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cottoncandy_bingo fest. It's the first crossover that I've done for the card. Begin with Part 1 and Part 2.
Fandom: BBC Sherlock and Original (Schrodinger's Heroes)
Prompt: Getting away from it all
Medium: Fiction
Summary: Morgan sneaks away from the rest of Schrodinger's Heroes. Sherlock sneaks away from John. Their paths cross in the same bar -- and they discover that they're both there to drown very similar memories of the same person.
Content Notes: Spoilers for BBC Sherlock Season 2. Flangst. Questionable use of alcohol to deal with personal problems. Sloppy, funny drunks. Oblique references to violence, manipulation, and other mayhem. Happy ending.
"THE Woman" Part 3
John finally tracked down Sherlock in a seedy bar on the outskirts of Waxahachie. The place was crowded with beefy men who eyed John suspiciously as he slipped inside. He found the detective's tall form sprawled, snoring, over the scarred wooden bar.
"You couldn't have cut him off before he passed out?" John snapped at the bartender.
"Jeeves, this is Texas," the bartender drawled. "I cut off the booze, somebody's liable to cut off my fingers."
"Bloody colonials," John said, turning his attention to Sherlock. He grabbed a handful of napkins and mopped up the spilled liquor so Sherlock couldn't inhale it if he shifted wrong. "I swear to God, Sherlock, if you ever give me the slip again, I will lock a radio collar around your scrawny neck," he grumbled. He tucked two fingers under Sherlock's chin and was somewhat reassured by the strong pulse. Probably no alcohol poisoning this time. John had found Sherlock in worse shape, some of the times he took off like this.
"Well aloha, handsome," a blurry voice declared as a weight landed on his shoulders. "You mush be John."
John found himself half-covered in friendly stranger. The man had something like Sherlock's long, angular beauty but the raven hair was straight as a fall of silk and the tilted eyes were a warm brown against golden skin with a hint of copper. He wore a loud Hawaiian shirt with the top button missing and fraying threads at the ends of the sleeves. "Excuse me, do I know you?" John asked politely.
"I tol' you he wouldn' leave you," the man said, sliding down John to poke Sherlock. "Wake up, you lolo, John's here."
Sherlock stirred briefly and his pale eyes fluttered open. "John," he murmured. "Love you." Then he fell asleep again.
"He shays that a lot," the man said.
"No," John said faintly, trying to convince his galloping heart to slow down. "He really doesn't." Except that Sherlock just had, which was quite splendid. Then John recognized another problem beyond a drunken Sherlock in an unfamiliar bar: Sherlock's new and equally drunken friend. He could get one drunk safely out of the bar and into a taxi; he couldn't handle two at once.
"Excuse me," John said to the stranger and began searching the other man's pockets. "I just need to peep at your wallet, there's a good lad ..."
"Sherlock," the man said.
"What about him?" John said.
"Sherlock, wallet," the man said.
John rolled his eyes and efficiently frisked Sherlock, turning up both Sherlock's wallet and an unfamiliar one. He flipped open the second. "So this is you," he said. "Morgan, eh? You knew Sherlock lifted your wallet and you let him keep it?"
"Din' need it," Morgan said, "he wash buying."
"You're absolutely barking mad," John said. "I don't know how Sherlock manages to surround himself with lunatics everywhere he goes."
"He'sh brilliant," Morgan said in a confiding tone. "He drawsh people in, like moths 'round a shtreetlight, jusht like Alex." Morgan let go of John and started leaning away.
Quickly John looped an arm around Morgan's waist and pulled him close. "Easy now," he said. "You just stay with me." Anyone capable of recognizing Sherlock's brilliance was not someone he'd allow to fall onto the filthy floor of a Texan bar, barking mad stranger or no. Morgan was warm and pliant in John's grasp, evidently an expert snuggler. He did not protest when John surreptitiously curled a hand around his wrist. His pulse was slow and steady under John's fingertips.
It took some juggling of Morgan and Sherlock for John to fumble his phone out and dial the emergency number he'd found in Morgan's wallet. "Hello, this is Dr. John Watson. I'm calling about your friend Morgan. He's fine, but he's got himself drunk in a bar with my flatmate Sherlock, and I can't carry both of them myself. Could you possibly come over and get Morgan?"
A woman's voice replied, rich with some accent that John didn't recognize. "Yes, of course." John gave her the address of the bar. "Thank you for contacting us, Dr. Watson. My name is Ash, and we'll see you in about fifteen minutes."
She rang off, and John put his phone away. He wanted to keep a hand on his two drunks to make sure neither of them fell off the wobbly barstools. Both of them drifted in and out of hazy awareness. He could cope.
-----
References
Morgan uses Hawaiian slang ...
aloha -- in this context, hello; but it also means goodbye and love.
lolo -- (noun) nutcase, idiot. (adjective) crazy, wacky.
[To be continued in Part 4 ...]
cottoncandy_bingo fest. It's the first crossover that I've done for the card. Begin with Part 1 and Part 2.Fandom: BBC Sherlock and Original (Schrodinger's Heroes)
Prompt: Getting away from it all
Medium: Fiction
Summary: Morgan sneaks away from the rest of Schrodinger's Heroes. Sherlock sneaks away from John. Their paths cross in the same bar -- and they discover that they're both there to drown very similar memories of the same person.
Content Notes: Spoilers for BBC Sherlock Season 2. Flangst. Questionable use of alcohol to deal with personal problems. Sloppy, funny drunks. Oblique references to violence, manipulation, and other mayhem. Happy ending.
"THE Woman" Part 3
John finally tracked down Sherlock in a seedy bar on the outskirts of Waxahachie. The place was crowded with beefy men who eyed John suspiciously as he slipped inside. He found the detective's tall form sprawled, snoring, over the scarred wooden bar.
"You couldn't have cut him off before he passed out?" John snapped at the bartender.
"Jeeves, this is Texas," the bartender drawled. "I cut off the booze, somebody's liable to cut off my fingers."
"Bloody colonials," John said, turning his attention to Sherlock. He grabbed a handful of napkins and mopped up the spilled liquor so Sherlock couldn't inhale it if he shifted wrong. "I swear to God, Sherlock, if you ever give me the slip again, I will lock a radio collar around your scrawny neck," he grumbled. He tucked two fingers under Sherlock's chin and was somewhat reassured by the strong pulse. Probably no alcohol poisoning this time. John had found Sherlock in worse shape, some of the times he took off like this.
"Well aloha, handsome," a blurry voice declared as a weight landed on his shoulders. "You mush be John."
John found himself half-covered in friendly stranger. The man had something like Sherlock's long, angular beauty but the raven hair was straight as a fall of silk and the tilted eyes were a warm brown against golden skin with a hint of copper. He wore a loud Hawaiian shirt with the top button missing and fraying threads at the ends of the sleeves. "Excuse me, do I know you?" John asked politely.
"I tol' you he wouldn' leave you," the man said, sliding down John to poke Sherlock. "Wake up, you lolo, John's here."
Sherlock stirred briefly and his pale eyes fluttered open. "John," he murmured. "Love you." Then he fell asleep again.
"He shays that a lot," the man said.
"No," John said faintly, trying to convince his galloping heart to slow down. "He really doesn't." Except that Sherlock just had, which was quite splendid. Then John recognized another problem beyond a drunken Sherlock in an unfamiliar bar: Sherlock's new and equally drunken friend. He could get one drunk safely out of the bar and into a taxi; he couldn't handle two at once.
"Excuse me," John said to the stranger and began searching the other man's pockets. "I just need to peep at your wallet, there's a good lad ..."
"Sherlock," the man said.
"What about him?" John said.
"Sherlock, wallet," the man said.
John rolled his eyes and efficiently frisked Sherlock, turning up both Sherlock's wallet and an unfamiliar one. He flipped open the second. "So this is you," he said. "Morgan, eh? You knew Sherlock lifted your wallet and you let him keep it?"
"Din' need it," Morgan said, "he wash buying."
"You're absolutely barking mad," John said. "I don't know how Sherlock manages to surround himself with lunatics everywhere he goes."
"He'sh brilliant," Morgan said in a confiding tone. "He drawsh people in, like moths 'round a shtreetlight, jusht like Alex." Morgan let go of John and started leaning away.
Quickly John looped an arm around Morgan's waist and pulled him close. "Easy now," he said. "You just stay with me." Anyone capable of recognizing Sherlock's brilliance was not someone he'd allow to fall onto the filthy floor of a Texan bar, barking mad stranger or no. Morgan was warm and pliant in John's grasp, evidently an expert snuggler. He did not protest when John surreptitiously curled a hand around his wrist. His pulse was slow and steady under John's fingertips.
It took some juggling of Morgan and Sherlock for John to fumble his phone out and dial the emergency number he'd found in Morgan's wallet. "Hello, this is Dr. John Watson. I'm calling about your friend Morgan. He's fine, but he's got himself drunk in a bar with my flatmate Sherlock, and I can't carry both of them myself. Could you possibly come over and get Morgan?"
A woman's voice replied, rich with some accent that John didn't recognize. "Yes, of course." John gave her the address of the bar. "Thank you for contacting us, Dr. Watson. My name is Ash, and we'll see you in about fifteen minutes."
She rang off, and John put his phone away. He wanted to keep a hand on his two drunks to make sure neither of them fell off the wobbly barstools. Both of them drifted in and out of hazy awareness. He could cope.
-----
References
Morgan uses Hawaiian slang ...
aloha -- in this context, hello; but it also means goodbye and love.
lolo -- (noun) nutcase, idiot. (adjective) crazy, wacky.
[To be continued in Part 4 ...]
