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darnedchildSummary: Normally I do not write fic in this format but A) I wanted to try something different, B) I wanted to do something quick, and C) I want chocolate. One of those really has nothing to do with the other, sorry. Anywho, in theory there will be twelve completely (probably) unrelated ficlets in a text script sort of format that are only connected by the Twelve Days of Christmas in some way. Enjoy.
Rating: G
A/N - I don't even know.
Two Turtle Doves
Sherlock: No.
Mrs Hudson: But, Sherlock-
Sherlock: I said no. Absolutely not. I won’t do it.
Mrs Hudson: You won’t even notice. It’s just for a week.
*Sherlock narrows his eyes at his Not-Your-Housekeeper.*
Sherlock: Why can’t you keep them downstairs with you? Or in 221c? Why me?
*Molly snorts in amusement from where she had been, up until now, trying to quietly stay out of the way in the kitchen. Sherlock realizes he may have come off sounding just a bit . . . whingy. Even Mrs Hudson is grinning now.*
Mrs Hudson: You know Amit comes to visit me, I can’t have him seeing the birds before his birthday.
*Molly steps into the sitting room and stoops to look at the pair of turtle doves nestled together in a birdcage.*
Molly: Do they make much noise? I suppose I could hold on to them for a week if you’d like.
Sherlock: No!
*Both Molly and Mrs Hudson jump.*
Sherlock: You can keep them up here, if you must. I’ll go to one of my bolt holes if they get to be too much . . . bird.
Mrs Hudson: Thank you, dear. Shall I bring up some biscuits for you and Molly?
*Sherlock waves his hand dismissively.*
Sherlock: Don’t bother, we’ll be leaving shortly.
Molly: We are?
*Sherlock waits until Mrs Hudson is on her way down the stairs to spin on his heel and head toward his bedroom. He continues to talk to Molly as he moves, forcing her to follow if she wants to hear him clearly.*
Sherlock: We are. I can’t stand birds, especially the cooing kind. Give me a moment to pack an overnight back and then we can go. Shall we pick up dinner on the way? I know how tetchy you get when you don’t eat.
*Molly crosses her arms and leans against the doorframe to his bedroom.*
Molly: Am I about to get kicked out of my own bed, again?
*Sherlock finishes shoving several articles of clothing into a bag, then turns to face her.*
Sherlock: Not necessarily. It’s a large bed, we could . . . share.
Molly: Oh we can, can we?
Sherlock: Glad you agree. Chinese or Italian?
Molly: Chinese. And you’re paying.
Sherlock: Fair enough.
A Partridge in a Pear Tree / Two Turtle Doves / Three French Hens / Four Calling Birds / Five Golden Rings / Six Geese a-Laying / Seven Swans a-Swimming / Eight Maids a-Milking / Nine Ladies Dancing / Ten Lords a-Leaping / Eleven Pipers Piping / Twelve Drummers Drumming
Rating: G
A/N - I don't even know.
Two Turtle Doves
Sherlock: No.
Mrs Hudson: But, Sherlock-
Sherlock: I said no. Absolutely not. I won’t do it.
Mrs Hudson: You won’t even notice. It’s just for a week.
*Sherlock narrows his eyes at his Not-Your-Housekeeper.*
Sherlock: Why can’t you keep them downstairs with you? Or in 221c? Why me?
*Molly snorts in amusement from where she had been, up until now, trying to quietly stay out of the way in the kitchen. Sherlock realizes he may have come off sounding just a bit . . . whingy. Even Mrs Hudson is grinning now.*
Mrs Hudson: You know Amit comes to visit me, I can’t have him seeing the birds before his birthday.
*Molly steps into the sitting room and stoops to look at the pair of turtle doves nestled together in a birdcage.*
Molly: Do they make much noise? I suppose I could hold on to them for a week if you’d like.
Sherlock: No!
*Both Molly and Mrs Hudson jump.*
Sherlock: You can keep them up here, if you must. I’ll go to one of my bolt holes if they get to be too much . . . bird.
Mrs Hudson: Thank you, dear. Shall I bring up some biscuits for you and Molly?
*Sherlock waves his hand dismissively.*
Sherlock: Don’t bother, we’ll be leaving shortly.
Molly: We are?
*Sherlock waits until Mrs Hudson is on her way down the stairs to spin on his heel and head toward his bedroom. He continues to talk to Molly as he moves, forcing her to follow if she wants to hear him clearly.*
Sherlock: We are. I can’t stand birds, especially the cooing kind. Give me a moment to pack an overnight back and then we can go. Shall we pick up dinner on the way? I know how tetchy you get when you don’t eat.
*Molly crosses her arms and leans against the doorframe to his bedroom.*
Molly: Am I about to get kicked out of my own bed, again?
*Sherlock finishes shoving several articles of clothing into a bag, then turns to face her.*
Sherlock: Not necessarily. It’s a large bed, we could . . . share.
Molly: Oh we can, can we?
Sherlock: Glad you agree. Chinese or Italian?
Molly: Chinese. And you’re paying.
Sherlock: Fair enough.
A Partridge in a Pear Tree / Two Turtle Doves / Three French Hens / Four Calling Birds / Five Golden Rings / Six Geese a-Laying / Seven Swans a-Swimming / Eight Maids a-Milking / Nine Ladies Dancing / Ten Lords a-Leaping / Eleven Pipers Piping / Twelve Drummers Drumming