The Almost Right Word

Author's Note: This was written for a challenge at tthdrabbles, but it belongs with this story, so here it is.


Dawn tried not to glare. John was right, the blame had to be divided equally here. Sherlock was not infallible, even in matters of pharmacology. From now on, she’d ask her other upstairs neighbor about headache cures.

But that still didn’t change the fact that she’d come very close to blowing up half of London. It was just lucky that she’d thought to double check the translation she’d done in her drug-addled state before casting the spell.

It was amazing what a difference a few misplaced Sumerian syllables could make in a summoning spell- the difference between apostrophe and apocalypse.