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Entry tags:
genderswapped Holmes fic, Just a Country Holiday, Holmes/Watson, PG
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Pairing: gender-swapped Holmes/Watson.
Rating: PG
Genre: gender-swap, femslash, action
Length: 1100 words
Setting: historical, not current.
Notes: I do love Watson and Holmes as women. I can't help it. This version is a bit fluffy, though. For prompt 39. Insanity. Also, *pretends her icon is Holmes and Watson in the far-flung future for two seconds*
Just a Country Holiday
by ALC Punk!
"This is insanity." It was not a remark I would make lightly, but to Holmes, it was as though I'd waved a red flag beneath her nose.
She started, and whirled upon me, her great-coat following the movement rather majestically. "Really, Watson, I would have thought better of your courage than this."
To be fair to the both of us, the thief we were tracking through the marshes around St. Cyr was both canny and difficult to follow. Had we not both worn stout walking boots and I had left my cain behind, we might yet have come to a bad end. As it was, Holmes was determined to find her man before the police did.
They were crashing through the underbrush somewhere behind us, and clearly off the mark.
"What if their are hidden sand-traps, or pools of mud?" I pointed out as she stalked off again.
Keeping my voice down was pointless, given the ruckus behind us. Holmes would probably remonstrate with Lestrade later, but I misdoubted Lestrade would take the criticism to heart. She was rather set in her ways, even if she utilized Holmes and her brain.
It had all started as rather a lark. I'd managed to drag Holmes to the country for a respite from the slums and smoke of London. But the bed hadn't been well-aired, and so we'd decamped to the dining room to discuss our plans for the next morning when Holmes espied Lestrade trying to look inconspicuous at another table.
"What a surprise, Inspector." Holmes was not surprised in the least, I noted.
"Holmes." Looking displeased, Lestrade attempted to close her note-book, so that Holmes would not be able to read the notes she'd been making.
"Of course," with a swirl of her rather fashionable jacket, Holmes draped herself into the chair opposite Lestrade, gesturing me to a seat. "The great Northern Jewel Thief has struck again, has he not?"
"She, Holmes," I corrected, having been reading up on the accounts just last week. It paid to be well-read on criminal matters, where Holmes was concerned. I allowed a look of curiosity to cross my face as I looked at Lestrade, "Did your leads bring you here, or is this in the way of being a vacation, Lestrade?"
Growling was one of Lestrade's least admirable qualities, but she did it anyway before grabbing up her mug of ale and waving it. "I should have known you would be here, Holmes."
"Don't be silly," I contradicted, my complacence sublime. "I selected our itinerary."
Which words caused Holmes to turn to me in surprise, "Watson!"
"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist," I continued mendaciously, "That you would wheedle and cajole until we ended up here, anyway. I simply cut out the pretense." But there was a smile on one corner of my mouth.
For an instant, it was answered by Holmes, but then she got down to being distracted by the business at hand.
That was how we ended up in the marsh, of course. Because I'm a fool who enjoys adventure and Holmes is merely a fool. Perhaps I'm being too harsh, there, but I misdoubt it.
We continued for some way, the sounds of Lestrade's people gradually fading, until we came to a clearing. Holmes stood in the center of it, turning this way and that, her cloak fluttering in the breeze. "There's got to be--aha! Come, Watson--"
She was bounding off again, in a direction I wouldn't have expected. My compass told me it was a little to the south of our original heading.
Re-pocketing the instrument, I gave a sigh and set after her.
We chased round the marsh for several hours before finding Holmes's goal. A deserted house, falling down in places, the roof peeked and thatched in patches. One window contained tattered curtains, another simply gaped open. Holmes approached it with a confident air, striding upon the slab of rock in front of the door and using the head of her walking-stick to give a resounding knock on the half-rotted door.
"Come out," Holmes shouted, the sound too-loud in the stillness of the marsh. "You have been found!"
I gave a sigh at Holmes's imperious air and headed for the corner of the building, wishing she'd given me time to get round the thing before knocking.
It was just as well that I'd started, for as I turned the corner, I saw a figure come flying out the rear of the building and head for the trees. With a shout, I started after her, my feet slipping a little on the slick grass and mud.
She had a lead, but I was tired, wet and hungry, and I wasn't going to give up a chance to stop this silly jaunt by bringing in a thief.
That had, after all, been our goal from the beginning. Well, mine. Holmes's goal was her own mysterious affair that I didn't prise too closely into.
My irritation lent me speed, and I gained ground on the thief until I was able to tackle her to the ground. We rolled and rolled until I had her pinned firmly, one arm behind her back. "Now stay still," I told her, puffing a little from my exertions. "This really is the outside of enough. Really. Running from Holmes!"
As though my words had conjured her, she appeared from the left of me, Lestrade trailing behind her, looking rather bedraggled. "Ah! Watson, good job."
"Just doing my duty, guv," I mocked in my best cockney. Then I raised a brow to Lestrade, "I believe you have manacles of some sort about your person? I'm afraid I left mine behind in London."
"Tsk! Watson, that is an horrendous over-sight." Holmes shook a finger at me.
I accepted Lestrade's cuffs and began the task of putting them on my captive. Responding to Holmes would have to wait until we were alone. After all, it had been her idea to leave them attached to the rather lovely four-poster we'd been sharing that morning before our train ride.
"Thank you, Dr. Watson." Lestrade helped me get the thief to her feet. She raised her voice, "Come along, ladies, we've got the thief!"
A few of Lestrade's policewomen dragged themselves through the underbrush.
With a nod to Holmes, I let them cart our captor off and began making my way back to the rather dilapidated cottage. After all, there were jewels to recover, and I didn't quite trust myself not to find a way to get Holmes alone for a little congratulatory celebration. My blood was rushing rather strongly, after all.
That would have to wait for later, however.
-f-
Pairing: gender-swapped Holmes/Watson.
Rating: PG
Genre: gender-swap, femslash, action
Length: 1100 words
Setting: historical, not current.
Notes: I do love Watson and Holmes as women. I can't help it. This version is a bit fluffy, though. For prompt 39. Insanity. Also, *pretends her icon is Holmes and Watson in the far-flung future for two seconds*
Just a Country Holiday
by ALC Punk!
"This is insanity." It was not a remark I would make lightly, but to Holmes, it was as though I'd waved a red flag beneath her nose.
She started, and whirled upon me, her great-coat following the movement rather majestically. "Really, Watson, I would have thought better of your courage than this."
To be fair to the both of us, the thief we were tracking through the marshes around St. Cyr was both canny and difficult to follow. Had we not both worn stout walking boots and I had left my cain behind, we might yet have come to a bad end. As it was, Holmes was determined to find her man before the police did.
They were crashing through the underbrush somewhere behind us, and clearly off the mark.
"What if their are hidden sand-traps, or pools of mud?" I pointed out as she stalked off again.
Keeping my voice down was pointless, given the ruckus behind us. Holmes would probably remonstrate with Lestrade later, but I misdoubted Lestrade would take the criticism to heart. She was rather set in her ways, even if she utilized Holmes and her brain.
It had all started as rather a lark. I'd managed to drag Holmes to the country for a respite from the slums and smoke of London. But the bed hadn't been well-aired, and so we'd decamped to the dining room to discuss our plans for the next morning when Holmes espied Lestrade trying to look inconspicuous at another table.
"What a surprise, Inspector." Holmes was not surprised in the least, I noted.
"Holmes." Looking displeased, Lestrade attempted to close her note-book, so that Holmes would not be able to read the notes she'd been making.
"Of course," with a swirl of her rather fashionable jacket, Holmes draped herself into the chair opposite Lestrade, gesturing me to a seat. "The great Northern Jewel Thief has struck again, has he not?"
"She, Holmes," I corrected, having been reading up on the accounts just last week. It paid to be well-read on criminal matters, where Holmes was concerned. I allowed a look of curiosity to cross my face as I looked at Lestrade, "Did your leads bring you here, or is this in the way of being a vacation, Lestrade?"
Growling was one of Lestrade's least admirable qualities, but she did it anyway before grabbing up her mug of ale and waving it. "I should have known you would be here, Holmes."
"Don't be silly," I contradicted, my complacence sublime. "I selected our itinerary."
Which words caused Holmes to turn to me in surprise, "Watson!"
"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist," I continued mendaciously, "That you would wheedle and cajole until we ended up here, anyway. I simply cut out the pretense." But there was a smile on one corner of my mouth.
For an instant, it was answered by Holmes, but then she got down to being distracted by the business at hand.
That was how we ended up in the marsh, of course. Because I'm a fool who enjoys adventure and Holmes is merely a fool. Perhaps I'm being too harsh, there, but I misdoubt it.
We continued for some way, the sounds of Lestrade's people gradually fading, until we came to a clearing. Holmes stood in the center of it, turning this way and that, her cloak fluttering in the breeze. "There's got to be--aha! Come, Watson--"
She was bounding off again, in a direction I wouldn't have expected. My compass told me it was a little to the south of our original heading.
Re-pocketing the instrument, I gave a sigh and set after her.
We chased round the marsh for several hours before finding Holmes's goal. A deserted house, falling down in places, the roof peeked and thatched in patches. One window contained tattered curtains, another simply gaped open. Holmes approached it with a confident air, striding upon the slab of rock in front of the door and using the head of her walking-stick to give a resounding knock on the half-rotted door.
"Come out," Holmes shouted, the sound too-loud in the stillness of the marsh. "You have been found!"
I gave a sigh at Holmes's imperious air and headed for the corner of the building, wishing she'd given me time to get round the thing before knocking.
It was just as well that I'd started, for as I turned the corner, I saw a figure come flying out the rear of the building and head for the trees. With a shout, I started after her, my feet slipping a little on the slick grass and mud.
She had a lead, but I was tired, wet and hungry, and I wasn't going to give up a chance to stop this silly jaunt by bringing in a thief.
That had, after all, been our goal from the beginning. Well, mine. Holmes's goal was her own mysterious affair that I didn't prise too closely into.
My irritation lent me speed, and I gained ground on the thief until I was able to tackle her to the ground. We rolled and rolled until I had her pinned firmly, one arm behind her back. "Now stay still," I told her, puffing a little from my exertions. "This really is the outside of enough. Really. Running from Holmes!"
As though my words had conjured her, she appeared from the left of me, Lestrade trailing behind her, looking rather bedraggled. "Ah! Watson, good job."
"Just doing my duty, guv," I mocked in my best cockney. Then I raised a brow to Lestrade, "I believe you have manacles of some sort about your person? I'm afraid I left mine behind in London."
"Tsk! Watson, that is an horrendous over-sight." Holmes shook a finger at me.
I accepted Lestrade's cuffs and began the task of putting them on my captive. Responding to Holmes would have to wait until we were alone. After all, it had been her idea to leave them attached to the rather lovely four-poster we'd been sharing that morning before our train ride.
"Thank you, Dr. Watson." Lestrade helped me get the thief to her feet. She raised her voice, "Come along, ladies, we've got the thief!"
A few of Lestrade's policewomen dragged themselves through the underbrush.
With a nod to Holmes, I let them cart our captor off and began making my way back to the rather dilapidated cottage. After all, there were jewels to recover, and I didn't quite trust myself not to find a way to get Holmes alone for a little congratulatory celebration. My blood was rushing rather strongly, after all.
That would have to wait for later, however.
-f-