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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.
Four Calling Birds
Molly: It doesn’t fit.
*Sherlock opens his eyes and frowns in the direction of his sofa where Molly is curled up with a book of crossword puzzles and a pencil.*
Sherlock: What’s the clue?
Molly: On the fourth day, gift from true love – blank birds, five letters. ‘Calling’ is seven.
*Sherlock stretches his legs out and wiggled his bare toes in front of the fire.*
Sherlock: Try colly. The song used to have four colly birds rather than calling.
Molly: Really? Huh. Learn something new every day, I guess.
*Molly pencils in the word, then glances toward the windows and the heavy snowfall outside.*
Molly: You’re sure Mrs Hudson doesn’t mind if I borrow John’s old room for the night? I could probably still make it to the tube station if I leave right now. I can’t believe we didn’t notice how bad it was getting earlier.
*Sherlock lazily waves his hand as if dismissing the idea.*
Sherlock: She’s already made up the bed, and I heard her chittering about making a pot of hot cocoa on her way back down.
*They sit in silence for a few more minutes, then Molly looks up to find Sherlock is resting his head on the back of his chair but he’s watching her with a strange expression on his face.*
Molly: Oh! I’m sorry. I’m bothering you, you should have said something and I would have-
Sherlock: Stay, Molly. You don’t bother me. Not the way you think you do, at any rate.
Molly: Oookay. I’m not really sure how I should take that.
*Sherlock sighs and points his foot at John’s chair.*
Sherlock: It’s warmer over here.
*Molly hesitates a moment, then takes her crossword puzzles and moves to the chair opposite Sherlock. Silence returns except for the occasional crack of burning logs.*
*Mrs Hudson bustles up the stairs with a tray of cocoa and biscuits.*
Mrs Hudson: Isn’t this lovely, dears? With the falling snow, and curling up in front of a warm fire with good company.
Molly: It is nice. Now that I know what it’s like, I may not ever want to leave.
*Molly laughs as Mrs Hudson hands her a mug, clearly joking.*
Sherlock: Then don’t.
Molly: Pardon?
Sherlock: The room upstairs is empty, Baker Street is closer to Barts, and your landlord routinely lets himself in to your place and helps himself to your crisps. Amongst other things.
*Mrs Hudson and Molly both gasp, for slightly different reasons.*
Molly: That rat bast-
Mrs Hudson: Of course you can stay here, Molly. We’ll get the boys to move your things this weekend. I’m sure Sherlock can arrange to have your lease broken, he’s good at things like that. Don’t you worry, we’ll get everything settled in no time.
*With a final pat on the shoulder for Molly, Mrs Hudson heads back down to her flat.*
Molly: Wait a minute . . . You’re the one who eats my crisps. And my biscuits. I’ve caught you red handed at least three times.
Sherlock: Yes, well, it’s too late now. She’s probably already sending out a mass text to let everyone know you’re moving in.
Molly: You’re joking. She wouldn’t-
*Molly’s text alert dings. Seconds later Sherlock’s phone does the same.*
Sherlock: Welcome to Baker Street.
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.
Four Calling Birds
Molly: It doesn’t fit.
*Sherlock opens his eyes and frowns in the direction of his sofa where Molly is curled up with a book of crossword puzzles and a pencil.*
Sherlock: What’s the clue?
Molly: On the fourth day, gift from true love – blank birds, five letters. ‘Calling’ is seven.
*Sherlock stretches his legs out and wiggled his bare toes in front of the fire.*
Sherlock: Try colly. The song used to have four colly birds rather than calling.
Molly: Really? Huh. Learn something new every day, I guess.
*Molly pencils in the word, then glances toward the windows and the heavy snowfall outside.*
Molly: You’re sure Mrs Hudson doesn’t mind if I borrow John’s old room for the night? I could probably still make it to the tube station if I leave right now. I can’t believe we didn’t notice how bad it was getting earlier.
*Sherlock lazily waves his hand as if dismissing the idea.*
Sherlock: She’s already made up the bed, and I heard her chittering about making a pot of hot cocoa on her way back down.
*They sit in silence for a few more minutes, then Molly looks up to find Sherlock is resting his head on the back of his chair but he’s watching her with a strange expression on his face.*
Molly: Oh! I’m sorry. I’m bothering you, you should have said something and I would have-
Sherlock: Stay, Molly. You don’t bother me. Not the way you think you do, at any rate.
Molly: Oookay. I’m not really sure how I should take that.
*Sherlock sighs and points his foot at John’s chair.*
Sherlock: It’s warmer over here.
*Molly hesitates a moment, then takes her crossword puzzles and moves to the chair opposite Sherlock. Silence returns except for the occasional crack of burning logs.*
*Mrs Hudson bustles up the stairs with a tray of cocoa and biscuits.*
Mrs Hudson: Isn’t this lovely, dears? With the falling snow, and curling up in front of a warm fire with good company.
Molly: It is nice. Now that I know what it’s like, I may not ever want to leave.
*Molly laughs as Mrs Hudson hands her a mug, clearly joking.*
Sherlock: Then don’t.
Molly: Pardon?
Sherlock: The room upstairs is empty, Baker Street is closer to Barts, and your landlord routinely lets himself in to your place and helps himself to your crisps. Amongst other things.
*Mrs Hudson and Molly both gasp, for slightly different reasons.*
Molly: That rat bast-
Mrs Hudson: Of course you can stay here, Molly. We’ll get the boys to move your things this weekend. I’m sure Sherlock can arrange to have your lease broken, he’s good at things like that. Don’t you worry, we’ll get everything settled in no time.
*With a final pat on the shoulder for Molly, Mrs Hudson heads back down to her flat.*
Molly: Wait a minute . . . You’re the one who eats my crisps. And my biscuits. I’ve caught you red handed at least three times.
Sherlock: Yes, well, it’s too late now. She’s probably already sending out a mass text to let everyone know you’re moving in.
Molly: You’re joking. She wouldn’t-
*Molly’s text alert dings. Seconds later Sherlock’s phone does the same.*
Sherlock: Welcome to Baker Street.
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