Another Flash Fic
So we actually had a super-short virtual Fic Writers’ Retreat this afternoon (just one hour) with the participants from the EU retreat, which was great fun! First, we chatted for a bit, then helped one of us who was sort of stuck with the plot of a long fic, and then we ended with a 10-minute flash fic session!
We used a website to generate some prompts, and it gave us these:
Cactus, letter, burger, binoculars, book
I used the ones in bold.
It never ceases to amaze me what a person can write in ten minutes during these exercises. I usually think everything through before writing anything, but with flash fic, you just have to start writing something random and then it automatically evolves into... a crime scene, in this case. 😅
= = =
Sherlock opened the book. There was a letter in it. When he opened it, there turned out to be no words written on it. Just a drawing of a pair of binoculars.
Was it a threat? The ‘I can see you’ kind of announcement?
He looked around at John, who was still inspecting the body lying on the floor behind him.
Lestrade was shouting at someone in the hallway.
“John,” Sherlock said. And he showed him the drawing.
“A bird watching kid’s wish list for Santa?” John said.
Hmm.
Sherlock hadn’t thought of that angle. The drawing did seem a little childish.
He turned it around and only now saw the bottom half of the back. (It had been folded double.) “For Santa, from Toby.”
Sherlock chuckled. “Ha.”
But why was it inside a book that was lying on the coffee table in a murdered woman’s flat?
“Alright,” Lestrade’s voice boomed into the room. “Time’s up. You got anything?”
“Not yet,” Sherlock said, “other than the obvious.”
“Which is?”
“Her grandson found out Santa didn’t exist and got a little frustrated, aiming his water gun at his grandma, who didn’t recognise it for what it was and had a heart attack.”
“How about the blunt trauma to the back of her head, then?”
“She fell against a piece of furniture that is now no longer there. The neighbour from down the hall took it, I think. Saw it through the door, which the child had left open as he ran away in distress. Probably a piece of antique he’d had his eye on for a while. Took his chance when he saw it.”
“So we’re looking for a bloody piece of furniture. Literally.”
“Yep. Shouldn’t be hard to find. Good luck!” And then to John, “Come on John, if we’re lucky, Angelo’s kitchen is still open if we hurry.”
#virtualretreat
