caffienekitty (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
caffienekitty) wrote2011-01-10 11:07 pm
caffienekitty) wrote2011-01-10 11:07 pm
Entry tags:
Sherlock Fanfic: A Restless Pillow
Title: A Restless Pillow
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC 2010)
Disclaimer:ACD created Sherlock and John, Moffat, Gatiss and the BBC made their new world.
Rating/Warnings: GEN. PG-13. Platonic bed-sharing. Spiders. Conversation format.
A/N: For this Prompt - Apologies to everyone in Brazil for the geography/culture/fauna fail. Title from a pretentious Charlotte Brontë quote with no real relation to the story. ETA: The spider described in the fic is real, Google at your own peril.
Translation:French Translation by CMona at ff.net
Summary: John and Sherlock share a bed, or at least they try to.
-
A Restless Pillow
by CaffieneKitty
-
"Christ! Sherlock, are you made of elbows?"
"At least when I sleep I don't make a noise like an elephant drowning in custard."
"Are you implying that I snore?"
"I'm not implying it, I've observed it."
"You don't have to observe it, you know. Why are you even trying to sleep now? You rarely ever sleep, and when you do, you sleep on the sofa."
"No sofa here. Where would they put it and still have room to open the door?"
"There's a chair, you could sleep in that."
"As my doctor, you should be insisting I get more sleep. You should be thrilled that I intend to sleep in a bed."
"Not when it's the same bed I'm sleeping in. You couldn't have got a double room?"
"No doubles. Just singles."
"Same goes for size of bed, I suppose."
"Yes."
"They didn't have a spare folding camp-bed or something?"
"It's a small village in the Mantiqueira mountains, John. We're lucky not to be sleeping with someone's cattle."
"Depends what you call lucky."
"Wait, where are you going?"
"You take the world's smallest bed, I'll just take this blanket and kip on the floor."
"You won't want to do that."
"Oh won't I? I've certainly had worse."
"No."
"And why's that then?"
"Brazillian Wandering spider, average four and a half inches across."
"How big across?"
"Bigger than the palm of your hand. Deadly. In the Guinness Book of World Records this year as the world's deadliest spider. They're called 'wandering' because they wander the jungle floor rather than building webs or traps. The furniture legs are treated with a particular chemical so they won't climb up. No such protection on the floor."
"Oh."
"They also tend to be thermotropic in these mountains, burrowing into any warm spaces they find; under hotel doors, under a sleeping man-"
"Fine, okay, I'm not sleeping on the floor."
"In fact there was a wonderful murder case a few years ago-"
"Yes, thank you, I've heard enough about the giant killer spiders now. Budge over."
"There is no 'over' into which to 'budge', John."
"There was a minute ago."
"You ceded your claim to the bed space when you decided to sleep on the floor."
"You'd rather I sleep on the floor with the killer spiders?"
"'There's a chair, you could sleep in that.'"
"Now you're just being a smart-arse. Come on, shift."
"I'm only allowing you to reclaim bed space so you won't be entirely useless in the morning."
"Well, then. Thanks for that."
"If you slept in the chair there's a chance your shoulder would seize overnight, and there is the distinct possibility you'll need to shoot someone tomorrow."
"Keep a happy thought."
"Indeed."
"Wait, shoot someone? I'm not your personal assassin!"
"Shoot at someone. Convincingly."
"I didn't even bring my gun, since it would never pass airport security."
"Arrangements have been made."
"Arrangements? I'm not going to a Brazilian prison for this case, Sherlock. Even if it's a prison that's down out of the frigid mountains and has a fantastic view of the beach."
"You won't. We'll discuss the details in the morning."
"Good then. ...Could I have at least a quarter of the pillow? I realise your head's so much more important than mine, but it would be considerate, and keep my neck from cramping."
"Pillow's too small."
"It wasn't before."
"That was before I discovered that you become a custard-snorting pachyderm while asleep."
"Oh leave off!"
"Fine, here. Roll over."
"That's your arm, not the pillow."
"It will function just as well for neck support."
"...Sherlock, are you spooning me?"
"Am I what?"
"Sort of... cuddling up behind me? Arms around me in a kind of hug-like configuration?"
"Seems to be the most efficient use of the bed space, and has the added bonus of pointing your face away from me so I'm not deafened in the night."
"So it's not spooning, it's logic and self-interest?"
"Precisely."
"Well then. That's... logical."
"Are you going to talk all night, or actually sleep?"
"Right. G'nite Sherlock."
"Good night, John."
- - -
(that's it!)
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC 2010)
Disclaimer:ACD created Sherlock and John, Moffat, Gatiss and the BBC made their new world.
Rating/Warnings: GEN. PG-13. Platonic bed-sharing. Spiders. Conversation format.
A/N: For this Prompt - Apologies to everyone in Brazil for the geography/culture/fauna fail. Title from a pretentious Charlotte Brontë quote with no real relation to the story. ETA: The spider described in the fic is real, Google at your own peril.
Translation:French Translation by CMona at ff.net
Summary: John and Sherlock share a bed, or at least they try to.
A Restless Pillow
by CaffieneKitty
-
"Christ! Sherlock, are you made of elbows?"
"At least when I sleep I don't make a noise like an elephant drowning in custard."
"Are you implying that I snore?"
"I'm not implying it, I've observed it."
"You don't have to observe it, you know. Why are you even trying to sleep now? You rarely ever sleep, and when you do, you sleep on the sofa."
"No sofa here. Where would they put it and still have room to open the door?"
"There's a chair, you could sleep in that."
"As my doctor, you should be insisting I get more sleep. You should be thrilled that I intend to sleep in a bed."
"Not when it's the same bed I'm sleeping in. You couldn't have got a double room?"
"No doubles. Just singles."
"Same goes for size of bed, I suppose."
"Yes."
"They didn't have a spare folding camp-bed or something?"
"It's a small village in the Mantiqueira mountains, John. We're lucky not to be sleeping with someone's cattle."
"Depends what you call lucky."
"Wait, where are you going?"
"You take the world's smallest bed, I'll just take this blanket and kip on the floor."
"You won't want to do that."
"Oh won't I? I've certainly had worse."
"No."
"And why's that then?"
"Brazillian Wandering spider, average four and a half inches across."
"How big across?"
"Bigger than the palm of your hand. Deadly. In the Guinness Book of World Records this year as the world's deadliest spider. They're called 'wandering' because they wander the jungle floor rather than building webs or traps. The furniture legs are treated with a particular chemical so they won't climb up. No such protection on the floor."
"Oh."
"They also tend to be thermotropic in these mountains, burrowing into any warm spaces they find; under hotel doors, under a sleeping man-"
"Fine, okay, I'm not sleeping on the floor."
"In fact there was a wonderful murder case a few years ago-"
"Yes, thank you, I've heard enough about the giant killer spiders now. Budge over."
"There is no 'over' into which to 'budge', John."
"There was a minute ago."
"You ceded your claim to the bed space when you decided to sleep on the floor."
"You'd rather I sleep on the floor with the killer spiders?"
"'There's a chair, you could sleep in that.'"
"Now you're just being a smart-arse. Come on, shift."
"I'm only allowing you to reclaim bed space so you won't be entirely useless in the morning."
"Well, then. Thanks for that."
"If you slept in the chair there's a chance your shoulder would seize overnight, and there is the distinct possibility you'll need to shoot someone tomorrow."
"Keep a happy thought."
"Indeed."
"Wait, shoot someone? I'm not your personal assassin!"
"Shoot at someone. Convincingly."
"I didn't even bring my gun, since it would never pass airport security."
"Arrangements have been made."
"Arrangements? I'm not going to a Brazilian prison for this case, Sherlock. Even if it's a prison that's down out of the frigid mountains and has a fantastic view of the beach."
"You won't. We'll discuss the details in the morning."
"Good then. ...Could I have at least a quarter of the pillow? I realise your head's so much more important than mine, but it would be considerate, and keep my neck from cramping."
"Pillow's too small."
"It wasn't before."
"That was before I discovered that you become a custard-snorting pachyderm while asleep."
"Oh leave off!"
"Fine, here. Roll over."
"That's your arm, not the pillow."
"It will function just as well for neck support."
"...Sherlock, are you spooning me?"
"Am I what?"
"Sort of... cuddling up behind me? Arms around me in a kind of hug-like configuration?"
"Seems to be the most efficient use of the bed space, and has the added bonus of pointing your face away from me so I'm not deafened in the night."
"So it's not spooning, it's logic and self-interest?"
"Precisely."
"Well then. That's... logical."
"Are you going to talk all night, or actually sleep?"
"Right. G'nite Sherlock."
"Good night, John."
- - -
(that's it!)
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