Fic for sadbhyl: Asymmetric Information
Jun. 11th, 2011 08:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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holmesticeTitle: Asymmetric Information
Recipient:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sadbhyl
Author:hollyxu
Characters/Pairings: Gen, or pre-slash if you roll that way.
Rating: PG for swearing.
Warnings: None. (Irregular use of grammar?)
Summary: Bridget Jones’s Diary, BBC Sherlock style.
Notes: I think at least five people weighed in on this puppy, short as it is, they know who they are, and they have my eternal gratitude! Any remaining errors are all mine. This fic owes rather a lot to the lovely timeline bywastingyourgum, so thank you!
Dear recipient,
I know you asked for a lot of things, but I took the AU crossover theme and ran with it. And, in my defense, I was halfway through when I realized this particular round of Holmestice stood for Summer Solstice. Er, oops?
I hope you enjoy anyway!
Asymmetric Information
- Being an Account of Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective
Tuesday 12 January
12st 9lbs (courtesy Mummy and Cook’s joint efforts at annual holiday feeding) cigarettes 7 (bad yes but trains always terribly boring this time of year) alcohol units 7 (Mycroft’s pomposity more bearable when tipsy), attempts to murder relatives 0 (accompanied Felix to pond where he promptly fell in due to thin ice, Mycroft very put out, apparently values the little beast) phone calls from Lestrade 0 (refuses to see that he’s in over his head over this suicide business)
Farewells all said, not obliged to come back til next Christmas and drink sickening eggnog while pretending self does not want to throttle Mycroft.
New flat lovely, landlady v. accommodating. (Silly word, sillier spelling.) Have moved half of lab equipment in as moving company yokels not to be trusted with sensitive instruments. Montague Street landlord continues to plague existence, suspect Mycroft allowed this in revenge for Christmas pudding incident: not entirely own fault, nephew Felix has inherited Holmes ingenuity.
Found note slipped in new suit. Mummy harbours ‘concerns’ about continued solitary existence, perhaps also delusions re: additional grandchildren. Texted Mycroft to piss off, but as fat bastard cannot mind own business, have half mind to set Mummy on trail of escort service during Irish peace conference.
Lestrade continues to be stubborn re: suicides.
~
Saturday 16 January
12st 7lb (BORED BORED BORED) cigarettes 4 (SAME) patches 0 attempts to murder relatives 0 (Mycroft out of country, will have to defer plans until his return next week) phone calls from Lestrade 1 (thwarted again)
Green ladder widow wanted to ‘give thanks’ in form of dinner out. Was wearing new earrings and well-tailored dress, slightly askew. Probably moved on from Jack, then. People are always the same. Also: wearing entirely wrong shade of lipstick for her skin tone though did not have time to mention before Lestrade texted.
Wrong case. Still, cast-iron alibis always fun to fiddle with.
~
Friday 29 January
12st 4lbs (Mrs. Hudson kind enough to provide week’s supply of scones while self ‘working’) cigarettes 0 patches 1 (breakthrough! Alibi faked; must confirm re: bruising rate), attempts to murder relatives 0 (sent insulting email to senior analyst working for Mycroft, thereby halting at least 3 diff. ministries, Mycroft’s reaction unwarranted, as every word true), phone calls from Lestrade 0 (third suicide and still stubborn, will prod journalists at news conference)
6:00am Met Stamford at entrance, made awkward small talk, can’t remember actual conversation as fascinated by mud stains on cuff of his pants. Medical students must have been v. frustrating this week - mud belonging to half of London apparent on his trouser legs, and Stamford headed out again.
Persuaded Molly to allow test rate of bruising on fresh corpse with riding crop. Have Mycroft to thank for ex-MI5 plant but there are worse hospital contacts. Pretence tends to wear thin, esp. when playing coy. Coffee indeed.
9:30am Apparently Stamford not so useless after all. Watson a bit stroppy, seemed to take offense at surface deductions. Not own fault Harry Watson is self-destructive alcoholic hell-bent on immolating self in best tradition of inebriates everywhere. Hopefully irritation not herald of future dealings, as would hate to have Mycroft swoop in and play saviour - would be too smug for words.
Texted findings to Lestrade, seemed oddly short in his reply. Rather ungrateful of him. Will pick his pocket next time meeting in person.
7:00pm Enticed Felix with minutiae of lock-picking, may make decent detective out of him yet. Mycroft hinted smugly about ‘intriguing’ new diary, predicted dismal stock returns and sharp rise of crude in retaliation. His concerns are so mundane and BORING.
~
Saturday 30 January
12st 3lbs (yes, Mycroft, some of us are capable of losing the weight we put on during holidays) cigarettes 0 (v. last century, only acceptable in cases of utter boredom) patches 3 attempts to murder relatives 0 (only because temporarily distracted) phone calls from Lestrade 0 (better yet, a personal invitation) bit not good 1 (who knew she'd care?)
7:00pm Joy at finding malleable flatmate eclipsed by prospect of new, fascinating case. Four serial suicides! Four!
8:00pm Anderson still twat. Sally still making bad decisions re: relationships. (Mummy would like her. Excessive effort required to arrange meeting and potential misunderstanding undesirable but truly a shame to see her throw self away on Anderson.)
(In all honesty amoeba could do better than Anderson.)
Lestrade still distractedly attractive when running on 4 hours of sleep. John suitably impressed by own genius, gratifying though potentially troublesome if his latent bisexuality rears its head. At least certain John v. unlike Sebastian, that hypocritical tosser.
9:30pm Cryptic text from Mycroft. Shall have to tell Mary (should be cycling names to ‘a’ this week) about deviations from The Diet. Ahead of schedule, true, but always fun to ruin Mycroft’s day.
10:00pm Suitcase found. John addicted to danger as expected, shall have to insult his therapist at more regular intervals. Must contrive way to dissuade him of silly psychosomatic limp.
Oh, how lovely to find a truly brilliant criminal.
10:30pm Angelo now under misapprehension re: John’s role in my life. John rather shocked by own devotion to work, no doubt Mycroft will explain Victor or Sebastian or Irene or the impossibility of finding non-boring companionship. In other news, still have no idea how murderer is luring his victims or inducing them to take poison.
11:00pm John surprisingly in shape once he gets into spirit of the chase.
11:35pm And now he’s disappointed again with the drugs. Wonder what Mycroft made of him, though presence reassuring as Mycroft will not do away with him in manner of Felix’s favourite spy films.
Midnight The cabbie! Of course.
~
Sunday 31 January
12st 4lbs (Mummy will be gratified to know new flatmate is more than able to nag in her place) stimulants 0 (was NOT about to take pill, thank you) patches 0 (only because John tore them off while waiting for food) attempts to murder relatives 0 (though may escalate if John interfered with, Mycroft, thank you) phone calls from Lestrade 2 (of course will have to confirm John’s alibi re: cabbie) bit not good 0 (yet)
Early morning Moriarty! A proper puzzle at last, though resisted urge to twirl around in beautiful coat until after cabbie was not of this world.
Of course Mycroft couldn’t resist sticking his long nose in, also has probably started extensive files re: Dr. John Watson. Most likely boring comprehensive personal and educational history. Psychological evaluations. Surveillance tapes. Will have to break into Mycroft’s office sometime and steal offending documents. Doubt reports capture particular shade of steely coaxing ex-army doctors achieve.
Pot-kettle accusation re: danger-seeking behaviour aside, John more than willing to put up with self. Also willing to shoot bad cabbies under dubious circumstances for newly acquainted flatmate, probably a bit not good, but then so am I. Huzzah.
(Though Bond marathon probably looms in horizon.)
(Wonder if will consent to being flatmates forever in exchange.)
Recipient:
sadbhylAuthor:
hollyxu Characters/Pairings: Gen, or pre-slash if you roll that way.
Rating: PG for swearing.
Warnings: None. (Irregular use of grammar?)
Summary: Bridget Jones’s Diary, BBC Sherlock style.
Notes: I think at least five people weighed in on this puppy, short as it is, they know who they are, and they have my eternal gratitude! Any remaining errors are all mine. This fic owes rather a lot to the lovely timeline by
wastingyourgum, so thank you! Dear recipient,
I know you asked for a lot of things, but I took the AU crossover theme and ran with it. And, in my defense, I was halfway through when I realized this particular round of Holmestice stood for Summer Solstice. Er, oops?
I hope you enjoy anyway!
Asymmetric Information
- Being an Account of Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective
Tuesday 12 January
12st 9lbs (courtesy Mummy and Cook’s joint efforts at annual holiday feeding) cigarettes 7 (bad yes but trains always terribly boring this time of year) alcohol units 7 (Mycroft’s pomposity more bearable when tipsy), attempts to murder relatives 0 (accompanied Felix to pond where he promptly fell in due to thin ice, Mycroft very put out, apparently values the little beast) phone calls from Lestrade 0 (refuses to see that he’s in over his head over this suicide business)
Farewells all said, not obliged to come back til next Christmas and drink sickening eggnog while pretending self does not want to throttle Mycroft.
New flat lovely, landlady v. accommodating. (Silly word, sillier spelling.) Have moved half of lab equipment in as moving company yokels not to be trusted with sensitive instruments. Montague Street landlord continues to plague existence, suspect Mycroft allowed this in revenge for Christmas pudding incident: not entirely own fault, nephew Felix has inherited Holmes ingenuity.
Found note slipped in new suit. Mummy harbours ‘concerns’ about continued solitary existence, perhaps also delusions re: additional grandchildren. Texted Mycroft to piss off, but as fat bastard cannot mind own business, have half mind to set Mummy on trail of escort service during Irish peace conference.
Lestrade continues to be stubborn re: suicides.
~
Saturday 16 January
12st 7lb (BORED BORED BORED) cigarettes 4 (SAME) patches 0 attempts to murder relatives 0 (Mycroft out of country, will have to defer plans until his return next week) phone calls from Lestrade 1 (thwarted again)
Green ladder widow wanted to ‘give thanks’ in form of dinner out. Was wearing new earrings and well-tailored dress, slightly askew. Probably moved on from Jack, then. People are always the same. Also: wearing entirely wrong shade of lipstick for her skin tone though did not have time to mention before Lestrade texted.
Wrong case. Still, cast-iron alibis always fun to fiddle with.
~
Friday 29 January
12st 4lbs (Mrs. Hudson kind enough to provide week’s supply of scones while self ‘working’) cigarettes 0 patches 1 (breakthrough! Alibi faked; must confirm re: bruising rate), attempts to murder relatives 0 (sent insulting email to senior analyst working for Mycroft, thereby halting at least 3 diff. ministries, Mycroft’s reaction unwarranted, as every word true), phone calls from Lestrade 0 (third suicide and still stubborn, will prod journalists at news conference)
6:00am Met Stamford at entrance, made awkward small talk, can’t remember actual conversation as fascinated by mud stains on cuff of his pants. Medical students must have been v. frustrating this week - mud belonging to half of London apparent on his trouser legs, and Stamford headed out again.
Persuaded Molly to allow test rate of bruising on fresh corpse with riding crop. Have Mycroft to thank for ex-MI5 plant but there are worse hospital contacts. Pretence tends to wear thin, esp. when playing coy. Coffee indeed.
9:30am Apparently Stamford not so useless after all. Watson a bit stroppy, seemed to take offense at surface deductions. Not own fault Harry Watson is self-destructive alcoholic hell-bent on immolating self in best tradition of inebriates everywhere. Hopefully irritation not herald of future dealings, as would hate to have Mycroft swoop in and play saviour - would be too smug for words.
Texted findings to Lestrade, seemed oddly short in his reply. Rather ungrateful of him. Will pick his pocket next time meeting in person.
7:00pm Enticed Felix with minutiae of lock-picking, may make decent detective out of him yet. Mycroft hinted smugly about ‘intriguing’ new diary, predicted dismal stock returns and sharp rise of crude in retaliation. His concerns are so mundane and BORING.
~
Saturday 30 January
12st 3lbs (yes, Mycroft, some of us are capable of losing the weight we put on during holidays) cigarettes 0 (v. last century, only acceptable in cases of utter boredom) patches 3 attempts to murder relatives 0 (only because temporarily distracted) phone calls from Lestrade 0 (better yet, a personal invitation) bit not good 1 (who knew she'd care?)
7:00pm Joy at finding malleable flatmate eclipsed by prospect of new, fascinating case. Four serial suicides! Four!
8:00pm Anderson still twat. Sally still making bad decisions re: relationships. (Mummy would like her. Excessive effort required to arrange meeting and potential misunderstanding undesirable but truly a shame to see her throw self away on Anderson.)
(In all honesty amoeba could do better than Anderson.)
Lestrade still distractedly attractive when running on 4 hours of sleep. John suitably impressed by own genius, gratifying though potentially troublesome if his latent bisexuality rears its head. At least certain John v. unlike Sebastian, that hypocritical tosser.
9:30pm Cryptic text from Mycroft. Shall have to tell Mary (should be cycling names to ‘a’ this week) about deviations from The Diet. Ahead of schedule, true, but always fun to ruin Mycroft’s day.
10:00pm Suitcase found. John addicted to danger as expected, shall have to insult his therapist at more regular intervals. Must contrive way to dissuade him of silly psychosomatic limp.
Oh, how lovely to find a truly brilliant criminal.
10:30pm Angelo now under misapprehension re: John’s role in my life. John rather shocked by own devotion to work, no doubt Mycroft will explain Victor or Sebastian or Irene or the impossibility of finding non-boring companionship. In other news, still have no idea how murderer is luring his victims or inducing them to take poison.
11:00pm John surprisingly in shape once he gets into spirit of the chase.
11:35pm And now he’s disappointed again with the drugs. Wonder what Mycroft made of him, though presence reassuring as Mycroft will not do away with him in manner of Felix’s favourite spy films.
Midnight The cabbie! Of course.
~
Sunday 31 January
12st 4lbs (Mummy will be gratified to know new flatmate is more than able to nag in her place) stimulants 0 (was NOT about to take pill, thank you) patches 0 (only because John tore them off while waiting for food) attempts to murder relatives 0 (though may escalate if John interfered with, Mycroft, thank you) phone calls from Lestrade 2 (of course will have to confirm John’s alibi re: cabbie) bit not good 0 (yet)
Early morning Moriarty! A proper puzzle at last, though resisted urge to twirl around in beautiful coat until after cabbie was not of this world.
Of course Mycroft couldn’t resist sticking his long nose in, also has probably started extensive files re: Dr. John Watson. Most likely boring comprehensive personal and educational history. Psychological evaluations. Surveillance tapes. Will have to break into Mycroft’s office sometime and steal offending documents. Doubt reports capture particular shade of steely coaxing ex-army doctors achieve.
Pot-kettle accusation re: danger-seeking behaviour aside, John more than willing to put up with self. Also willing to shoot bad cabbies under dubious circumstances for newly acquainted flatmate, probably a bit not good, but then so am I. Huzzah.
(Though Bond marathon probably looms in horizon.)
(Wonder if will consent to being flatmates forever in exchange.)
