Sherlock Holmes [Reader Insert]

Chapter 7

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Holmes blocked a side swipe and then dodged an uppercut before being hit with a knee to the chest. Moriarty was certainly the better boxer. He could pull his gun, but with their proximity Moriarty was guaranteed to knock it away. The only thing that might lead to is a misfire, most likely at someone or something he didn't want to hit. Holmes took the blow and swung with his own fist, glancing a blow off of Moriarty's shoulder. Of course the professor knew he would try to take out the boxer's arms and dodged.

Sherlock had noticed [Name] run in, and then the subsequent rescue from Watson. Ever resourceful, she had found some tools to use as weapons. The detective wouldn't admit it out loud, but she was being slightly more brash than he had anticipated. Watson was holding his own against Moriarty's man, but that was to be expected. He was quick on his feet, and generally a step ahead. That's why he had led the goon up the far stairs of the catwalk. Everyone was getting into position.

The temperature rose as he got closer to the liquid metal. Orange light cast over Moriarty's face as he swung and parried. Sweat dripped from his face and sparkled as it fell. Sherlock knew he wouldn't win, but he wasn't trying to. Something Moriarty took for granted was that it wasn't a fight against Sherlock alone. Sherlock had taken this for granted before, but not this time.

The catwalk shook as Watson ducked a swing from the large man. They had made their way to the middle of the walkway. The doctor swung up with the sledgehammer from his crouched position. The heavy end met the man's bent-over chest, and sent him in the air and backward. He caught himself on the railing. Watson turned the handle upside down in his hand and held the hammer up, pointed at the big man like a javelin. With a grunt, he threw it. It connected with the man's throat and pushed him over the edge. The sledgehammer cracked against the concrete below, followed immediately by the thud of a body. Watson took a breath, then turned to Holmes and Moriarty.

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Watson had led the big man up the stairs and beat you to the catwalk. Now, as you took the last step up, you watched him knock the big man over the railing. Briefly, you wondered if the man would survive that fall, too. You hurried forward, your shoes clanging against the metal path.

Now closer, you had a better view of the fight. The two were at the crossroads where the catwalk Watson was on met the one you were on. Moriarty was skilled, and Holmes attempted attacks, but few of them landed. It was clear to you that Moriarty was winning. From the cold smile across his face, it was clear to Moriarty, too. You had for some reason imagined the professor to be a lanky, lithe creature, perhaps because you were told of how he had escaped Sherlock's grasp, but he was actually fairly stout. He had somewhat broad shoulders, which allowed for strong punches. He was older with grey hair and a grey mustache. His eyes were calculating, even as he attacked.

Sherlock spun, putting Moriarty between him and the vat of metal. The detective glanced at you, then behind him at the doctor. He didn't seem surprised. "Watson!" he called out.

Watson ran forward.

In a flash, Moriarty grabbed Sherlock by the shoulder and knocked out one of his feet. The two spun until they switched positions. Moriarty grabbed the collar of Sherlock's shirt and shoved him against the railing. His feet lifted off the ground. With his other hand, the professor pulled a gun out of a holster on his pants. He aimed it down the catwalk at Watson, who froze in place.

"Now, now," Professor Moriarty smirked at Watson. "I wouldn't come any closer."

You stopped. Sherlock's eyes were wide as they stared at the firearm. Apparently the gun had been well-hidden. His hands were locked onto the railing so that he didn't fall.