Sigh, Post #33
Nov. 3rd, 2019 03:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
usedtobeljsYou might have noticed that there was a post on Halloween, which disappeared the next day. Alas for me -- I tried to edit something and then somehow clicked Delete. It is dispiriting, and also fairly consistent with the way my October into November went.
But I am hoping for a better season ahead. Thanks be to a cool front, the weather here in the subtropics is a mere 3 degrees above normal rather than 12, and it feels like proper autumn at last.
So -- 3 3-sentence fics on proper autumn:
Mycroft enters their flat with a jaunty stride and a stuffed bag from Partridge's grocers' in his hand.
Anthea looks up from her current reading (files from Six, eyes only, regarding the frankly lunatic requests of the current US administration regarding their own intelligence services) and says, "Good outing, darling?"
He returns a noncommittal but cheerful sound and leans down to kiss her; licking coffee from his lips, she deduces that 1) he and Sherlock have been conferring about their ongoing investigations into Tory shenanigans, 2) he's been doing something in Chelsea which means, possibly, poison from the Chelsea Physic Garden, and 3) she need not worry about her Mycroft, who tastes deliciously smug.
"Let me warm you, lieutenant," Crane says, and opens his arms and his coat to her.
Abbie, sad from their recent case and yes, a little chilly, dives in to her safe haven -- his solid (if skinny) body against hers, the woodsy scent of him, the way his lips come to her hair.
She's warm almost right away, but she doesn't move, and neither does he; in this moment, on this fall evening, they are as one.
"Take a coat, Hardy, wind's cold off the water," Ellie says as he heads toward the door -- he's so bloody thin, he has no body fat to keep him warm.
When he shoots her the patented Hardy glare and makes a Scottish noise of disdain, she laughs in delight. He is so easy to tease, and she knows and treasures the kiss which will follow the complaining.
Speaking of Olivia Colman and David Tennant, each of them has a song on the BBC Children in Need album which just came out: Colman does an amazing cover of Portishead's "Glory Box," and DT sings a plaintive and sweet cover of the Proclaimers' "Sunshine on Leith." It's a cool project.
Happy start to your week!
But I am hoping for a better season ahead. Thanks be to a cool front, the weather here in the subtropics is a mere 3 degrees above normal rather than 12, and it feels like proper autumn at last.
So -- 3 3-sentence fics on proper autumn:
Mycroft enters their flat with a jaunty stride and a stuffed bag from Partridge's grocers' in his hand.
Anthea looks up from her current reading (files from Six, eyes only, regarding the frankly lunatic requests of the current US administration regarding their own intelligence services) and says, "Good outing, darling?"
He returns a noncommittal but cheerful sound and leans down to kiss her; licking coffee from his lips, she deduces that 1) he and Sherlock have been conferring about their ongoing investigations into Tory shenanigans, 2) he's been doing something in Chelsea which means, possibly, poison from the Chelsea Physic Garden, and 3) she need not worry about her Mycroft, who tastes deliciously smug.
"Let me warm you, lieutenant," Crane says, and opens his arms and his coat to her.
Abbie, sad from their recent case and yes, a little chilly, dives in to her safe haven -- his solid (if skinny) body against hers, the woodsy scent of him, the way his lips come to her hair.
She's warm almost right away, but she doesn't move, and neither does he; in this moment, on this fall evening, they are as one.
"Take a coat, Hardy, wind's cold off the water," Ellie says as he heads toward the door -- he's so bloody thin, he has no body fat to keep him warm.
When he shoots her the patented Hardy glare and makes a Scottish noise of disdain, she laughs in delight. He is so easy to tease, and she knows and treasures the kiss which will follow the complaining.
Speaking of Olivia Colman and David Tennant, each of them has a song on the BBC Children in Need album which just came out: Colman does an amazing cover of Portishead's "Glory Box," and DT sings a plaintive and sweet cover of the Proclaimers' "Sunshine on Leith." It's a cool project.
Happy start to your week!
