gladdecease: (*crossover type stuff)
gladdecease ([personal profile] gladdecease) wrote2013-03-08 10:22 pm

thing the twenty-sixth [sherlock/psych/big bang theory]

I've been going through my GoogleDocs (well, now my Drive, apparently), properly organizing things for what may be the first time, and I came across this snippet.

It requires a bit of background, I guess. Back in 2010, I was working on my [livejournal.com profile] xover_exchange fic (what would eventually become Gus (and John) Walks into a Restaurant, the title for which is a very unclever revamp of the title of the episode in which Gus last was taken hostage). I had gotten the idea in my head that a three-way crossover would be both fun and challenging... but found myself getting stuck on the plot, as it were.

As part of brainstorming, I wrote out this scene, in which the 'sidekicks' got together for a couple drinks while the photographic memory guys went out on their own.



“Okay, okay,” John said, before bursting into high-pitched giggles. Again. “No, really,” he insisted, “I’ve got one, I do. Just - give me a moment.” The giggles faded, and he took another healthy swallow of the piss Americans called beer. “Alright. Three blokes with photographic memories walk into a bar.”

“Ow,” the blond woman said, leaning her head against the damp wood of their table. Well, not so much leaning, really, as letting gravity take hold rather quickly. It landed with a nice solid thunk. Sherlock might have said that was because of how empty her head was, but John had decided about half a pitcher ago that Penny was really one of the nicest girls he’d ever met. A bit California girl, yes, but that hardly detracted from her other qualities.

“That’s my other one,” John said, winking when she looked up. She grinned weakly; her beverage of choice (bright pink with a wedge of pineapple on the rim) appeared to be disagreeing with her.

“So how’s this one go?” she asked, when it became clear he wouldn’t reveal the truth if she didn’t ask. John tilted his mug in her direction, acknowledging the question. Some of the beer splashed on the table.

John might have been more drunk than previously thought.

“It goes like this,” he said. “Three blokes with photographic memories walk into a bar. One of them says to the bartender, “I bet you a free drink I can tell you how many people are wearing hats in this bar without looking.” The bartender says sure, I’ll take that bet, because - easy money, right? Except the bloke wins the bet, and gets his free drink.

“The second one says to the bartender, “I see by your shirtsleeves that you’ve been framed for some kind of petty crime - fraud, or theft of some kind. I’ll prove your innocence, if you give my companions free drinks and a table with a view of the bank across the street.” The bartender’s taken aback, as he’s due in court next week over something wrong in his taxes last year, but accepts the offer, and within twenty minutes has gotten off scot-free.

“Then the bartender looks expectantly at the third bloke, who looks at him blankly before saying, “That expensive-looking model you have in the corner of the silver-age Flash is a fake.” Wordlessly, the bartender hands him a drink.

““So,” he says to the lot of them, “what kind of guys are you to know all of that?”

““Psychic,” says the first one.

““Genius,” says the second.

“The third one stares at him. “I just really like comic books.”” Joke finished, John giggled. Again. Yes, he was definitely more drunk than he thought he was.

Penny laughed, then a moment later frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“No, you see,” John said, “It’s funny because it’s real.”

She wrinkled her nose. “It is?”

“Of course it is,” John said. “What else do you think the three of them are doing, Saturday night in a town like this?” Penny remained skeptical. Unless her face had gotten stuck that way. John supposed it was possible, after how they’d spent most of their Saturday night. “Just ask that Burton fellow, he’ll agree with me.” He turned in his seat. “Where is that man, anyway?”

“You mean the Gus-meister?” Penny asked only slurring the nickname slightly. She sat upright, peering into the distance. “I think he’s over by the jukebox.”

The background music shifted to something that immediately struck John with the impression of very large hairdos. Through sound. Somebody cried out a high-pitched sound, in accordance with the music. John decided it was not unlike a bird call, if the bird in question had been forced to helium before calling.

“Yeah,” Penny shouted, raising a fist in the air. “Shake it, Gus!”

And, as John watched with a rather bemused air, Burton proceeded to do just that.

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