donutsweeper (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
donutsweeper) wrote2016-07-02 12:40 am
donutsweeper) wrote2016-07-02 12:40 am
Entry tags:
Stage Directions
Title: Stage Directions
Fandom/Rating: Sherlock Holmes (RDJ movies), rated G
Word Count: 461 words
Summary: When Watson and Holmes are attacked on their way home things don't go exactly the way Holmes planned.
Author's Note: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
watsons_woes JWP#1 "'Tis But a Scratch".
The fight was laughable, over almost before it started. Five men, obviously hired for their brawn rather than brains, attacked en masse and it was simple for Holmes to deduce how the fracas would play out. The two on the left would be taken down by himself one after another with a simple combination of uppercut followed by blow to the solar plexus. Watson, meanwhile, would use his cane to stun the one on the farthest right, debilitating him long enough to keep him out of the fray while sweeping the middle one's feet out from under him and dodging a blow from the remaining man who would then been felled by a block, twist, and one of Watson's strong right hooks. Seventeen more seconds' work to ensure those on the ground stayed there and they could call for a constable and be on their way, off to enjoy the dinner Mrs Hudson had waiting for them.
"Well, that was rather invigorating, wasn't it, Watson?" Holmes rubbed the knuckles, examining the bruising there. He should have been a bit quicker with his second blow. And perhaps a shift of the angle upon impact should be considered. He'd always found that when dealing with an untrained street brawler twelve degrees was perfect for damage dealt compared to output expended, but maybe he should consider recalculating that? There would be some swelling tonight and if Mrs Hudson noticed she was likely to fuss, which was definitely less than ideal.
"Invigorating. Your manner of interpreting the world around you will always astound me, Holmes," Watson replied, always ready with the sarcastic quips. Although, Holmes realized suddenly, that was less biting and more brusque, atypical of Watson unless…
"Where are you injured?" he asked quickly, pushing one of the unconscious cretins to the side with his foot to get closer and assess Watson better.
"It's nothing, Holmes. I simply dodged a bit too slowly thanks to my bad leg."
Holmes' eyes narrowed at that, taking in the stiffness to Watson's posture, creasing of his shirt and, damn it, the glint of something metallic half-hidden in the muck several feet away. "One of them had a knife," he said slowly, replaying the fight in his mind.
"Thus the gash, yes. Brilliant deduction, Holmes." His tone was tight, but not overly pained. A minor injury then, needing a few stitches at most.
"Thank you, Watson," he said, upset at his own failings for not having anticipated weapon usage when determining how the fight would play out. "It always pleases me when you notice such things," he added, hoping, and receiving, a patented Watson eye-roll in response.
"So glad I could be of service." Ah, there was the sarcasm, Holmes thought, nodding to himself; Watson would be fine.
Fandom/Rating: Sherlock Holmes (RDJ movies), rated G
Word Count: 461 words
Summary: When Watson and Holmes are attacked on their way home things don't go exactly the way Holmes planned.
Author's Note: Written for
watsons_woes JWP#1 "'Tis But a Scratch". The fight was laughable, over almost before it started. Five men, obviously hired for their brawn rather than brains, attacked en masse and it was simple for Holmes to deduce how the fracas would play out. The two on the left would be taken down by himself one after another with a simple combination of uppercut followed by blow to the solar plexus. Watson, meanwhile, would use his cane to stun the one on the farthest right, debilitating him long enough to keep him out of the fray while sweeping the middle one's feet out from under him and dodging a blow from the remaining man who would then been felled by a block, twist, and one of Watson's strong right hooks. Seventeen more seconds' work to ensure those on the ground stayed there and they could call for a constable and be on their way, off to enjoy the dinner Mrs Hudson had waiting for them.
"Well, that was rather invigorating, wasn't it, Watson?" Holmes rubbed the knuckles, examining the bruising there. He should have been a bit quicker with his second blow. And perhaps a shift of the angle upon impact should be considered. He'd always found that when dealing with an untrained street brawler twelve degrees was perfect for damage dealt compared to output expended, but maybe he should consider recalculating that? There would be some swelling tonight and if Mrs Hudson noticed she was likely to fuss, which was definitely less than ideal.
"Invigorating. Your manner of interpreting the world around you will always astound me, Holmes," Watson replied, always ready with the sarcastic quips. Although, Holmes realized suddenly, that was less biting and more brusque, atypical of Watson unless…
"Where are you injured?" he asked quickly, pushing one of the unconscious cretins to the side with his foot to get closer and assess Watson better.
"It's nothing, Holmes. I simply dodged a bit too slowly thanks to my bad leg."
Holmes' eyes narrowed at that, taking in the stiffness to Watson's posture, creasing of his shirt and, damn it, the glint of something metallic half-hidden in the muck several feet away. "One of them had a knife," he said slowly, replaying the fight in his mind.
"Thus the gash, yes. Brilliant deduction, Holmes." His tone was tight, but not overly pained. A minor injury then, needing a few stitches at most.
"Thank you, Watson," he said, upset at his own failings for not having anticipated weapon usage when determining how the fight would play out. "It always pleases me when you notice such things," he added, hoping, and receiving, a patented Watson eye-roll in response.
"So glad I could be of service." Ah, there was the sarcasm, Holmes thought, nodding to himself; Watson would be fine.
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1) Breathing? ✔
2) Bleeding? ✔
3) Pulse? ✔
4) Sarcasm? ✔ ✔
Prognosis: He's fine.
(Well done!)
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