ext_52634 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
justwolf.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
indeedsir_backup2010-08-01 11:57 am
justwolf.livejournal.com) wrote in indeedsir_backup2010-08-01 11:57 am
Entry tags:
Jeeves' Bright Idea
Title: Jeeves' Bright Idea
Chapter: 1/33
Pairing: Jooster
Summary: Jeeves and Wooster get in another tricky situation
Rating: 10/10
Disclaimer: I didn't even write this. I found it.
Jeeves placed the handset back on the desk. "That was Mrs. Gregson on the telephone, Sir. She was most pleased to mention she will be gracing us with her presence in one hour's time."
Wooster stirred and looked Jeeves directly right in the eye. "What's that? Aunt Agatha visiting us? I don't bally well think so. Tell her I'm not here. Tell her I've run off in to the wild and died."
"I did, Sir. She said you had a painting belonging to hers, a painting of the late Count Ron Winchester, which she would very much like back."
Wooster looked up at the ceiling and began to scream. He rushed to the the lacquer filing cabinet next to the front door and pulled his revolver from the top drawer. Still screaming, he ran to the window and looked down on to the streets of London below him. Aiming at nobody in particular but the hustlers and ghetto folk on the street he angrily let off a full six rounds. Jeeves lunged up behind him and put him in a bear hug. "Please, Sir. You've got to stop doing this, Sir", he whispered in to his ear, and nibbled on his earlobe slightly.
Wooster exhaled. He slumped in to Jeeves arms and all his clothes fell off. Looking down on the cobbled streets of London he saw he had hit two people, by the looks of it both of them were poor. It might be a long day. Wooster, in one unabashed shameless motion, restored himself to a clothed state.
"So we've got to find a painting of good old Count Cheese? Last I saw it, it was at the back of the airing cupboard."
Bertie walked through the pantry to the airing cupboard with Jeeves moonwalking behind him. When they were both inside the small airing cupboard, Jeeves closed the door. Wooster's clothes fell off again and he grudgingly put them back on.
The airing cupboard was squallid and dark. With all the particulars Wooster had collected over the years there was barely enough space to fit both of them. They searched for the painting in the darkness with little purchase.
"This is just no good," said Wooster, "we're never going to find it."
"Perhaps a change of strategy is in order, Sir. Perhaps we could use a technique I discovered only three days previously, if you would..." he trailed off and coughed.
"Jeeves I haven't got the faintest idea what you're talking about," said Wooster, impatiently.
"If you would be so kind as to, as they say it, address my gentleman's secret, Sir." All of Wooster's clothes fell off in surprise and he didn't even bother grabbing them as they fell down an air duct and in to an incinerator.
"You want me to..?" Wooster gestured at Jeeves' area, "with my...?"
"Yes, Sir."
Wooster crouched down as best he could, pressed up against Jeeves in the clammy darkness, who slowly dropped his trousers. Groping at his sturdy body, he found the masculine element. It was approximately the size of a M1A1 shoulder mounted surface-to-air missile launcher. He looked up hopefully at Jeeves. After a moment of silence he whimpered "...are you sure?"
"Yes, Sir."
He began slowly, wondering curiously why he suddenly felt at peace with the universe. "Yes, Sir." Jeeves growled, with a stern expression. All of a sudden a light appeared as if someone had just lit a match. It was bursting directly from the end of Jeeves' fancy. "Keep going, Sir, this is perfectly adequate."
Wooster continued and the light became brighter and brighter, first an oil lamp, then a car headlamp and then eventually the pure brightness of whte phosphorus raining down on the enemies of the state.
"With this angelic support we should be able to easily find the painting, Sir."
"Excellent, Jeeves! You've done it again." Look through the airing cupboard, using the light from Jeeves' physical outrage, they quickly located the painting and exited the cupboard.
Wooster retired to the couch and Jeeves returned to the kitchen to prepare for Mrs. Gregson's arrival. Deep down in his heart, Wooster knew his dignity would never be restored. He thought of his revolver again, but instead his thoughts wandered to his Heckler & Koch MP5 semiautomatic machine gun which he stored under his pillow at all times.
The End.
Chapter: 1/33
Pairing: Jooster
Summary: Jeeves and Wooster get in another tricky situation
Rating: 10/10
Disclaimer: I didn't even write this. I found it.
Jeeves placed the handset back on the desk. "That was Mrs. Gregson on the telephone, Sir. She was most pleased to mention she will be gracing us with her presence in one hour's time."
Wooster stirred and looked Jeeves directly right in the eye. "What's that? Aunt Agatha visiting us? I don't bally well think so. Tell her I'm not here. Tell her I've run off in to the wild and died."
"I did, Sir. She said you had a painting belonging to hers, a painting of the late Count Ron Winchester, which she would very much like back."
Wooster looked up at the ceiling and began to scream. He rushed to the the lacquer filing cabinet next to the front door and pulled his revolver from the top drawer. Still screaming, he ran to the window and looked down on to the streets of London below him. Aiming at nobody in particular but the hustlers and ghetto folk on the street he angrily let off a full six rounds. Jeeves lunged up behind him and put him in a bear hug. "Please, Sir. You've got to stop doing this, Sir", he whispered in to his ear, and nibbled on his earlobe slightly.
Wooster exhaled. He slumped in to Jeeves arms and all his clothes fell off. Looking down on the cobbled streets of London he saw he had hit two people, by the looks of it both of them were poor. It might be a long day. Wooster, in one unabashed shameless motion, restored himself to a clothed state.
"So we've got to find a painting of good old Count Cheese? Last I saw it, it was at the back of the airing cupboard."
Bertie walked through the pantry to the airing cupboard with Jeeves moonwalking behind him. When they were both inside the small airing cupboard, Jeeves closed the door. Wooster's clothes fell off again and he grudgingly put them back on.
The airing cupboard was squallid and dark. With all the particulars Wooster had collected over the years there was barely enough space to fit both of them. They searched for the painting in the darkness with little purchase.
"This is just no good," said Wooster, "we're never going to find it."
"Perhaps a change of strategy is in order, Sir. Perhaps we could use a technique I discovered only three days previously, if you would..." he trailed off and coughed.
"Jeeves I haven't got the faintest idea what you're talking about," said Wooster, impatiently.
"If you would be so kind as to, as they say it, address my gentleman's secret, Sir." All of Wooster's clothes fell off in surprise and he didn't even bother grabbing them as they fell down an air duct and in to an incinerator.
"You want me to..?" Wooster gestured at Jeeves' area, "with my...?"
"Yes, Sir."
Wooster crouched down as best he could, pressed up against Jeeves in the clammy darkness, who slowly dropped his trousers. Groping at his sturdy body, he found the masculine element. It was approximately the size of a M1A1 shoulder mounted surface-to-air missile launcher. He looked up hopefully at Jeeves. After a moment of silence he whimpered "...are you sure?"
"Yes, Sir."
He began slowly, wondering curiously why he suddenly felt at peace with the universe. "Yes, Sir." Jeeves growled, with a stern expression. All of a sudden a light appeared as if someone had just lit a match. It was bursting directly from the end of Jeeves' fancy. "Keep going, Sir, this is perfectly adequate."
Wooster continued and the light became brighter and brighter, first an oil lamp, then a car headlamp and then eventually the pure brightness of whte phosphorus raining down on the enemies of the state.
"With this angelic support we should be able to easily find the painting, Sir."
"Excellent, Jeeves! You've done it again." Look through the airing cupboard, using the light from Jeeves' physical outrage, they quickly located the painting and exited the cupboard.
Wooster retired to the couch and Jeeves returned to the kitchen to prepare for Mrs. Gregson's arrival. Deep down in his heart, Wooster knew his dignity would never be restored. He thought of his revolver again, but instead his thoughts wandered to his Heckler & Koch MP5 semiautomatic machine gun which he stored under his pillow at all times.
The End.