Like Rex Stout, I believe that Watson was actually a women, (well no I don't, but its fun writing her.) AU shorts, drabbles and occasional series.
Yes, these are the Miss Watson tales, nothing new as there are many other Stoutist followers out there and some amazing fanfiction in here, just not enough. Please see my acknowledgment list below.
This first short about sums up where the rest are going, not to be taken too seriously, so please don't flame me for being disrespectful to Watson's moustache.
I don't own anything based on Sherlock Holmes, the Doyle family own the lot, but I'd like to play with it all for a bit please.
…
The Editors Office of The Strand Magazine.
Mr Greenhough Smith smiled benignly and then swung his chair to face the large window with its aspect over the city below.
He refuses to face me, so whatever is to come will be highly uncomfortable, I braced myself.
He coughed, "MissWatson," (the vocal emphasis was on my title.) "I am interested in your manuscript of course, detective stories are always popular, especially pertaining to a gentleman of character and breeding."
This was surprisingly positive; however I couldn't ignore the obvious misapprehension.
"I haven't quite detailed Holmes's background at all, of course that is deliberate, as I want to make him mysterious. But frankly Mr Smith, his background is a little uninteresting."
Smith swiftly turned his chair to face me, "yes, but it is quite clear he is well educated and has social standing. He also has advanced ideas, a clear role-model for our modern thinking readers."
I was exasperated, it was quite obvious he simply hadn't read my work at all.
"It wouldn't be accurate to describe Holmes as the sociable type, that's clear from the outset. He's not exactly a role-model either. This is a warts and all study Mr Smith, indeed I rather hoped that would make him different from the average protagonist."
Smith adopted that benevolent smile again, "then you should consider making him a little more moral Miss Watson." He stood and began to pace, "The Strand has an increasing female readership that would appreciate a male character with high standards. Perhaps make him a champion of justice and not a mere paid freelance." He raised his hands in the air as if physically painting a picture, "Sherlock Holmes, the great detective. A guardian of all that is righteous, and protector of the common man." The air picture was finished with a flourish of his hands and a nod of the head.
This wasn't quite turning out how I predicted. "But Mr Holmes is unique, to alter the character would be to start a work of fiction. I'm documenting facts Mr Smith."
"Yes, we need to talk about that too."
"About facts?"
"Yes."
"What facts Mr Smith?"
He promptly re-positioned himself into his chair again and turned back to face the window. "I can pay for your scribbling Miss Watson, but to safely publish without the fear of censorship and moral indignation I need to make certain…" there was a long pause while I starred at the rear of his Seville-row suite. He then turned to face me, "changes need to be made Miss Watson and I am here to help you make them. You can of course trust on my support, I believe you can turn these detective tales into the chronicles of a legend."
…
The legend himself was sprawled across the sofa when I returned to Baker Street, making no attempt to raise or acknowledge my presence. An afghan obscured him almost entirely, except for a pipe, a dangling hand and a bare foot. How a man measuring over six foot could look so comfortable on a four foot piece of furniture defied physics.
"I say, are you here for the day Holmes? I was rather hoping on doing some writing."
The hand came up and vaguely indicated where my writing desk was situated.
"But it's rather difficult to concentrate; one's fellow lodger is lying about and filling our shared room with tobacco smoke." I opened the window.
"One's fellow lodger has the right to indulge in slovenly after actually paying the majority of the rent." The hand came up again, waiting. "Did you collect my messages?"
"Good little girl that I am, yes." I handed him the parcels, "McNeil's mixture of red paint, newspapers, tobacco and two books."
"And the chemist?"
"If you think I'll encourage you Holmes by fetching that filthy poison, then you're jolly well mistaken."
He looked up, head slanted, eyes always searching. "In a poor mood I see and also taken with a sudden need to write. Your left glove is stretched and the hair above your right ear has been considerably displaced. You have recently indulged in Turkish Delight, a somewhat expensive luxury considering your finances." He then pulled himself up and moved with surprising speed, simultaneously leaping over the sofa and ripping the parcel containing the tobacco. He quickly reached the mantelpiece, then filled the Persian slipper and lit another pipe. "You have had your writings accepted Watson, congratulations. However, I suspect there have been crucial changes."
"Yes, rather massively crucial changes."
He looked slightly worried, "you had to eradicate references to my monograph on the distinction between various tobacco ashes?"
"No, Mr Smith thought those rather whimsical. He was also delighted in your brain attic metaphor and your complete ignorance of the Copernican Theory, that chapter thoroughly amused him."
"Oh come now Watson, I do understand the movements of the Solar System, especially the moon. Indeed the varying fullness of it occasionally dictates the raise in crime due to its light or lack thereof."
"He also thinks you're an interesting character, though somewhat deficient in fundamental ethics. Oh don't look worried, I won't re-model you into an absolute seraph. You know this could make you rich and famous."
"I'm not interested in riches or fame, my work is its own reward."
"Tell that to Mrs Hudson on the first."
" What else did he edit? Are my deductive theories still detailed in fullness?"
"Yes it's all there."
"And my involvement with the case, despite Scotland yard reports?"
"Yes and your opinions of Lestrade and Gregson."
"Gregson yes, but do try to filter Lestrade's failings, he is rather useful."
"Too late, Mr Smith also thinks he's useful."
He sensed the irony in my tone, "…but not Watson?"
"Oh rather, Doctor Watson MD is the crucial voice throughout the narrative, its mostly in first person."
"You gave yourself a medical degree Watson? I entirely understand your bitterness in not being accepted into medical school solely on the basis of gender, but to claim a false degree is a little inane."
"I don't intend to claim anything Holmes. Doctor John H. Watson is the main narrative character in my tales. He's a Doctor, therefore people will trust his judgment and he's a man of character."
"A man?"
"Yes, he's a gentleman and a war hero; readers will have an immediate empathy with him. He has a respectable army career and a moustache."
"You are teasing Watson?"
"No."
"And Miss Jane Hillary Watson?"
"She's apparently 'inappropriate'. She's a woman, she's single, she's only a nurse and lasted less than a year in Afghanistan. She's a war cripple, which is an entirely unglamorous affliction for a female. She's done nothing of consequence but everything she should not. She shares lodgings with the bachelor character of her writings and that's rather scandalous, Mr Smith did not approve."
"You rent the room upstairs."
"You tell the good Christian readers of The Strand that, and then explain why I run about to do your bidding. Actually, it is rather scandalous…"
"I don't care what you are Watson, so long as you make yourself useful. Now go call Mrs Hudson for hot water, I need to shave." He threw himself back down on the sofa and tore open The Times.
"A slave is what you need Holmes. Stamford should have introduced you to a nice, former workhouse child instead of his respectable sister-in-law."
"Yes, well. When do we get paid?"
"We have been paid forthright on the one story and a promised advance on a series of six shorts after the first two."
"At least some good has come of this, admittedly at the considerable expense of facts. Well, well, perhaps the money will compensate for the lack of validity in your work Watson, not to mention your tendency towards the overdramatic. I shall look forward to this torrid little drama, infused with feminine romance and intrigue." He shook the paper and promptly vanished behind it.
"But there are facts and a considerable amount of description, far too much according to Mr Smith."
The newspaper quivered, "no doubt they will be irrelevant and barely adhering to the issue. You've probably written volumes Watson on the colour of a dress or the fashionable cut of a dinner jacket and barely given a passing reference to the true art of detection."
"You know, perhaps I should write this Doctor John H Watson a little more like your ideal fellow lodger. He could perhaps be constantly amazed by the magnitude of your genius, dazzled by your astounding abilities and indeed he could worship you like a god. He could take his little meagre writings and present them at the great temple of Holmes, to be inspected and then discarded as unworthy. Then he could occasionally shuffle away on his knees to write fascinating monograph's about cigars or mud splashes and make himself more worthy of breathing the same air as his deity."
"Capital idea."
Deciding I'd had quite enough, I turned to leave and fetch the water myself. "Yes and perhaps John Watson meets another long-suffering person, whom has recently inherited lashings of money and then he goes away and gets married. Yes, and he buys a nice practice somewhere in town, with a maid, a lovely garden and his own little dog and ..."
"Absolute twaddle Watson, why the devil would he do that?"
…
Hope someone out there half likes this? Please review and stick with me, I've got loads of this stuff and I'm looking for a beta, please let me know if you can help?
I formally acknowledge other similar stories, 'The adventure of Little Cheatham' by Sweetelysium is an unfinished gem, (you have to dig way backwards for this in the scary M section.) Also 'Found' by WanderingChild96 is a wonderful sort of American high school Holmes and is satisfyingly still on-going. KylaRyan has 'drabbled' too and exceptionally well, her stories are worth the digging. Of course, there's the beautiful 'Where the Story Ends' by PermanentNerd, who is wholly responsible for much of the above, as the up-dates don't come regularly and I find myself daydreaming all sorts of things…
Hay, please let me know if I missed any other similar fanfiction as I'm quite an addict?
