Do you guys ever find things in your WIP folder that have that middle-of-the-night quality? You know, you clearly wrote them, because no one else has been in your computer, but you have no memory of it, or idea where you were going with it.
Here are several such things. These are not actual WIPs, because there is no progress. I don't know where they were going. They are like a bead found by an archeologist who can't tell if it was once part of a necklace, or a curtain, or a dress, or an abacus.
Tony has a pretty good idea how far down he is on Fury's list of people to call, but despite the tight timeline on this one, he flatters himself that it's not because Fury had to exhaust all his other options first, but because sometimes SHIELD just doesn't find out about things until the last minute, and sometimes, Tony Stark really is the only man for the job.
Where was I going with this? What was the job Tony was perfect for? Why did I save it as "Fury-Stark.txt"? Mysteries all!
Three times, now, Lestrade has had to confiscate the pool betting on the last words of Sherlock Holmes. “Unprofessional,” is the reason he gives when challenged, and it's true, in a way. Some of them are depressingly, hilariously, likely; “Was it something I said?” and “I knew it!” But if the pool were ever collected, he'd discover who knew Sherlock well enough to submit “John?” and put money on it anyway. He'd never be able to forgive them, and he has to be able to work with these people.
I suspect I never had any more of this, and just put it in a file in the hope that it would reproduce asexually and produce more of itself.
Obviously nothing of particular import was occurring in Vorbarr Sultana, because Simon Illyan himself was there to meet the shuttle when it touched down.
"Simon!" said the countess, warmly, seizing both his hands to greet him. "I hope we didn't cause you any trouble."
"Cordelia," said Illyan, dryly, but with affection. "Only the usual amount."
"Oh dear," said the countess. "Aral?"
"We didn't get word until it was over," said Illyan, flicking an eyelid at Josef, who affected not to see it, "So he is at the parliament pretending he doesn't have heartburn, and bullying votes out of Counts who have suddenly remembered why they are terrified of you."
If you had asked me if I had ever written Vorkosigan fic, I would have said no. I have literally no idea where I was going with this. I mean, the set-up is pretty opaque. Where on earth was I going to take it? Also, intriguingly, the file is named conflictresolution.txt, so I suspect Cordelia was going to do something terrifyingly Betan.This post also on dreamwidth ( comments)