Sheriarty One Shots (Adapted Version Of Da Music Meme) [REQUESTS TEMPORARILY CLOSED]

2. The Fighter - The Fray

2. The Fighter - The Fray

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Roars of laughter and cheers filled the dark alleyway as another man falls to the floor, bloody, bruised and on the brink of death. The limp body got dragged away, the knife in his abdomen being left there as he was tossed into the corner with all the other losers.

The victor stood in the middle of the ring, grinning and flexing his muscles. Another fight down, one more to go. The topless curly haired devil of a fighter, spins around, embracing all the applause he was receiving. His eyes briefly meet those of a brown haired man looking out of place, but he doesn't allow his glaze to linger, knowing what he'd see if he did.

The worry. The panic. The love.

He couldn't bare it, so he forced away all the feelings and focused on the energy around him as he prepares for his last fight of the night.

Jim stood on the side of the make shift ring, shuffling nervously from foot to foot, his eyes glued to Sherlock. Even though his boyfriend was undefeated Jim couldn't help but worry for the other man.

He watches the blood trickle down Sherlock's arms and face with a grimace. He just hopes Sherlock takes down the last fighter quickly so they could get home and Jim could treat those wounds.

And they would never come back. Sherlock promised him. Promised to him that tonight would be the last night he came to these illegal knife death matches.

A name is called, but Jim ignores that, and watches as a tall man- taller then Sherlock- hops over the wooden barrier of the ring and stands opposite Sherlock as the greasy weasel of a ref stands between them.

The two size each other up with wicked grins as the ref checks they only have two knives each. Sherlock was handed another, considering one of his was still in his previous competitors stomach.

The ref raises his arm, stepping backwards so he was no longer in the way of the two topless men.

James' nerves pick up again and he clutches onto the side of the ring, not liking how out sized Sherlock was. It was clear that this was going to be tough, this man was certainly the biggest and strongest Sherlock had faced.

The smirk on Sherlock's face didn't flatter. He had secrets and tricks, he knew he could do this. So did James, but it didn't stop him panicking.

Using his free hand the ref puts his fingers in his mouth and whistles, hopping over the side and beginning to collect the money and slips for the bets being placed on the fight.

It was like a scene from a movie. The crowd was going wild, shouting and hollering, as the two in the middle of the ring circled each other as if they couldn't hear the chants around them.

And then Sherlock charges forward, slashing open the other mans arm as he spins out of the way of the two blades that attempt to cut into his own flesh. Jim sucks in a breath, Sherlock was facing away from him now and all he wanted was to lean forward and pull him out of the ring.

His opposition let's out a cry of pain as Sherlock allows a smirk to slide over his lips. He quickly licks his lips, moving quickly around the ring as the taller man charges for him.

He doesn't get so much as a scratch. He smirks more, raising an eyebrow and taunting the other fighter.

James' glaze looks onto Sherlock once again. He may be speedy but there was no need to enrage the man trying to end his life. James knew Sherlock couldn't help it, his beautiful boyfriend was addicted to the excitement and feeling of a fight. He was sad to say that it was the rush Jim could no longer provide for the ex-detective.