Why? Well… good news or bad news first? How about bad news?
Accio!Books has been moved and will not be in March.
But the Hunger Games campaign will!!! More info coming soon…
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK HOLMES.
Mary’s scream brought Dr. John Watson running downstairs. She had just answered the door, he knew, and as he ran into the front hallway, he heard a very calm and familiar voice. He wasn’t surprised. Who else would be calling so near midnight?
“Please, Mrs. Watson, calm down. There is nothing to scream about, I assure you. IS the doctor in?” Reaching the doorway, Watson pulled the door open wide.
“I’m here, Holmes,” he said. Then he saw what had made Mary scream. Holmes had some unconscious woman draped unceremoniously over his shoulder. Holmes put her down, and Watson recognized her as Irene Adler.
“I was a bit more careful this time,” explained Holmes. “I switched our glasses while she wasn’t looking, so now she’s the one who’s drugged.” Holmes looked triumphant. “At least I had the decency not to put her in handcuffs. Naked.”
Watson laughed, and Mary looked startled. Holmes handed Adler over to Watson, and then he was gone. Watson faintly made out a figure chasing after Holmes through the darkness. Mary noticed too, took Adler from Watson, and nodded. John Watson took off down the street after his friend and the unknown assailant. Mary sighed. This was going to be a long night.
DISCLAIMER: I DON’T OWN MERLIN.
A quick note: this drabble is set when Arthur knows of Merlin’s magic, but before Arthur is King.
Now, onto the drabble….
~
Arthur was sound asleep, until something crashed to the floor. Sitting up in bed, he grabbed his sword.
“Who’s there?” he asked. He moved so his back was to the open window.
“Show yourself!” Arthur commanded. Suddenly, the window behind him slammed shut, and Arthur felt himself jump high into the air.
And then he heard very familiar laughing as Merlin appeared.
“You should’ve seen your face!” Merlin laughed, crying with mirth. “I told you I could scare you!” Arthur scowled.
“You are definitely going in the dungeons!”
“I’d like to see you try!” Merlin laughed, and then he vanished.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK. BBC DOES.
“John, could you stand up?” Dr. John Watson looked up from the book he was reading, and looked at Sherlock’s serious face. Hesitantly, John got up from the chair he was sitting on.
“Why?” he asked.
“Actually, no, sit back down.” Sherlock commanded. John, confused, sat down once more. Sherlock crossed the flat to where John was sitting, then plopped onto the floor, staring intently underneath John’s chair.
“Sherlock? What’re you-“
“Now move your chair forward a bit. A little more. Yeah, now move to the right a few inches. A few more inches. There!”
John followed Sherlock’s instructions, and stared in bewilderment at the gun that had been underneath his chair.
“Sherlock… What is that?”
“Evidence,” Sherlock replied. There was a pause, and John was still radiating an air of confusion and bewilderment. “And.. cue Lestrade!”
Lestrade walked into the room, bagged the gun Sherlock was indicating, and left.
Suddenly, John began to notice things. New scratches on the table, stray items on the floor as if they had been knocked over, a small puncture in Sherlock’s chair, and a small rip in the curtains. John imagined the fight that must have occurred between Sherlock and some assailant while he was at work. He sighed a long-suffering sigh and pushed his chair back to its original position. Such was life at 221b Baker Street.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN MERLIN! BBC DOES!
Today was the day, Merlin decided. He was going to tell Arthur his secret. It was a rare day of peace in Camelot - a perfect day for a giant leap of faith.
At night, Merlin worked up the courage to tell him. Arthur climbed into bed, then Merlin began to speak, turning away from Arthur.
“I have something to tell you.” There was no response, so Merlin continued. “Arthur… I have magic.”
Arthur was silent. Unable to stand the suspense, Merlin whirled around to face Arthur… and was greeted with a loud snore.
Today was not the day, Fate decided.
DISCLAIMER: J. K. ROWLING OWNS HARRY POTTER, NOT I.
Harry Potter was in detention. No surprise there. As he worked on cleaning all the trophies in the trophy room, he let his mind wander.
He thought of Ron and Hermione, and the way they argued constantly with each other. It really made them sound like an old married couple.
Ginny thought otherwise. So Harry had bet Ginny ten galleons that Ron and Hermione would get together by the end of their seventh year. Harry smiled, confident he was going to win.
Suddenly, his confidence faltered as he heard Ron’s voice from the hallway.
“OH MY GOD! HERMIONE! SHUT UP!!!”
DISCLAIMER: SHERLOCK BELONGS TO THE BBC! I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK!
“Sherlock! What’ve you done to my curtains?” shrieked Mrs. Hudson, fingering the curtains that were once a silky red. Sherlock glanced over at the curtains that were now black and burnt.
“An experiment went rather wrong, I’m afraid,” he responded. “I’ll get new ones, Mrs. Hudson, not to worry.”
“You will.” she said threateningly.
~
Dr. John Watson walked into the flat at 221b Baker Street, and stopped dead. Sherlock looked up.
“Ah, hello, John!”
“Sherlock… What happened to the curtains?”
“I ruined the old ones.”
“So you bought new ones?
“Yes…”
“Sherlock… why did you buy neon green curtains?”
“…Problem?”
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN MERLIN; THE BBC DOES.
“Rise and shine, Arthur! Time to wake up!” Merlin called cheerily as he strode into Arthur’s chambers. He automatically ducked the pillow that was chucked at his head.
“Merlin! Can you honestly think of no other way to wake me up? You say the same thing every single day!”
“Fine. Tomorrow will be something different.”
~
“ARTHUR!” Merlin yelled the net morning. People glared in annoyance as they passed the prince’s shouting manservant.
Arthur distantly heard his manservant calling his name. He groaned and opened his eyes…
Merlin, meanwhile, was waiting… Any minute now…
“MERLIN! GET ME OFF THE ROOF NOW!”
We all know the story of the great Greek hero Theseus. You remember his heroic feats, but also the tragedy in his life. Maybe you’ll remember that Theseus’s wife, Phaedra, loved his son, Hippolytus. When Hippolytus found out about this, he was furious and disgusted with her. To get back at him, Phaedra killed herself, leaving a note to Theseus. Theseus believed the false words in the note left for him, and thought that his son had caused her death. He therefore banished his son. His son, though innocent, left, but was mortally hurt as he was leaving. As Hippolytus was dying, Artemis visited Theseus and told him of his son’s loyalty and of his wife’s wrongs. He realized that his son was, in fact, innocent. Hippolytus was brought to Theseus, and Theseus held his dying son in his arms, finally knowing the truth, and feeling the stinging pain that came with it. Well, what if one character could change all that?
That character is Phaedra’s nurse. Phaedra’s nurse was very devoted to her mistress, and when she found out about Phaedra’s love for Hippolytus, she only thought of helping her mistress. She went straight to Hippolytus. You know the rest of the story. But, let me ask you this. What if the nurse had thought a little harder before going to tell Hippolytus?
Phaedra’s nurse, upon discovering Phaedra’s love for Hippolytus, at first thought to go to Hippolytus with the news. The nurse, however, stopped in her tracks, and took some time to think about what she was doing. She was very loyal to her mistress, and she knew that if she wanted to help Phaedra, she would have to go to Hippolytus. However, she also knew that what Phaedra wanted was wrong, and that if she was to do the right thing, she would have to tell Theseus once he got back.
The nurse’s sense of right was strong, so she decided to tell Theseus when he got back. Unfortunately, when he returned, he was too late; Phaedra, in her distress, had killed herself. As Theseus and Hippolytus mourned the loss of wife and mother together, the nurse wondered whether she had done the right thing. She couldn’t have known the far more tragic ending that would have taken place had her loyalty to her mistress prevailed over her sense of right. She couldn’t have known that she had saved Hippolytus from a tragic death and Theseus from immeasurable grief. She didn’t consider herself a hero. And in the actual myth, she wasn’t one. But who’s to say she couldn’t have been?
The dense fog swirled around me, engulfing the once-cheery street I walked along. A silhouette of a hotel loomed out against the fog, becoming slightly clearer as I grew steadily closer. The cold of the night seemed tangible, and the way the streets were mostly deserted helped the atmosphere to give off a sense of impending doom. I could not shake away the feeling something was about to happen. The street was alongside the back wall of an old abandoned house. The house was huge and had clearly been beautiful and majestic at one point in time. But now its antiquity was showing. The house was giving way to mold, decay. It was falling apart. At night, it was eerie, and it didn’t help my mood. My pace increased almost without conscious thought, instinctively cringing away from the unknown of the dark shadows in the street. The hotel was closer, yet still far away to my now-panicking mind. And then a voice loomed out of the darkness, shattering the deadly silence like the sharpest knife.
“Jackie Woods….” the voice called, slurring my name into a barely audible whisper.”Miss Woodsssss…. how many days until the 21st of January? How many days, Miss Woods?” I stopped cold and slowly turned around, only to find the same tangible fog behind me, permeated by the dim street lights. I walked ever faster and finally reached the front of the hotel. I stopped, trying to figure out what was important about January 21. I closed my eyes and brought my hand up to my head. I was beginning to get a headache.
“Miss, are you alright?” came a worried voice. My eyes snapped open to find the kindly hotel receptionist, Lucy Burns, peering at me with a concerned face. I looked around, once again seeing nothing but the never-ending fog of the night. The eerie voice I had heard echoed in my ears.
“Miss?” she repeated. I looked back at her and attempted to smile, averting my nervous light blue eyes.
“Yes, I’m fine, thank you.” I replied. She looked at me doubtfully, as if unsatisfied with my response, then walked back into the hotel. I followed quietly behind her, and stole one last glance at the dimly lit night before closing the door behind me and retreating to my room.
***
My chocolate brown hair fell in front of my light blue eyes as I ran for cover from the rain. The hotel was getting close now, but I couldn’t see with my hair in my face. Bam!
“Bugger.” I mumbled, stumbling back, moving my hand to my throbbing forehead, which had hit the front of the hotel door. I walked inside, still holding my head. Lucy, the hotel receptionist whom I had come to know, laughed upon my entrance.
“Jackie Woods!” she called. She said my name in a playfully scolding way. “How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t run into doors!” Her brown eyes sparkled with humor as she laughed, shaking her head.
“Many times.” I replied, laughing along with her. “When will I ever learn?” I walked across the tiled floor, headed toward my room. I had a room at the hotel which I kept up as a semi-permanent apartment. Lucy had let me rent it out all the time, as long as I got a job there. I worked there in the morning, doing whatever odd jobs I could. I was turning the corner to leave the lobby as I slipped and fell on the wet, rain-spattered floor. I got up quickly, embarrassed, leaving Lucy laughing behind me. When I got to my room, Room 24, my eyes widened in horror.
The door to my room was ajar, hanging slightly off it’s hinges. My eyes zeroed in on the lock. It had clearly been forced open. I cautiously pushed open the door, entering into a tornado wreck. Or at least, that’s what it looked like. My room was in shambles. Someone had clearly forced their way in and ransacked my room. I ran out to Lucy, barely keeping my composure.
“Were you here at the desk the whole time?” I asked, hoping she would have seen someone.
“No.” she replied. “I left for a few minutes to-“
”Crap!” I moaned, sinking into a nearby bench. She came over and hugged me comfortingly.
“What happened?” she asked, concerned. I told of my room and her eyes widened in horror as well. We went to the room together to look at it once more. I crossed over and sat on the bed, the only item in the room that wasn’t completely destroyed. “Do you need me to help you clean up? I’ll call the police for you, if you like.” she offered. I shook my head.
“No, thanks.” I sighed. “I’ll call the police myself later.” She left without another word, seeing I wasn’t in the mood to talk. She closed the door as best as she could behind her, and went back to her desk. I sprawled on my bed. My hand came in contact with something. I sat up and looked down on my bed, finding an envelope laid neatly on top.
Guard this with your life. I stared at the inscription scrawled upon the envelope. Why would someone ransack my room, destroying everything in the process, and leave a note? My curiosity piqued and I slid the paper out from the envelope. I unfolded the paper and smoothed it out across my lap. The paper said:
Begin the Game, and you will seek
A treasure that is most unique.
Fortune, Glory, Happiness -
with all these things you will be blessed.
But only if you solve this Game,
will the prize be yours to claim.
The Game goes on; it doesn’t end.
Beware to all who will contend.
Deceit and lies you’ll surely meet;
you must be smart, bold, and fleet.
Discourage not! I promise you…
There’s thrill and rush with every clue.
And as you play the Game, you’ll find…
it has your body, soul, and mind.
But still you cannot break away;
until the very end, you’ll play.
~
The Game begins January 21.
