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seriousficTitle: Mind if I Silurian?
Fandom: Doctor Who/Sherlock Holmes '09
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,650
Characters/Pairings: Jenny/Vastra, Irene Adler
Previous: How I Met Your Silurian
Summary: Being the intrusion of Ms. Irene Adler upon our heroines' domestic tranquility. The skank.
"Your web of lies is in tatters, Lord Blackwood," Vastra said as if it were nothing more than a necessary observation. "Your plot has failed and your co-conspirators have been exposed. But I suppose you can make one futile grasp at vengeance, if you're in the mood."
Lord Blackwood drew his sword.
"There we go."
He pointed the sword at her. "Lord Coward, now!"
Blackwood's unfortunately-named underling came at Vastra, sword swinging. But with one chop, Vastra disarmed him. His sword nearly fell off the side of the Tower Bridge before Jenny caught.
"Well done, Jenny. Now if you'll assist me with this ruffian. Two on one is unsporting, but traitors to the Crown aren't worthy of fair play."
"Two on one?" Coward crowed. "I don't need a sword to turn you into an unfashionable coat!"
Vastra stuck her tongue out at him. It hit his carotid artery, knocking him unconscious.
"I'd prefer to be a valise," Vastra said.
Lord Blackwood dropped his sword. "I'm done."
***
There was nothing Vastra liked more than returning home in the company of Jenny, having concluded a case, to find a roaring fire. It was her reptilian ancestry. If London wouldn't oblige her desire to bask in the sun, then sitting by the fire was a fine substitute. In fact, her exile to the surface would be unbearable if it weren't for those evenings spent in the books of humans like Wells and Verne, visionaries who were credits to their race, with Jenny's sweet scent wafting in the air as she knitted or chronicled their cases for Lippincott's Monthly Magazine. Jenny always insisted on changing their sexes through roman à clef names, turning Vastra into "Dupin" and herself into a nameless narrator (Vastra may have been a lizard, but she was a British lizard, and was convinced Jenny turning her into a Frenchman was in revenge for some perceived slight). That was her nature. She could hike up her skirts and shoot down a charging dog before it laid paw on Vastra, but heaven help her if her social betters caught one wisp of it.
"Well, thank goodness he went quietly," Jenny said, serving them tea. It was the least she could do after her mistress had saved Parliament. "I wouldn't know what to do with a sword."
Vastra coughed as her tea went down the wrong tube. "You don't know how to use a sword? What would you do if confronted by a hooligan?"
"Run, I should think."
"My dear, you wear petticoats." Vastra drowned the thought in a long sip of tea. "No, we must teach you self-protection immediately, before you have occasion to need such skills. Imagine what I'd do without you."
"Be a lot more fun, for starters," came a sinuous voice from a chair facing the fire. Irene Adler's head and arms lolled over the top, like a neighbor leaning across the fence to gossip.
The jibe against her friend lessened Vastra's enjoyment of Irene's presence to a mere half-grin. "That was cruel."
"Cruel and funny is still funny."
"Let me guess," Jenny cut in, caustic as acid. "You're here for the Gemma Diamond."
"How astute," Irene cheered. "V must be training you diligently. And teaching you how to be a detective. Yes, my lovelies, the Gemma Diamond. Lord Blackwood promised it to me for my help, and since I betrayed him to help you, the least you can do is compensate me equally."
Jenny pointedly did not offer Irene tea, putting it away instead. "You're not in jail, are you? That's generous, if you ask me."
Vastra sipped her tea, enjoying the little exchange. Jenny was fetching when angry. "I take it you've already searched this humble abode for it, otherwise I've greatly overestimated you."
"She's been in my room?" Jenny cried.
Irene waved her off. "I took nothing, though some of your literature was most tempting. I don't know where I'll see such things as illustrated, save perhaps Singapore."
Jenny bit down on her teeth and turned with her whole body to Vastra, the better to shut out even the sight of Adler. "Madame, the sooner you wish to teach me pugilistics, the better. I can suddenly think of occasion to demonstrate your teaching."
Irene emerged from behind the highbacked chair. She came toward them, the firelight illuminating a dress that had to be Colonial—the light shot through it, silhouetting her body's motion within petals of fine silk. Although the material revealed nothing, it hinted at everything.
When Irene passed Jenny, she pulled on the knot of her apron, prompting a scandalized shriek when Jenny realized what she was doing. "If you're that desperate to wrestle a woman, I have some friends I could introduce you to. If you're nice, they'll even give you a discount."
Vastra rolled her eyes. Humans. "Irene, I've hidden it on my person, so you might as well leave."
"What if I searched you?" Irene suggested. Offered. She leaned so far over the arm of the couch Vastra sat on that she was practically in the Silurian's lap. "I can be most thorough. And I've always wondered if you're green all over."
Jenny was so offended she didn't even make a retort, just gave Vastra a poisonous look.
"Not tonight, I'm afraid," Vastra told Irene, putting up a wall of politeness. "I'm ever so tired. Saving the world is such labor."
"Perhaps another time," Irene pouted, moving for the door in her own slinky manner. "When you don't have a chaperone."
As soon as she was gone, Jenny stood bolt upright. "I'm going to wash something."
***
Once, Vastra had quite accidentally said some surly things regarding Jane Austen, after Jenny had only tried to force those novels upon her for ages, one after another with the hope Vastra would have no choice but to give in and love them. Vastra still thought that they were the kind of sentimental mush that only a human could enjoy—why did Darcy and Bennet not simply copulate to see if they were compatible mates?—but perhaps she could have phrased it more gently. For the next case Jenny hardly spoke to her, and Vastra was forced to resort to gruesome lengths of smalltalk to get a peep out of her. She'd even commented on the weather.
The whole episode had almost left them dead with entirely unresolved issues. When they'd escaped Nemo's little playpen, Jenny had hugged Vastra for so long that Vastra started to bask in her body warmth. After that, she'd resolved to try to appreciate Jane Austen on an ironic level (she was sure that was how her friends, the Doctor and Amy and Rory, would see Austen in the future, not this… mainstream appreciation) and to try to grasp human emotions, as needlessly complicated as they were compared to Silurian emotions.
So, instead of resting after fighting off dozens of assassins and going on the run from the police and saving Parliament from a toxic gas, she was in the kitchen, watching Jenny wash things, and giving Jenny time to pipe up about what was bothering her. Unfortunately for her, Jenny had decided to shut up for once.
"Jenny, there's no reason to be so upset," Vastra said at last, hoping logic could carry the day. "It simply… behooves me to maintain good relations with the criminal element."
"And are they good? Your relations?" Jenny went back to scrounging the teapot. "And I'm not upset."
"Then why are you flaying that poor kettle?"
"Its floral pattern is tacky!"
Vastra chuckled, a long hiss from the back of her throat to the tip of her tongue. She hopped up on the counter, putting Jenny almost eyelevel with her bare ankles. Jenny blushed. The scandal! "If I didn't know better—and I'm not so sure I do--I'd say you were jealous."
If blushes burnt, Jenny had just been shoved facefirst into red embers. "Jealous? Me? Of your girlfriend the slattern?"
"She's not my girlfriend," Vastra insisted. She picked up a plate and went about drying it, knowing how it bugged Jenny to see her mistress do busywork. But she'd prefer an irritated, teased Jenny to an angry, upset Jenny. "And slattern is debatable. In fact, I think you're jealous of how sexually liberated Irene is."
Jenny pulled the plate from Vastra's hands and put it away. "Oh, I'm sure her left leg has been 'liberated' from her right many, many times."
"If you're not jealous, you shouldn't say things like that while stinking of erotic unfulfillment."
Jenny slapped Vastra's leg reproachfully. "If I wanted my womanhood smeared, I would walk among the dock workers, not do my duties in my own kitchen."
Vastra slapped Jenny right back, rapping Jenny's shoulder with the back of her hand. "You could use a smeared womanhood. It'd loosen you up."
Jenny looked back at her fiercely, the same challenge in her eyes that ensured Vastra would never tackle a case without her. "Is that a suggestion or an offer?" she demanded, her innate fieriness getting the better of a lifetime of Victorian upbringing.
Vastra pursed her lips before smiling. She suddenly had an idea why Jenny was so upset. Jealous indeed. "Would either be taken?"
Jenny just looked at her, eyebrow raised almost imperceptibly. Vastra knew a part of her must've been dying of embarrassment—confronting her employer, a woman, a lizard, with such a situation. But a larger part of her, a stronger part, needed an answer.
Vastra's hand moved slowly, like it was approaching a skittish animal. When it brushed Jenny's skin it was perfectly cool, like a damp cloth on her suddenly overhot flesh.
"Madame," she said, fearfully, excitedly.
"How many times must I tell you, Jenny? Call me Vastra." And she tilted Jenny's face up to her lips.
It was good instruction. Vastra was much easier to moan.
Fandom: Doctor Who/Sherlock Holmes '09
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,650
Characters/Pairings: Jenny/Vastra, Irene Adler
Previous: How I Met Your Silurian
Summary: Being the intrusion of Ms. Irene Adler upon our heroines' domestic tranquility. The skank.
"Your web of lies is in tatters, Lord Blackwood," Vastra said as if it were nothing more than a necessary observation. "Your plot has failed and your co-conspirators have been exposed. But I suppose you can make one futile grasp at vengeance, if you're in the mood."
Lord Blackwood drew his sword.
"There we go."
He pointed the sword at her. "Lord Coward, now!"
Blackwood's unfortunately-named underling came at Vastra, sword swinging. But with one chop, Vastra disarmed him. His sword nearly fell off the side of the Tower Bridge before Jenny caught.
"Well done, Jenny. Now if you'll assist me with this ruffian. Two on one is unsporting, but traitors to the Crown aren't worthy of fair play."
"Two on one?" Coward crowed. "I don't need a sword to turn you into an unfashionable coat!"
Vastra stuck her tongue out at him. It hit his carotid artery, knocking him unconscious.
"I'd prefer to be a valise," Vastra said.
Lord Blackwood dropped his sword. "I'm done."
***
There was nothing Vastra liked more than returning home in the company of Jenny, having concluded a case, to find a roaring fire. It was her reptilian ancestry. If London wouldn't oblige her desire to bask in the sun, then sitting by the fire was a fine substitute. In fact, her exile to the surface would be unbearable if it weren't for those evenings spent in the books of humans like Wells and Verne, visionaries who were credits to their race, with Jenny's sweet scent wafting in the air as she knitted or chronicled their cases for Lippincott's Monthly Magazine. Jenny always insisted on changing their sexes through roman à clef names, turning Vastra into "Dupin" and herself into a nameless narrator (Vastra may have been a lizard, but she was a British lizard, and was convinced Jenny turning her into a Frenchman was in revenge for some perceived slight). That was her nature. She could hike up her skirts and shoot down a charging dog before it laid paw on Vastra, but heaven help her if her social betters caught one wisp of it.
"Well, thank goodness he went quietly," Jenny said, serving them tea. It was the least she could do after her mistress had saved Parliament. "I wouldn't know what to do with a sword."
Vastra coughed as her tea went down the wrong tube. "You don't know how to use a sword? What would you do if confronted by a hooligan?"
"Run, I should think."
"My dear, you wear petticoats." Vastra drowned the thought in a long sip of tea. "No, we must teach you self-protection immediately, before you have occasion to need such skills. Imagine what I'd do without you."
"Be a lot more fun, for starters," came a sinuous voice from a chair facing the fire. Irene Adler's head and arms lolled over the top, like a neighbor leaning across the fence to gossip.
The jibe against her friend lessened Vastra's enjoyment of Irene's presence to a mere half-grin. "That was cruel."
"Cruel and funny is still funny."
"Let me guess," Jenny cut in, caustic as acid. "You're here for the Gemma Diamond."
"How astute," Irene cheered. "V must be training you diligently. And teaching you how to be a detective. Yes, my lovelies, the Gemma Diamond. Lord Blackwood promised it to me for my help, and since I betrayed him to help you, the least you can do is compensate me equally."
Jenny pointedly did not offer Irene tea, putting it away instead. "You're not in jail, are you? That's generous, if you ask me."
Vastra sipped her tea, enjoying the little exchange. Jenny was fetching when angry. "I take it you've already searched this humble abode for it, otherwise I've greatly overestimated you."
"She's been in my room?" Jenny cried.
Irene waved her off. "I took nothing, though some of your literature was most tempting. I don't know where I'll see such things as illustrated, save perhaps Singapore."
Jenny bit down on her teeth and turned with her whole body to Vastra, the better to shut out even the sight of Adler. "Madame, the sooner you wish to teach me pugilistics, the better. I can suddenly think of occasion to demonstrate your teaching."
Irene emerged from behind the highbacked chair. She came toward them, the firelight illuminating a dress that had to be Colonial—the light shot through it, silhouetting her body's motion within petals of fine silk. Although the material revealed nothing, it hinted at everything.
When Irene passed Jenny, she pulled on the knot of her apron, prompting a scandalized shriek when Jenny realized what she was doing. "If you're that desperate to wrestle a woman, I have some friends I could introduce you to. If you're nice, they'll even give you a discount."
Vastra rolled her eyes. Humans. "Irene, I've hidden it on my person, so you might as well leave."
"What if I searched you?" Irene suggested. Offered. She leaned so far over the arm of the couch Vastra sat on that she was practically in the Silurian's lap. "I can be most thorough. And I've always wondered if you're green all over."
Jenny was so offended she didn't even make a retort, just gave Vastra a poisonous look.
"Not tonight, I'm afraid," Vastra told Irene, putting up a wall of politeness. "I'm ever so tired. Saving the world is such labor."
"Perhaps another time," Irene pouted, moving for the door in her own slinky manner. "When you don't have a chaperone."
As soon as she was gone, Jenny stood bolt upright. "I'm going to wash something."
***
Once, Vastra had quite accidentally said some surly things regarding Jane Austen, after Jenny had only tried to force those novels upon her for ages, one after another with the hope Vastra would have no choice but to give in and love them. Vastra still thought that they were the kind of sentimental mush that only a human could enjoy—why did Darcy and Bennet not simply copulate to see if they were compatible mates?—but perhaps she could have phrased it more gently. For the next case Jenny hardly spoke to her, and Vastra was forced to resort to gruesome lengths of smalltalk to get a peep out of her. She'd even commented on the weather.
The whole episode had almost left them dead with entirely unresolved issues. When they'd escaped Nemo's little playpen, Jenny had hugged Vastra for so long that Vastra started to bask in her body warmth. After that, she'd resolved to try to appreciate Jane Austen on an ironic level (she was sure that was how her friends, the Doctor and Amy and Rory, would see Austen in the future, not this… mainstream appreciation) and to try to grasp human emotions, as needlessly complicated as they were compared to Silurian emotions.
So, instead of resting after fighting off dozens of assassins and going on the run from the police and saving Parliament from a toxic gas, she was in the kitchen, watching Jenny wash things, and giving Jenny time to pipe up about what was bothering her. Unfortunately for her, Jenny had decided to shut up for once.
"Jenny, there's no reason to be so upset," Vastra said at last, hoping logic could carry the day. "It simply… behooves me to maintain good relations with the criminal element."
"And are they good? Your relations?" Jenny went back to scrounging the teapot. "And I'm not upset."
"Then why are you flaying that poor kettle?"
"Its floral pattern is tacky!"
Vastra chuckled, a long hiss from the back of her throat to the tip of her tongue. She hopped up on the counter, putting Jenny almost eyelevel with her bare ankles. Jenny blushed. The scandal! "If I didn't know better—and I'm not so sure I do--I'd say you were jealous."
If blushes burnt, Jenny had just been shoved facefirst into red embers. "Jealous? Me? Of your girlfriend the slattern?"
"She's not my girlfriend," Vastra insisted. She picked up a plate and went about drying it, knowing how it bugged Jenny to see her mistress do busywork. But she'd prefer an irritated, teased Jenny to an angry, upset Jenny. "And slattern is debatable. In fact, I think you're jealous of how sexually liberated Irene is."
Jenny pulled the plate from Vastra's hands and put it away. "Oh, I'm sure her left leg has been 'liberated' from her right many, many times."
"If you're not jealous, you shouldn't say things like that while stinking of erotic unfulfillment."
Jenny slapped Vastra's leg reproachfully. "If I wanted my womanhood smeared, I would walk among the dock workers, not do my duties in my own kitchen."
Vastra slapped Jenny right back, rapping Jenny's shoulder with the back of her hand. "You could use a smeared womanhood. It'd loosen you up."
Jenny looked back at her fiercely, the same challenge in her eyes that ensured Vastra would never tackle a case without her. "Is that a suggestion or an offer?" she demanded, her innate fieriness getting the better of a lifetime of Victorian upbringing.
Vastra pursed her lips before smiling. She suddenly had an idea why Jenny was so upset. Jealous indeed. "Would either be taken?"
Jenny just looked at her, eyebrow raised almost imperceptibly. Vastra knew a part of her must've been dying of embarrassment—confronting her employer, a woman, a lizard, with such a situation. But a larger part of her, a stronger part, needed an answer.
Vastra's hand moved slowly, like it was approaching a skittish animal. When it brushed Jenny's skin it was perfectly cool, like a damp cloth on her suddenly overhot flesh.
"Madame," she said, fearfully, excitedly.
"How many times must I tell you, Jenny? Call me Vastra." And she tilted Jenny's face up to her lips.
It was good instruction. Vastra was much easier to moan.
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Date: 2011-07-01 02:17 am (UTC)I've added you as a friend, I quite like your takes on movies (definitely WON'T be paying to see Transformers 3, now) and it looks like we've got some stuff in common! A++
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