#149: Alterity: Sherlock Holmes (ACD): Gen
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vocab_drabblesTitle: The Brougham Driver
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (ACD)
Length: 500
Rating: Gen
Character: Mycroft Holmes, original feline character
Prompt: 149: Alterity
Note: set in "The Final Problem"
Summary: Mycroft Holmes after dropping Watson off at the station.
Mycroft Holmes turned up the collar of the heavy black cloak and stewed in the discomfort which he always felt when his routine was disrupted. He didn’t know how he’d been persuaded to accept the role of ‘driver of a small brougham’ in this melodrama of his brother’s arranging.
Lie. He did know. He knew many things, most things, in fact.
Sherlock was threatened. Well, Sherlock was often threatened, by himself as well as by outside agents. This matter looked rather more serious than the norm, and Mycroft, from the perspective of his own sub rosa professional endeavors, wouldn’t mind if the Professor made his exit from the stage of life pursued by a bear. Or not.
The issue was that Mycroft and Sherlock were not like other people. They were different. They were a company of two set apart from the rest of society by the degree of their intellectual faculties as how they chose (and chose not) to apply those faculties.
Sherlock should’ve played a lone hand. Why he’d roped a fellow like Doctor Watson into this enterprise was more than Mycroft knew.
Lie. Mycroft knew. He just didn’t like it.
But if Sherlock insisted on the Doctor’s companionship, well, the least Mycroft could do was play his part, the part of the brougham driver.
Doctor Watson hadn’t recognized him even though to read his narratives in The Strand Mycroft Holmes was the only male over fourteen stone in the whole of the metropolis, so the ‘very massive’ epigram should’ve been a dead giveaway.
Mycroft was headed back to transport hub where he could relinquish his prop and be rid of his costumery when, at a stop, his eye caught something, something small and whiskered sitting patiently on the kerb.
It looked at Mycroft. And Mycroft looked at it.
And there was, fantastic as it seemed later, a recognition.
Another of the company. Extraordinary.
Even more extraordinary was the face that the creature leapt onto the seat beside Mycroft and settled as if it were a paying fare.
Mycroft was, frankly, astounded.
His equanimity in addition to his routine was now rent to shambles! Damn Sherlock and all his tomfoolery! Damn himself for agreeing to this farce! Let the spider have his fly if the fly was daft enough to tread to close to the web.
A cat! No, precision in language was paramount. A kitten!
It was sitting beside Mycroft, looking most complacent. A soot-coloured feline but that of course could have been, well, soot.
He wouldn’t keep it, naturally. God forbid!
Mycroft’s life brokered not the slightest gap for the care of any animal no matter how domesticated or charming. And this tiny specimen looked slightly feral, more than uncanny, definitely misanthropic, and potentially diseased.
One of the company, indeed.
The brougham was forced to stop again. And the kitten chose to leap off the seat and onto the kerb and strode away, its tiny tail in the air.
And Mycroft turned up a collar already-turned.
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (ACD)
Length: 500
Rating: Gen
Character: Mycroft Holmes, original feline character
Prompt: 149: Alterity
Note: set in "The Final Problem"
Summary: Mycroft Holmes after dropping Watson off at the station.
Mycroft Holmes turned up the collar of the heavy black cloak and stewed in the discomfort which he always felt when his routine was disrupted. He didn’t know how he’d been persuaded to accept the role of ‘driver of a small brougham’ in this melodrama of his brother’s arranging.
Lie. He did know. He knew many things, most things, in fact.
Sherlock was threatened. Well, Sherlock was often threatened, by himself as well as by outside agents. This matter looked rather more serious than the norm, and Mycroft, from the perspective of his own sub rosa professional endeavors, wouldn’t mind if the Professor made his exit from the stage of life pursued by a bear. Or not.
The issue was that Mycroft and Sherlock were not like other people. They were different. They were a company of two set apart from the rest of society by the degree of their intellectual faculties as how they chose (and chose not) to apply those faculties.
Sherlock should’ve played a lone hand. Why he’d roped a fellow like Doctor Watson into this enterprise was more than Mycroft knew.
Lie. Mycroft knew. He just didn’t like it.
But if Sherlock insisted on the Doctor’s companionship, well, the least Mycroft could do was play his part, the part of the brougham driver.
Doctor Watson hadn’t recognized him even though to read his narratives in The Strand Mycroft Holmes was the only male over fourteen stone in the whole of the metropolis, so the ‘very massive’ epigram should’ve been a dead giveaway.
Mycroft was headed back to transport hub where he could relinquish his prop and be rid of his costumery when, at a stop, his eye caught something, something small and whiskered sitting patiently on the kerb.
It looked at Mycroft. And Mycroft looked at it.
And there was, fantastic as it seemed later, a recognition.
Another of the company. Extraordinary.
Even more extraordinary was the face that the creature leapt onto the seat beside Mycroft and settled as if it were a paying fare.
Mycroft was, frankly, astounded.
His equanimity in addition to his routine was now rent to shambles! Damn Sherlock and all his tomfoolery! Damn himself for agreeing to this farce! Let the spider have his fly if the fly was daft enough to tread to close to the web.
A cat! No, precision in language was paramount. A kitten!
It was sitting beside Mycroft, looking most complacent. A soot-coloured feline but that of course could have been, well, soot.
He wouldn’t keep it, naturally. God forbid!
Mycroft’s life brokered not the slightest gap for the care of any animal no matter how domesticated or charming. And this tiny specimen looked slightly feral, more than uncanny, definitely misanthropic, and potentially diseased.
One of the company, indeed.
The brougham was forced to stop again. And the kitten chose to leap off the seat and onto the kerb and strode away, its tiny tail in the air.
And Mycroft turned up a collar already-turned.
