The Case of the Clever Conundrum
conundrum 1. a riddle, especially one whose answer makes a play on words 2. a puzzling question or problem
John Watson was a conundrum.
In the six months since they’d met, Sherlock had done his best (and his best was the best, if he did say so himself) to deduce all there was to know about John. And yet, there was always something…
Take now, for instance. There John sat, across from him, ostensibly doing a crossword puzzle, although he hadn’t filled in any letters in the last three and a half minutes. Was John’s tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth because he was deep in concentration, or was this yet another one of the (mounting, maddening, innumerable) ways in which he might (possibly, hopefully, please) be displaying some (latent, subconscious, tentative) interest in something more (romantic, physical, sexual) with Sherlock?
Looking at the little pink tip of John’s tongue, it was so hard to be sure.
Looking at the little pink tip of John’s tongue, Sherlock was so hard, to be sure.
Damn it! Sherlock had been skirting around this gradually escalating almost-flirtation with John for far too long. It was time he took matters into his own hands — and not in the way he’d been reduced to doing far too often of late.
Putting pen to paper, Sherlock jotted down a couple of well-chosen lines.
“Here,” he said, tossing the paper with feigned casualness into John’s lap. “When you finally finish that crossword puzzle, I’ve got a little riddle for you.”
Now, all Sherlock had to do was wait to see what John would make of the words he’d written:
Change one letter to transform those who fear the queer into words with the same sound; then find a pair of the latter, one of which I’d like to see the former eaten by, and the other of which I’d like to see you.
Can you solve the riddle before John does? Read the rest on AO3 to find out.
