Work Text:
Monday
Holmes was on a case again, Polly noted with disinterest. He always thought that changing clothes was an impenetrable disguise. Probably it was, to someone like Fanny.
Whatever.
She turned away, back to her book. She'd just gotten her hands on some Rousseau, and was eager to find out if it was worthwhile.
Tuesday
The idiot was bothering her again, chattering away about Fanny's charms. Polly ignored him; Rousseau was far more interesting. On the street below, Watson was running after an undisguised Holmes, calling out that Holmes needed him. Holmes evidently wasn't listening.
Polly didn't either. Those men were completely stupid about each other.
Wednesday
Holmes had put the word out among Baker Street's urchins that he needed information on a certain man. The idiot was all agog to be of help to the "great Mr Holmes," in the hopes of impressing Fanny, and had run off to do Holmes' bidding.
Polly calmly finished reading Rousseau.
Below her, on the street, people walked by, doing their business, living their lives. A man caught Polly's eye -- it was the man Holmes was interested in. She watched him duck into a shop, confer rapidly with a clerk, pull something out of a pocket and hand it over. Then he left the shop with an exaggeratedly unconcerned air.
"Hmm," Polly said, and followed him down the street.
Thursday
Holmes was back on the street, in a riotous argument with Watson.
Polly was reading Pope's translation of the Iliad.
She could not help hearing that Holmes was stalled on his case, that the two men were out of money, that the Baker Street urchins had been singularly useless.
Polly sighed, carefully put her book away, and climbed down from the roof.
"Holmes," she said, and the man turned and looked down at her.
"Yes?" he said.
"The man's hiding an entomology obsession," Polly told him.
Holmes looked taken aback for a moment, then rallied, and said, "Yes, yes, of course -- it all makes sense! I see the solution now."
Polly grimaced and turned to go, then turned back before Holmes could dash off with Watson in tow. "Oh --" she said. "Also, Watson's in love with you."
Then she wandered off, back to her roof, back to her Iliad. It was far more interesting than than the two men who were standing utterly still and staring after her with comic astonishment. Honestly. They could do with a bit more education in the classics. It was like they had no clue that love between men was nothing to be ashamed of.
