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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.
Six Geese a-Laying
*Molly is perched on a fallen log next to a pond. The remnants of a small lunch are beside her. She is engrossed in a thick book.*
Sherlock: I didn’t expect anyone to be down here. Come to see the geese, have you?
*Molly nearly shrieks. She slaps the book shut and holds it against her chest protectively.*
Molly: Mister Holmes! You startled me.
Sherlock: You’re the new chauffer’s daughter.
Molly: I wouldn’t say new, Mr Holmes. My father has been working for your family for nearly three years now. You just haven’t noticed because you rarely visit your parents.
*Molly pales and bites at her lower lip, obviously worried that she’s crossed a line. Sherlock stares at her for a long moment.*
Sherlock: What are you reading . . . Molly?
*Molly clutches the book tighter.*
Molly: I have permission. Mr Holmes said I could borrow books from the library.
Sherlock: That sounds like my father.
Molly: Not your father. The other Mr Holmes, your brother.
Sherlock: Mycroft?
*Molly nods. She hesitantly releases her book and offers it to Sherlock.*
Molly: Somehow, he found out that I was planning to go to med school once I finished uni. He suggested I make use of the library over the last few summers.
Sherlock: Why on earth would Mycroft do that? What is he getting out of it?
*She bristles and stands up, her half-eaten lunch tumbles to the ground. Sherlock quickly realizes he’s said something a Bit Not Good.*
Molly: How dare you! Mr Holmes has never . . .
Sherlock: That’s not what I-
*Sherlocks voice trails off as the sound of angry honking grows.*
Sherlock: We need to leave.
Molly: What? I’m not going anywhere with you.
*Sherlock grabs her hand and begins to back away, Molly in tow.*
Sherlock: The geese like to make their nests out here, and I think they’ve finally noticed us.
*Molly looks over her shoulder to see at least half a dozen large, angry birds heading their way.*
Molly: Run?
Sherlock: Run.
*Ten minutes later, Sherlock and Molly are perched high in the branches of a tree. Most of the geese have lost interest and waddled off to steal the remainder of Molly’s forgotten lunch. One lone, stubborn goose stands guard at the foot of the tree.*
Sherlock: You want to be a doctor?
Molly: Yes. I’ve been doing a lot of research and I’m rather intrigued by pathology.
Sherlock: Do you know where you’ll be studying?
Molly: I’m hoping for a place at Barts, but I haven’t heard back yet.
Sherlock: I know someone there. Perhaps I could put in a good word.
Molly: Why would you do that?
Sherlock: Who wouldn’t want a pathologist for a colleague? Imagine all the interesting experiments we could run.
Molly: We?
Sherlock: Assuming we don’t kill each other first.
*Molly laughs and Sherlock offers a small smile in return.*
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.
Six Geese a-Laying
*Molly is perched on a fallen log next to a pond. The remnants of a small lunch are beside her. She is engrossed in a thick book.*
Sherlock: I didn’t expect anyone to be down here. Come to see the geese, have you?
*Molly nearly shrieks. She slaps the book shut and holds it against her chest protectively.*
Molly: Mister Holmes! You startled me.
Sherlock: You’re the new chauffer’s daughter.
Molly: I wouldn’t say new, Mr Holmes. My father has been working for your family for nearly three years now. You just haven’t noticed because you rarely visit your parents.
*Molly pales and bites at her lower lip, obviously worried that she’s crossed a line. Sherlock stares at her for a long moment.*
Sherlock: What are you reading . . . Molly?
*Molly clutches the book tighter.*
Molly: I have permission. Mr Holmes said I could borrow books from the library.
Sherlock: That sounds like my father.
Molly: Not your father. The other Mr Holmes, your brother.
Sherlock: Mycroft?
*Molly nods. She hesitantly releases her book and offers it to Sherlock.*
Molly: Somehow, he found out that I was planning to go to med school once I finished uni. He suggested I make use of the library over the last few summers.
Sherlock: Why on earth would Mycroft do that? What is he getting out of it?
*She bristles and stands up, her half-eaten lunch tumbles to the ground. Sherlock quickly realizes he’s said something a Bit Not Good.*
Molly: How dare you! Mr Holmes has never . . .
Sherlock: That’s not what I-
*Sherlocks voice trails off as the sound of angry honking grows.*
Sherlock: We need to leave.
Molly: What? I’m not going anywhere with you.
*Sherlock grabs her hand and begins to back away, Molly in tow.*
Sherlock: The geese like to make their nests out here, and I think they’ve finally noticed us.
*Molly looks over her shoulder to see at least half a dozen large, angry birds heading their way.*
Molly: Run?
Sherlock: Run.
*Ten minutes later, Sherlock and Molly are perched high in the branches of a tree. Most of the geese have lost interest and waddled off to steal the remainder of Molly’s forgotten lunch. One lone, stubborn goose stands guard at the foot of the tree.*
Sherlock: You want to be a doctor?
Molly: Yes. I’ve been doing a lot of research and I’m rather intrigued by pathology.
Sherlock: Do you know where you’ll be studying?
Molly: I’m hoping for a place at Barts, but I haven’t heard back yet.
Sherlock: I know someone there. Perhaps I could put in a good word.
Molly: Why would you do that?
Sherlock: Who wouldn’t want a pathologist for a colleague? Imagine all the interesting experiments we could run.
Molly: We?
Sherlock: Assuming we don’t kill each other first.
*Molly laughs and Sherlock offers a small smile in return.*
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