Tuesday: Role Reversal

[alba17.livejournal.com]

Today's theme is Role Reversal. The ole switcheroo. Make the servant the master, the boss the employee, the poor character rich, the man the woman, the villain the good guy, the animal or alien the human...wherever your imagination takes you.

Rules:
No more than three prompts to a single fandom
No more than five prompts at a time
No spoilers in the prompts and if your fill has spoilers, please warn and and leave at least three spaces

Format:
Fandom, Character, Prompt
Fandom, Character/Character, Prompt

Examples:

Hawaii Five-0, Steve/Danny, Danny is the Camaro
Merlin, Arthur/Merlin, Merlin is the king, Arthur the servant
Doctor Who, Amy/Rory and/or the Doctor, Rory is pregnant instead of Amy



tag=role reversal

Comments

Fill 1/2

[enochia.livejournal.com]

“So, Stamford,” said Sherlock, omitting greeting, “why have you called me?”

“I found you a potential flatmate,” replied Stamford, used to the man’s lack of manners.

“Lead the way,” said Sherlock. He didn’t ask for more, preferring to make his own conclusions first.

Stamford led him inside St. Bart’s, and to the second floor. They entered a small office. A blonde man of slight stature, dressed in lab coat, was sitting there. He stood up to greet them. Sherlock read “Dr John H. Watson” on the plaque on his desk.

“Hullo, John,” said Stamford, shaking his hand. “This is Sherlock Holmes, whom I told you about.”

“How do you do,” said John, extending a hand to shake. Sherlock took it, using the opportunity to examine it. Hm. Surgeon’s grip, no nicotine stains, he catalogued.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?” asked John out of blue.

“Afghanistan,” replied Sherlock after a pause. Yes, it was quite obvious. But from what he remembered, regular people weren’t that observant. He didn’t need to ask what led him to it: He had an uneven tan and hasn’t shaken off the posture yet.

Dr Watson waited, obviously expecting an inquiry. Sherlock decided not to give him the satisfaction, choosing to look for something interesting to point out himself. John looked to Stamford, feeling a bit unsure. Stamford smiled and decided to put him out of his misery:

“This one here, John, could give you a run for your money. He is a walking-talking encyclopaedia of crime. Why, if he didn’t join the army, he could have been your competition.”

“Oh,” said John, nodding.

Interesting, thought Sherlock, narrowing his eyes.

John coughed. “Well, anyway, there is this flat in 221B Baker Street. The landlady is a nice old woman – we met before. Dreadful business with her husband, but it seems to have worked out for the best. If you would like to check it out, I’m available now,” said John. He seemed slightly nervous.

“First things first: do you mind violin?” asked Sherlock.

“I’m okay with it, as long as it’s not terrible-sounding. I’m also okay with smoking,” said John.

Sherlock smiled. Yes, it’s quite obvious, but many would have overlooked it, he thought, strangely proud of his new acquaintance.

“I’m not okay with other substances you are prone to abusing, however,” said John, his face suddenly grave.

Sherlock was startled. Ah, but he’s a doctor, of course he knows the signs. Stupid,he thought. “It will be no problem to you,” he said.

“No. Just because it’s out of my sight doesn’t mean it’s okay. Even if you don’t do it in the flat. I swore an oath, you know. I can’t stand by. I imagine your consumption would have been somewhat limited in the army. We’ll be able to take you off easily. Please,” said John. He didn’t know why he bothered. He should have waved him off, refused to share the flat with him, called authorities, said the generic speech; but for some reason he felt he couldn’t allow this man to waste himself. He looked at him imploringly, putting on what Harry called “sad dog face”. It didn’t seem to faze his roommate-cum-pet project to be, though. He was biting his lip, his expression stubborn.

Then John’s phone sounded the message alert. He excused himself and opened it, glad for the interruption. It was from DI Lestrade, asking for his opinion. He didn’t put in the details, but it was unnecessary – the good doctor was eager to help in any way he could.

John figured this was a sign.

“Mr Holmes,” he started.

“Sherlock,” interrupted Sherlock.

“Call me John, then. You said you had interest in crimes. Like Stamford said, I am interested in them myself. I've been a sort of of semi-official consultant of Scotland Yard and various private parties for a while. I just got an alert from my Yard contact. If I let you accompany me on my consultations, would you consider quitting your addictions?” pleaded John.

“I suppose I could consider it. But it had better be interesting,” said Sherlock, vaguely intrigued.

“Very well. If you have time…” John trailed off.

“Yes, let’s go,” said Sherlock.

“Sorry, Stamford,” John just remembered his old classmate was present.

“Never mind me,” said Stamford, bemused. “Off you go, lads.”