Title: Anything yours can do, mine can do worse...
A/N: Written for quarryquest who wanted Drs Watson (Sherlock) and McCoy (Star Trek: TOS) commiserating over all the trouble their friends end up dragging them into.
Word count approx. 1500 (they just keep getting longer…)
Jim, of course, had gotten them goddamn time traveled again. It was the third time in as many weeks. Truly, the man was a menace. “When are we this time?” McCoy asked with a sigh of resignation.
Spock scanned the air in front of him, looking down at the resulting information which his tricorder spat back as it hummed and whistled. “The air quality indicates we are currently occupants of the early twenty-first century; most probably the end of the first decade. An analysis of the surrounding geography places us on Earth in London, England.”
“London?” McCoy perked up at the news. London was a fine city, he’d done some epic pub crawling through its narrow streets back in his younger days.
Jim was already off and running, at least metaphorically. “We’ll need some clothes if we’re going to blend in.”
“Aw, hell, no,” drawled the good doctor. “I’m not going through all that rigamarole again, Jim. If anyone asks, I’m on my way to a fancy dress party.” Grumpily, he set off down the sidewalk.
“Bones! Where are you going? You can’t just go off on your own, we need to find a way to get back to the ship!”
McCoy stopped and turned to his friend. “You don’t need me for that,” he insisted and waved his hand at Spock. “You’ve got tall, green, and pointy here to cobble you up a time machine out of washers and fishing line. When he’s done you’ll find me in the nearest establishment serving mint juleps.” He turned and set off again, waving his communicator in the air as he did so. “Call me when we’re ready to leave.”
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