Holiday Drabble - 22 Dec 12
Dec. 22nd, 2012 03:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
monkeybardYule Log
BBC Sherlock
Length: 221
Rating: G
This one follows Sleigh Ride, and therefore could be considered to be in the same universe as Wrapping paper/bows/ribbons.
They arrived at the Holmes estate after dark. The air smelled of snow, but none had fallen yet. Still, John's hopes were high.
Sherlock took the steps two at a time, meeting the butler half way. "Good evening, Sneller."
"Good evening, sir. She's in the small drawing room."
"Of course."
John followed Sherlock inside, giving Sneller an awkward nod and hello. He never knew how one behaved towards domestic help, and he doubted he should take his cue from Downton Abbey.
"Sherlock, dear! Welcome!"
"Mummy." Mother and son traded pecks on the cheek--a warm greeting for the Holmes clan.
"I see you've brought your darling doctor, as instructed." Mrs. Holmes (John couldn't even think of her by her given name.) smiled at John.
"Thank you very much for the invitation."
"Of course! We can't have Sherlock pouting all Christmas." Astonishingly, she winked at John, who was too flummoxed to respond. "Come warm yourselves by the Yule log. It's been burning nearly two days. I don't know how Sneller manages it."
"By changing it out regularly, no doubt," said Sherlock.
She ignored him, paying all attention to John. "It's an archaic tradition, of course, but a charming one, and it does keep the room jolly."
John thought the eighteen-foot Christmas tree accomplished that feat, but kept silent.
"Do sit down, boys."
BBC Sherlock
Length: 221
Rating: G
This one follows Sleigh Ride, and therefore could be considered to be in the same universe as Wrapping paper/bows/ribbons.
They arrived at the Holmes estate after dark. The air smelled of snow, but none had fallen yet. Still, John's hopes were high.
Sherlock took the steps two at a time, meeting the butler half way. "Good evening, Sneller."
"Good evening, sir. She's in the small drawing room."
"Of course."
John followed Sherlock inside, giving Sneller an awkward nod and hello. He never knew how one behaved towards domestic help, and he doubted he should take his cue from Downton Abbey.
"Sherlock, dear! Welcome!"
"Mummy." Mother and son traded pecks on the cheek--a warm greeting for the Holmes clan.
"I see you've brought your darling doctor, as instructed." Mrs. Holmes (John couldn't even think of her by her given name.) smiled at John.
"Thank you very much for the invitation."
"Of course! We can't have Sherlock pouting all Christmas." Astonishingly, she winked at John, who was too flummoxed to respond. "Come warm yourselves by the Yule log. It's been burning nearly two days. I don't know how Sneller manages it."
"By changing it out regularly, no doubt," said Sherlock.
She ignored him, paying all attention to John. "It's an archaic tradition, of course, but a charming one, and it does keep the room jolly."
John thought the eighteen-foot Christmas tree accomplished that feat, but kept silent.
"Do sit down, boys."
