Mrs Hudson's House of Sweets, Prologue
Dec. 15th, 2010 04:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jackofknavesTitle: Mrs Hudson's House of Sweets
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tripatch
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: John/Lestrade
Summary: Kinkmeme prompt, Sometimes when funds get really tight, Sherlock and John work for Mrs Hudson down in her little sandwich store/bakery/corner shop. University AU.
"Don't you have an exam tomorrow?" John asked, watching his flatmate idly click through Yahoo! Answers, telling commenters how very wrong they were. He never bothered to leave the correct answer, John noticed, just pointed out the flaws in the ones offered.
"Mmm," Sherlock hummed non-committedly, eviscerating another poor Internet soul.
"Isn't it half of your grade?"
Sherlock shrugged, putting the finishing touches on his reply, which included adding links to job applications at nearby fast-food chains.
John sighed, pulling on his coat. "I'm off to work. You know that Mrs Hudson offered to give you a job if you wanted one?"
"I have far better things to do than make pastries for the unwashed masses, thanks all the same," Sherlock said cuttingly.
Rolling his eyes, John slammed the door of their flat on their way out. If someone had told him four years ago when he started uni that he'd be living in a cheap flat with a student who only seldom went to classes, almost never did any homework, and still managed to beat John on every one of his exams... well, he would have believed them, if they told him that his flatmate's name was Sherlock Holmes.
Mrs Hudson, who was both their landlady and John's employer, had tsked when she had first heard their plight, immediately offering John a job when he had admitted to being late on the rent because of financial difficulties. School took up most of his time and outside jobs were hard to find, at least ones that worked well with his schedule. Thankfully the little pastry shop that Mrs Hudson ran around the corner was open at odd hours--most of her best business came around the end of the year, when insomniac students wandered in, clothes rumpled after having been slept in for three days, hair a mess, and stomachs rebelling against a pure caffeine diet--and she herself was wonderfully sympathetic to John's predicament.
She had offered Sherlock a job, as well, but the gangly young man had turned his lip up, thanked her for her generous offer, and explained that his brother, Mycroft, took care of all his expenses.
John mused on this, tying the plain white apron around his waist as he got ready to take over the counter. Mrs Hudson spent most of her time in the back, singing sweetly off-key as she rolled out dough, tossed pans into the oven, and turned out the best scones, biscuits, and cakes around. Along with the pittance John made working at the shop, she would sneak him platefuls of whatever was left at the end of the day, patting him on the cheek and telling him that if he didn't take them, she would just have to throw them out anyway and wouldn't that be a waste, there's a dear.
He shrugged, pasting on a broad, fake smile as the first customer wandered in.
"What can I do for you today?" he asked, gritting his teeth as the customer hemmed and hawed indecisively over a large, pink monstrosity of a cake and an assortment of brownies. A few more years, he reminded himself, then he would be a doctor and working a proper job, with a title and respect.
When half of your day was spent listening to professors drone on, a third with an eccentric flatmate who seemed to do nothing at all except make John's life miserable, and the last third burning your fingers on the edges of hot pans and bundling up sweets for ungrateful customers, a few years can seem like an awful long time.
Chapter 1/4
Chapter 2/4
Chapter 3/4
Chapter 4/4
Missing Scene
Author:
tripatchRating: PG-13
Pairing: John/Lestrade
Summary: Kinkmeme prompt, Sometimes when funds get really tight, Sherlock and John work for Mrs Hudson down in her little sandwich store/bakery/corner shop. University AU.
"Don't you have an exam tomorrow?" John asked, watching his flatmate idly click through Yahoo! Answers, telling commenters how very wrong they were. He never bothered to leave the correct answer, John noticed, just pointed out the flaws in the ones offered.
"Mmm," Sherlock hummed non-committedly, eviscerating another poor Internet soul.
"Isn't it half of your grade?"
Sherlock shrugged, putting the finishing touches on his reply, which included adding links to job applications at nearby fast-food chains.
John sighed, pulling on his coat. "I'm off to work. You know that Mrs Hudson offered to give you a job if you wanted one?"
"I have far better things to do than make pastries for the unwashed masses, thanks all the same," Sherlock said cuttingly.
Rolling his eyes, John slammed the door of their flat on their way out. If someone had told him four years ago when he started uni that he'd be living in a cheap flat with a student who only seldom went to classes, almost never did any homework, and still managed to beat John on every one of his exams... well, he would have believed them, if they told him that his flatmate's name was Sherlock Holmes.
Mrs Hudson, who was both their landlady and John's employer, had tsked when she had first heard their plight, immediately offering John a job when he had admitted to being late on the rent because of financial difficulties. School took up most of his time and outside jobs were hard to find, at least ones that worked well with his schedule. Thankfully the little pastry shop that Mrs Hudson ran around the corner was open at odd hours--most of her best business came around the end of the year, when insomniac students wandered in, clothes rumpled after having been slept in for three days, hair a mess, and stomachs rebelling against a pure caffeine diet--and she herself was wonderfully sympathetic to John's predicament.
She had offered Sherlock a job, as well, but the gangly young man had turned his lip up, thanked her for her generous offer, and explained that his brother, Mycroft, took care of all his expenses.
John mused on this, tying the plain white apron around his waist as he got ready to take over the counter. Mrs Hudson spent most of her time in the back, singing sweetly off-key as she rolled out dough, tossed pans into the oven, and turned out the best scones, biscuits, and cakes around. Along with the pittance John made working at the shop, she would sneak him platefuls of whatever was left at the end of the day, patting him on the cheek and telling him that if he didn't take them, she would just have to throw them out anyway and wouldn't that be a waste, there's a dear.
He shrugged, pasting on a broad, fake smile as the first customer wandered in.
"What can I do for you today?" he asked, gritting his teeth as the customer hemmed and hawed indecisively over a large, pink monstrosity of a cake and an assortment of brownies. A few more years, he reminded himself, then he would be a doctor and working a proper job, with a title and respect.
When half of your day was spent listening to professors drone on, a third with an eccentric flatmate who seemed to do nothing at all except make John's life miserable, and the last third burning your fingers on the edges of hot pans and bundling up sweets for ungrateful customers, a few years can seem like an awful long time.
Chapter 1/4
Chapter 2/4
Chapter 3/4
Chapter 4/4
Missing Scene
