Sherlock fandom.
Urban Life
Being London born and bred, she knew the city’s sounds by heart. Cars honking or backfiring. Large groups of tourists chatting and laughing in the famous sites of the city. Shouts and arguments from the pubs. Swans and ducks cackling in St. James’s Park. They were all a part of her, which became apparent every time she visited her grandparents in the countryside.
As a little girl, she slept through everything, sound or no sound, but as she grew older, she had trouble falling asleep without all the bustle from the streets of her beloved city. It used to pass after a day or two, though.
When she was nine, her teacher gave the class an assignment about sounds, smells, or tastes and what one or more of them, reminded the children of.
She asked her father for advice on what she should choose, or whether she should go with all the subjects.
“It’s really up to you, love,” John said. “Perhaps avoid the smells. You know far too many disgusting ones that might be difficult to explain. And your teacher might think you’re exaggerating and making things up.”
He looked over at his husband who were currently measuring something green with…well, something foul smelling.
Rosie’s papa didn’t notice any of this, because his sole focus was on the delicate experiment that could solve the case he was investigating.
“Yeah, I think I will go for the sounds,” Rosie said after a few moments.
“Good decision,” John praised just as steam rose from Sherlock’s concoction, and a terrible stench made John and Rosie run to the sitting room and open both windows while coughing loudly.
***
Rosie’s teacher was not entirely satisfied with her assignment. She made her stay in the classroom after she had excused the other children.
“This task was supposed to be truthful and not fictional,” she said.
“I know that. And it is,” Rosie protested.
“You can’t seriously mean that police sirens and lights remind you of your parents and your uncle.”
“Why not? It’s the truth.”
“I refuse to have a lying pupil in my class! I’ve called your father and he will be here any minute, so we can solve this,” the stubborn teacher said.
Rosie rolled her eyes and wanted to tell her teacher, who was new, that calling John or Sherlock would do nothing to help the woman’s cause.
As it where, both her parents came to their precious girl’s rescue, and left a befuddled and slightly dazed teacher in their wake.
“How was I supposed to know that her parents are the famous detective and that doctor, and that the uncle is a DI at the Met?” she complained to one of her colleagues later.
She didn’t get much support.
“If you hadn’t been so reluctant to learn the kids’ surnames, you wouldn’t have found yourself in this mess. Watson-Holmes is a dead giveaway in my book,” the colleague grinned.
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