SHERLOCK I, II, III & IV • #wattys2016

still breathing

“You return within fifteen minutes—it’s been two hours!”

“Oh, come off it, Sherlock. He’s a very busy man, and in case you’ve forgotten, he did take us on this case. You should be happy that you’ve got one to play with.”

“What case?” Sherlock said in a sarcastic scoff.

John pulled on his coat, kicked off his slippers, and dabbed on manly ointment. “We’re still in process, Sherlock, don’t get impatient. We don’t always need to be chasing down the baddies or interrogating people to feel like we’re doing something. Sometimes paperwork and patience is necessary. I’ll be out, don’t do anything stupid.”

Sherlock jerked himself awake and found that his wound around his waist had sealed up enough so that he didn’t lose any more blood. Coughing and sipping in the dusty air, Sherlock pushed himself flat against the wall and tried to work himself out from the trap he was in. His hip bones couldn’t get past the wall and the metal, and no matter how hard he pulled, he could feel his hip working on a dislocation. He knew it would be stupid to continue. Falling back into the original situation, Sherlock looked at the phone. If only he could reach it he could make one important phone call.  Closing his eyes again, he recalled another scene:

John sat in front of his computer typing out the ending to the Mullen Case, he was almost ready to publish it, but he didn't have a fitting title. Sherlock sat in his traditional chair, rosining up his violin bow.

"Sherlock," John chirped up, he placed an arm on the back of his chair and turned around. "What should I title this?"

Sherlock shrugged and flipped his bow. "I don't know. Do you think I care what you title your blog?"

John remained silent for a moment before answering with a resounding, "Yes."

"Fine. Whatever. Call it, 'Raped.' It started out that way, didn't it?"

"Ummm," John looked around the room and smacked his lips. "Yes, Sherlock, that's a wonderful title. Especially since it'll read, 'Raped by John Watson and Sherlock Holmes'. No, I don't think that'll work nor make the readers take us seriously."

Insulted, Sherlock looked up and said defensively, "Not if you put a colon after 'raped'."

"Never mind. I'll figure it out myself." John returned to his keyboard, his fingers hovering over the alphabet pensively. Having a writer's block, John sighed loudly and asked, "By the way, how did you know the snipers weren't going to shoot you? Or, how did you even know they were there?"

"Simple. I smelled ammunition and gun powder. The wind was very helpful-told me exactly where their positions were as well. As for the device, I knew Mullen wouldn't send me off without some form of security attached to me. And I knew he would use me to make you behave and so on and so forth-he's not a Moriarty, that's for sure. Just some obsessed, two-face monster who had too many years to think about how to kill you, or whatever. He was just a broken shadow. A man wanting to be detectivish but failed miserably."

"Right, he was. Anyway, you were wrong about assuming the man taking care of Sonia was her caregiver and the murderer was the one to suspect," John pointed out through a smile.

"Oh, come off, John! I knew what I was talking about. I'm not always as wrong as you think!" Sherlock stopped and pondered on his past assumptions. "Did I really say that? Assume the murderer was the man we wanted?"

John raised an eyebrow and spun around in his chair, facing Sherlock. "You quite did. Oh yes, Mycroft texted me-again! Telling me about another case you'd be interested in."

Sherlock groaned at the mentioning of his brother. "That goof always has a case for me. Wonder what this one might be? Did Mrs. So-and-so kill Mr. So-and-so because Mr. No-no interfered with their marriage? And the whole twist is that their son hired Mr. No-no to be a jerk to his parents so that he could stay up longer before bedtime?"

"Uh, no. Not at all. It actually involves a member of the Royal Family. She needs a bodyguard." John eyed Sherlock to watch his reaction. "What do you think?"

Sherlock placed the bow onto his violin strings and drew out a melodious note. "Not going to be me, thank you very much. Have you got a title for your blog?"

"Yes, I do. Broken Shadows."

A small smile slipped on the detective’s face.

Simon and Charlie thundered down the corridor, waves of water scooped under their feet, causing them to slam into the walls beside them. Reaching out, Simon grabbed Charlie before he was swept away by a current.  “There’s nowhere to go!” Charlie yelled over the groaning waves. He clung to Simon’s arm, though, his legs didn’t serve him much of a support and it wasn’t long before Simon had to fling his arm over his shoulder and be his other half.

“Don’t talk like that,” Simon shouted as he staggered across the slippery ground. He fell twice, bringing Charlie with him, but he pushed himself up and continued boldly. Water droplets attacked his eyes and curls of water tripped him, but Simon was determined and fought against them. “I think I see a ladder!”

“What?” Charlie yelled through a mouthful of water. “I can’t hear you!”

Pointing victoriously ahead of them, Simon shouted, “A ladder! A bloody ladder, we’re home free, lad!”

But just when their smiles were returning, a gigantic wave rose up behind them and smashed them down to the ground. With its circulating talons and rushing streams, it clawed them back into the belly of the tunnel. The ladder of their salvation shrunk as sheets of fluxing waves built up in front of them. Simon scraped at the ground, pushing himself out of the waters and towards freedom. Charlie wasn’t too far behind, yet, he suffered from weakness and had to be swept away several times before regaining enough strength to catch up.

“Come on, Charlie, once we get out, we’re fine!” Simon reached back and grabbed Charlie’s wrist.

“I can’t, Simon, I really can’t!” Charlie moaned, his face looking up with two sunken eyes and torn up lips. Half of his face was puffy from the prior beating and the other half had been scraped up from the currents.

“Come off it!” Simon shouted, bracing himself against the wall while holding onto his friend. “Sherlock and John could be hurt, if not dead! We might be the only source of help there is! Now, come on!”

Charlie forced himself to stand and began slowly making his way past Simon. Simon’s face lit up and cheered him on as he followed him. The two of them broke out of the waves and found solid ground underneath their feet. He ladder came into view again.

“Who do we rescue first?” Charlie shouted.

“We got to find, John first. I think Andrew wants to kill him or something.”

“What about Sherlock?”

Simon smirked. “Don’t you know him long enough that whatever fix he’s in, he’ll get out of it?”

Charlie shook his head. “Not sure about this one. It seems he would’ve done something by now.”

“We’ve been stuck in a tunnel for like three hours or more, he could’ve easily done something already.” Simon pulled himself against the wall, his eyes glued to the metal ladder just ten yards from them.

“I suppose so,” Charlie said under his breath. He had a sinking feeling that the detective was in a terrible delay and that one of them would not be returning home.