Title: Across the Thames
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Rating: PG
Length: 772
Summary: John Watson is always on the other side of the river from where he wants to be
A/N: One of the categories of SBIGTTS is to write a deliberate badfic. You have been warned.
John Watson woke up to the sound of the phone ringing. He hit out randomly until he found the phone which had fallen down the side of the bed.
“Wozzup?” he asked. “He’s in the shower. Do you want me to tell him?”
He got out of bed and went to shout through the bathroom door. “Sherlock! Lestrade’s got a case for you.”
Sherlock got out of the shower and opened the door, dripping on the floor. John admired the shape of his body and the paleness of his skin. He looked down and saw his own cock starting to stand to attention as he gave Sherlock his phone.
Sherlock spoke to Lestrade; all the while the water streaming off his body made him look like the birth of Venus as painted by the famous Italian artist, Botticelli. (The one where she’s standing on a shell.)
Sherlock gave the phone back to John and said “It’s only a 5. I’m not going but I’ve told Gavin that you’ll come. It’s on the other side of the river.”
“But that’s miles away,” the shorter man said.
“Never mind,” the curly-haired detective replied shortly. “I’ve got experiments to do.”
John got dressed and stomped out of 221B. He didn’t like being ordered around, even though Sherlock was the most important person in his life. He walked along Baker Street, but of course there were no cabs available. He had walked half way down Regent Street before he managed to hail a taxi.
When he told the driver where he wanted to go, the man said, “Cor blimey, mister. That’s the other side of the river.”
Nevertheless he took him and when they got there John gave him plenty of dollars to make it worth his trouble.
Lestrade waved to him when he arrived. “What took you so long?” he asked. “We’ve almost finished here.”
“I couldn’t get a taxi.”
“Why didn’t you take the tube?”
John didn’t say anything, because Sherlock always took taxis, so of course he did so too.
“What have you got?” John asked.
“A dead body,” the grey-haired policeman said. “Anderson doesn’t know the cause, but doesn’t think the corpse was killed where it was found.
Lestrade led the way into the main part of Waterloo station, into the bit that had been taped off. This covered quite a wide area. When John asked why that was Lestrade said it was because the head was in one place, marked H (for head) and the main part of the body, or trunck, was further over, marked B (for body). It didn’t take a genius detective like Sherlock to work out what the AL, AR, LL and LR meant. [Not to self – would that be clearer as LA, RA, RL?]
He phoned Sherlock to tell him what he had found, and because it was ages since he had last spoken to Sherlock and he wanted to hear his voice.
“I’ve gone to the morgue,” Sherlock said. “Molly’s showing me the body parts. You need to come and join me.”
“That means I’ve got to come back to the other side of the river.”
“I know. Tell Graham to give you a lift.”
Lestrade said he had better things to do than give him a lift and John felt like crying, because all he wanted was a cuddle and he was once again on the wrong side of the river. But then Lestrade realised that if he took John to Barts he could see Molly so hechanged his mind relented.
This time they got across to the other side of the river really fast, because Lestrade used his blues and twos. When they got there Lestrade and Molly had a quick kiss and while they weren’t looking Sherlock and John had a big hug, with a promise of more things later.
Then Sherlock announced that the body had been poisoned. Lestrade asked why it was in pieces and Sherlock rolled his eyes and said that he was surrounded by idiots and wasn’t it obvious – his murderer had had to chop the body up to get it in the car to take it to Waterloo station. Also, from there he’d got on the 8.15 train to Sheffield and if they phoned the Lancashire police they could meet him at the station.
Lestrade got on his phone to sort this out.
Then Sherlock said, “Now I just have time to catch a violin concert at the Royal Festival Hall.” [A/N: See, just like the original Victorian Sherlock]. “Come along, John, we have to get to the other side of the river one more time.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Rating: PG
Length: 772
Summary: John Watson is always on the other side of the river from where he wants to be
A/N: One of the categories of SBIGTTS is to write a deliberate badfic. You have been warned.
John Watson woke up to the sound of the phone ringing. He hit out randomly until he found the phone which had fallen down the side of the bed.
“Wozzup?” he asked. “He’s in the shower. Do you want me to tell him?”
He got out of bed and went to shout through the bathroom door. “Sherlock! Lestrade’s got a case for you.”
Sherlock got out of the shower and opened the door, dripping on the floor. John admired the shape of his body and the paleness of his skin. He looked down and saw his own cock starting to stand to attention as he gave Sherlock his phone.
Sherlock spoke to Lestrade; all the while the water streaming off his body made him look like the birth of Venus as painted by the famous Italian artist, Botticelli. (The one where she’s standing on a shell.)
Sherlock gave the phone back to John and said “It’s only a 5. I’m not going but I’ve told Gavin that you’ll come. It’s on the other side of the river.”
“But that’s miles away,” the shorter man said.
“Never mind,” the curly-haired detective replied shortly. “I’ve got experiments to do.”
John got dressed and stomped out of 221B. He didn’t like being ordered around, even though Sherlock was the most important person in his life. He walked along Baker Street, but of course there were no cabs available. He had walked half way down Regent Street before he managed to hail a taxi.
When he told the driver where he wanted to go, the man said, “Cor blimey, mister. That’s the other side of the river.”
Nevertheless he took him and when they got there John gave him plenty of dollars to make it worth his trouble.
Lestrade waved to him when he arrived. “What took you so long?” he asked. “We’ve almost finished here.”
“I couldn’t get a taxi.”
“Why didn’t you take the tube?”
John didn’t say anything, because Sherlock always took taxis, so of course he did so too.
“What have you got?” John asked.
“A dead body,” the grey-haired policeman said. “Anderson doesn’t know the cause, but doesn’t think the corpse was killed where it was found.
Lestrade led the way into the main part of Waterloo station, into the bit that had been taped off. This covered quite a wide area. When John asked why that was Lestrade said it was because the head was in one place, marked H (for head) and the main part of the body, or trunck, was further over, marked B (for body). It didn’t take a genius detective like Sherlock to work out what the AL, AR, LL and LR meant. [Not to self – would that be clearer as LA, RA, RL?]
He phoned Sherlock to tell him what he had found, and because it was ages since he had last spoken to Sherlock and he wanted to hear his voice.
“I’ve gone to the morgue,” Sherlock said. “Molly’s showing me the body parts. You need to come and join me.”
“That means I’ve got to come back to the other side of the river.”
“I know. Tell Graham to give you a lift.”
Lestrade said he had better things to do than give him a lift and John felt like crying, because all he wanted was a cuddle and he was once again on the wrong side of the river. But then Lestrade realised that if he took John to Barts he could see Molly so he
This time they got across to the other side of the river really fast, because Lestrade used his blues and twos. When they got there Lestrade and Molly had a quick kiss and while they weren’t looking Sherlock and John had a big hug, with a promise of more things later.
Then Sherlock announced that the body had been poisoned. Lestrade asked why it was in pieces and Sherlock rolled his eyes and said that he was surrounded by idiots and wasn’t it obvious – his murderer had had to chop the body up to get it in the car to take it to Waterloo station. Also, from there he’d got on the 8.15 train to Sheffield and if they phoned the Lancashire police they could meet him at the station.
Lestrade got on his phone to sort this out.
Then Sherlock said, “Now I just have time to catch a violin concert at the Royal Festival Hall.” [A/N: See, just like the original Victorian Sherlock]. “Come along, John, we have to get to the other side of the river one more time.”
About
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
fan_flashworks is an all-fandoms multi-media flashworks community. We post a themed challenge every ten days or so; you make any kind of fanwork in response to the challenge and post it here. More detailed guidelines are here.The community on Livejournal:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif){kind=small}
fan_flashworks Designed by ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chasethestars
chasethestars
Comments
It's just spot on: the abrupt arousal, using epithets instead of people's names ("the shorter man", "the curly-haired detective"), explaining about a world famous painting in great, great detail. And a particular bugbear: "plenty of dollars". It always annoys me, Sherlock passing over a "wad of bills". They're notes! And we don't have a pound note, so transactions only generally involve one or two notes! *breathes into paper bag* Where was I..? Ah, yes - and saying Sheffield was in Lancashire nearly made me want to commit murder, before I remembered what I was reading ^_^
I really enjoy your badfic ^^ Not just because the fics are fun, but because you're so unselfconscious for them. There's a real bounce and confidence to your writing.
I have to admit to having experienced a certain amount of glee at mislocating Sheffield from a white rose to a red one.
Well-played. :)
In case I ever need the information what would you say for "plenty of dollars"? "A fistful of dollars" always makes me think of Clint Eastwood.
In my experience, the word "dollars" isn't used very much except in a general context, like when organizations refer to what they're going to do with their "fundraising dollars", for example.
You might say "dollar bills", as in, "He handed the driver a whole lot of dollar bills", but that actually sounds like he's being kind of cheap. (The value of a dollar ain't what it used to be!) To emphasize John's generosity I'd say he gave the driver "plenty of money" or "a thick wad of cash" to get the point across. Alternatively, you could be more specific, like "two twenties" or "a hundred-dollar bill".
I wouldn't try a "fistful of dollars" outside of the Old West. ;)
The whole thing was gigglesnort-inducing, thank you.