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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.
Eleven Pipers Piping
*Molly walks into the Baker Street house and immediately flinches. Someone is quite clearly murdering a cat upstairs.*
Molly: Toby? Sherlock, what is going on?
*Sherlock is standing in the middle of the sitting room, wearing a kilt and nothing else, and clutching a rapidly deflating set of bag pipes. There is a laptop open in front of him, playing a video of eleven pipers marching in unison down a street.*
Molly: Please tell me this is for a case, and not a new hobby you’ve picked up.
Sherlock: Case, obviously.
*Molly slumps against the door frame in relief.*
Sherlock: I suspect one of those men is an assassin. Murdered a man in front of a crowd of hundreds without anyone seeing, using a dart coated in a slow-acting poison. But I haven’t been able to identify which one is the killer.
Molly: Yet.
Sherlock: Yet. I just have to deduce which of them isn’t actually playing as they walk past the victim.
Molly: What does Mrs Hudson think of all this.
Sherlock: She went to visit her boyfriend for the afternoon.
*Molly nods, and tries not to ogle Sherlock’s bare chest and legs. She fails.*
Molly: Are you keeping the bag pipes when you’re done?
Sherlock: I wasn’t planning on it. Unless you’d prefer me to?
Molly: No, that’s-that’s definitely not a thing I would want. No.
*Sherlock nods and sets the pipes down. They give a mournful wheeze as they settle.*
Sherlock: And the kilt?
Molly: You could, uh, keep that. If you want. I mean, I wouldn’t object.
*Sherlock grins and steps closer.*
Sherlock: I tried to find one that looks similar to the cover of one of those books you keep in the nightstand.
Molly: You did?
*Sherlock nods. He reaches for Molly and pulls her tight against his chest.*
Sherlock: Consider this an early Christmas gift, Molly.
Molly: Oh. OH.
Sherlock: Would you like to unwrap your present?
*Molly blinks as she processes what he’s said.*
Molly: God, yes.
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.
Eleven Pipers Piping
*Molly walks into the Baker Street house and immediately flinches. Someone is quite clearly murdering a cat upstairs.*
Molly: Toby? Sherlock, what is going on?
*Sherlock is standing in the middle of the sitting room, wearing a kilt and nothing else, and clutching a rapidly deflating set of bag pipes. There is a laptop open in front of him, playing a video of eleven pipers marching in unison down a street.*
Molly: Please tell me this is for a case, and not a new hobby you’ve picked up.
Sherlock: Case, obviously.
*Molly slumps against the door frame in relief.*
Sherlock: I suspect one of those men is an assassin. Murdered a man in front of a crowd of hundreds without anyone seeing, using a dart coated in a slow-acting poison. But I haven’t been able to identify which one is the killer.
Molly: Yet.
Sherlock: Yet. I just have to deduce which of them isn’t actually playing as they walk past the victim.
Molly: What does Mrs Hudson think of all this.
Sherlock: She went to visit her boyfriend for the afternoon.
*Molly nods, and tries not to ogle Sherlock’s bare chest and legs. She fails.*
Molly: Are you keeping the bag pipes when you’re done?
Sherlock: I wasn’t planning on it. Unless you’d prefer me to?
Molly: No, that’s-that’s definitely not a thing I would want. No.
*Sherlock nods and sets the pipes down. They give a mournful wheeze as they settle.*
Sherlock: And the kilt?
Molly: You could, uh, keep that. If you want. I mean, I wouldn’t object.
*Sherlock grins and steps closer.*
Sherlock: I tried to find one that looks similar to the cover of one of those books you keep in the nightstand.
Molly: You did?
*Sherlock nods. He reaches for Molly and pulls her tight against his chest.*
Sherlock: Consider this an early Christmas gift, Molly.
Molly: Oh. OH.
Sherlock: Would you like to unwrap your present?
*Molly blinks as she processes what he’s said.*
Molly: God, yes.
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