Prompt from YoughaltheJust: Watson tries to write a story that's not about Holmes

AN: Seems I've gotten my prompts out of order. This was supposed to be for the 15th. And now I've written the one of the 16th, but I have to go back and deal with the actual 14th prompt. Too late to fix this as I've gotten a review already and don't want to get confused. Sorry about the mixup.

Efforts

"Well?" John asked uncertainly.

Mary lowered the pages of the manuscript and looked up at her husband, biting her lower lip. John found his chair and sagged into it.

"It isn't good, is it?" he asked and sighed. "Is it as bad as the sea adventure?"

"Not as bad," she said cautiously. "John, why did you choose the American West? You've never been there."

"I explained the other day that I want to write something interesting," he said. "And stories about cowboys and outlaws are growing in popularity."

"Yes," she said, and leaned forward in her chair, looking into his eyes. "I know you do not wish to write about Holmes and your adventures together, but this is about Holmes."

"It is not!" he said a little sharply.

"You might have changed the location to this fictional Dodge City…"

"Dodge City exists," he cut in. "It is in Kansas. I can show you on the map."

"Very well, darling," she soothed. "It exists. Regardless, this Matthew Dillon is Holmes in every regard save that he is a sheriff. And, there is no doubt Dr. Galen Adams is you, dear. I admit, Chester Goode seems a fairly original character, but he bears similarities to Inspectors Lestrade and Gregson. More like Lestrade in personality but more like Gregson in physicality."

"Mary, of course my characters are going to bear traits of people I actually know," John said with a sigh. "It makes the characters more real to me and therefore easier to write about."

"John, I understand that," said Mary patiently. "You asked me to be honest and I am being honest. I know why you want to write about someone other than Holmes, but that is not what you are doing here. You've transplanted Holmes to the realm of cowboys and outlaws and changed his name. That is all."

"You didn't like the sea adventure any better," grumbled John, taking out his pipe and stuffing tobacco into its bowl.

"That's because you made Sherlock Holmes a sea captain aboard a steam liner crossing the Atlantic," Mary said, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "It did not work. Besides, he could not reasonably have a mystery to solve on every crossing."

"I know." John struck a match and puffed his pipe to life.

"You know little enough about sailing, besides," she said. "Here is what I think, John: I think you should write about Afghanistan. Perhaps India. And not a mystery."

"Not a mystery?" he asked, eyes narrowing with interest.

"No, John," she said, a small smile blossoming. "Write about soldiers and their barracks room adventures. Write about men you knew. Fictionalize them, of course, but write about things you experienced and saw and felt, John! That is what made your accounts of Holmes' adventures so interesting. Anyone who read them knew you had lived them, and they wanted that."

"Soldiers, eh?" John said, puffing out a cloud of rich-smelling smoke. "Soldiers? You know, my dear, you have something there. I knew several young officers and a few enlisted men that were quite colorful."

"Perhaps you could get Murray to help," she suggested, her expression relieved. "He would certainly have known more common soldiers than you and his perspective of the officers would be valuable, I should think."

"It would be good to get together with him again," John said and rose to pace a few times in front of the hearth. "By Jove, Mary, I think you are right! I could compose a few adventures."

"I know you can, dear," she said, pleased she had been able to help. A thought crossed her mind and she frowned.

"What is it?" John asked, noticing the change in her expression.

"I know you can do it, John, only be certain you do not include Captain Holmes or someone like that," she said.

John's brows rose and it seemed he would be angry for a moment, but the moment passed, and he chuckled.

"I shall not," he said, and stepped close to give her a kiss. "And if I do, you must point it out to me instantly."

"I will," she promised and hugged him, glad to finally have his mind focused on things other than the Reichenbach incident.