JWP #22:
Miss Bechdel, I Presume?: See if you can create a Watson's Woes work that passes the Bechdel-Wallace Test (have two named women talk to each other about something other than a man). This will be easy-peasy for any all-female version of Sherlock Holmes, of course.
"Block. Slash. Thrust." She ducked the knife flashing through the air. "You are getting better."
Her opponent blew a piece of hair out of her eyes as she blocked the knife aiming for her side. "You think so?"
She chuckled. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it, dearie. I hope you never have to use this, but I am glad you will be able to, at need."
Her opponent lunged, and only the clash of steel on steel filled the room for a long moment. "That is why I asked for lessons," was the eventual reply. "I enjoy the cases, but I will not always be able to work with someone else. I want to be able to take care of myself, and it is easier to carry a knife than a gun." She paused as a thrust came close to scoring. "Who taught you how to use a knife, Martha?"
Martha chuckled again, dodging a strike. "Your husband."
"John?"
"Of course, right after they started working cases together. It started after someone broke in and tried to hold me hostage."
It was Mary's turn to chuckle. "I imagine they learned the error of their ways?"
A wry grin appeared on Martha's face as she circled, looking for an opening to continue their spar. "Maybe, maybe not, but they did leave with a nasty concussion from a tea tray."
Mary's chuckle turned into a full laugh, and she barely blocked the strike Martha timed to her distraction.
"How did you explain that to the police?"
Pure mischief appeared in Martha's grin as she held Mary's attack at a standstill. "He fell."
Another laugh filled the room as Mary broke off the stalled attack and tried another. "Only after the tray impacted his head!"
"Naturally."
"And how many times did you have to repeat the story?"
"None, actually. I was conveniently out of the flat when statements were taken."
Mary laughed again, easily blocking the attack and returning one of her own. "Of course, you were. I should have remembered how well you melt into the background."
"How else would I know when I'm needed without interrupting?"
Mary's grin widened, but she made no answer, focused on their spar, and a minute later, Martha saw her open one of the more recent lessons, one that was supposed to end with Mary's blade at Martha's throat. Martha reversed it, and the spar halted with Mary pinned.
"How did you do that?" Mary asked as she stood upright.
Sheathing her knife, Martha poured them each a glass of water before answering. "I caught your blade against my hilt and twisted, thrusting your blade to the side and opening a gap in your guard for me to pin your arms." She demonstrated slowly, and Mary nodded as she grasped the concept.
"Teach that one to me next time?"
Martha nodded around her glass, and Mary spoke again, "Thank you for the lessons."
"No problem at all, especially if you teach me to shoot as you offered."
"Of course, I will. We just have to find a place to do it."
"Prop a block of wood behind a target on that wall," Martha said easily, gesturing to a back room. "No one is ever upstairs when you are here, and the neighbors will never suspect me."
Mary's laugh rang out. "Just complain to you!"
Martha shrugged, smirking. "They complain anyway. I may as well give them a reason."
"Alright, then," Mary replied, still laughing. "Find a large block of wood and a target, and I will return in a few minutes with a weapon we can use."
"Check the sitting room, first."
Mary waved an acknowledgement and walked up the stairs, still chuckling, and Martha opened the kitchen door, stepping out into the alley behind the flat. A large block of wood sat exactly where she remembered seeing it, and she brought that and piece of wrapping paper inside. By the time Mary returned with a familiar pistol and a handful of bullets, she had drawn a simple bulls-eye target and affixed it to the block of wood already fastened to the wall.
"Is there any chance of the bullet going through the wall if you miss the target?" Mary asked as she eyed the set-up.
Martha shook her head. "The wood is just to prevent holes in my plaster."
Mary chuckled. "You mean more holes?"
Martha could not smother a chuckle of her own. "How about holes outside of the upstairs sitting room?"
"At this point, that is probably all you can hope for," Mary replied with a grin.
"Unfortunately." Martha heaved a put-upon sigh.
"Oh, admit it, you wouldn't trade a moment of it for the world."
She smiled, observing how Mary held the weapon then trying to copy it, but she made no answer. She did not have to.
Conversation turned to the new lesson, and they focused on helping Martha hit the target more than she missed.