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vocab_drabblesTitle: Ruby
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (ACD)
Prompt: 025: Timorous
Rating: Gen
Length: 500
Summary: In Sussex, Holmes and Watson get a visit from a former housemaid of 221B Baker Street.
---
Title: Hackneyed
Fandom: Inspector Alleyn mysteries by Ngaio Marsh
Rating: Gen
Length: 500
Notes: I took the meet-cute of Alleyn and his future wife Troy (in Artists in Crime and did an inverse of it (instead of Alleyn stumbling upon Troy painting, Troy stumbles upon Alleyn's crime scene).
Troy put her small notebook in her satchel and headed up the steep side.
“Ah, tranquility, solitude,” she sighed.
But when she reached the summit, she found she wasn’t alone after all. She was just clearing the ridge when she heard a man’s voice.
“Damn! Damn, damn, damn, oh, blast!”
Troy looked up in time to see something small and flashy tumble towards her feet.
She bent to pick it up.
“NO!” cried the same voice. “Don’t touch it!”
Troy froze. Her eyes flitted to the handsome man in a suit coming toward her. Her artist’s sensibilities registered good bone structure in the face and features which intrigued as well as pleased. Then her gaze shifted to the small phalanx of uniformed person behind him, working like drones, searching, collecting, photographing.
It was like stumbling upon an ant hill, but the ants were of a very different species.
“Please don’t disturb anything,” said the man. He was almost panting. “I mean, please, don’t put fingerprints on that piece of evidence.”
Troy looked down. That piece of evidence was a cigarette lighter.
“How long have you been here?” asked the man.
Troy stepped back. She wasn’t about to let herself be bullied. She surveyed the scene once more.
“I haven’t been spying. I’ve just come.” She frowned. “There’s been a murder,” she concluded.
“How do you know?”
Troy fixed him with eyes just as sharp as his tone. “You don’t look like you walk a beat.”
He had the good manners to turn pink. If he were a portrait at this very moment, she’d entitle it The Fluttered Grandee. She wondered, fleetingly and foolishly, if he’d consent to sit for her.
He made a careful show of picking up the lighter with metal tongs and placing it in a small box.
“I don’t want to tell you your business,” began Troy.
“Really? Not keen to try your hand at amateur sleuthing? What’s that hackneyed phrase? The police are out of their depth?”
“I wasn’t going to roll out that particular bromide,” countered Troy. A tiny bit of hurt seeped into her tone, and maybe that was why he turned a deeper shade of pink.
He actually made a little bow, and Troy was more moved than she should’ve been.
“I apologise profusely. I am a public servant, and there’s absolutely no call for me to be so beastly to a rate taxpayer.”
“Who says I pay my taxes?” teased Troy. It was her acceptance of his apology, and he tilted his head in recognition of the fact. “What is that hackneyed phrase? I might be able to help you with your enquiries.”
“Indeed?”
“That lighter is distinctive. It belongs to a dancer-painter who calls herself Honey Badger. She’s one of our lot.”
“Oh, you are staying at the artists’ enclave?”
“Inspector!?” called a voice.
“Yes, Fox. I’ve got it. I’m coming.” He turned back to Troy. “Thank you. I’ll see you again soon.”
Troy found herself surprisingly pleased at the notion.
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (ACD)
Prompt: 025: Timorous
Rating: Gen
Length: 500
Summary: In Sussex, Holmes and Watson get a visit from a former housemaid of 221B Baker Street.
---
Title: Hackneyed
Fandom: Inspector Alleyn mysteries by Ngaio Marsh
Rating: Gen
Length: 500
Notes: I took the meet-cute of Alleyn and his future wife Troy (in Artists in Crime and did an inverse of it (instead of Alleyn stumbling upon Troy painting, Troy stumbles upon Alleyn's crime scene).
Troy put her small notebook in her satchel and headed up the steep side.
“Ah, tranquility, solitude,” she sighed.
But when she reached the summit, she found she wasn’t alone after all. She was just clearing the ridge when she heard a man’s voice.
“Damn! Damn, damn, damn, oh, blast!”
Troy looked up in time to see something small and flashy tumble towards her feet.
She bent to pick it up.
“NO!” cried the same voice. “Don’t touch it!”
Troy froze. Her eyes flitted to the handsome man in a suit coming toward her. Her artist’s sensibilities registered good bone structure in the face and features which intrigued as well as pleased. Then her gaze shifted to the small phalanx of uniformed person behind him, working like drones, searching, collecting, photographing.
It was like stumbling upon an ant hill, but the ants were of a very different species.
“Please don’t disturb anything,” said the man. He was almost panting. “I mean, please, don’t put fingerprints on that piece of evidence.”
Troy looked down. That piece of evidence was a cigarette lighter.
“How long have you been here?” asked the man.
Troy stepped back. She wasn’t about to let herself be bullied. She surveyed the scene once more.
“I haven’t been spying. I’ve just come.” She frowned. “There’s been a murder,” she concluded.
“How do you know?”
Troy fixed him with eyes just as sharp as his tone. “You don’t look like you walk a beat.”
He had the good manners to turn pink. If he were a portrait at this very moment, she’d entitle it The Fluttered Grandee. She wondered, fleetingly and foolishly, if he’d consent to sit for her.
He made a careful show of picking up the lighter with metal tongs and placing it in a small box.
“I don’t want to tell you your business,” began Troy.
“Really? Not keen to try your hand at amateur sleuthing? What’s that hackneyed phrase? The police are out of their depth?”
“I wasn’t going to roll out that particular bromide,” countered Troy. A tiny bit of hurt seeped into her tone, and maybe that was why he turned a deeper shade of pink.
He actually made a little bow, and Troy was more moved than she should’ve been.
“I apologise profusely. I am a public servant, and there’s absolutely no call for me to be so beastly to a rate taxpayer.”
“Who says I pay my taxes?” teased Troy. It was her acceptance of his apology, and he tilted his head in recognition of the fact. “What is that hackneyed phrase? I might be able to help you with your enquiries.”
“Indeed?”
“That lighter is distinctive. It belongs to a dancer-painter who calls herself Honey Badger. She’s one of our lot.”
“Oh, you are staying at the artists’ enclave?”
“Inspector!?” called a voice.
“Yes, Fox. I’ve got it. I’m coming.” He turned back to Troy. “Thank you. I’ll see you again soon.”
Troy found herself surprisingly pleased at the notion.
no subject
Date: 2022-09-29 06:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-09-29 02:03 pm (UTC)