Unedited Crack!fic one shot, loosely based on one of my semi-OC's in my current Merlinverse epic. Inspired by the Welsh myth of Bran the Blessed from the story of Branwen in the Mabinogion stories by Lady Charlotte Guest.
Actual legend has it that Bran's severed, yet still living head is buried under the Tower of London facing south towards France to keep watch against the Gauls. Somehow this piece of ... well who knows what it is came out of it all while I was watching Sherlock S2 Ep 3 this morning and working on my Merlin fic.
Knowledge of that fic or the myths isn't necessary although if you've been reading it and/or participating in all the punny-ness about a severed head happening in the reviews, I think you'll get a kick out of it!
John made his way to the refrigerator intent of finding some milk to put in his tea. He sighed heavily placing his hand on the door, he never knew what to expect when the cooler opened. Today was no exception.
Sherlock had returned sometime during the night after mysteriously day trip to find, as the consulting detective exclaimed, the most fascinating piece of … well John couldn't quite remember all the words his flat mate had spouted before running off as they were said too fast for any person with normal hearing to follow.
The light came on as he opened it and saw another severed head. Then it blinked, squinting against the light, and its teeth were chattering. John pursed his lips, snatched up the cream he was looking for and closed the fridge.
"Sherlock are you aware that the head in the cooler appears to still be alive?"
Holmes was crouched in his chair staring at the kitchen. His hands were steepled under his chin, "Quite."
"Alrighty then," John replied sipping his tea. "So won't the cold damage the animatronics?"
"It's not mechanical. It is still alive. One of my homeless network found it in the rubble near the current renovations under the Tower of London and called me. The ground had not been excavated since at least prior to one-thousand AD, and yet it shows no signs of rot or degradation."
John's eyes flitted upwards, "If it is alive and hasn't had any decomposition, why is it in the cooler?"
"It speaks an ancient form of Welsh popular around the dark ages. I am remiss to admit that is a language I have not studied and until you can track down a trustworthy source for translation it will remain there. The only word I can make out is Myrrdin, which was the Welsh variation of Merlin. He was yelling and I believe cursing the name quite profusely."
"So, let me get this straight, an old head with its mental facilities still intact, although from a different era and region, was yelling at a mythical wizard. And you decided to stuff him in the refrigerator?" The doctor sat down in front of his computer. He heard Sherlock make a sound of agreement. "May I ask why?"
Sherlock sighed heavily and rolled his eyes, "Because it was annoying me. I grew tired of listening to it."
John made a popping sound sound with his lips and settled in to work on his blog. "Right then," It was a typical day with the consulting detective.