Warning: Rated [MA] Mature Adults only. Contains strong m/m sexual scenes, violence, coarse language and adult themes.
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No infringement of the following characters and situations is intended.
Warning: (MA) Mature Adults only.
This was a sort of Christmas present for JenR [Hellblazer] to thank her for all the enjoyment I had from reading her stories. It's meant to be a little bit of fun, nothing serious. I'd had it floating around in my head for a while but it took me a long time to build up the courage to put it down on paper. It all came about after reading about Heather in England sniffing those trousers and Hellblazer's CM4 where Sharpe gets his old jacket out of moth balls to wear for his fight with McLeod. Now my grandmother [who was Irish] always told me when I was little not to sniff moth balls or I would die,and while I know this isn't true [I hope] I kept thinking about it and then CM5 appeared and Methos drugged Jo to get rid of her, and this idea came to me.This is my first effort at fan fic.
Moth Balls
Richard Sharpe knew that the happiness he felt was too good to last but he never expected his life to change so quickly.
When he left his flat scarcely an hour beforehand all had seemed fine. Methos, his oldest living friend and sometime lover had finally accepted Sharpe's engagement to Jo Harper, descendent of Patrick Harper. Sharpe had left them exchanging stories and talking happily while he went out to get to some Champagne to celebrate.
Now he stood staring at Jo's lifeless body neatly arranged on their bed. She was wearing his old green Rifleman's jacket.
His gaze shifted until it fell on the man sprawled in the chair beside the bed. "Methos, you bastard, how could you!" Sharpe's anger exploded and he lunged at the older immortal grabbing him around the neck and hauling him to his feet. "I trusted you, how could you do this."
"It wasn't me!" Methos managed to gasp out and began gesturing madly towards the bed with his hand. "It was those."
Sharpe turned towards the bed and lying there were his old French cavalry trousers. "My trousers," he exclaimed in disbelief "my trousers killed her?"
"Not exactly," replied Methos " It was the moth balls."
Sharpe groaned and released Methos as he sank to his knees beside the bed. "How?" he demanded, "How did this happen?"
Methos took a few deep breaths and rubbed his throat."We were talking about some of your old battles" he began, sitting down on the floor beside Sharpe. "Jo asked me to show her your old uniform so I dug it out of that old trunk you keep under the bed. At first she just wanted to try on your jacket and it seemed harmless enough so I let her."
Methos paused and took a deep breath, glancing sideways at Sharpe who knelt by the bed stoking Jo's hand.
" Then, before I knew what was she was doing she had grabbed your trousers, stuck her nose in the crotch and started sniffing. It all happened so quickly, I had no idea that she was into that sort of thing, you should have told me! She overdosed on the moth balls!"
Sharpe looked at his friend who seemed to be taking everything far too calmly. "Did you try resuscitation or anything?" Sharpe asked .
" Oh yes, several things actually," Methos replied vaguely, staring at the ceiling, "but she didn't stand a chance. She just lay there with her mouth open and a glazed look in her eyes. You know, there were enough moth balls in that trunk to kill an elephant!"
Sharpe picked up his trousers and looked at them, shaking his head. They had been a special part of his life for so long but now Sharpe wondered if he could ever bring himself to wear them again.
"They are dangerous Richard. They belong in a museum, preferably behind glass where they can't hurt innocent people." Methos said, silently saying a prayer of thanks that Sharpe no longer had his old cavalry boots as well. Taking those off in a small confined tent had been a real passion killer!
Shape groaned again and then sat up straight and look directly at Methos. A horrible thought sprang to his mind. "My God, Methos, what would Patrick say if he knew this had happened?"
Probably tell her to keep her nose out of men's' crotches. Methos thought to himself, but he placed a comforting arm on his friend's shoulder and said "Harper would be proud Richard."
Sharped stared into into Methos hazel eyes trying to make sense of that. He sometimes wondered if he really knew the older immortal at all. "Proud?" Sharpe asked.
"Why yes! After all she did die wearing a rifleman's jacket."
It was too much for Richard Sharpe and he fell into Methos waiting arms for comfort. "Oh Methos, you are all I've got left. They always leave or die. What would I do without you?"
Methos gathered Sharpe to him allowing his nose to rest in the blond hair. "Don't worry Richard," he said as a sly smile touched his lips "you'll always have me."
The End.