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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.
Ten Lords a-Leaping
Sherlock: This is a nightmare.
Molly: Shh. Your parents will hear you.
Sherlock: I’m sure they’re already well aware of how much I detest the ballet.
Molly: It’s the ‘Nutcracker’. Everyone loves the ‘Nutcracker’.
Sherlock: Obviously, they do not, as I can personally attest to. What’s the point?
Molly: You like dancing.
Sherlock: I enjoy doing it, not watching others leaping and wobbling about in a subpar performance. Look at the lead, she’s barely participating.
*The lead ballerina is performing perfectly.*
Molly: Hush. Your Mum and Dad are enjoying themselves. Just . . . deduce something until it’s over.
Sherlock: What, exactly, do you think I can deduce from here? I mean, yes, I know the couple in front of us are fighting because she’s been having an affair with his business partner; but I knew that within ten minutes of our being seated.
*The couple in front of them both turn to look at Sherlock and Molly. The woman looks horrified, the man is furious. He soon turns to glare at his wife.*
Molly: Sherlock! The dancers. Deduce the dancers.
Sherlock: So far we’ve seen ten male dancers, two of them are-
Molly: Silently. Not out loud.
Sherlock: But-
Mummy Holmes: William Sherlock Scott Holmes, if you open your mouth again, I will bring your baby book to show to Molly the next time we come to the city.
Sherlock: You wouldn’t dare.
Mummy Holmes: And the album with all the photos from your pirate phase.
*Sherlock continues to look mutinous.*
Mummy Holmes: And the summer when you were three, and insisted on running around bare bottomed every time we turned our backs.
*Molly covers her mouth to keep from laughing. Sherlock pales and looks ill.*
*Mummy Holmes waits for a moment to make sure her threat has worked. Then she returns to watching the ballet.*
*Molly reaches out and takes Sherlock’s hand.*
*Daddy Holmes winks at her over Mummy’s head.*
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.
Ten Lords a-Leaping
Sherlock: This is a nightmare.
Molly: Shh. Your parents will hear you.
Sherlock: I’m sure they’re already well aware of how much I detest the ballet.
Molly: It’s the ‘Nutcracker’. Everyone loves the ‘Nutcracker’.
Sherlock: Obviously, they do not, as I can personally attest to. What’s the point?
Molly: You like dancing.
Sherlock: I enjoy doing it, not watching others leaping and wobbling about in a subpar performance. Look at the lead, she’s barely participating.
*The lead ballerina is performing perfectly.*
Molly: Hush. Your Mum and Dad are enjoying themselves. Just . . . deduce something until it’s over.
Sherlock: What, exactly, do you think I can deduce from here? I mean, yes, I know the couple in front of us are fighting because she’s been having an affair with his business partner; but I knew that within ten minutes of our being seated.
*The couple in front of them both turn to look at Sherlock and Molly. The woman looks horrified, the man is furious. He soon turns to glare at his wife.*
Molly: Sherlock! The dancers. Deduce the dancers.
Sherlock: So far we’ve seen ten male dancers, two of them are-
Molly: Silently. Not out loud.
Sherlock: But-
Mummy Holmes: William Sherlock Scott Holmes, if you open your mouth again, I will bring your baby book to show to Molly the next time we come to the city.
Sherlock: You wouldn’t dare.
Mummy Holmes: And the album with all the photos from your pirate phase.
*Sherlock continues to look mutinous.*
Mummy Holmes: And the summer when you were three, and insisted on running around bare bottomed every time we turned our backs.
*Molly covers her mouth to keep from laughing. Sherlock pales and looks ill.*
*Mummy Holmes waits for a moment to make sure her threat has worked. Then she returns to watching the ballet.*
*Molly reaches out and takes Sherlock’s hand.*
*Daddy Holmes winks at her over Mummy’s head.*
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