Length: 755 words
Author's summary: Hwaet! I sing of those immortal heroes: The Tall Detective and The Shorter Man.
Now tall Sherlock, called the genius, sees the parsley in the butter,
cries Oh! and soon declares the answer. He knows the killer, has deduced it;
and John Watson, called the doctor, whose gun is sure, whose hands are steady,
cries to him in admiration, hails him Brilliant and Fantastic.
Reccer's remarks: Merripestin has been recced here before, and with good reason, what with the splendid writing and the general versatility. "Now advance they" absolutely slays me, and it may slay you too if you meet either of the following conditions: (1) you have ever studied Old English and/or Old Norse poetry; (2) you have backbuttoned out of one too many fanfics in which Sherlock is referred to as "the taller man"/"the dark-haired detective"/"the tall slender baby deer" and John is "the shorter man"/"the sandy-haired man"/"the clumsy typist." During a sex scene.
Condition 1, if you do not already meet it, may sound like a chore, but take a quick look at this lovely riddle-poem. Yes, this rec reflects an attempt to lure you into not only merripestin's delightful fic/poem/thing but also to one of my favorite literary genres.
Read on the AO3.