The Male Crime Writer - A Herlock Snippet

I feel like introducing an original character from the world of Herlock to you.

 His name is Robert McNamara and he's a crime writer, the Ariadne Oliver to Sherlock's Hercule Poirot.

 Only he fancies Sherlock.

The Male Crime Writer

 "I'm Ethan McLeod, and this is my better half, Tabitha Gladden."
 
 Sherlock smiled beatifically, "my friends call me Tabby."
 
 Our host looked mildly confused.
 
 "What does Ethan call you?"
 
 "Mistress."
 
 I just smiled as he looked at me in mild horror.
 
 "Errm, your room is this way."
 
 He sharply turned and headed off.
 
 Sherlock looked at me before following him.
 
 Oh, the knowledge that she'd kill me was there, but at the same time, I could tell she was rather pleased.
 
 I strode after her.
 
 "Marple would have been too obvious," I murmured in her ear.
 
 "Smith would have sufficed," she replied, sharp as a knife.
 
 "Where's the fun in that?"
 
 "If John and Mary weren't having a weekend away, you wouldn't be here,” she reminded me.
 
 "Spoilsport."

(Note: Mrs Gladden is the title character from The Female Detective, a series of crime stories from 1864)

The Case of the Hapless Secretary - A Herlock Snippet

 Herlock is a lot of fun to write.

 Mostly because Sherlock is a completely unapologetic cow. She's rude to people she's taken against, she's cruel, she's smart and she knows it and she'll seek revenge over the tiniest infraction.

 She won't threaten people by pretending she has a non-existent mental illness, she'll just threaten them.

 She's also extra fun because I have Watson running around after her trying to stop her from doing all of these things.

 Except when he doesn't.

 Which is when things get even more fun.

 Today's snippet is one of those occasions.

 It was inspired by a gif set from Elementary in which Joan 'I bear no resemblance to John' Watson is appalled that she, the assistant, is asked to wait outside because that's what all assistants are asked to do in this random office they're in.

 So I took it and reworked it into something where actual misogyny was happening.

 And happening to a misogynist at that, which is always far more interesting.

Miss Holmes, Consulting Detective

"Um, excuse me?" The secretary said nervously, "I'm afraid assistants wait outside."

This would have been fine. Sherlock doesn't need me to babysit her during meetings.

If I'd been the person who'd been asked.

I was afraid to look at her face.

She was smiling.

"Oh, that's fine," she said cheerfully, maintaining a beatific smile that made a shiver go up my spine every time I dared look at it. She walked over to the waiting area and sat down, crossing her legs and lounging back with her arms on the arms of the chair.

"I'll just wait here."

"You really shouldn't have to..." I protested weakly.

"It's company policy," the secretary said apologetically.

She looked nice, she didn't deserve this.

"It's fine," Sherlock smiled, "I'll just wait here. Don't leave Mr Hendrickson waiting, Sherlock."

"This way, Mr Holmes," the Secretary said cheerily, directing me to walk through the door.

I spared a look at Sherlock who was already looking through the Financial Times like nothing unusual was happening.

I turned to the secretary, "of course. I'll be back momentarily," I told Sherlock.

She shooed me off with one hand, eyes on what I could only assume was an article about some potentially embezzling entrepreneur.

The secretary directed me into Mr Hendrickson's office.

The man himself was sitting behind his desk and looking at something on his iPad.

"You may go, Sandra."

The secretary nodded politely and left, leaving me in the awkward position of not being the famed detective Sherlock Holmes in front of her newest wealthy client.

 After a few moments, and a noise that sounded suspiciously like it was from Candy Crush, Hendrickson looked up.

His eyes widened in surprise.

“Dr Watson? Why are you here? Is Miss Holmes ill?”

I shook my head.

“Er, no. She’s waiting outside.”

“Good heavens, man, why is she doing that?”

“Because your secretary-”

“Sandra.”

“Yes, Sandra, assumed I was the genius detective Sherlock Holmes.”

He gave me a blank look.

“Oh, she did, did she?”

He put down his iPad and stood up, walking around his desk and heading to the door.

“If you’d so kindly join me, Dr Watson.”

He threw the door to his office open and marched right through Sandra the Secretary’s office to where Sherlock was sitting.

Sandra scuttled after Hendrickson, “Mr Hendrickson? What’s the matter?”

“I am so sorry, Miss Holmes, I cannot believe this has happened. You have my word that Sandra will be sanctioned for this.”

I just managed to catch up with the hapless secretary in time to see the horrified expression on her face.

“Hi,” I whispered cheerfully, “I’m Dr Watson.”

Sherlock was done carefully folding up the Financial Times and put it back down on the coffee table she’d taken it from.

“Oh, it’s a mistake anyone could have made, Mr Hendrickson,” she smiled, “after all, Sherlock isn’t a girl’s name.”

Hendrickson looked confused, but it wasn’t for his benefit, it was for Sandra.

Who currently looked like she wished she could leap from the top of the Shard.

“Well, if you’d be willing to wait for a few minutes, I’ll be with you and Dr Watson directly.”

Sherlock smiled and nodded graciously.

“Please come with me, Sandra,” Hendrickson said through grit teeth as he headed back to his office.

I sat next to Sherlock.

“I’m surprised you went along with that.”

“Yeah, well. This is what? The fourth time this month? It’s getting on my nerves.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen, John, it’s only the third.”

The Science of Induction - Another Herlock Snippet

 Over the last few days I've managed to accrue some post ideas.

 Unfortunately, they're all things I want to dedicate more time to than I gave myself today.

 So here's another Miss Holmes, Consulting Detective snippet.

Miss Holmes, Consulting Detective

 Sherlock was laid out on the chaise longue, holding the newspaper up above her head at arm’s length and reading about some horrible murder. At least, I assumed it was, it had been the last three times and if Sherlock Holmes was anything, it was a creature of habitual disturbance.

 Her arms weren’t even shaking and she’d been lying like that since before I went to fetch my book from the Post Office.

 “Aren’t your arms getting tired?” I asked, sitting in the matching armchair and carefully opening the packaging.

 “Not particularly,” she replied, eyes narrowed in concentration, “they were five minutes ago, but mind over matter, old chap, mind over matter.”

 “You’re unbelievable.”

 “I get that a lot. So, what’s the book about?”

 “How do you know it’s a book?” I asked, surprised.

 “I saw the packaging from the corner of my eye and it’s indicative of either a book, DVD or video game. You’ve received nine packages containing DVD style cases in the fortnight you’ve lived here, and you weren’t anywhere near that careful opening those. So it can only be a book,” she replied calmly, not taking her eyes off the page.

 “Oh.”

 “Also, you told me before you went out. I can’t believe you don’t remember.”

 Oh, I did. God damn it.

 “I didn’t think you were paying attention.”

 She looked at me from the corner of her eye and gave me a small smirk before going back to whatever apparently simple case she was dissecting for fun.

 Stupid sexy Sherlock.

 “So, book. What’s it about?”

 “Can’t you induce that?” I asked peevishly.

 “Yes, probably, but it’s your book so you should be able to have the pleasure of explaining it to me.”

 “You’re so gracious.”

 “You only think that because you don’t know me very well.”

 I silently scoffed at that for a moment and she let me, for whatever strange reasons of her own.

 “Fine, I’ll tell you.”

 “Your enthusiasm is almost stifling.”

The Male Model in the Kitchen - a snippet from Herlock

 Well, I'm not actually going to call it Herlock. That would be ridiculous.

 I'm thinking something classy like 'Miss Holmes, Consulting Detective'.

 Because, screw it. If some Americans are going to take John Watson and strip him of all his defining character traits to make a somehow cut price Jonathan Creek, I'm going to take Sherlock Holmes and show them how you gender bend a character without making them totally different.

 So out of this, we have Sherlock Holmes, youngest child and only daughter of the Holmes family. Adored by her eldest brother Sheridan and mildly disliked by her other brother, Mycroft.

 Best friends with Mary Morstan, and assisted by Dr John Watson; formerly of the Army.

 Because if John Watson isn't formerly of the army, he isn't John Watson.

 I've written a few snippets, but this is the one I've decided to show you guys for now, as it's based on my favourite thing about A Study in Scarlet.

 AKA, how hot both Watson and Holmes think Gregson is.

Miss Holmes, Consulting Detective

The first time I met the most handsome man in the world, I was wearing nothing but a towel and drinking milk straight from a six pint bottle.

 I stared at him in mild terror for a moment.

 He just gave me a quick once over and nodded before turning to the living room.

 “You didn’t mention the half-naked male model in the kitchen,” he called over his shoulder.

 “Oh, that’s Watson.”

 Sherlock poked her head around the door frame.

 “He’s my flat mate, I got him last week. Also, he’s not a male model, he’s a doctor.”

 The far too kind and incredibly handsome man nodded.

 “Well, it’s a pleasure, Doctor Watson. I look forward to introducing myself to you once you’ve had the chance to get dressed.”

 “Um, okay.”

 Sherlock was scowling at me, “you’re going to get more milk. You’re not sharing an indirect kiss with Gregson because of your disgusting habits.”

 Gregson chuckled and squeezed past Sherlock.

 “I find your defence of my honour touching, Holmes.”

 She smiled brightly at him and to my amazement seemed to blush a little.

 “My services are always there should you need them.”

 I heard Gregson laugh in the living room.

 Sherlock turned to me and scowled again.

 “New milk, and then I might introduce you to Gregson.”

 How could I say no to that? 

 ...

 She might tell Mrs Hudson if I didn’t.