A/N: Prompt 8 from Domina Temporis: A technological mishap.
Too tempting to resist...
Mishap
As he started to turn key in keyhole,
Watson blinked at a distant loud "Boom!"
With a feeling of dread
Whirling round in his head,
He leapt seventeen stairs to their room...
~0~
He gazed at the hole in the ceiling,
As grey ash and bright sparks fell like rain
On a fire- blackened chair,
And exclaimed in despair;
"How on earth has this happened...again?"
~0~
Scorched branches graced bookcase and table,
Complete with cracked baubles, bent star,
And a part-melted candle
Adorned the door handle,
And...the rug was beginning to char.
~0~
He surveyed the "Holmes made" devastation,
His Gladstone bag, still in his hand.
His coat, the left shoulder,
Was beginning to smoulder;
This was not the calm evening he'd planned.
~0~
He gasped at the shock of cold water,
As it drenched him from hat to new shoes.
While he stood there, reacting,
His friend had been acting;
Effective, but not what he'd choose.
~0~
He spluttered, and turned to his comrade,
Who was stamping out flames on the mat,
By a now empty bucket.
Watson sighed, and then took it;
Filled it up, and helped put out the flat...
~0~
Much later...retired to the kitchen,
Both fire fighters washed, dried and changed;
Watson just waited,
As Holmes intimated,
This was not the surprise he'd arranged.
~0~
He had wired up each branch with small charges;
The fuse led from keyhole, to tree;
So that Watson's return
Would start candles to burn,
And light up the room...festively.
~0~
Perhaps he'd mistimed the ignition?
The simplest of errors to fix.
But Watson was certain,
Having seen each burnt curtain,
That Holmes and gunpowder don't mix
~0~
For a couple of years, he admitted,
Holmes had not set the parlour alight
In his Christmastide zeal,
It was far from ideal,
But...at least they'd not perished that night...
~0~
He declared several Yuletide conditions;
Handwritten, to pin to the wall.
Through the whole festive season,
Holmes would listen to reason
And would not play with matches, at all.
~0~
No flammable hung decorations,
No desire to be awed or surprised,
And any temptation
For tree innovation,
Only Watson approved, supervised.
~0~
Oh, and Holmes would fork out for new lodgings,
While the parlour and tree were restored;
And Watson reflected
On his life, unexpected
Catastrophes...but...never bored.
~0~