Warning: Rated [MA] Mature Adults only. Contains strong m/m sexual scenes, violence, coarse language and adult themes.
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Date: Wed Jul 19, 2000 12:31pm Subject: Stories From The Attic: Sharpe's Study
I wrote this story over two years ago as a little gift for a friend of mine, Heather. It was never posted to the list but during my recent 'spring clean' I came across it again and am now posting it with Heather's permission.
Warning: m/m sex...yes...it's slash, untold silliness...
Note: This is sort of connected to the Sharpe's Sale story and the trouser sniffing story over on the Buffs page...oh and Heather REALLY does teach an IT course at a college somewhere out there <VBG>
This is a Methos/Sharpe Xover type thing....
Sharpe's Study
By Minerva
There was one major problem with immortality, thought Richard Sharpe as he stared at the computer in front of him, you had to keep learning new things. Not that this was normally a problem. Hell anyone who had enough determination to learned to read as an adult could usually master most new things. But somehow this was different.
Perhaps it was the fact that Methos was so good with the damnned things and never let him forget it. No matter how hard he tried to follow what Methos was showing him, he always ended up feeling stupid and inferior. Hell he couldn't even understand half the words.
"You're a technophobe!" Methos had exclaimed that morning in a fit of frustration, causing Sharpe to wonder yet again what language his friend was speaking. It was this final argument that lead Sharpe to this dire decision. He had enrolled in a Information and Technology course at a Technical College.
Now as he sat in the class room he wondered if he had made the right decision. The class was certainly an assorted bunch. There were a couple of elderly ladies, some middle aged business men, several women who looked liked they had just rushed to the class after cooking dinner for their families and in the very back row was perched a flock of twittering young girls. Sharpe shook his head. Perhaps there was still enough time to leave and go home.
Just as he was about to get up, the lecturer arrived. She was an imposing women who strode to the front of the room in much the same way Sharpe had seen Wellington move.
"Goodevening everyone. My name is Heather but you may call me Ms Smith," she said, in a voice that gained everyone's attention.
Yes, thought Sharpe, definitly not a woman to be messed with. He sank into he seat, wishing he had chosen the back row.
"Now we'll get started straight away. Would everyone please boot up their computers." Ms Smith commanded and Sharpe heard the answering beeps start up around the room.
He looked at his PC and felt his heart lurch. It was different. Nothing like the one that Methos had. It was flat, not tall, and it had different holes. Bloody Hell where was the button.
As he fumbled the unfamiliar machine, he was aware of Ms Smith's approaching steps. Sharpe looked around the class at the monitors lighting up and made a desperate jab towards a button marked Turbo.
"Not that one," came a voice from behind. Sharpe slowly turned to face the teacher who now stood by his shoulder. She pointed her finger towards the correct button and said,"That one! Let's try to at least start without any mistakes Mr....?"
"Sharpe," he replied with a slight smile "Richard Sharpe"
The lecturer stared at him long and hard until Sharpe stopped smiling and wondered what was wrong.
"Are you sure that's your name?" Ms Smith asked in a strange voice. "This isn't some joke is it?"
Sharpe shook his head not quite sure what was going on. "Of course it's my name!" he declared. Bloody Hell!
Ms Smith strode back to the front of the class and directed everyone to open their work books and begin the first exercise.
"That's the one on page three Mr 'Sharpe'!" said added glaring at Sharpe.
Bloody Hell! What have I done now, Sharpe wondered.
In the following two hours, Sharpe managed to damage the space bar on his keyboard, get the diskette stuck in back to front and crash the system twice.
As Ms Smith dismissed the class she made a point of looking directly at Sharpe when she said, "And I hope to see you all again next week."
Well, with any luck he might manage to loose his head before then!
As he recounted the tale to Methos later that evening Sharpe began to change his mind, however. He had been ready to declare an end to his study, but Methos' snide comments made Sharpe feel very defensive.
"Just admit it Richard, you are wasting your time. Give up this silly course. I can teach you everything you need to know." Methos gave Sharpe a cheeky grin as he said that, but Sharpe was not smiling.
"I'm going to finish it and I'm going to pass!" Sharpe declared ending the discussion.
So an unspoken battle line was drawn between the two men. Each Monday evening as Sharpe prepared for his class he would be subtly sabotaged by Methos.
The first week was simply a misplacing of the car keys which caused Sharpe to be fifteen minutes late. This wouldn't have been a problem except that the moment Sharpe arrived Miss Smith had pounced on him and asked
"Tell me MR Sharpe, do you know anyone by the name of Sarah? She lives in France?"
Sharpe sat down, caught his breath, thought hard for a moment, [after living for 180 years you do meet an awful lot of women!] and finally said, "No, I don't think so." to which Ms Smith replied
"Well you look awfully familar! Where do you shop? Harrods?"
Sharpe went pale. Surely this woman didn't have a part time job as a sale's assistant at Harrods. He thoght back to the disastrous shopping trip he had undertaken with Methos to buy new trousers. There had been a continual flow of sales assistance through his dressing room that day, had Ms Smith been one of them?
"How come I never get that much service when I go shopping?" Methos had growled when the seventh Sales assistant had barged in with yet another pair of Jag jeans under her arm.
"I'll have to remember your trick Richard, rather simple really, don't wear underwear!"
Of course that wasn't the reason, Sharpe had explained. They were always that helpful in Harrods! But Methos had remained unconvinced.
"You don't work part time in the menswear department do you?" asked Sharpe blushing.
"I certainly do not!" said Ms Smith in a cross voice. "Stop wasting time Mr Sharpe, we are onto page nine and you had better catch up"
The second week was the battle of the missing work book. Sharpe had eventually left without it and had spent twenty minutes trying to explain to Ms Smith that, no the dog hadn't eaten it, and no his sister hadn't drawn on it and no, he hadn't dropped it into a puddle. The woman really did have a strange sense of humour Sharpe decided as he shouted, "I just lost the bloody thing!"
"Well there is no need to be rude Mr Sharpe. Anyone would think you were born in a gutter!" said Ms Smith and strode off to the front of the class once more.
Slowly Sharpe began to master the intricacies of formating and cutting and pasting. By week eight, he was ready to hand in the assignment which was part of the assessment for the course.
As he waited in line to hand in his work he idly flicked through the assignment one more time.
"Bloody Hell" he gasped and nearly dropped the whole thing.
There, stapled in with his work was a photocopy of a Playboy article entitled "How to Seduce Women in Authority -Ten Ways to get Ahead!"
Sharpe tugged at the page trying to remove it but the staple for once held true.
"Are you having a problem Mr Sharpe?" came the voice of Ms Smith.
"NO, it's fine, it's fine" Sharpe shouted and headed to the back of the room to do battle with the staple.
Sharpe finally handed in the assignment, unstapled and held together with his shoe lace.
"A novel approach Mr Sharpe, but don't expect extra marks for originality," Ms Smith remarked.
As the course neared it's end, Sharpe expected the trouble to escalate, and was surprised when Methos approached him on the second last evening and said, "You know Richard, I must say you have really surprised me with your determination. I thought you would have given up by now. I can see that this is really important to you and I want to call a truce."
Sharpe was suspicious. "Well thankyou Methos, there is only tonight and then the test next week and it will all be over. I really think I've learnt a lot."
Methos narrowed his eyes a little. "Ah, but do you know enough to pass the test? They can be very tricky you know."
"Oh I'm sure I'll have no problems, I've already begun studying."
There were no further incidents that night and Sharpe began to think that Methos had meant what he said.
As the class came to a close that night, Ms Smith outlined the proceedure for the following week.
"The exam will commence promptly at the start of the class. You will not be given extra time to complete it if you are late. The results will go towards your overall assessment. I have not finished marking the assignments yet due to technical difficulties, but they will make up 50% of your marks and the test, the remaining 50%." She paused and raked her gaze over the class letting it come to rest on Sharpe.
"It has been an interesting ten weeks Ladies and Gentlemen. Good luck next week"
And so the day of the exam arrived.
"What on earth are you doing with 'those'!" said Methos with a horrified expression on his face.
Sharpe held up his old French Cavalry Trouser, inspecting them thoughtfully. "Well, I was going to wear them for good luck, is there something wrong with 'em?"
"They are cursed Richard!" replied Methos, "They will get you into trouble!"
Sharpe just smiled at Methos and proceeded to get dressed. He had plenty of time before the exam started, but he wasn't taking any chances tonight.
He was almost finished dressing when he became aware of Methos walking up behind him. An arm snaked around his waist and another drifted down his thigh.
"You know, you still look good in those even after all these years." Methos whispered into Sharpe's ear, his breath hot.
"Remember all those times in your tent, trying to keep quiet so Harper wouldn't hear us? Those were good time." Methos pressed closer and allowed his lips to caress Sharpe's neck.
"I've got to get to that exam, Methos," said Sharpe in a very unconvincing voice.
"You've got plenty of time," said Methos as he steered Sharpe towards the bed. "I'll be quick."
Sharpe considered that last offer. Not too quick I hope, he thought, as he lay down on the bed.
Methos was true to his word. The first time was quick and so was the second. By the third and fourth time however, both men were happy to go slower. Then they both promptly fell asleep.
Sometime later Richard sharpe woke up with a start. He had been dreaming of Ms Smith.
"Fuck!" he exclaimed loudly when he realised the time.
"Not again Richard," came a sleepy voice from under the pillow, "I'm too tired!"
"BLoody Hell, I'm late !" Sharpe shouted as he pulled on his French Cavalry Trousers again. The bloody things did get him into trouble, thought Sharpe.
"You can't go like that, Richard," said Methos peering out from under the pillow. "You really need a shower!"
"No time for that." Sharpe picked up he keys and ran out the door.
The exam was already underway as Sharpe crept into the room and sat down at the back. Ms Smith frowned, but made no move to inquire about his lateness.
Sharpe set to work but he soon realised that he had little chance of completing the exam. It was not that hard but it was complex and he had only half and hour left.
He worked diligently until Ms Smith stopped the class. Everyone was more than happy to leave then, chatting about the exam, but Sharpe just sat at his desk.
It was not long until Ms Smith looked up and called Sharpe forward.
"So Mr Sharpe, what were you doing that caused you to be over an hour late for this exam?" she asked, her eyes roaming over Sharpe's trousers.
"I er...I...err...we were..err" stammered Sharpe. He had never been quick with excuses!
But Ms Smith was not listening. She bent closed, her hand reaching out to touch Sharpe trousers.
"Where did you get those?" she whispered, a slight gleam in her eye.
"My trousers? Why I've had 'em for years." said Sharpe, alarm bells beginning to sound in his head.
Ms Smith let her fingers caress the worn fabric and then she stiffened. She flared her nostrils and sniffed.
"My god!" she exclaimed, her breathing becoming faster, "They smell like...like...they smell like....SEX!"
She roughly grabbed a hold of Sharpe and pushed him up against the wall.
"I've got to have those trousers!" she said, her voice unsteady as she tried to catch her breath.
"No bloody way!" cried Sharpe, this was just too bizarre to be true.
"I'll make sure that you pass the course...with distinction if you like," she said as she desperately tried to unbutton the trousers.
"No, they're mine" replied Sharpe, wishing he had put on underwear.
"Then just let me sniff them for a while." Ms Smith purred, dragging Sharpe to the ground and sticking her nose in his crutch.
"My God Richard! Is this how you plan to pass this course!" came an angry voice from the doorway.
Sharpe tried in vain to push Ms Smith off and stand up, but the woman was determined.
"It's not what you think Methos, she just wants my trousers, she want to sniff them!" said Sharpe desperately.
"Those Bloody Trousers! Do you really expect me to believe that excuse again! Ever since I met you, you've been telling me people are after your trousers! Well it's gone on for too long! I'm not a fool Richard!"
The room was suddenly quiet. Ms Smith and Sharpe stopped struggling and stared at Methos who stood there with his arms folded and an angry look on his face.
It was Ms Smith who broke the silence. Standing up, her face a deep red, she said, "This is all my fault, I don't know what came over me. Mr Sharpe is not lying, I did ask him for his trousers. I do want to sniff them."
Her eyes took on a far away wistful look and she continued, "They remind me of another pair I saw once. I am so sorry."
"Does this mean you will let me pass?" asked Sharpe hopefully.
Ms Smith narrowed her eyes. "One sniff and I'll pass you."
Sharpe looked at Methos who rolled his eyes heavenward and nodded.
"Well all right then, but be quick." said Sharpe reluctantly.
Ms Smith dived for her handbag and pulled out her mobile phone.
"What the hell are yer doing now?" ask Sharpe bewildered.
"I'll just call my husband and get him to bring the camera down. I've got to get a photo or they'll never believe me."
Sharpe and Methos groaned.
The End.