Title: The Baker Street Drabbles
Author: Jordanna Morgan (
Archive Rights: Please request the author’s consent.
Disclaimer: Not mine. DIC’s.
Summary: A set of hundred-word snippets.
Notes: I rarely write drabbles, but there is something about SH22 that has seemed to inspire them.


The Baker Street Drabbles


Title: Choice of Words
Summary: Holmes encounters one of the unfortunate vagaries of the English language.

Sherlock Holmes scowled at Beth Lestrade from the driver’s seat of her cruiser. They had just left the questioning of witnesses at a crime scene—which left Lestrade in such intense hysterics, he had insisted on driving. Not one of his better skills.

He was so flustered, he was having trouble concentrating on that task, much less their case.

"The look on his face!" Lestrade gasped, wiping away tears.

"In two hundred years, there have been the most confounded changes to the English language," Holmes sighed. "That is assuredly the last time I will refer to a subject as queer."


Title: Cat and Dog
Summary: Holmes consults on a missing-critters case.

Sherlock Holmes steepled his fingertips and stared up at the ceiling. He had already deduced that the man in front of him was an artist of some sort, formerly an engineer, and was vegetarian. He was now awaiting the details of the man’s dilemma.

"So, Mister Adams, your dog is missing?"

Adams nodded. "And my cat, too."

"Er, yes…" Holmes paused dubiously. "And what are the particulars of these animals?"

Adams leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, "They’re plotting to take over the world."

Closing his eyes, Holmes let out a long-suffering sigh. How do the odd ones always find me?


Title: Falling
Summary: A snapshot from the "abyss" during the episode "The Musgrave Ritual".

Sherlock Holmes hated falling.

It dated back to Reichenbach, of course, and the plunge that took the life of the original Professor Moriarty. Now the present-day Moriarty was somewhere above with the Musgrave Sword, and Holmes, along with Lestrade and Watson, was sitting on a heap of rubble in a pit. He was unhurt, as they appeared to be—but the sudden drop had been stomach-turning.

It was not unlike the sensation he had felt earlier that day, when he saw the ruin of the textile factory, and realized that Beth Lestrade might have been within.

Holmes hated falling, indeed.

© 2003 Jordanna Morgan