Full summary:

Written as a fill for an old Downton Abbey kink meme prompt:

"Dr. Clarkson is careless about his new "medicinal, soothing cigarettes" (if you can believe that fine physician would do something as silly as that, after all he is SUCH a good professional) and Ms. O'Brien ends up taking one by mistake next time he visits.
Cue Accidentally High O'Brien doing stupid stuff downstairs and upstairs.
Bonus for Daisy and Thomas trying to sneak her quietly back to her room, but her escaping several times. Extra bonus for understanding Cora. O'Brien/Cora is optional."

POV characters: Thomas, as well as Cora, Daisy, Anna and Isobel. Also starring O'Brien (obviously), Violet, Carson, Mrs Hughes and Robert, not to forget Pharaoh the dog and an as-of-yet unnamed lovable she-cat...

Can be seen as a season 1 Christmas Special of sorts!


December 1913

Prologue

"I can't believe a professional like Dr Clarkson would do something as careless as that… after all, he is such a good doctor," Isobel sighed, shaking her head dismally.

"Well, he obviously did."

Isobel looked away from the creamy blanket of snow that covered the gardens of the Dower House almost regretfully – it looked so peaceful out there – and focused her attention back on her troublesome companion. She watched as Violet took another sip of her tea. The rim of the porcelain cup didn't quite manage to hide the small smirk that played at the corner of her lips, in stark contrast to her serious tone. Not that she was actually bothering to try to hide her glee anyway. She had been gloating at Isobel ever since she had arrived, to the point where the woman was starting to suspect this might very well be the real reason Violet had invited her for afternoon tea in the first place…

It would have come as a surprise to Isobel if someone had told her about a year ago, when she had only just met the Dowager Countess of Grantham, that the stern-looking old woman could have heard about such utter disorder and absurdity and revelled in it shamelessly. Meanwhile she had got to know the real Violet Crawley, and now Isobel could tell without a shadow of a doubt that Cousin Violet was enjoying herself tremendously. If only because Dr Clarkson, who according to her had gone over to the enemy, abandoning her to become Isobel's partner in crime, was being ridiculed.

Yes, Violet was having a good laugh at Isobel's expense. And if her intuition was right, at the expense of her son and her daughter-in-law as well. To say nothing of poor O'Brien – if Isobel had ever thought she would one day come to feel sorry for the woman…

All in all, Violet Crawley was laughing in the face of the world. As was her habit, she was being positively infuriating. Yet Isobel would sooner walk around Downton Cottage Hospital naked than let her know just how much she got under her skin.

"Surely, you must have been a little shocked," she insisted. "We all were."

"Do you mean to speak of Dr Clarkson's unfortunate negligence or the… most regrettable consequences for that poor O'Brien?" Violet asked.

She didn't seem to think that there was anything even slightly regretful about the whole affair.

"Well…"

Isobel's mouth remained slightly open as she hesitated, unwilling to go down that particular road with the dowager. She had no intention of letting Violet – who was currently staring at her with an arched eyebrow – trick her into revealing any embarrassing detail about Miss O'Brien.


Chapter 1 – Nothing Serious

"And don't you go slacking off while I'm gone!"

Thomas made himself wait until Mrs Patmore had rounded the corner before hurtling into the kitchen at full speed, earning himself a curious stare from one of the scullery maids. He immediately countered with a menacing glare of his own. That silly wench had better keep her nose out of his business or else...

"Daisy, you have to come, quick," he said to the young woman who was currently busy peeling a daunting heap of potatoes.

"What? Now? I'm busy," she replied moodily, but her expression turned to one of surprise and mild worry when she looked up at him.

Thomas supposed he must have cut a truly dashing figure, out of breath as he was, with his usually impeccable hair in slight disarray and probably more than a stray crease on his livery. He could picture it clearly in his mind, and if Mr Carson spotted him he would probably receive the wigging of a lifetime... which was actually the least of his worries right now. He nervously tugged at the hem of his jacket.

"Did something happen?"

"No, no. Nothing serious. But I really need to talk to you. Now."

Thomas ran nervous fingers through his hair, patting the top of his head in a desperate attempt at keeping up appearances.

"It'll only take a second, please," he lied urgently and gave Daisy the sweetest, most charming look he could muster. "She won't even know you're gone."

For some reason that was well beyond him, it seemed to work and the incredulous maid dropped her knife on the table, looking at him expectantly.

"Where are we going?" she asked, but didn't protest when he simply motioned for her to follow him.

Thomas hurriedly led her down the corridor and into the yard to the spot by the picnic table where he usually took his smoke breaks with Miss O'Brien. Where he happened to have taken a smoke break with her not so long ago… It was a good place to discuss private business, here in the open, where nobody could sneak up on them without being noticed.

"I really need your help, Daisy. I didn't know who else to ask. You the only one I can trust..."

Thomas didn't fake the desperation in his voice. Normally, he wouldn't have dreamt of asking her for help. He knew perfectly well whom he would have turned to without a second thought. But he couldn't seek her advice this time, not when she herself was at the heart of the problem. Daisy was his last chance – she was the only one he could hope to manipulate into helping him out of the gigantic mess he had created...


Thomas could tell that there was something wrong with her from the moment he saw her enter the servants' hall. For starters, he had never ever seen Sarah O'Brien beam like that. She smirked, on a regular basis, and on rare occasions he had seen her crack some demure, genuine smiles. But that broad idiotic grin was completely unprecedented and it did not bode well. For all he knew, it might be that the sour woman had come up with an evil plan to do away with everyone at the Abbey all while evading his Majesty's justice...

Thomas stared at her suspiciously as she pulled a chair and sat down in front of him, dropping a packet of cigarettes on the table before her. Her movements were a little clumsy and he couldn't help but notice that she lacked her usual needlework.

"You come here to laze about, Miss O'Brien?" he called out affably as he reached out for the packet, pocketing it without thanking her. "I thought I might have left it lying somewhere... Hope you haven't been helping yourself."

She laughed at him. She actually laughed at him. It was in that moment that he understood just how dire the situation was. He no longer felt like exchanging pleasantries.

"You alright?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

"I'm great actually! You?"

Her answer had done nothing to reassure him.

"Are you drunk?" Thomas asked bluntly.

The stupid smile vanished from her face and for a moment she looked almost like her normal self again, but when she spoke, there was an unmistakable slurry quality to her voice.

"How dare you? 'Course not."

For a second, he was irresistibly reminded of Lady Grantham's distinctive American drawl. It was like hearing an extremely poor impression of how her Ladyship would sound if she were completely smashed (and if she were somehow sporting a Northern English accent...)

Miss O'Brien crossed her arms defensively and he quickly stood up, went around the end of the table and approached her. It was truly miraculous that it was merely the two of them down in the hall at the time. She said nothing as Thomas leaned into her personal space, sniffing to try and detect alcohol and finding nothing but the usual smell of soap and a hint of tobacco. He also caught a whiff of something unexpected but strangely familiar – something aromatic – like herbs?

The corner of O'Brien's mouth quirked into one of her trademark smirks.

"I'm quite flattered, if I may say. It's an honour for me to bring a sinner back from his wicked ways."

"Quiet, you wretched woman," he hissed. "What if someone hears you?"

"Don't worry. Dear Elsie's not around to hear about your newfound interest in middle-aged women."

"You're revolting!"

"Hold your horses. She wouldn't be interested anyway. And nor would I."

Despite his annoyance, Thomas could immediately feel that this conversation might be heading a direction that would be both much safer for him and much more interesting...

"You wouldn't now, would you?"

"No. I'd sooner dream about holding her till the end of my life than tie myself to one of you smelly, hairy brutes."

As a male, Thomas supposed he should have been offended by the undisguised insults, but the truth was he could hardly care less about Sarah O'Brien's opinion of men. Rather, he was shocked at her brutal honesty. He already suspected that she could be one of them, he wouldn't deny it, but having her admit it without batting an eyelid... that was unexpected to say the least. Whatever may come, Thomas knew that he would never forget about this useful nugget of information. He was about to press home his advantage and prompt O'Brien into revealing the name of the unfortunate object of her affections, but she didn't give him the time.

"I talk too much," she complained, and Thomas certainly could not contradict her on that.

She was away with the fairies. Worse than that, she was a walking disaster, apparently blabbering about whatever popped into her head. It was at that very moment, with the faint aromatic scent wafting from her filling his nostrils, that Thomas finally made the connection. He had first been confronted to the smell during their last smoke break together less than an hour ago. Thomas reached for his packet of cigarettes with trembling hands. If that meant what he thought it actually meant, then they were in deep trouble...