teylaminh

[teylaminh]

Here's the final chapter of the POTOver, for anyone who's following along. There may be an epilogue in the future, if I can ever finish it...

Another noise emanated from some distance away, something different from the rodent activity and other sounds they’d become accustomed to along the way.  Jonathan took a step away to investigate, and Maddy clung to his arm even tighter. “What are you doing?” “Stay there,” he said.  “I’m just going to have a look.  Don’t move, okay?” “Jonathan, don’t you dare—” But it was too late, as he’d already broken free of her grasp and taken a few steps closer to the origin of the noise.  She listened for his footsteps in the darkness, already feeling a shiver run up her spine in the darkness and the chill of the cellar – were they four storeys down now, or five? – but then everything became eerily quiet. “Jonathan?” There was no response.  She called again, louder: still nothing.  On the third attempt she was uncomfortably aware of the panic in her tone when its echo returned, and with a sense of cold dread she realised Jonathan had disappeared.

[teylaminh]

Chapter 9, and the penultimate installment, of the POTOver. Mostly just filler, soz.

Only a few hours ago, that very morning, he’d been doubting himself, and doubting her – unconsciously keeping score out of sheer paranoia, which now felt like the stupidest thing he could have done.  The more he thought about it, though, maybe it wasn’t so stupid – maybe his experience with Charlotte had affected him more strongly than he’d ever admitted to himself.  Of course he would be sceptical about where things were going with Maddy, particularly when he was more certain than he’d ever been about his own feelings. Except now, of course, he was certain of hers, too.  The difference was tangible: as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and the last remaining bricks of the wall between them had crumbled.

[teylaminh]

Chapter 8 of the POTOver - more fluff, more mystery, and more of Adam's shenanigans.

“So… are you going to tell me about her?”

As anticipated, he was confused by her cryptic wording.  “Who?”

“Charlotte Carney,” she clarified.  “You offered to tell me what happened.  So I’m asking.”

“What, now?  Are you sure?”

“Jonathan, I may never pluck up the courage to ask you again, so I wouldn’t ignore the opportunity if I were you.  I can’t spend the rest of my life not knowing.  So come on – out with it.”

He had to concede that she was right – the chance to finally clear the air around that particular issue was definitely not to be ignored.  His arm around her shoulder gave a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

“Whatever you’re thinking is way off the mark, just so you know.”

“Fine.  Now stop stalling and tell me.”

[teylaminh]

Chapter 7 of the POTOver is posted, with lots more lovely fluff and just a teense of angst.

“Come on, you’ve got to see this view,” she encouraged.

He shook his head.  “No, you’re all right.  I’m okay here.”

She looked at him questioningly, something occurring to her as she observed the way he was bracing himself against the wall.  “You’re not… afraid of heights, are you?”

“Only… only over a certain point,” he admitted sheepishly, second-guessing what she was already thinking.  “I know; I live in a windmill.  That’s different.  Familiar.  Potentially not fatal if something unspeakable were to happen.  But this is borderline insanity, so if you don’t mind, I’d rather stay here.”

He’d expected some light mockery on her part, but instead she gave him a sympathetic glance and did not comment further.  She held out a hand to try and coax him forward, and he stared at her outstretched palm like it was some kind of wild animal.  Nonetheless, she persevered.

“If you miss this, you’ll only regret it later,” she pointed out.  “I won’t let go, I promise.”

(Photos taken by me, September 2011.)

[teylaminh]

Chapter 6 of the POTOver is here, and it's definitely my favourite.

Maddy took herself up to the first floor.  On checking the Grand Foyer, discovering that it, too, was brimming with people and once again finding no sign of Jonathan in its interior, she found an empty spot on the outside balcony and nursed her champagne as she scanned the arrivals below for any latecomers.  They were few and far between, but at least the rest of the view was pleasant enough.

Another ten minutes later, the building was filled with music as an orchestra, tucked away in some hidden but acoustically-brilliant place, began to play.  The vaulted ceiling carried the sound even as far as the Grand Foyer, whose many doors had been swung open for the occasion.  Most of the guests seemed to have found their partners already, and they were pairing off for the first dance of the night; there were just as many who simply continued having conversations in smaller groups, but that did not quell Maddy’s sense of unease.  The balcony began to empty as couples made their way indoors to the golden brilliance of the room behind her, leaving Maddy alone to gaze out over the city.  There were definitely worse ways to spend an evening, she pondered, as she watched the changing colours of the sunset over the Paris skyline.

Then, a gentle tap on her shoulder – and a familiar voice at her back – nearly caused her to drop the champagne flute to the pavement below.

“May I have this dance?”

[teylaminh]

After a slight delay, chapter 5 of the POTOver is now live on AO3 for anyone reading along. This one is mostly filler, sorry.

“Well?” asked Maddy.  “What’ll the field report be?”

Jonathan shrugged nonchalantly.  “Non-threatening cabaret magic,” he suggested, then clarified: “Card tricks, floating objects.  Just a bit of old-school, start-up stuff.”

“But Jonathan… that’s not what happened.  I mean, this guy’s brilliant.”

“You said I was brilliant the other night.”

“You are,” she reassured him, ��but he’s a different kind of brilliant.  If you want my honest opinion, I think Adam needs to up his game.”

[teylaminh]

Chapter 4 of the POTOver is now up. A much longer chapter this time as we get into the bones of the "locked room mystery"... also, there's fluff. Don't say I never give you anything.

Eventually Maddy found what she was looking for, coming to a standstill so quickly that this time it was Jonathan who nearly fell over her.  He followed the line of her gaze and realised she was staring at nothing more notable than a street-sign.

“Oh my God…” she muttered.

“Rue Scribe?” he read.  “Is that important?”

She looked at him askance.  “More than you realise,” she responded.  Then she turned and headed back down the road.  “Come on.  We have to get inside.”

“Well, yes,” he commented, finally indulging in a little sarcasm to try and relieve some of the tension from earlier that morning, “I don’t imagine we came all the way here just to stare at it.”

(Again, photos taken by me, September 2011).

[teylaminh]

Chapter 3 of the POTOver is now live, for anyone reading along - including the first of many sightseeing trips, and an important conversation.

“Why do I get the feeling this trip is going to be more educational than either of us anticipated?” she asked.

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” he pointed out.  “We could both stand to learn a bit more about each other.”  Maddy did not respond to that, and he immediately back-tracked.  “No, sorry… forget I said that.  I know you don’t want me to—”

“It’s not that,” she said, finally finding the right words.  “It’s not about not wanting you to know.  I just… prefer to exercise caution.  I wouldn’t want to frighten you off.”

“You won’t.”

(Photos taken by me, September 2011.)

[teylaminh]

Chapter 2 of my Jonathan Creek / POTO crossover (hereinafter referred to as "The POTOver") is now up. Still not much happening, but the proper fluff starts next chapter, so bear with it.

Just as he was starting to feel nervous – had she decided not to come after all? – she finally came into view, lugging a large wheeled case behind her and carrying an overstuffed rucksack (presumably her “hand luggage” though it seemed far too big to fit into an overhead locker).  She spotted Jonathan and smiled; he waved nonchalantly but made no move to approach, as she was navigating an unnecessary maze of rope boundaries.  Eventually, she gave up on turning corners and ducked under the remaining two ropes, her rucksack knocking one of them clean off its supporting posts.  She cast it a rudimentary glance, but otherwise ignored it.

As she came to a halt in front of Jonathan, they both paused, momentarily at a loss.  His first instinct was to reach out and hug her, but he wasn’t sure if she’d return it.  The week apart seemed like months, and whilst he was impossibly relieved to see her again, he couldn’t be certain if the feeling was mutual.  Eventually, however, Maddy made the decision for him.

“Well, aren’t you going to give me a hug?”

[teylaminh]

It's spring, so I'm back with a new story - well, new to everyone else, anyway, it's actually 7 years old.

This is a Jonathan Creek / Phantom of the Opera crossover, of sorts, though you don't need to know anything about POTO for it to make sense (hopefully), and if you are familiar with POTO then I hope you enjoy the references.

It's pretty much still a Jonathan Creek story, involving a Locked Room Mystery, Maddy's secret inner phangirl, Adam being his usual ridiculous self, and a few surprises (and special guests) along the way.

Updates will be regular(ish), notwithstanding I need to do some heavy editing beforehand.

As with the Creekmas story, I'll be posting snippets and vaguely relevant pictures with each update; for now, there's just the very silly cover picture I made for it.

“Adam’s doing a European tour,” he explained, “starting in Paris.  If that’s successful, it’ll move on – hopefully Berlin, then Rome, maybe a few of the provinces if things go well.”

“Oh, right.  Sounds great.  I can see why he’d want the publicity – the French love a good scandal.”

“The thing is,” he continued a little obliviously, trying not to lose his nerve, “he wants me to go out there for the first leg, just to oversee things before I hand it over.  We managed to find someone to take the reins; he speaks about six languages, so that will definitely help.  I mean, I know a bit of French, but apart from that…”

She nodded in understanding.  “I suppose that makes sense.  When does it start, then?”

“That’s the other thing,” he admitted.  “We… we fly out next week.”

Maddy paused in whatever she was about to say, her fork hovering over her plate as she stared at him.  “Next week?”

He flinched.  “Yeah.  Sorry, I’ve been trying to find time to tell you.”

[teylaminh]

Here's the final chapter, for anyone who's been reading along. I hope you've enjoyed it, and Merry Christmas!

This chapter's actually quite short, so I won't post a snippet.

[teylaminh]

Here we go with the penultimate chapter, and yet another not-so-subtle dig at Renwick, because what is fanfiction for if not pointing out the flaws of creators?

“I… think this is one of your potential futures, Jonathan,” she said.

“Yes, but where are we?”

She shrugged.  “I have no idea, actually.”

He continued to watch in a state of utter bafflement.  Then he realised his future self was straying to one women in particular, remaining quite close to her side – a slim blonde whom ordinarily he would never be brave enough to approach.  When they shared a glance he was even more surprised.

“Who’s that?”

More eagle-eyed than Jonathan, it seemed, Joey immediately worked it out.  “I think that might be your wife.”

[teylaminh]

Chapter 6, as we power through to the end! Getting into the bones of it now - pun intended.

He made his way downstairs for the third time that night – no, morning, he corrected himself, the inner pedant finally getting its own way – without any sense of urgency at all.  In fact, the latest visitor seemed to be rather more patient than the previous two, which only piqued his curiosity all the more as to who it might be.

That relief was short-lived, however: when he was three steps from the kitchen the knocking started up again, this time in an erratic rhythm that seemed nonetheless to resemble the beat of some song or another.  The racket made him hesitate.  When it died down again, he listened carefully for any tell-tale signs as to the visitor’s identity, but heard nothing.  Even the wind from earlier seemed to have dwindled to silence.

Finally, he pulled open the doorway – a little cautious of what might be on the other side of it.  Somewhere in the back of his mind he was more than aware of how his fictional counterpart had experienced this particular vision, and he was understandably wary of what might lie ahead.

The sight startled him at first: a black figure stark against a white backdrop of snow-covered ground.  The figure was short in stature but imposing nonetheless, standing squarely in the doorway with its head bowed; there did not appear to be any footprints to indicate its path to his door.  He allowed himself a moment to catch his breath and better examine the visitor.

[teylaminh]

Onwards into chapter 5! This is the last we'll see of Carla, which I'm sure you'll be glad about.

He trudged through the snow behind her, following the row of houses.  The remainder were all dark, the windows becoming one with the sooty brickwork.  The snow began to fall more heavily, the flurries blinding him until he couldn’t see much of anything at all other than whiteness in his line of vision.  Then his own windmill came slowly back into view through the blizzard – more than a little disorienting, given that they’d walked in a perfectly straight line without ever turning around, so it should have been behind them.  He paid it no heed by this point, merely grateful to see his own front door again.

At the threshold, they parted ways.

“So, I imagine you’re not the last one, are you?” muttered Jonathan as he stepped into the welcoming warmth of his kitchen and turned to face Carla.

“You’re catching on, then?”

[teylaminh]

Next chapter of my Jonathan Creek/Dickens mash-up, slightly delayed due to illness. We are now halfway through!

At the next window, he again looked in upon a scene he did not recognise.  It was a new-looking house with all mod-cons and cream furniture; a white tree with brightly-coloured baubles stood in one corner of the room – very stylish and in tune with the rest of the décor – but there was little else to indicate that Christmas had visited this household.  There were numerous presents beneath the branches, wrapped in a variety of professional-looking ways.

Beside him at the window, Carla stiffened, which only piqued his curiosity.

The majority of the gifts were unopened as yet, even though a clock on the wall proclaimed it to be mid-afternoon.  Then a figure entered the room through a previously-closed door that seemed to lead into the kitchen, where there did not appear to be any evidence of cooking despite the shiny, designer interior.  The reason for Carla’s reaction became apparent, as she herself came into the living room – pristinely dressed as usual, a glass of wine in one hand – and settled down on the sofa.

[teylaminh]

Chapter 3 of my festive story now up, in which Jonathan continues to face some past memories...

There were guests milling about, talking in small groups and moving from room to room – a party in full swing, or so it seemed.  (He knew well enough not to bother clarifying that he and Maddy were invisible to the occupants of the room.)  None of the guests were particularly familiar to Jonathan… except for one sole individual, whom Maddy had also noticed and could not quite suppress her smirk of realisation.

“Is that you?”

He did not justify her with a response, as the likeness was more than obvious; watching his younger self was quite bizarre enough, without having to confirm it.  Maddy looked between the two of them critically, then concluded:

“Can’t say you’ve changed much.  Was this after or during the Edwin Drood phase?”

He sighed, immediately placing the scene that was about to unfold, and not quite wanting to carry on.

“Is there a point to this?”

“I don’t know; it’s your memory.”

[teylaminh]

Chapter 2 of my Christmas story, for your enjoyment.

Adam’s warning repeated itself and he felt a chill run down his spine.  He shook it off with an eye-roll – it was December, and freezing to boot, he logically told himself – but nevertheless he couldn’t deny a certain sense of trepidation.

Curiosity won out; at the very least, once he found out who was disturbing his peace, he could return to bed and attempt to get some more sleep before the inevitability of Christmas morning dawned.  Steeling himself, he took a deep breath and reached for the latch, preparing to give whoever it was a piece of his mind and send them on their way.

When he pulled open the door, however, he was greeted by a sight that immediately stunned him into silence…

(I can't share screencaps, for obvious reasons, so I'll post images which are at least vaguely evocative / relevant...)