Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Claymore

Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head

When Sherlock regained consciousness, Clare had her claymore poised and ready to hack the demon’s head off, Jake stood on the other side with a crossbow pointed at the monster’s heart and Lestrade had picked up the harpoon and was making menacing gestures at the creature. Sherlock sat up and crawled over to the monster’s side, the sound of its piteous whining noises overcame Sherlock, and he didn’t bother to brush away the tears that flowed from his red-rimmed eyes.

After a few moments of gasping for air, Sherlock stood up and pulled a gun from his waistband and pointed it at each individual that threatened the monster’s well-being. “Get back all of you, I will shoot whoever tries to harm him. Do not test my resolve,” Sherlock said through clenched teeth as Lestrade edged closer. After all the parties had backed away from the demon, Sherlock knelt down by its side, “John, it’s okay I won’t let anything harm you,” Sherlock crooned to the demon and then he paused, reached out and took its claw in his hand.

“Sherlock, that creature is no longer John, he will turn on you, you have to cut off his head,” Clare said as she restrained herself from advancing on Sherlock and the demon.

Sherlock smiled at Clare sadly, “No, he won’t hurt me, my warrior, my blogger, my friend, my doctor, my love, for John is my heart, he is my soul and if darkness overtakes him, then it shall overtake me as well. We shall face it together, in for a penny in for a pound,” Sherlock said as he rang his fingers along the demon’s bubbly, rough skin. He then turned away from the group and looked the demon-John, straight in the luminous orbs that it called eyes. “John, let’s go save London, let’s go save the world, the game is on,” Sherlock shouted as he held his wrist up for the creature to take. The demon took his wrist in its claws and squeezed so tight that Sherlock gasped, for if he kept up the pressure, Sherlock’s wrist would snap like an old tree branch. As if sensing its own strength the demon relaxed its grip and then raised its claw in the air, jerking Sherlock off the ground as it did so. After it let go, Sherlock fell to the ground in a pile, he then jumped up, demanded that Jake give him his crossbow and that Clare give the demon, the cross bow that hung across her shoulder.

Once Sherlock and the demon-John, were armed Sherlock smiled and said, “Come on, John let’s go kill a horseman or two.”

“Wait,” Clare said, “This is a suicide mission…you two will not be coming back.”

Sherlock smiled jauntily and said, “I’ve been on a suicide mission before, besides what does it matter as long as John is by my side?”

Clare moved in front of Sherlock, “Sherlock, this demon is not John and why it hasn’t killed you by now is puzzlement…”

Sherlock held up his hand for silence, “Clare, the outside casing is immaterial to me; the essence of John is present, now back away for you are trying our patience.”

Clare backed away to let Sherlock and the demon-John, pass. Lestrade shook his head as they walked away, smiled and said, “Look at how their steps are synchronized with each other, just like they always are.”

Sherlock and John ignored the chaos around them for the closer they got to the horsemen and their hordes of demons, the stronger the whirlwind vortex pulled at them. Several times demon-John had to help Sherlock to his feet until he finally walked at a 45 degree angle in front of Sherlock to shield him from bearing the brunt of the storm that raged around them.

When the horsemen were lined up in their sites, demon-John halted until Sherlock was parallel to him. “Well, this is it then, John,” Sherlock shouted above the din, “Just like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, except without that deplorable song, Rain Drops Keep Falling on My Head.”

Demon-John grunted and then they both charged ahead.