The Tumblr Crackfics Epic AU - A Study in Dragon-Sitting
Despite the repeated warnings of their elders, the Hobbit children were rather fascinated with Sherlock the Dragon. And vain creature that he was, the Dragon was actually delighted with all the attention.
Of course, he’d pretend to grumble and there would be the occasional ends of smoke trailing from his nostrils but on the whole, he rather relished the company of hobbitlings. He claimed that it was far more refreshing to engage in conversation with the little ones, who were, in Sherlock’s considered opinion, far more intelligent and imaginative than the adults.
Perhaps this may have everything to do with the fact that the children were far more willing to listen to Bilbo’s stories of his adventures than the adults were. For his part, Bilbo was perfectly willing to tell the stories when asked (with some interruptions here and there from a detail-oriented Dragon). He considered it good practice for his memoirs. Perhaps it was a little grandiose of him to consider them “memoirs” but Bilbo had learned so many interesting things in his travels and the bits of ancient lore that he had picked up from the Elves in Rivendell was surely worth recording.
If Bilbo were asked, The Lay of Beren and Luthien was perhaps his favorite of all the old tales that he had ever heard. There was something in the story of the beautiful Elf-maiden and the mortal man named Beren that caught at his heart. He could not help but see it in his mind’s eye, that very first moment when Beren set eyes on Luthien Tinuviel, singing and dancing in the woods.
Still, this was often the scene just outside Bag End. The children would come to see the Dragon and listen to the stories being told by “Mad Baggins.” Soon enough, most of these children’s mothers would simply look at the time and sigh if their little ones were late coming home, enthralled as they were in the company of the Dragon and the neighborhood’s resident Hobbit Adventurer. But they wouldn’t worry, knowing their offspring were probably as safe as they could possibly be.
Thus, John Bilbo Watson Baggins would never run out of willing “dragon-minders” come Market-Day.
Perhaps, Bilbo’s most trusted and reliable “Dragon-minders” were young Harry and Greg, who lived next door with their Mum, the Widow Phynn.
Frankly, Bilbo was rather fond of the Widow Phynn. She was one of the few women in the neighborhood who did not, thank the Valar, set her cap for him, as it were. Being as poor Bilbo was suddenly considered the most eligible bachelor in Hobbiton, due to his wealth, status and new-found “dashing reputation” (as Sherlock snappishly put it), he found himself fending off the advances of some of the most determined harpies…. er…. single ladies in the Shire.
It was absolutely mortifying and terrifying at the same time.
The Widow Phynn was a good friend who did not indulge in such nonsense and indeed would not brook it either. She and Bilbo often traded recipes for desserts and new ways to prepare mushrooms, exchanged books and gossip over high tea and she proved to be both creative and inventive in helping poor Bilbo fend off unwanted advances. They would both have a giggle about that later.
Sherlock highly approved of her company, considering her a woman of rare good sense. Bilbo highly suspected that part of Sherlock’s good opinion of her was due to the fact that she had sussed out Sherlock’s fondness for honey cakes and kept him well supplied with said dessert and all sorts of other sweet things utilizing honey.
Dragons, Bilbo would find, were surprisingly fond of honey.
As for young Harry and Greg - well, they both got on with Sherlock quite spectacularly. Harry, the elder, would often ask Sherlock dragon-questions which Sherlock would answer with a surprising amount of patience while Greg, the younger, rather liked to simply curl up next to a warm dragon for a nap. That is, if the boys and dragon weren’t off having adventures together.
Harry was rather fond of playing pirate and Sherlock was quite willing to be pirate ship, guardian of fabled treasure or, quite grudgingly, dragon-in-distress. Harry would stoutly refuse to cast Sherlock in the role of villain because in his considered opinion, dragons were the best things in all the world.
This, of course, would help mollify Sherlock’s feelings at being “rescued” for the nth time. As his intrepid rescuers happened to be tiny hobbitlings, the Dragon found it to be not quite as mortifying.
“Mind the Party Tree!” Bilbo would yell during all the shenanigans - at least, if Bilbo himself wasn’t joining in the fun. In which case, it would be the Widow Phynn’s turn to yell at them to be careful, whilst hiding her laughter behind her apron. Boys will be boys after all, especially if one of them happened to be a dragon!
If Bilbo was absent, having left his two favorite Dragon-minders on duty, Harry and Greg would sometimes ask Sherlock to tell his stories. This was a rare treat, because Sherlock did not often tell stories, claiming that he left the story-telling to his Hobbit housemate.
Sherlock’s stories were, in fact, strange and wonderful tales of two men who lived in a far off city called “Lonnon,” by Harry.
“It’s not Lonnon,” Greg would correct his older brother. “It’s Lon-Don!” Greg was rather particular about details like that.
Sherlock’s stories were about a man who was a “consulting detective” and he liked to solve mysteries and help put Very Bad People in gaol, which, as the boys understood it, was a place to put Very Bad People in. His friend was a doctor and a soldier who helped protect him, because sometimes, the “consulting detective” could be very silly and forget that one had to be careful fighting against Very Bad People, because they would never ever play fair.
The detective and the doctor were the very best of friends and they lived together in what Sherlock called “a flat” which was just as cozy and comfortable as any hobbit hole. But the detective had to go far away, because a Wicked Man had threatened to hurt the doctor and it was quite a long time before the detective could come back home.
When the Detective finally returned, he found, to his horror, that his dear friend, who he had sacrificed so much to keep safe, was gone.
“Did the Wicked Man take him away?” asked Harry.
Sherlock would shake his head. And most of the time, he would end the story there and would say no more. And the boys could tell that this somehow made the Dragon sad, so Greg would curl up next to him and pat his side gently, like the way their Mum would when they felt poorly and Harry would ask him something else about dragons. Sherlock would be quite back to his old, imperious self by the time Bilbo came home for afternoon tea.
However, there was one time when the boys finally received an answer of sorts to their question.
The doctor mourned his friend for a very long time, believing him dead. And he too became lost and alone and he went far, far away, beyond the very ends of the earth, beyond the reach of most mortal men. But the detective isn’t one to let something like that stop him and so he is looking for the doctor and he will find him.
Perhaps, one day, both of them will finally go home at last, together.
Note the First: Sabrina-phynn, this is for you and your boys. Cheers!
Note the Second: Naturally, the cracktasticness continues and lo and behold, is that a Twisted Plot I see? (EPIC FACEPALM)
Note the Third: My evil Muses are just sitting here laughing at my predicament, damn them both. F.M.L.
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