A Case of Identity/The Red-Headed Legaue

[marysutherland.livejournal.com]

I'm trying to catch up, so here is two weeks' worth:

Canon Story: A Case of Identity
Title: Another Norbury
Author: Mary Sutherland
Rating: PG

Watson records my triumph in the Sutherland case; I now acknowledge my own failure. I may have frightened that scoundrel Windibank, but by keeping silent, I aided his plan to keep Miss Sutherland a spinster. If only I had realised then how long a noble heart may remain constant towards their beloved despite possessing no expectation of a favourable outcome.

Canon Story: The Red-Headed League
Title: Every Breath He Takes
Rating: PG

We waited seventy-three minutes in the City and Suburban for John Clay that night. Seventy-three minutes in the dark, hearing the calm steadiness of Watson's breath, easily distinguishable from Jones' heavy inhales and the lightness of Mr Merryweather's respiration. As usual, my friend's mind could not follow my own, but his heart and his revolver were again at my command.

A Case of Identity: Sorrows; The Red-Headed League: Dreams

[azriona.livejournal.com]

Canon Story: A Case of Identity
Title: Sorrows
Author: azriona
Rating: PG
Warnings: Veiled reference to miscarriage
Author's Notes: Watson so seldom makes reference to his medical practice or his patients; I have to wonder that he does so here. My only thought is that it must have been one very close to his heart, to give it such weight to include it in something that would prove to be so permanent.




She sleeps lightly, face still damp. The doctor washes his hands in bloody water.

“She’ll live,” he says to me.

“But—?”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Watson.”

I knew it already. I kiss her; she wakes.

“Go on, I’ll be all right,” she whispers, smiling bravely.

I will drown our sorrow in a night’s adventure. Holmes is waiting.


****


Canon Story: The Red-Headed League
Title: Dreams
Author: azriona
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Author's Notes: I kept thinking about the poor, unnamed 14-year-old housegirl. As a side note, this was the first 60 I wrote that had 60 words exactly on the first go!


Vincent said he’d take me to dinner, when his ship came in, buy me lovely jewels and dresses of silk and I could wear my hair up under hats of feathers and lace. He said lovely things while he kissed my neck. Mr Wilson says Vincent is gone, good riddance, but he looks as though he’s lost a dream, too.