Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Title: Le Crâne
Characters: John Watson, Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock Holmes
Length: 221b
Alternate Link: AO3
Author's Notes: Written for the watsons_woes July Writing Prompt #14: La Fête Nationale: aka Bastille Day. In honor of the holiday, include France or something French. Unbeta'd.
Summary: Dr. John Watson: That's a skull. Sherlock Holmes: A friend of mine. Well. When I say friend...

John dragged himself up the seventeen steps to the flat, exhausted after a long day at the clinic.

"- waste of your talents," he heard Mycroft say.

John opened the door in time to see Sherlock direct a loud, sarcastic rebuttal to the skull – in French.

Mycroft looked like he'd bit into a lemon. "Must you? It's disrespectful."

"You're just jealous that Mémé willed it to me," Sherlock sneered.

"Don't be absurd," said Mycroft.

"Mémé?" John interrupted, somehow knowing he'd regret it.

"Our grandmother was a physical anthropologist of some renown," said Mycroft.

"Oh," John said, finally gaining some insight into the skull's place of honor on the mantle. "So the skull was part of your grandmother's research, and she willed it to Sherlock when she died?"

Mycroft opened his mouth, closed it, and looked at Sherlock. Sherlock, eyes shining with amusement, raised an eyebrow back at Mycroft.

Mycroft took a breath and reluctantly explained, "Grand-mère Vernet donated the rest of her skeleton to the museum."

"They used Dermestidae beetles to strip the flesh from her corpse, but no one would let me observe the process," Sherlock complained.

"You were seven," said Mycroft.

"Mémé would have allowed it. She was the only one in this family worth talking to, alive or dead."

"Right," John interjected. "On that note, I'm off to bed."


Jul. 17th, 2013 06:42 pm (UTC)
Merci! It's a lovely detail in canon, isn't it? My great-grandmother was Québécois, so my French is appalling but my heart's in the right place.