Fanfic: Gnomenclature [Phineas and Ferb]

[argentum_ls]

Title: Gnomenclature
Summary: An evil scientist walks into an antique store...
Word Count: 828
Genre: mild h/c
Characters: Dr. D. and Lawrence Fletcher
Notes: For radondoran on comment_fic, and for hc_bingo.


The bell over the door chimed, signaling, as was its purpose, that a potential customer had entered the antique shop. Lawrence Fletcher looked up from the display of clocks that he had been meticulously dusting, feather duster still in hand, to see a hunched man with a white lab coat shrugged over his shoulders hovering just inside the doorway, as if uncertain how to proceed. In his eyes glinted the light of a person with a purpose. Lawrence liked that glint; it most likely meant a sale, and, at the very least, meant there’d be a brilliant discussion about antiques.

“Can I help you?” Lawrence asked, stepping into the open and donning his best shopkeeper smile. Behind him, the clocks ticked, filling the room with pleasant syncopation.

The man looked briefly startled, as if unfamiliar with the question. His answer was spoken with a strong accent that, if Lawrence was correct, indicated a Drusselsteinian origin. Ah, we are but two men, so far from their homelands. Thoughts of his own England, so far away and so infrequently visited, stabbed him with melancholy.

“I was just walking down the street, miiiinding my own business,” the man started, eyes darting around the space as if unable to believe everything there was to see. Lawrence had to concur: his store did hold an impressive and varied collection. “--when I happened to glance in the window of your establishment. My attention was immediately drawn to that device—“ He waved a hand toward the window display. As Lawrence walked toward it, he ran a mental inventory of what was in the window, preparing himself to answer questions.

“You see,” the man continued, “I am so tired of my plans always failing. They always fail.” The light in his eyes faded and he looked so crestfallen that Lawrence was afraid the man would burst into tears right there. Before Lawrence could offer any sympathy, the man perked up. “So I said to myself, self, it’s high time…”

Judging the crisis to be averted, Lawrence busied his attention on the window display, temporarily tuning the man out. The largest item there was an antique washing tub, its blue paint slightly rust spattered, though the original washing board and roller made up for that. Instinctively, he knew that this wasn’t what had captured the man’s attention. Next his eye landed on a large, black lacquered case that was opened to show the collection of cogs, wires, and liquid filled glass tubes inside. A brass plate on the face of the box identified it as “Dr. Wilson’s Cure-All. Success Guaranteed.” This was it.

“Yes, a fine piece,” Lawrence offered, during a pause while the man was drawing a breath to continue his monologue. Using the feather duster as a pointer, he started: “Dr. Wilson was a--“

In a kind of cosmic balance being enacted, his own spiel was interrupted with the man throwing his arms up and … cackling? “Do I see what I think I see?” the man cried, bounding across the store to the shelves near the checkout counter. These shelves were the home of a variety of display pieces meant for gardens and patios. The man selected one of the pieces and held it up to the light, examining it carefully. “Is this a genuine handcrafted Ötisheimian garden gnome?”

Lawrence couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face, even if he’d wanted to. “Why yes. Yes, it is,” he replied.

The man sighed, an exhalation filled with longing and homesickness, and ran his fingers lovingly over the gnome’s red painted hat.

Lawrence hesitated for a moment, wavering between his desire to try to push the sale of Dr. Wilson’s Cure All and the more pleasant, if less financially fruitful, opportunity that lay before him. While he pondered, the man brought the garden gnome to his chest and gave it a warm hug, as if greeting an old friend. The decision was made. “I have gnomes from all over that region,” he offered, gesturing vaguely toward the back of the store where he kept items that didn’t fit in the front displays. “Garden paraphernalia for warding off witches and trolls is a special hobby of mine. Perhaps a cup of tea…?”

Once again the man’s eyes lit up. His mouth opened and closed, as if he were unsure how to take the invitation. At last, he nodded, his expression trapped in an odd mixture of perplexed and awed. “When I was a boy, back in Gimmelshtump—“ he began.

Lawrence nodded, encouraging him to go on, as he traded in the feather duster and retrieved the electric kettle from behind the counter. He filled it with water and plugged it in. From outside, the bright sunlight streamed through the plate glass windows, casting a warm glow over the store and its occupants, and Lawrence pulled up a chair, always ready to share his love of antiques with another likeminded soul.

END

A/N: Fulfills H/C bingo prompt wildcard: homesickness