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All your coffee are belong to Gabe!

Location: The Cravat
Time: N/A. (Though for all intents and purposes it is morning.)


This morning, as with many mornings, Gabe's first thought was one word. This one word was 'coffee.' He carefully extricated himself from his and Jeannot's bed, making sure not to wake his love as he did. He left the room quietly and went down the stairs, looking for any new room, hopefully one containing a coffee-maker and some grounds. As luck ((or possibly the BC's inherent MKCSR powers)) would have it, the first room he decided to explore was the kitchen, the coffee-maker on the counter like a gift from G-d. He only had to look through two cupboards before finding the coffee grounds and cups, and he set about making it, humming Chelsea Hotel #2 very loudly to himself. Once done, he sat upon the counter, impatiently watching it percolate.

Comments

simplysidhe
Jan. 29th, 2007 01:39 am (UTC)
"Thank you," Watson repeated, allowing himself to be lead over to the cot. He brushed a hand with finality over his eyes, sitting down. "If I cannot shock you, may I. . .confess something to you?"
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simplysidhe
Jan. 29th, 2007 01:59 am (UTC)
Watson took a deep breath, then began. "I believe that I really am, in fact, in love with another man. I mean, I realize of course that it's impossible and all that, but I know my feelings, now that I have considered them, and -" He trailed off, under the mistaken impression that this confession was at all a surprise to anyone.
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simplysidhe
Jan. 29th, 2007 03:20 am (UTC)
"And it is a problem!" Watson burst out, not with anger but with frustration. "I'm married, and I love her, and besides it isn't possible and I really suppose we ought to go downstairs now shouldn't we?"
(Deleted comment)
simplysidhe
Jan. 29th, 2007 03:41 am (UTC)
"It simply isn't," Watson said, calming slightly. "The only people who ever propose that sort of thing are radicals. They're not respectable. They die young of venereal diseases and other sundry ailments." Realizing to whom he was speaking, he blushed and added, "Present company accepted, I suppose. . ."
(Deleted comment)
simplysidhe
Jan. 29th, 2007 04:48 am (UTC)
Watson was very quiet.

This is a customary state of being while experiencing an epiphany.
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simplysidhe
Jan. 29th, 2007 05:35 am (UTC)
Watson shut his eyes and shook his head. "No. Not at all, really. You've only articulated something I suspect I've known for quite a while. It's that damned medical training is what it is. . ." He momentarily trailed off, then open his eyes and grinned. "Clinical mental disorder my arse."
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simplysidhe
Jan. 29th, 2007 11:32 pm (UTC)
Watson smiled back, albeit slightly shakily. "Yes, I suppose they do tell you that. It is rather silly, isn't it? But as I said - clinical mental disorder. It is believed to be - the love of men by men, I mean - to be a disease, always immoral, always degrading, and often fatal. Although your friend - what is it? Chrétien? - sounds very pleasant, I sometimes wonder if he would make a better doctor than the ones who taught me these things."
(Deleted comment)
simplysidhe
Jan. 30th, 2007 01:05 am (UTC)
"I think perhaps he does," Watson said, rising. He felt inexplicably calm. Sticking his hands into his pockets, he grinned almost triumphantly at Jeannot. "Shall we go?"
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simplysidhe
Jan. 30th, 2007 02:00 am (UTC)
"Oh yes," Watson said, looking wryly down at his stocking encased feet. "There's one by the door, I think, and the other's on the bed." He reached for and retrieved the second, then searched for the first.
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simplysidhe
Jan. 30th, 2007 03:51 am (UTC)
"Thank you," Watson said with relief, taking the shoes and sitting down for a moment to lace them. After a moment, he bounded back up, seeming a bit too excited to go downstairs. "And on we go. Once more unto the breach."

((Yes, they quote the same bits of Henry V. They're practically married when they're not angsting all over everything.))
(Deleted comment)
simplysidhe
Jan. 30th, 2007 04:06 am (UTC)
"Yes, it is." Watson smiled broadly at this reminder of his rapport with his friend. "Shakespeare, as it were. From Henry the Fifth. 'Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, or close the wall up with our English dead.'" Remembering that he was speaking to a Frenchman, he tactfully did not continue. "To the kitchen, then?"
(Deleted comment)
simplysidhe
Jan. 30th, 2007 04:21 am (UTC)
"Ah, excellent," Watson declared, reaching for the doorknob. "And I'm sure your friend Chrétien and I would get along rather well -" He caught sight of Holmes, and abruptly shut up. You must excuse him, epiphanies have this sort of effect.

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holmes, oscar, byron, nineteenth century
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