#that was a quality pun | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mariana-oconnor · 10 months

Text

The Empty House pt 2

Last time on Letters from Watson: a gambler was shot in a locked room, a detective rose from the dead and brandy once more proved itself the true panacea.

This time, we are eagerly awaiting the explanation for Holmes' miraculous reappearance.

"He drew no weapon, but he rushed at me and threw his long arms around me."

So romantic.

"We tottered together upon the brink of the fall."

Look... tottered is not an ominous word. It just isn't. It brings to mind small children, the elderly, and drunk people. 'Tottered' is an amusing word. It amuses me. Usually these descriptions are very visceral and dramatic and moving, but the word 'tottered' just throws me right out.

"I have some knowledge, however, of baritsu, or the Japanese system of wrestling, which has more than once been very useful to me."

Or maybe you're referring to bartitsu? Which is an 'actual' martial art. Or... at the very least the British approximation at one.

I always thought this was made up, honestly, until not very long ago when I learnt there was an actual thing made up for English gentlemen. the pictures are very silly.

"With my face over the brink I saw him fall for a long way. Then he struck a rock, bounded off, and splashed into the water.”

"So rapidly does the brain act that I believe I had thought this all out before Professor Moriarty had reached the bottom of the Reichenbach Fall."

I see being dead did nothing for your ego, Holmes. It has survived completely intact.

"I might, it is true, have reversed my boots, as I have done on similar occasions"

I want to know how this works. Feet are very much... feet shaped. Ankles are definitively at one end of the foot. Boots are designed with this in mind. How does one put on a pair of boots backwards. Walking backwards, I can see, but putting your shoes on so the toe is at the heel? Maybe if you're wearing ballet pumps or something like that with a very wide opening. But walking boots?

How?

"There I was stretched when you, my dear Watson, and all your following were investigating in the most sympathetic and inefficient manner the circumstances of my death. “At last, when you had all formed your inevitable and totally erroneous conclusions, you departed for the hotel and I was left alone."

Not even death can prevent Holmes from throwing shade at other investigators. 'inefficient'? "Erroneous" They're coming to the conclusions you arranged for them to come to.

"I took to my heels, did ten miles over the mountains in the darkness...,"

Don't try this at home, kids.

No really... do not attempt to make a ten mile trek over the alps in the dark. Just don't. Mountain rescue will not thank you.

"As to Mycroft, I had to confide in him in order to obtain the money which I needed."

You mean with your prodigious skills and intellect you couldn't work out any other way to make money. Like... get a job? Also, literally the first thing everyone knows about faking your own death is that you don't contact anyone from your old life. It's rule number one. Don't do it. This is basic stuff, Holmes. I expected better of you.

Always nice to get a Mycroft reference, though.

Florence, Tibet, Persia, Khartoum, Montpelier, Holmes really was out there doing the world tour on his family money while Watson thought he was dead. Classic. It's like canoe man all over again.

"I came over at once to London, called in my own person at Baker Street, threw Mrs. Hudson into violent hysterics, and found that Mycroft had preserved my rooms and my papers exactly as they had always been."

Let me get this straight.

You're in contact with your brother the whole time, who is sending you money

You do high profile things that are relevant to your previous interests (visiting the Dalai Lama/exploration under the name of Sigerson/short but interesting visit to the Khalifa of Khartoum that the foreign office needs to know about/scientific research in Montpelier)

The first thing you do when you're back in the country is go to your former residence with no disguise and reveal your not-dead status to your landlady (poor Mrs Hudson does not deserve this).

There is no way anyone other than Watson thinks you're dead at this point. You have literally checked every box of the 'How Not to Survive Witness Protection' checklist. Congratulations, Holmes. You are bad at being dead. Just casually putting up posters everywhere you go that say 'Sherlock Holmes woz ere'.

I don't know how he survived three years, smh.

Also, the fact that he had already thrown Mrs Hudson into 'violent hysterics' and then went and made Watson faint makes that whole thing worse. I get that it's at least in part misogyny, but did you really need to repeat that experiment, Holmes?

In some manner he had learned of my own sad bereavement, and his sympathy was shown in his manner rather than in his words.

RIP Mary Watson (nee Morstan), we hardly knew you. And honestly, neither did your husband.

I observed that as he stepped out he gave a most searching glance to right and left, and at every subsequent street corner he took the utmost pains to assure that he was not followed.

You literally went to Baker Street, Holmes. This is too little, too late. The horse has already bolted, stop locking the doors. I do know that this is all part of your master plan, but given that you were stupid about secrecy the entire time you were away, it's difficult to tell where you started laying a trap and when you were just being dumb.

As my eyes fell upon it I gave a gasp and a cry of amazement. The blind was down and a strong light was burning in the room. The shadow of a man who was seated in a chair within was thrown in hard, black outline upon the luminous screen of the window.

“The credit of the execution is due to Monsieur Oscar Meunier, of Grenoble, who spent some days in doing the moulding. It is a bust in wax.”

Sherlock Holmes here to remind you to always credit the original artist.

"You must remember that they knew, and only they knew, that I was still alive."

And yet they somehow did not keep track of Mycroft sending money overseas? I get that the Holmes boys are geniuses, but still. As previously mentioned, Holmes has not been subtle here. The bad guys are bad at their jobs. Shame on them. Shame on their cows.

"But I cared a great deal for the much more formidable person who was behind him, the bosom friend of Moriarty, the man who dropped the rocks over the cliff, the most cunning and dangerous criminal in London."

Who knew you were alive, but still somehow couldn't put together the myriad clues you were joyously dropping all over the planet for him. Full offence, but he's not that cunning.

"That is the man who is after me to-night, Watson, and that is the man who is quite unaware that we are after him.”

Anybody have a kernel of suspicion about who that might be?

#Sherlock Holmes #The Empty House #Letters from Watson #Long post #No I will not apologise #that was a quality pun

35 notes · View notes

lulaypp · 5 months

Text

Lulaypp's Foliage of Lost Fics #2: Aren't We All Fluffy

A/N: This was my first fluff. From 2020? Pure fluff. I remembered it being a bit of a pain to write XD This was inspired by the lovely Gem, who shared several polar bear images and captioning them as Batfam. Somehow that gave me the great idea to write pure fluff with polar bear-ed Bat boys. And I never finished it until now (even so I think I intended for it to cover the next morning? But I thought Nah). Among the stuff that I will be putting here, this might be the oldest? A close second otherwise. Up there among the earliest fic I have written (even if incomplete).

Details of Fic: 3.5k words, Batfam Fandom, Pure Fluff, Characters Magically Transformed into Animals, Potential Touches of OOC (I wrote this ages ago so... :P I tried fixing those too glaring)

---------------------------------------------

Dick woke up from his sleep fumbling with his newly acquired furry paws. He blinked at the clock by his bed. 11:25. Everyone else should already be awake at this time.

Dick dragged himself off his seemingly ginormous bed, padded his way to the door and nosed it open. Bruce had insisted that they left all the doors to their rooms slightly ajar for convenience and emergencies, as the door handle might prove difficult for their paws.

It had been an accident of sorts. All the boys of the Bats had been chasing one single magical villain. All of them had been zapped. And before they knew it, they were all not just polar bears, but polar bear cubs.

Luckily, it was winter. Their thick coats would have been unbearable in the summer heat.

Dick scanned the hallways for any signs of his brothers.

The door opposite to his was wide open. Tim's. He crawled over to it and peeked inside. The room was empty. He turned to Damian's room beside his own; also empty. Then, he turned to the last one, the door still left just slightly opened.

He pushed through it with his head and looked around. Despite being occupied, the room was relatively barren. The cupboards were empty and the walls a normal standard cream colour, the duffel bag on the floor being the only sign of life aside from the bundle of fuzzy fur, curled up on the bed. Jason was bent on not claiming the room as his even though he occupied it every time he stayed at the manor and no one else ever used it. Dick didn’t know whether it was some stupid Jason-being-stubborn-thing, or was it born of something else.

He carefully climbed onto the bed and approached his sleeping brother. In the dim light, his coat appeared grey, highlighting the white clump of fur on the top of his head (no one understood why that part of him retained after the transformation). He looked so peaceful and, admittedly, adorable.

But sadly, Dick needed to wake him up. Alfred and Bruce had apparently let them oversleep.

He nearly used his voice before he remembered that he was not human. So instead, he pawed at Jason's leg. No movement. He did it again, harder this time. Still no response. Dick did a bear equivalent of a frown. He remembered Jason being someone who woke up easily. Changing tactics, he tried gentling batting the other bear's ear— in a way he had always seen animals do. The ear twitched a little before the Jason made a small sound, curling up further. Dick tried poking next, softly prodding his paw into his brother's fuzzy chest, while nosing his head.

That got him a response. Jason's eyes slowly opened and blinked at him sleepily. Before they turned alarmed. He jumped back, flopping on the bed, paws flailing.

Dick laughed. Or it would have been if he wasn't a bear cub. Instead, it sounded like a light, stutter high pitched growl. Jason though, was not amused. He gave Dick a glare before standing up on his paws and jumped off the bed. Dick followed.

Together, they crawled out of the room and headed towards the stairs. He was about to start a conversation before he was reminded of his lack of ability to humanely do so. He frowned.

Beside him, Jason seemed to drag his paws across the carpet, his eyes half closed. Dick's mind supplied him with a brilliant idea. With what could have been a mischievous smile, Dick let himself fall behind before crouching, coiling his hind legs. Then he pounced, tackling Jason, who could only let out a startled yelp.

Unfortunately, Dick chose to do this at the top of the manor's long flight of stairs.

The two polar bears tumbled down, and Dick let out a squeal of glee, clearly enjoying their fall down the carpeted steps. Jason on the other hand was mildly terrified. His untrained paws attempting to find something— that was not his brother— to hold on to.

Before long, their decent down the stairs came to a halt as they finally reached the ground floor. Dick quickly got up and started to run in small circles, wearing an expression resembling a wide grin.

The other bear was not really angry with their tumble down the stairs, but that didn't mean he was particularly happy either. He struck at his brother, sheathed claws softly batting the other's nose with a growl.

Dick was taken aback, joy disappearing from his face as he stepped back. He looked up, expecting to see rage. But, while Jason was snarling, there was mirth in his eyes.

The younger bear slammed into Dick before they ended up playing a game of chase all the way to the dining room.

While he did adore animals, that never meant he wanted to be one. Sure, there were times when he wondered what it would be like, but that had only been a mere thought.

Damian marched into the dining room and saw Alfred pouring coffee in a mug and Father flipping through today's newspaper. This would have been a normal sight if there wasn't a small polar bear seated at one of the chairs, seemingly contemplating the cutleries. Drake. Damian crawled until he reached his chair before standing up and climbing onto the seat with as much grace as a tiny polar bear cub could muster.

"Damian," Bruce greeted him, swiftly snatching his mug of coffee away from Tim's reach.

Damian supressed the urge to reply vocally, instead just giving a nod. He refused to talk while still in this form. He had tried it yesterday and the result had been horrendous.

Alfred placed a plate of scrambled eggs in front of Drake, and one filled with chickpeas masala and bread for him.

While Damian tried to figure out the best way to eat without the use of cutleries— for he knew he would only end up making a fool of himself— Drake was trying to manoeuvre a single spoon of eggs into his mouth, clutching the silverware with both front paws. Damian was confused as to why Alfred would provide them with the silverware, as they clearly would have problem using them.

"I have contacted Zatanna," Father spoke up, folding the paper and placing it on the table.

Drake paused his activity to look up at Father questioningly.

He seemed to understand as he promptly replied, "She would be arriving tomorrow evening."

Drake gave a nod before getting back to his task, the spoon clumsily clanging against the plate repeatedly.

Damian looked down at his food. Unlike Drake, he knew that he would not be able to use the cutleries with his new paws.

Some minutes later, Damian had decided to tediously eat using his claws and paws while Father, who already finished his meal, was watching Drake still attempting to scoop up the scrambled eggs—he managed two mouthfuls so far, which was impressive. Alfred was just coming towards the table to retrieve the empty dishes, when there were sounds.

Thudding, quick heavy footsteps and low, muffled growling.

It didn't take long for them to figure out where did the noise come from as a bundle of light grey tumbled into the dining room. Richard and Todd; hopping, swiping at each other’s faces, teeth snapping at fur. Playing. The two of the seem to notice where they were and started to untangle themselves from each other. Richard immediately bounded over to the chair next to him leaping and falling half on top of the seat, his hind legs hanging down.

Todd walked up to the table, climbing onto the chair several spaces after Tim's as Alfred brought out two plates of eggs.

Todd didn’t hesitate to shove his face into his food, jaws snapping what he could into his mouth before chewing.

Richard on the other hand merely took one sullen look at his meal before turning to Father, who happened to be looking at him. He then used his puppy eyes, fore paw pushing his plate in Father's direction.

For a moment, Damian thought his oldest brother's actions were based on the difficulties of eating with their paws.

That was until Father spoke, "Alfred is the one who cooks and serves, Dick. If you want cereal, you are going to have to ask from him."

After breakfast, Bruce had to go to the Wayne Tower to attend some meeting that Tim was initially supposed to go to and the cubs, minus Tim, gathered in the living room. Damian stood on his hind legs in front of the window, watching Bruce's car driving away. Dick was on the coffee table, attempting a handstand. Jason was settled on the arm rest of the sofa, thinking whether he should try seeing if could read a book. He didn't want to accidentally ruin his books while flipping the pages with his furry, clawed paws.

Yet, he was growing bored. One could only watch Dick Grayson fall on head over heels so much before it stopped being funny. As minutes pass, Jason was starting to doubt his previous conclusion, maybe Dick was not trying to do a handstand. Falling off the table seemed to be the goal.

Suddenly, Tim came running into the room, tripping over his paws and crashing into Dick. Damian looked part horrified part amused and Jason wished he had a camera to capture the scene that had just unfolded.

Dick picked himself up, shaking his head, while Tim seems totally unfazed, perking up with a cheerful expression and looked at all of them before pointing at the window. The three other bears blinked and stared at him in confusion. Tim ran to the window, stood on his hind legs and tapped the glass pane with one paw while the other makes a circular motion.

They really needed to come up with a way to communicate effectively.

Tim seemingly rolled his eyes. He walked back to them, pointed individually to each of them, including himself, before he made what Jason could only interpret as a running motion then pointed at the window. Jason looked at the window, trying to get a clue. It was snowing outside. The four of them are polar bears.

Then he understood. Tim wanted them all to go outside into the snow.

With that, he gestured Dick and Damian to follow him with his head. He led the to the front door and pat on it with a front paw. That somehow manage to finally make the others understand, Dick grinning excitedly before disappearing back into the hallways.

It didn't take long for him to return with Alfred, who unlocked the front door, saying, "Now young masters, I know that you are all now more than prepared for the freezing temperature, but do be careful. Stay safe and try to not lose each other."

The door opened and Dick dashed out into the snow followed by Tim. Damian ran after them.

Jason launched himself on top of Tim, paws batting his ears, while the younger bear tried to nip at his leg. They rolled about in the snow for a while before a white ball of Damian crashed into them. They landed in a heap before Dick belly flopped himself on top of them.

After playing in the snow for some time, the boys were called in for lunch. It started out as rather uneventful. Bruce was still at WE and Tim knew that the second meeting he needed to attend would probably finish at three.

They all ate silently at first. Or he would be silent if he could get the fork to move right.

Damian was daintily plucking his salad with his paw while Jason decides to just bite into his steak, his plate occasionally shifting about.

Dick had managed to convince Alfred to cut his into smaller pieces and was chewing on them individually.

Tim was still struggling with his fork when suddenly a white paw pulled his plate away. He looked up in surprise and saw Damian reaching over— tiny body half on top of the table— and pulling the plate towards himself, giving him what resembled an exasperated look. Using his claw, he cut Tim's piece into smaller parts before pushing the plate back to Tim who was still stunned (and really, why didn’t he think of doing that?). He was barely aware of Dick making a happy proud noise as Tim look from the food to Damian, who was wiping his paw on the napkin. In the end, he let out a sound that hopefully sounds like gratitude and used his fork to finish up his lunch.

Not long after, they all converged into the kitchen, initially to just wash their paws and mouth. Due to reasons that was difficult to pinpoint, what Dick and Damian almost ended up doing was a full-blown circus act in the middle of the kitchen causing Alfred to immediately shoo them out.

"I heard that Miss Cassandra is coming over today," Alfred told them while as they tumbled out of the kitchen doorway. "She should be arriving at any moment. Why don't you all greet her?" And with that, he turned back to the kitchen.

Dick looked at them as they all head to the den, eyes glinting at the idea.

Jason's scowled and shook his head. The elder cocked his head to one side questioningly but did not push, instead turning to his two younger brothers.

Tim gave a shrug, not seeing a problem with the idea while Damian nodded. Having Cass over had never not been fun.

Dick grinned, which really could look like a snarl in their condition, as they reached the den.

Jason shook his head again, causing Dick to frown, his right eye twitched in what looks like a raised eyebrow. Jason gestured his forelegs wildly, at all of them, at himself and at the doorway, which Tim honestly felt like brought more questions than answers.

Damian somehow seemed to understand as he gave a nod before pointing at Jason then upwards.

Tim got even more confused as Dick joined in the non-verbal conversation, shaking his head vigorously, doing some incoherent flailing of his own.

It was cut short however as suddenly someone landed on the table behind him, startling everyone. Tim turned to the newcomer and saw that it was Cass, her mouth pulled into a grin.

"Brothers," she said simply.

Dick let out a strange, excited sound as he jumped over to tackle her. Catching the cub, Cass gave him a hug as she jumped down from the table.

"Brothers, bears. Adorable."

Damian let out a half growl while Jason only huffs a breath, rolling his eyes and crossing his forelegs. Dick on the other hand seemed to take it as a compliment, excitedly wiggling in Cass's hug.

She placed him on the floor and waved them all to follow her. They followed her to Bruce's study and down to the Cave. After a few quick glances around the Batcave, probably to check for their father's presence, Cass continued further until they reached the training mats and turned to them with a wide grin.

"Practice," she spoke.

Dick and Jason perked up (the latter seemingly have lost his earlier hesitance) while Damian seemed to back away. Tim gave him a questioning look which was responded with a shake of his head.

In front of them, Jason and Cass were already in a hand to paw battle, with Dick occasionally jumping in to give playful swipes to either of his siblings.

Tim looked back at Damian, who still appeared uncertain. After several years of back-and-forth squabbling, they seemed to have gone past the point of mutual understanding and respect to where they are now. Knowing that his brother's hesitance came from not wanting to make a fool of himself during training, due to him being an entirely different creature, Tim didn’t push him.

Instead, he shoved.

While Damian was distracted by Dick successfully doing an impressive summersault to a avoid Cass's kick, Tim walked a little bit behind Damian before running at full speed and ramming into his brother. Damian let out a squeak as they tumbled into Dick. The eldest sat dazed and confused as Damian turned to him, teeth bared into a snarl, and pounced onto him, attacking with sheathed claws.

And that was how Bruce found them as he entered the Cave after an impromptu quick dinner. All five of his children, tumbling and fighting on the training mat. He pulled his phone out and sneaked in a quick picture, before he approached them. Cass already met his eyes when he appeared but chose to ignore her father in favour of pushing Jason off Tim.

Bruce could feel his heart melt just by looking at all his children having fun together. It had been a while since that had happened. While they all were in good terms with one another, they also had varying and shifting schedules and lived in separate places. The only times he could actually be sure to see them all together was during Alfred's birthday. Even then there were times when things went wrong.

It took a minute and a lull in their playfight for Dick to notice the new presence and he let out an excited noise before running to Bruce making unintelligible sounds, which Bruce assume that his eldest is trying to tell him a story of sorts. He responded with giving Dick's furred head a pat and turned to the rest of his kids.

"I take it you are having fun," he said. "I hope I am not interrupting but Alfred wants me to tell you that dinner would be ready in an hour and that he would prefer it if you hit the showers before that."

They all picked themselves up from the mats and were about to rush to the stairs when Bruce called for Cass. She motioned her brothers to go on upstairs as she headed back to Bruce, a question in her eyes. "You are staying home tonight."

Her eyes widen slightly but he continued before she could protest.

"Your brothers are all currently benched until they are reverted back to normal, and I need someone to make sure none of them heads out into the streets. You are staying to supervise them."

Cass frowned, "Have case."

"I am sure I can look into it for you. Please?"

She didn’t seem keen with it, but she nodded anyway.

"Thank you, Cass." Bruce gave a nod and a squeeze on her shoulder before walking to the computer.

Dinner went well. Other than several snappy growls from Damian, Tim's cutleries clattering to the floor and Dick trying to convince Cass to feed him.

Just as everyone cleared their plates, “Movie night!" Cass declared.

Dick let out an excited rumble of agreement and when no one disagreed, they all went to the den.

It took a while for them to agree on a movie, but they ended up with Ice Age— Tim insisted on it out of irony. The movie started as they settled down on their chosen seats. Dick squeezed himself beside Cass on the sofa, followed by Damian who fit himself between his brother and the armrest. Jason and Tim shared the large armchair, the thing being the perfect size for them.

And it was several hours later when Bruce peaked around the corner and saw his children asleep in the dark den. Dick was curled up on the sofa with Damian sprawled on top of him. On the armchair that was usually reserved for Bruce, were Tim, head hanging of the edge of the seat— it looked painful— and Jason, who had his chin perched on his brother’s shoulders. Cass had a blanket wrapped around her and one hand nestled in Damian’s long fur. She was the only one awake, shooting a smile at Bruce when she noticed his presence.

He approached silently and gave a kiss into Cass’s hair. ‘Thank you,’ he tried to convey.

His daughter immediately pushed into it in an almost cat-like manner before settling in under the blanket again. Damian, head in Cass’s lap, let out a little rumble, burrowing his face into the fabric.

Bruce gave all his sons a gentle stroke on the head— after deciding not to fix Tim’s position as it might jostle him awake— before leaving for his own room upstairs, the image of his children snuggling together safe (even if not quite themselves) warming his heart.

(Deleted Scene)

They spent the morning running around, play fighting, pouncing on each other and even tried to have a snowball fight at one point.

It was a bit after noon when they heard the sounds of a car crunching the snow on the driveway. In unison, they all turned and saw Bruce's car. They ran to it. The car stopped not far from them, and Bruce stepped out, a concerned frown on his face as he eyed the crowd of bears in front of him.

"Is something wro-"

He was cut off by Dick launching himself at Bruce head, causing him to fall into the snow. Damian followed suit as Jason and Tim joined in as well, piling onto Bruce.

17 notes · View notes