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vocab_drabbles2022-07-29 08:03 pm
stonepicnicking_okapi) wrote in vocab_drabbles2022-07-29 08:03 pm
Entry tags:
009: Atavistic: Sherlock Holmes (ACD): Gen
Title: Atavistic
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (ACD)
Rating: Gen
Length: 221b
Summary: Watson muses on Holmes's hiding in a neolithic hut on the Devon moor after the Baskerville case.
Later, on the train journey back to London, I was to reflect on all that had transpired and muse philosophical to myself on the meaning and significance of it all.
One thing I considered with some detachment was Holmes’s encampment in the hut on the moor as well as the atavistic quality of selecting that location for his place of concealment and observation. Humans had been eking out an existence in those environs for centuries, inhospitable though they were. Had Holmes been drawn to it, instinctively? He would dismiss the suggestion as rubbish, I knew, but I wondered.
The neolithic dwellers, those whose detritus were being excavated by modern experts, could not have foreseen the future of their home. Or could they? Maybe there had been a Sherlock Holmes among their community, someone solving puzzles, someone questioning and answering, in turn. The thought made my lips curl in amusement.
Perhaps those huts had always been a setting of drama.
Holmes had used me. It still stung. And yet we’d worked together to unmask a fiendish plot. A young man had come into his inheritance, for good and for evil. And there’d been a monster. Of more than one kind. And, I supposed, I would make a fine story out of the whole business.
And thus, I drifted off, thinking of Baskerville.
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (ACD)
Rating: Gen
Length: 221b
Summary: Watson muses on Holmes's hiding in a neolithic hut on the Devon moor after the Baskerville case.
Later, on the train journey back to London, I was to reflect on all that had transpired and muse philosophical to myself on the meaning and significance of it all.
One thing I considered with some detachment was Holmes’s encampment in the hut on the moor as well as the atavistic quality of selecting that location for his place of concealment and observation. Humans had been eking out an existence in those environs for centuries, inhospitable though they were. Had Holmes been drawn to it, instinctively? He would dismiss the suggestion as rubbish, I knew, but I wondered.
The neolithic dwellers, those whose detritus were being excavated by modern experts, could not have foreseen the future of their home. Or could they? Maybe there had been a Sherlock Holmes among their community, someone solving puzzles, someone questioning and answering, in turn. The thought made my lips curl in amusement.
Perhaps those huts had always been a setting of drama.
Holmes had used me. It still stung. And yet we’d worked together to unmask a fiendish plot. A young man had come into his inheritance, for good and for evil. And there’d been a monster. Of more than one kind. And, I supposed, I would make a fine story out of the whole business.
And thus, I drifted off, thinking of Baskerville.