Cauldron-Born [SHERLOCK FANFIC]

Surrounded

“Has anyone seen my dog?” Charlie asked upon returning from the bathroom.

At that inquiry, everyone’s heads looked straight at Charlie and then at the front door. Just as they all had feared, the door was ajar and the dog was gone. Sherlock said something under his breath that resembled a curse word and then bolted out the door, taking just his handgun. The other three stayed in the room, wondering what they were to do. Assuming Sherlock could handle the chase by himself, they all returned to their previous positions before the detective leaped back into the room.

“What are you doing? Are you all going to be dull pigeons, or are you going to help me chase down a hound?”

Feeling Sherlock’s energy rush over them like a violent wave, the three jumped from their sedentary stances and all retrieved weapons and whatever attire needed for the chase. Sherlock stood in the doorway, impatiently waiting and barking orders—especially at Charlie.

“I’m on it!” Charlie said as she shrugged on his jacket. John tossed him Sherlock’s Browning L9A1 and grabbed for himself a Glock 18. He made for the door while tucking the piece in his jeans before Alana tapped him on the arm.

“What about me?” she asked, eyeing John’s weapon.

“Love, I don’t have time to show you how—,”

“You don’t have to show me anything,” Alana replied, somewhat insulted. “I’ve fired handguns and rifles. As a lady of the Royal Family, I am required to know how to fire one. Don’t doubt me, John, not now!”

Shrinking back just a bit from his wife’s “don’t challenge me” expression, John quickly fetched her the USP Compact. Slapping it in her hands, he watched in amazement as she checked the lock, pulled the slide back, allowing the magazine to drop into her prepared hand, and then clapped it back in.

Looking up at her husband, she gave him a quick sassy cock of the head before speeding passed him to join Charlie and Sherlock. Not sure if he was to find her even more attractive or wonder if she really knew how to fire, John’s brow twitched before he hurried after them as well. He made sure to lock the door behind him and check if Mrs. Hudson was all right, which she was. “Stay indoors, Mrs. Hudson!” John cautioned.

“All right! Thank you John dear!” Mrs. Hudson called out cheerfully.

The four Baker Street residents, one after the other, pressed themselves against the side of Speedy’s brick wall. It was dusk now, dark enough to make shadows their enemies, but light enough for them to see the dots and lines on each other’s faces. Sherlock, naturally in the lead, looked down at his comrades and said in a spooky hiss, “The safest thing you’ll ever know is the day you never lived.” He gave them a wily bounce of the eyebrows before fixing his eyes on several dark figures huddled against the shop two blocks away from them.

Charlie looked away in puzzlement and then turned to John who was right beside him. “What did he mean by that?”

“He meant that the day before you were born is a better day than right now.” John squinted and looked ahead at the moving humans ahead of them.

Alana crowded in beside Charlie and leaned across his chest to get to John, also whispering, she said, “Should we worry about the pedestrians? There are a few to our left coming out of the book store.”

Seeing the innocent people exiting the shop, John quickly turned to Sherlock and delivered the news.

“Don’t worry, John, you’ll lure them away and we’ll follow you. Remember, I think they like short people!” Sherlock grabbed John and shoved his fighting body in front of him. Hanging onto his coat, Sherlock directed calmly, “Just run straight in their line of vision, then take a sharp right down the road. We’ll flank them. You know the barn you passed by when the postman was after you?”

John nodded his head.

“Good, go there. We’ll take them down then. I know it’s inhumane and they’re people and all that, but you’re a solider. Choose a side, and protect us!” With that, Sherlock shoved him forward just when the huddled figures noticed the pedestrians.

John did as he was told and bolted right across the creatures’ line of vision, instantly grabbing their attention. Just like any other human, the figures stumbled to their feet and dashed after John at a frightening speed. Alana covered her mouth with the back of her palm, causing Charlie to instinctively put an arm around her to comfort.  

“Come on,” Sherlock ordered as he crossed the street and followed the figures, picking up his pace as he did so. The two behind him followed suit, making sure not to be left behind. As the darkness closed in on them and the lampposts slowly faded on, the sound of multiple feet vibrated the pavement beneath the three runners.

Looking around in confusion, for they knew three people couldn’t make the sound of a roaring stampede, they looked over their shoulders and saw, to their horror, seven mad people chasing after them. The screaming of nearby citizens caused bedroom lights to be switched on and faces poked out of windows.

“Ignore them!” Sherlock yelled, pumping more energy in his legs, “We can’t leave John all alone.”

Charlie grabbed Alana’s hand and urged her into a faster pace. She, fearing for her life, ignored the rushing pain through her legs and pushed herself beyond her normal running speed. Sherlock glanced to the left and then, without saying a word, snatched Charlie’s arm and threw him into an alley along with Alana and himself. The horde ran passed the three, giving Sherlock the opportunity to jump out from his hiding spot and lay the seven of them with his bullets. One by one, the figures crumpled to the ground. Dead.

“The cops are coming,” Charlie said breathlessly.

“Good, they’ll take care of this. Now, onto John!” Then, without a tired limp in his step, the detective was off again.