightness in my scarves. And you have chosen a perfect yarn, both in weight and in texture.”

Watson half sat, half collapsed with seeming relief in his armchair. “Thank God. I asked Mrs. Hudson to teach me how, and I’m afraid I’m not particularly good at it.”

“Nonsense. You have made a scarf!” Holmes put it on and flashed a smile at Watson’s pleased laugh. “And as my good friend Watson knitted it for me, it shall no doubt be my new favorite.”

Leaning back in his armchair, he picked up his pipe, and Watson did the same. The wind howled outside their sitting room, and Holmes suspected from his observations that snowfall was on its way. But in here, with his new scarf and Watson’s warm company and laughter, he was well fortified against the cold.

[edosianorchids901]

Reciprocity

@sherlocktember2024 prompt - "cold"

“Really, old man, I’ll be all right.” Watson sneezed again, which didn’t help the look of near-panic on Holmes’ face. “It’s nothing, just a cold.”

“You have sneezed sixteen times in the last five minutes, and with considerable force,” Holmes said, hovering by the bedside and rubbing his hands together compulsively. “I hardly call that nothing. Shall I fetch a doctor?”

“I am a doctor.”

“A very sick doctor.”

“I am certainly not very sick, only a little sick.” Sick enough that he did not have the energy to get out of bed at the moment, but even so. “I do not need another doctor to attend to me.”

“Very well. Then I see I shall have to take matters into my own hands.” Holmes twisted around and swept out of the room. “Mrs. Hudson!”

Watson winced at the volume of the yell, which made his head ache. Of course, his head already ached, congested as it was. He’d felt a bit run down before bed, but had hoped it was just his ordinary fatigue after a long stretch of being particularly busy.

It seemed that wasn’t the case, however. He’d awakened today feeling even worse, his head stuffed up, his throat aching, and a deep exhaustion blanketing him. He might be running a slightly fever, too.

All in all, he felt terrible. He had little desire to do anything other than sleep, but the sneezing was making that difficult. It was the sneezing that had alerted and alarmed Holmes, too, and which meant that Mrs. Hudson was likely being jostled out of bed at a far too early hour in order to care for him.

When Holmes flung back into the room, Watson tried to give him a stern look. “You should not ask Mrs. Hudson to care for me. I am perfectly capable of—”

“My dear Watson, you wound me!” Holmes set down a basin of water and a towel. “I have merely roused her to start a pot of soup, warm some broth, and make tea. I intend to care for you myself.”

Watson stared at him. “But what about your murder case, Holmes? Surely you should be attending to that.”

“It is a commonplace murder. And besides, what does such a thing matter when my Watson needs care?”

“Murder always matters to the one who has been murdered.”

“Well, yes.” Holmes pursed his lips, looking irritated at the fact, and then dampened the cloth. He sponged Watson’s face gently, wiping away the sweat. “But it is the sort of case that can be solved without much difficulty. I dispatched a telegram last night and am merely awaiting the reply. Once it is received, I shall pass along the information to Lestrade.”

“All right, but what about your health?” Turning away, Watson coughed. This did not help his throbbing head at all.

“What of my health?”

“It is terrible, Holmes.” Woozy, Watson laid back and gave him a bleary look. “I am not prone to falling ill. You fall ill at the drop of a hat. You should not be near me when I am sick.”

“Well, well.” Holmes waved a dismissive hand, then smoothed back Watson’s hair. “If I fall ill, then you shall tend to me. But for the moment, it is I who must tend to you.”

“It really isn’t necessary.”

“Nonsense. You are always most attentive and caring when I am in poor health, whether of mind or body.” Holmes briefly rested his hand on Watson’s shoulder and gave his usual flash of a smile. “Please permit me the privilege of doing the same for you.”

That wasn’t fair at all, but Watson softened anyway. “Well, of course. If you’re sure.”

“Entirely certain.” Holmes shot an impatient glance at the door, then twisted around and hurtled off again. “Mrs. Hudson! Where is that tea?”

Watson chuckled, then succumbed to coughing again. His head spun, and he struggled to catch his breath.

The coughing had was not helpful for his aches, either. He found himself sore everywhere, and the restless night had worsened his usual pain in his shoulder and leg. That, in turn, had worsened his sleep.

Holmes charged back in with a teapot and flicked an apologetic smile in Watson’s direction. “There was a slight delay in preparation, as Mrs. Hudson is not at her most sprightly this early in the day. Would you like a drink?”

“Yes, please. And proper ventilation in a sickroom is important.” It was strange not to be able to attend to all this on his own, but Watson did not feel much like getting up right now. “If you could crack the window.”

Holmes did so at once, then carefully helped him drink the tea. He set the cup aside once Watson had finished and sat, taking his hand. “My dear Watson. Mrs. Hudson is preparing broth for you, and will of course make any other food you require. Is there any other way I might be of assistance?”

There was such anxiety on his face that Watson’s stomach twisted. He patted Holmes’ hand and managed a hopefully reassuring smile. “Not for now. And don’t worry, old man. I really will be all right.”

“I hope you shall. I admit it is a little disconcerting to see you ill, Watson.” A few tears glistened in Holmes’ eyes, and he ground his teeth. “You will let me know if I may help in any way?”

“Yes, I will. I just need to get some rest for now.”

“Ah.” Holmes sat there awkwardly for a moment. “Would you prefer that I left you in peace? I can return later with your broth.”

Watson very much suspected that if he said yes, Holmes would simply go sit on the stairs outside the bedroom. “There’s no need for that. Why don’t you stay, and then if I need you…”

He started to cough, and Holmes nodded vigorously. “Of course, my dear fellow. Now, you ought to cease conversation and sleep. I shall be right by your side.”

Watson smiled at him, then closed his eyes and relaxed. He suspected that Holmes would have to be ordered to leave eventually, or else he would not sleep at all. For the moment, though, Watson was glad to have someone so attentive watching over him.