“Day Care”

This is a short Sherlock fanfic/flash-fiction piece I never got around to fleshing out.  As noted, I have seen no more than two episodes of BBC’s Sherlock, and I don’t wish to see any more.  Despite this, I do enjoy putting Sherly and John in situations that would most likely be deemed “boring” by the former and, understandably so, “awkward” by the latter.  This is one of them.

Day Care

(by Allison Rose)


“….And these are my niece and nephew,” Mrs. Hudson was saying, an arm around each child’s shoulder.  “Mark and Linda.”  They were both eight years old, with light brown hair and inquisitive green eyes.

From where he reclined on the sofa, Sherlock glanced at the boy’s shoes.  The T-rexes on his socks that peeped out above his muddy trainers suggested that Mark was an aspiring paleontologist.  Linda, on the other hand, was a little harder to place.  Her dainty but mismatched socks (one knee sock had a different elastic band at the knee) contrasted greatly with her canvas high-tops, and the logo of a Beatles T-shirt peeked out from behind the straps of her flower-print jumper.

“John’ll take care of them,” Sherlock replied in a bored voice.  John just smiled shyly at the children from the armchair.  John Watson, a former army doctor, was awkward around women and even worse around pre-adolescents.  Sherlock would enjoy watching the man make a fool of himself.

Mrs. Hudson looked a little uncertain of her own decision to let the tenants of 221B Baker Street watch her charges for the day, but desperate times called for desperate measures.  “I’d best be off to meet Tish,” she stammered, heading towards the door and swinging her handbag over her shoulder.  “She’s always late, but I must set an example for her….”

“Goodbye, Auntie,” Mark exclaimed cheerfully.

“‘Bye, Auntie,” John echoed rather stupidly.

“She’s not your auntie,” Linda muttered sharply.

“I’m sorry, what?”  John asked.

“I said she’s not your auntie,” Linda repeated slowly, as though she was speaking to a young child.

“Oh.”

Sherlock chuckled sardonically — a rare occurrence — and sat up, propping his feet on the coffee table.  “You’ve got your hands full, John.”

“Yes,” John sighed.  “I suppose I have.”

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A Case of Hypnosis Chapter One

This story was conceived about a year ago now, when I decided I wanted to write a Sherlock Holmes story with a new twist: making it about a girl — but not just any gir.  Nancy Springer had written the Enola Holmes series about Sherlock and Mycroft’s little sister (born “by mistake” quite a few years after they were), which was a pretty daring move in my opinion.

And of course, there are the countless stories about Sherlock’s estranged daughter(s) with unknown women (or the woman).  I don’t know if those are Mary Sues or not, but I’ve seen a lot of them, and they’re actually fairly enjoyable to read.

But to my knowledge, nobody had actually written a story where Sherlock was a girl.

When I was young, my grandparents of blessed memory owned a movie called Without a Clue, which explored the possibility of Watson being the true genius behind the crime-solving duo and Sherlock being merely a face in a most comedic fashion.  Although I am a fan of the Basil Rathbone Sherlock Holmes movies, I’ll admit that this was actually the first SH-related movie I’d ever seen.  I suppose watching that movie caused some Sherlockally-heretical notions to seep into my subconscious and inspire me to write a most absurd plotline: What if Sherlock Holmes were a girl, and the whole man in the deerstalker with the pipe and cocaine addiction was merely a face so that people might take her prowess seriously?

A Case of Hypnosis

(by Allison Rose)

It was during my time at the prestigious Edgar and Ella Brompton Academy for Young Ladies that Holmes and I were first acquainted. I’d recently been appointed as the school’s head physician, as the previous fellow had decided not long before to further his medical career elsewhere. Having returned from the battlefield in India with a bullet firmly lodged in my leg, I accepted the position, considering that it would be less taxing on my injuries than that of an army doctor. Continue reading →

“My Dear Watson”

“Two?!”

Written for the Dear John Flash Fiction contest on Figment.  O! the monotony of it all! Sherlock is bored, so he’s taken to letter-writing.  Bear in mind that I have only seen two, yes, two, episodes of BBC’s Sherlock (and only one episode of Elementary) in my entire life, yet I’ve been told multiple times that my portrayal of the character is just “SO Sherlock.”

My Dear Watson

(by Allison Rose) Continue reading →