Day 4: Sherlock Holmes (ACD): Gen
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adventdrabblesTitle: Burnt Turkey
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (ACD)
Rating: Gen
Prompt: Burnt turkey
Summary: Mrs. Hudson burns her tenant's Christmas turkey.
“Martha?”
Mrs. Hudson turned sharply, inserting her body between her arriving friend and the current source of her extreme perturbation—and shame.
“Don’t, don’t look, Marie.”
“Don’t look at what?” asked Marie Turner, endevouring to see what her friend was shielding. “Oh,” she said when she’d caught a glimpse. And a whiff.
“I burnt it,” confessed Mrs. Hudson, in a childlike voice. She stepped aside.
“Yes,” agreed Mrs. Turner, furrowing her brow at the charred bird.
“It was for the gentlemen’s Christmas supper. I made it especially for them. It’s their favourite. And now it’s ruined.”
Mrs. Turner stepped closer, bent low, and examined.
“You look like Mister Holmes,” said Mrs. Hudson. “This is a scene of culinary crime!” she added, her voice rising to an uncharacteristic wail.
“Nonsense. I know just what to do.”
---
“See?” said Mrs. Turner triumphantly. “I’ve had several lodgers from South America, and they swear by them.”
Mrs. Hudson looked in mild wonder at the tray of meat pies, well not really pies, more like meat purses. The edible bits of turkey had been salvaged and mixed with onion and spices, wrapped in crust, and baked.
“But will they eat them?” asked Mrs. Hudson.
Just then there was the noise of the front door and boots.
“Oh, Mrs. Hudson, we’re terribly, terribly sorry, we’re not going to be able to enjoy your fabulous turkey, at least, not while it’s hot.”
“The case forebears it. We’re just here to change clothes and head out again.”
“I knew that,” said Mrs. Hudson. “That’s why I made these,” she waved at the turkey pies, “for you to take with you, and share with any Inspector unfortunate enough to be saddled with your company on Christmas Eve!”
The look of relief, surprise, and sheer delight on the gentlemen’s faces was all Mrs. Hudson could want. Indeed, they were so excited she feared that an actual embrace might be in the offing.
Luckily, they got control of themselves before anything of that kind could occur.
“You’re an angel!”
“A prescient angel!”
“Magnificent!”
They swept up the stairs, and when they were gone, Mrs. Hudson looked at Mrs. Turner with abject admiration.
“You really are amazing, Marie.”
Mrs. Turner blushed. “When you’ve seen them off, why don’t we settle into our own shared festivity?”
“Yes! I don’t much care for turkey.”
“Neither do I.” Mrs. Turner’s eye roved. “But those sausages…”
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (ACD)
Rating: Gen
Prompt: Burnt turkey
Summary: Mrs. Hudson burns her tenant's Christmas turkey.
“Martha?”
Mrs. Hudson turned sharply, inserting her body between her arriving friend and the current source of her extreme perturbation—and shame.
“Don’t, don’t look, Marie.”
“Don’t look at what?” asked Marie Turner, endevouring to see what her friend was shielding. “Oh,” she said when she’d caught a glimpse. And a whiff.
“I burnt it,” confessed Mrs. Hudson, in a childlike voice. She stepped aside.
“Yes,” agreed Mrs. Turner, furrowing her brow at the charred bird.
“It was for the gentlemen’s Christmas supper. I made it especially for them. It’s their favourite. And now it’s ruined.”
Mrs. Turner stepped closer, bent low, and examined.
“You look like Mister Holmes,” said Mrs. Hudson. “This is a scene of culinary crime!” she added, her voice rising to an uncharacteristic wail.
“Nonsense. I know just what to do.”
---
“See?” said Mrs. Turner triumphantly. “I’ve had several lodgers from South America, and they swear by them.”
Mrs. Hudson looked in mild wonder at the tray of meat pies, well not really pies, more like meat purses. The edible bits of turkey had been salvaged and mixed with onion and spices, wrapped in crust, and baked.
“But will they eat them?” asked Mrs. Hudson.
Just then there was the noise of the front door and boots.
“Oh, Mrs. Hudson, we’re terribly, terribly sorry, we’re not going to be able to enjoy your fabulous turkey, at least, not while it’s hot.”
“The case forebears it. We’re just here to change clothes and head out again.”
“I knew that,” said Mrs. Hudson. “That’s why I made these,” she waved at the turkey pies, “for you to take with you, and share with any Inspector unfortunate enough to be saddled with your company on Christmas Eve!”
The look of relief, surprise, and sheer delight on the gentlemen’s faces was all Mrs. Hudson could want. Indeed, they were so excited she feared that an actual embrace might be in the offing.
Luckily, they got control of themselves before anything of that kind could occur.
“You’re an angel!”
“A prescient angel!”
“Magnificent!”
They swept up the stairs, and when they were gone, Mrs. Hudson looked at Mrs. Turner with abject admiration.
“You really are amazing, Marie.”
Mrs. Turner blushed. “When you’ve seen them off, why don’t we settle into our own shared festivity?”
“Yes! I don’t much care for turkey.”
“Neither do I.” Mrs. Turner’s eye roved. “But those sausages…”
