Not quite a crossover... But please note: This will follow both the movie, and book, taking in the action from the movie - but the book's quotes, not to mention my own addins, skips, and descriptions. Updates will vary, simply by when I get around to it
Now who else agrees that Benedict make Smaug into a sexy beast?!
In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole, with nothing in to sit down on or to eat: It was a hobbit-hole, and that means all the comfort of home.
It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panneled walls - walls decorated with a simple, yet intricate black and white pattern, a spray painted yellow smiley adorning -
Bilbo Baggins shook his head. Getting that strange thought out of his head. No no, panneled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats - particularily a black Belstaff, with a popped collar -
Once more, the Halfing forcibly shook the thoughts out. Such silly thoughts, much too adventourous for his liking... Must have been his Mother's side, the famous Belladonna Took, one of the three remarkable daughters of the Old Took, head of the hobbits who lived across the Thames - No, no, no... head of the hobbits who lived across The Water, the small river that ran at the foot of the Hill. It was often said (in other families) that long ago one of the Took Ancestors must have taken a fairy wife. That was, of course, absurd, but certainly there was still something not entirely hobbitlike about them, and once in a while members of the Took-clan would go and have adventures. Bilbo Baggins, stepped out of Bag End, when there was less noise and more green, to have a smoke. The smoke always helped him with this strange problem, blame put on his Took ancestry-
"It's a three patch problem."
-Took ancestry, for he was a Bagginses. Baggins don't have adventures.
And so he sat in thought, blowing great round circles of puffs of smoke, watching as they huffed into the BlueBell sky, and dissapeared among the clouds. That is, till a remarkable creature, a smoky butterfly, swopoped through one of his skilled rounds and popped! right in his face.
"Good Morning!" said Bilbo, and he meant it. The sun was shining, and the grass was very green. In front of him was Gandalf the Grey, a wizard, none the less, with his bushy eyebrows and grey hair and large cloak and floppy hat.
"What do you mean?" he said. "Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?"
Something in the way the greeting was taken: so literally, and showing the elder's superiority - it sparked something in Jo-Bilbo, something that should not have awaken. Something that caused the army doc-Halfing to feel as if he was in a dream, and the first stage of slumber... an easy awakening...
"John! John! John, please, please wake up!" The baritone was awfully familiar, except pained - and worried, genuine concern oozing out of the mans desperate pleas.
For he was a man. A human, in a world without Elves, without Dwarves, without Wizards and Treeherders and Necromancers and rings...
"John, please, oh please John, if you can hear me, please wake up. They drugged you. And I'm so sorry for that... so sorry... I shouldn't have taken you on this case, but please - They are coming back. and I need you John. I owe you so much, remember? John, please..."
"All of them at once, I suppose." said Bilbo, sleepy spell breaking. "And a very fine morning for a pipe of fine tobacco, wouldn't you say?" said the polite hobbit, gesturing with his pipe, a silent message hidden in - Im on a break. Please get to the point. Then Bilbo sat down on a seat by his door, crossed his legs, and blew out a beautiful grey ring of smoke that sailed up into the air without breaking and floated away over the Hill.
"Very pretty!" said Gandalf. "But I have no time to blow smokerings this morning. I am looking for someone to share in an adventure." The offer was up in the air, as was another smoke ring.
"In these parts! We are plain quiet folk and have no use for adventures. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner! I can't think what anybody sees in them" said our Mr. Baggins, deciding not to take no more notice of the old man. Adventures were frowned upon in the Shire. "We don't want any adventures here, thank you! You might try over The Hill, or across The Water."
Yet, another part of him stirred. An old part, unfamiliar feelings rising up. Adventures - The adrenaline, the running, heart pumping and pulse racing faster than his legs could carry him, the hot dry desert sticking to him, as he raced through certain medical procedures to give the young soldier, gunshots firing in the distance.
Tea.
Tea was good.
Tea, nice and warm, soothing, it would sooth out these confusing creases, it would calm him. and thus Bilbo stood up, prepared to go inside and serve up a nice cuppa tea. Yet, his better manners took a hold of him.
"Would you like some tea, Mr. Gandalf sir? I was just to go heat up the kettle, and would be glad to invite you in." Bilbo offered the incredibly tall man.
Tall. Just like...what was that name? Shir... Shire? Shir...Sher...?
"John, please..." the low groan sounded worrysome. A bit not good.
"No not now, an adventure is my need, and yet a burglar, for I see it in your eyes you are rethinking your answer." Something snapped in Joh- Bilbo. Something snapped in Bilbo, any trace of the appeal of adventure quickly dissapearing.
"Sorry! I don't want any adventures, thank you. Not today. Good Morning! But please, come to tea - any time you like! Good bye!" With that, the hobbit turned and scuttled inside his round green door, and shut it quickly as he dared, not to seem rude. Wizards after all are wizards.
Tea is what he needed. Another shot of the dru-
Another shot of tea. Yes, tea.
And with that, the door was shut. Leaving behind a wizard, the adventure, a strange mark on the door, and that strange feeling, in the crook of his elbow, the needle digging in, the fizz of the drug sparking his viens...
Yes, yes, tea sounded lovely.
And thus, our SherlockxTolkien story begins! Please, feel free to tell me your thoughts, or keep them inside that pretty little head. Keep them secret, keep them safe, right?