[Author's note: thanks for your reviews! Don't forget to check out
Angelina809's Mary bashing fic! ;) Dunno if she's updated yet, but some
PEOPLE (dom: mysha's human? Whoa... @_@ hehe) have been updating faster than
I can... I can... think up new smileys! ;)
Ho-kay (he he... albinoblacksheep.com!): some new smileys created by yours truly... should've spent my time in a better way, but I can't help it! *tee hee* ~_~ ( *roll eyes* smiley... gonna use this one a lot... ;) -_- x ( uh... *censored hand on mtv* smiley! And in stereo! x -_- x *double deuce*
Woo! Watched ROTK again! Everybody go watch it (again) to bring it back up to first place in the box office! Then and only then will I update! Pwahaha! Dom: nice excuse...
J.R.: yea I know; I thought of it myself! PS: Maureen! Thanks for being a nitpicker. Lucky you told me too! So thanks. ;)]
Beth Lestrade was helping her fellow New Londoner clear off the quickly melting ice when she felt the ground beneath her give way. Before she could call out to Holmes, gravity had pulled her under into the freezing abyss. Her mouth, open in an attempt to get help, was suddenly flooded with numbing water. Her surroundings had not soaked in the heat that had melted the ice, which was now high above her head; she was sinking fast. The cold convulsed her body and her gasps for breath were met with nothing but water. I'm drowning, she realized, as tears seemed to freeze on the edges of her eyes. Nothing went black like the movies. Nothing flashed before her eyes like the stories. The only thing she could see was the shrinking patch of growing light she had fallen through.
As her mind slowed and her senses dulled, she felt (if you can still feel after being cold for so long...) a floating sensation as someone grabbed her forearm and pulled her up. Then, everything was right again. She was still without an ounce of heat in her body, but she soon had a set of lean arms wrapped around her, and her senseless body was pressed against a well- defined one. Lestrade's lips felt cold and frostbitten before getting pressed against by another pair of soft, warm lips. They smelled a bit fishy. Oxygen filled her lungs again as somebody administered CPR to her.
Blue eyes bursting open to a sunlit room, the first thing Beth saw was Sherlock Holmes, fast asleep beside her.
In a chair, that is.
Gotcha.
Anyway, she sat up and Holmes awoke instantly, giving her a concerned look and immediately asked how she felt, feeling her forehead with his cool hand.
Lestrade pushed his hand away and growled, "I'm fine." She hated to be somebody else's charge. Holmes, knowing this with a smirk, let her get out of bed for a walk, explaining what had happened as Lestrade tested her own reflexes.
"After I was alerted of your... situation by a cracking noise from the ice, I went after you, of course, and then it was simple to find someone who knew how to do CPR." Lestrade, on hearing the last statement, spun around with a screech. "You mean it wasn't- so YOU didn't give me mouth-to-m- what?!"
Holmes shrugged. "I'll admit that's one angle of knowledge I do not possess. In fact, it was your masseur from earlier who did it." Lestrade gritted her teeth and muttered incoherent threats under her breath. Holmes, realizing he had made a mistake, chuckled and slipped his arm around her waist serenely. Faster than the blink of an eye, Lestrade whirled around and gave him a knee in the... in the. Yea that's right. It was a reflexive defense move. No wonder she never dated.
Holmes: @_@ I don't think I like Alaska very much... Pain...
Lestrade gasped as she realized what she just did. "Oh my God! Holmes I'm so sor- it was my-" She trailed off under her breath, "My mom taught me that... x_o" Bending down to try and help, she was scooped up in a tackle as Holmes (recovered quickly, I see... must have a protective- uh... let's not go into that now, ok?) exercised his revenge and tickled her until she couldn't breathe. Giggling madly and squirming helplessly, both of them crashed into the futon in the middle of the room, flipping head over heels over the couch and onto the floor with a loud THUD. Beth had barely regained her senses when she found herself looking into Holmes' eyes. Holmes' beautiful starlight eyes... A strand of blond, wet hair [dom: ice, ice baby] fell across his forehead and she brushed it away.
[j.r.: How many of us would love to be in THAT position? *raises hand* dom: ~_~]
The annoyingly monotone ring of a dial tone followed a click from the other line, and Fenwick slammed the phone receiver down in frustration. Melanie Dawson, filing her nails calmly, glanced at her companion, and raised one eyebrow smoothly. Between you and me, she practiced in the mirror that morning. She knew she was going to need it. Fenwick lit a cigarette up and took a long drag to calm his nerves.
"I thought those were illegal."
As he blew the smoke out in a long hack, the greasy old Frenchman hissed, "Everything's illegal in this zedding world." The eyebrow went up again. Changing the subject, the woman went back to her nails and asked whether or not their boss had any more plans for them.
"He seems to be occupied elsewhere," Fenwick, after shivering, took out the fiery crystals, which had practically warmed up the whole shack, and as a result had stopped its heat-spread. Their current job was warming up the water Fenwick intended to bathe his sore feet in.
Dawson, ignoring the smell as he removed his socks, went on prodding, "Well did you tell him about the Yardie? Surely we'll be rewarded even a little for that!" Her hopes of a quick escape were dissipated by the snort from his nostrils. With an exasperated grunt, she reached for the burning cig on the table. Fenwick grinned, as was about to start teasing her hypocrisy when she tossed it calmly into his footbath, where it sizzled out with a hiss. Then she stomped out of the room, leaving him to grumble of the fickleness of women.
********************************* Lestrade herself was grumbling as well, although over quite a different subject. The most difficult decision she faced that day was whether to finish the bag of fat free cookies Holmes had left her or call up room service. If the latter, Grayson would get the bill, and if the former, she'd have to resort to the latter sooner or... later. With a loud burp she paced the hotel room impatiently. Holmes had refused to let her leave the room, saying she "needed rest". Of course, after she had tried to crawl out the window, he had assigned her a guard.
No sooner had she clicked down the receiver daintily did the door open with a bang. "Boy, room service sure got here quickly." Lestrade muttered to herself before realizing the figure in the room with her was a strange, aged man, whose nose had obviously once been quite hooked but was now drooping so much over his light moustache that he had to hold it upwards in an attempt to keep his pride. Stopping herself from using anymore of her reflexive defense moves, Beth actually tried her partner's repeated methods.
Observing that the stranger was not at all afraid of her clenched fists, Lestrade immediately deduced that the man was actually Holmes, in one of his elaborate disguises. So be it. She could handle his joking. She wasn't THAT stupid.
Plopping down onto the bed seductively she teased in a silky voice, "Well... I didn't know you'd be back so soon! If I had, I'm sure I wouldn't have been caught dressed like this... Or at all." Lestrade laughed at Holmes' evident confusion and perplexed features, and went on, enjoying herself way too much to notice the other figure in the shadows. "What've you been doing? I missed you!" She then discovered a vengeful path to repay him for all the little pranks he had played on her at the Yard, including the Whoopee Cushion and the incident with Mr. Bubbles and the cable guy's crab.
Adopting a lecherous gaze, she jumped up, shoved the silver tray out of his arms, threw herself at him, and demanded a kiss. Just as she was about to stop her act, the blood drained from her face as another figure cleared his throat and spoke in a cracking, nervous voice.
"My, Lestrade, I'm awful glad you ordered room service...and, err... I hope you got some for our guests as well?"
Leaping ten feet in the air with a cry, Beth landed on her ass and looked up to see Holmes, behind the now thoroughly frightened room service attendant, who was busy trying to pick up her dinner from the floor where it had been knocked. As if her throat wasn't choked enough, a slight cough from BEHIND Holmes brought her attention to old friends Watson, the Irregulars, and Erika Noir, who she would be immensely glad to see had she not also witnessed the whole thing with Holmes.
[A/N: Eh heh heh... Don't ask about the Mr. Bubbles thing... Hey, Conan Doyle can do it, so can I... *mutters to self: politician and the lighthouse... humph*
Also, recommended are Fefe Dobson's self-named CD, and an old Masterpiece Theatre work called "Monsignor Renard". Not only is Dom *nudge* in it, but it's very touching and not at all boring. Well, confusing maybe. But did I mention Dom was in it? ;) I got it from my local library, but I'm not sure if you'll be able to find it. It's worth it, though. :)]
Ho-kay (he he... albinoblacksheep.com!): some new smileys created by yours truly... should've spent my time in a better way, but I can't help it! *tee hee* ~_~ ( *roll eyes* smiley... gonna use this one a lot... ;) -_- x ( uh... *censored hand on mtv* smiley! And in stereo! x -_- x *double deuce*
Woo! Watched ROTK again! Everybody go watch it (again) to bring it back up to first place in the box office! Then and only then will I update! Pwahaha! Dom: nice excuse...
J.R.: yea I know; I thought of it myself! PS: Maureen! Thanks for being a nitpicker. Lucky you told me too! So thanks. ;)]
Beth Lestrade was helping her fellow New Londoner clear off the quickly melting ice when she felt the ground beneath her give way. Before she could call out to Holmes, gravity had pulled her under into the freezing abyss. Her mouth, open in an attempt to get help, was suddenly flooded with numbing water. Her surroundings had not soaked in the heat that had melted the ice, which was now high above her head; she was sinking fast. The cold convulsed her body and her gasps for breath were met with nothing but water. I'm drowning, she realized, as tears seemed to freeze on the edges of her eyes. Nothing went black like the movies. Nothing flashed before her eyes like the stories. The only thing she could see was the shrinking patch of growing light she had fallen through.
As her mind slowed and her senses dulled, she felt (if you can still feel after being cold for so long...) a floating sensation as someone grabbed her forearm and pulled her up. Then, everything was right again. She was still without an ounce of heat in her body, but she soon had a set of lean arms wrapped around her, and her senseless body was pressed against a well- defined one. Lestrade's lips felt cold and frostbitten before getting pressed against by another pair of soft, warm lips. They smelled a bit fishy. Oxygen filled her lungs again as somebody administered CPR to her.
Blue eyes bursting open to a sunlit room, the first thing Beth saw was Sherlock Holmes, fast asleep beside her.
In a chair, that is.
Gotcha.
Anyway, she sat up and Holmes awoke instantly, giving her a concerned look and immediately asked how she felt, feeling her forehead with his cool hand.
Lestrade pushed his hand away and growled, "I'm fine." She hated to be somebody else's charge. Holmes, knowing this with a smirk, let her get out of bed for a walk, explaining what had happened as Lestrade tested her own reflexes.
"After I was alerted of your... situation by a cracking noise from the ice, I went after you, of course, and then it was simple to find someone who knew how to do CPR." Lestrade, on hearing the last statement, spun around with a screech. "You mean it wasn't- so YOU didn't give me mouth-to-m- what?!"
Holmes shrugged. "I'll admit that's one angle of knowledge I do not possess. In fact, it was your masseur from earlier who did it." Lestrade gritted her teeth and muttered incoherent threats under her breath. Holmes, realizing he had made a mistake, chuckled and slipped his arm around her waist serenely. Faster than the blink of an eye, Lestrade whirled around and gave him a knee in the... in the. Yea that's right. It was a reflexive defense move. No wonder she never dated.
Holmes: @_@ I don't think I like Alaska very much... Pain...
Lestrade gasped as she realized what she just did. "Oh my God! Holmes I'm so sor- it was my-" She trailed off under her breath, "My mom taught me that... x_o" Bending down to try and help, she was scooped up in a tackle as Holmes (recovered quickly, I see... must have a protective- uh... let's not go into that now, ok?) exercised his revenge and tickled her until she couldn't breathe. Giggling madly and squirming helplessly, both of them crashed into the futon in the middle of the room, flipping head over heels over the couch and onto the floor with a loud THUD. Beth had barely regained her senses when she found herself looking into Holmes' eyes. Holmes' beautiful starlight eyes... A strand of blond, wet hair [dom: ice, ice baby] fell across his forehead and she brushed it away.
[j.r.: How many of us would love to be in THAT position? *raises hand* dom: ~_~]
The annoyingly monotone ring of a dial tone followed a click from the other line, and Fenwick slammed the phone receiver down in frustration. Melanie Dawson, filing her nails calmly, glanced at her companion, and raised one eyebrow smoothly. Between you and me, she practiced in the mirror that morning. She knew she was going to need it. Fenwick lit a cigarette up and took a long drag to calm his nerves.
"I thought those were illegal."
As he blew the smoke out in a long hack, the greasy old Frenchman hissed, "Everything's illegal in this zedding world." The eyebrow went up again. Changing the subject, the woman went back to her nails and asked whether or not their boss had any more plans for them.
"He seems to be occupied elsewhere," Fenwick, after shivering, took out the fiery crystals, which had practically warmed up the whole shack, and as a result had stopped its heat-spread. Their current job was warming up the water Fenwick intended to bathe his sore feet in.
Dawson, ignoring the smell as he removed his socks, went on prodding, "Well did you tell him about the Yardie? Surely we'll be rewarded even a little for that!" Her hopes of a quick escape were dissipated by the snort from his nostrils. With an exasperated grunt, she reached for the burning cig on the table. Fenwick grinned, as was about to start teasing her hypocrisy when she tossed it calmly into his footbath, where it sizzled out with a hiss. Then she stomped out of the room, leaving him to grumble of the fickleness of women.
********************************* Lestrade herself was grumbling as well, although over quite a different subject. The most difficult decision she faced that day was whether to finish the bag of fat free cookies Holmes had left her or call up room service. If the latter, Grayson would get the bill, and if the former, she'd have to resort to the latter sooner or... later. With a loud burp she paced the hotel room impatiently. Holmes had refused to let her leave the room, saying she "needed rest". Of course, after she had tried to crawl out the window, he had assigned her a guard.
No sooner had she clicked down the receiver daintily did the door open with a bang. "Boy, room service sure got here quickly." Lestrade muttered to herself before realizing the figure in the room with her was a strange, aged man, whose nose had obviously once been quite hooked but was now drooping so much over his light moustache that he had to hold it upwards in an attempt to keep his pride. Stopping herself from using anymore of her reflexive defense moves, Beth actually tried her partner's repeated methods.
Observing that the stranger was not at all afraid of her clenched fists, Lestrade immediately deduced that the man was actually Holmes, in one of his elaborate disguises. So be it. She could handle his joking. She wasn't THAT stupid.
Plopping down onto the bed seductively she teased in a silky voice, "Well... I didn't know you'd be back so soon! If I had, I'm sure I wouldn't have been caught dressed like this... Or at all." Lestrade laughed at Holmes' evident confusion and perplexed features, and went on, enjoying herself way too much to notice the other figure in the shadows. "What've you been doing? I missed you!" She then discovered a vengeful path to repay him for all the little pranks he had played on her at the Yard, including the Whoopee Cushion and the incident with Mr. Bubbles and the cable guy's crab.
Adopting a lecherous gaze, she jumped up, shoved the silver tray out of his arms, threw herself at him, and demanded a kiss. Just as she was about to stop her act, the blood drained from her face as another figure cleared his throat and spoke in a cracking, nervous voice.
"My, Lestrade, I'm awful glad you ordered room service...and, err... I hope you got some for our guests as well?"
Leaping ten feet in the air with a cry, Beth landed on her ass and looked up to see Holmes, behind the now thoroughly frightened room service attendant, who was busy trying to pick up her dinner from the floor where it had been knocked. As if her throat wasn't choked enough, a slight cough from BEHIND Holmes brought her attention to old friends Watson, the Irregulars, and Erika Noir, who she would be immensely glad to see had she not also witnessed the whole thing with Holmes.
[A/N: Eh heh heh... Don't ask about the Mr. Bubbles thing... Hey, Conan Doyle can do it, so can I... *mutters to self: politician and the lighthouse... humph*
Also, recommended are Fefe Dobson's self-named CD, and an old Masterpiece Theatre work called "Monsignor Renard". Not only is Dom *nudge* in it, but it's very touching and not at all boring. Well, confusing maybe. But did I mention Dom was in it? ;) I got it from my local library, but I'm not sure if you'll be able to find it. It's worth it, though. :)]