Seven Poems
Pairing : Lestrade/Sherlock
Rating : PG
Summary : Pastiches and parodies of British classics, all written from Lestrade's POV. Warning for rotten metrics. The originals, which are infinitely classier, can all be found on the Internet.
1. Lestrade has had it with Sherlock's eternal gabbling.
For God's sake shut your gob and let me love,
Or cod my IQ, or my team,
My grizzly hair or ruin'd self-esteem,
The impossible state, tell me that you'll improve,
Get you a job, find you a wife,
Observe your brother, improve your life,
Say what-fucking-ever and, Jesus, I'll approve
So you will let me love.
(John Donne, The Canonization)
2. Lestrade watching Sherlock sleep.
Look, sunshine, just snuggle under my arm
'Coz I got news for you : I suck and you're human.
Neither getting a day younger, and even you,
You wonder, you one-of-a-kind, you hotshot,
You'll get burnt out come midnight, same as us yokels.
Least I can do is hold you through the night,
The limp warm sum of breathing, living you,
Fucked-up and dieable, but to me
Beautiful. Yeah, beautiful. Full stop.
(W. H. Auden, Lay your sleeping head, my love)
3. Their first meeting
It is a young noseyparker
And he stoppeth one of three.
"Look, son, you're clearly a doper
Why don't just let the fuck off?
There's a crime scene a mile wide
And me one of the VIPs.
The corpse is set, the SOCOs met,
I've no time for social niceties."
He holds him with his skinny hand,
"There was a clue," quoth he.
"Jesus! What part of 'not in the gang'...?"
The DI's hand falls limp.
He holds him with his glittering eye –
And Greg Lestrade stands still.
One thing he learnt as a DI:
If you can't lick'em, join'em.
Might as well sit his arse for a lull
And the most fucked-up tale ever:
Who knew a bloody big seagull
Could spawn a homicidal spree?
The Inspector sat with the nerd,
Having no choice really;
But in the end he caught the bird
And shagged the informant.
(T. S. Coleridge, The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner)
4. This one is gen, right?
Twinkle twinkle little sleuth,
How I marvel when you deduce!
Up above us on a high,
Lucy in the... Like a diamond in the sky!
When the good ol' sun is gone
(Just teasing you here, sunny)
Then your brain goes all-alight
Twinkle twinkle all the night.
And us plodders in the dark
Thank you for your little spark.
Couldn't see which way to go
If you did not twinkle so.
(Nursery rhyme, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star)
5. After the Fall
Fact is, a sunrise in Dorset is a thing of magic.
It's like – well, the sun makes the hills stretch off
And the grass green up, like it gives them a kick,
Or a nice morning snog. It's chemistry. Sort of.
But then... one day, the clouds will resurface
And it's goodbye sunshine. Goodbye Sunshine.
And you never see that hard radiant face
Again, 'coz it's gone west in blood and brine.
Day starts like any day, any him-on-fire
And you all set out for your day in the sun,
And the next thing you know, he's a fraud, a liar,
A headline in The Sun. But whatever he's done,
He's still your all, your wall, your east, your fallen star.
(Shakespeare, Sonnet 33)
6. All's well that ends well
When you are old and grey, same as yours truly,
And "on fire" means "steal forty-winks at the hearth"
With the Universalis, and you go, "How on earth
Can I need spectacles, it's not like I can't see"
Not daring yet to say, "It's not like I observe"
The way you did when the crowds clapped you on,
When you had it all, the looks, the vim, the nerve,
And I alone loved the sinner in you, not the icon.
Then I'll bend down, you lazy sod, stoke the fire
So that it can murmur the wisdom of the bee,
Telling a blind wanker that some of us retire
From everything but love. Now fetch us some tea.
(W. B. Yeats, When you are old and grey)
7. Quod erad demonstrandum
There was a DI in a Yard
Whose hair turned a most suave lyard.
"Little grey cells! At last!"
Cried a genius unsurpassed,
And as a reward kissed the man long and hard.
[A/N : lyard = streaked or spotted with grey]
(Edward Lear's Limericks)
