Prompt 10: Heads Up
Title: Heads Up
Author: arwen_kenobi
Rating: PG-13 (language, violence)
'Verse: BBC Sherlock
Word Count: 773
Summary: John drops his groceries. An apple rolls its way toward the homeless man's foot. He does not stop playing that song
Author's Notes: For prompt 10 of watsons_woes July Writing Prompts. This one was "Chaconne for violin alone (J. S. Bach, Partita for solo violin No. 2 in D minor, BWV 1004
John drops his groceries. An apple rolls its way toward the homeless man's foot. He does not stop playing that song. Chaconne. Bach. Shit. He picks up the groceries, slowly and carefully, but leaves the apple for the homeless man. He certainly needs it more than he does.
Mrs. Hudson isn't home today, her and Mrs. Turner go out for lunch and to the shops on Wednesdays, but he bangs the door just in case. No reply. What's he doing? There's no need for this. The music continues to float through the walls. Just beginning to get frantic. Stop mucking around, John.
He sets the bags down on the bottom of the stairs and grabs the broom that Mrs. Hudson uses to brush off the front steps. He climbs the stairs quickly and carefully and grips the broom tightly. His keys are, for once, right where he remembers leaving them and he makes sure to make just enough noise as he turns the key in the lock.
He throws the door open with a loud thwack and waits until they've spend their bullets. He assumes the worst and waits for a break in fire to come out swinging with the broomstick. He smashes the handle across Assailant Number One's face. He hears teeth go flying and he goes down hard. He grabs his gun from his hand as he falls, thoughtful bugger has just managed to reload, and he shoots Assailant Number Two in the shoulder and then the leg. He manages to fire a diversion shot just above Assailant the Third's head to give him time to get up the stairs.
He opens a window on the way up. He can still hear violin music and it is now very frantic. Much more frantic than it's meant to be played.
Gunshots fire up the stairs and John ducks himself into his room, where he grabs his own gun. He takes a deep breath and then steps out into the hall. Shoulder and leg again. Then man drops with a wail, he shoots him again on top of the other wound. He's got his mobile to his ear and is ready to meet the Assailant he'd downed with the broom when he tries to take a swing at him. He ducks and then tackles the man by the knees. A grunted fuck! comes from the Assailant and then from John as they end up tumbling down the stairs. John doesn't think he's lost consciousness until he hears an insistent voice shouting from his mobile, which has somehow survived the tumble and has landed right by his ear. "Paramedics and police are on the way, sir!" someone is shouting.
Good, John grumbles as he drags Assailant Number One in as straight a line as he can manage. That being said he does not feel bad as the man's head catches on John's chair and again on the table as he turns. He leaves him by the door. He repeats the action with the other two and, once he's disarmed them and he's confident that no one is planning on going anywhere, tends their wounds quickly.
The violin music is playing still but the speed of the piece is now so insanely fast that everyone must think the player is a genius, on drugs, or both. "Shit," he curses, angrily, as he walks over to the sitting room window and opens it. "OY," he yells down. "KEEP IT DOWN, WOULD YOU? SOME OF US WORK NIGHTS!"
The crowd that has gathered, no doubt due to the noise, grumbles abuse at him as it slowly disperses to make way for the paramedics and police more than because of his yelling. The violinist is last to leave as he chases after the apple that has gotten away from him. He looks up at him when he picks it up. John salutes him quickly in thanks and urges him on his way. "Before you're seen," he urges aloud but to himself as the figure rushes off.
The paramedics are apparently coming from the A&E he works at and are calling him by name. He paints the face of a confused, innocent, man as they approach him while really, on the inside, he's thankful for the relief of the fight. Danger is more preferable than grief, he'll swear it a hundred more times between now and when it's all said and done, but it's the worry and not the constant vigilance that really gets him some days.
That being said, as much as he wishes the man were farther away than London right now, he certainly appreciates the warning.
Author: arwen_kenobi
Rating: PG-13 (language, violence)
'Verse: BBC Sherlock
Word Count: 773
Summary: John drops his groceries. An apple rolls its way toward the homeless man's foot. He does not stop playing that song
Author's Notes: For prompt 10 of watsons_woes July Writing Prompts. This one was "Chaconne for violin alone (J. S. Bach, Partita for solo violin No. 2 in D minor, BWV 1004
John drops his groceries. An apple rolls its way toward the homeless man's foot. He does not stop playing that song. Chaconne. Bach. Shit. He picks up the groceries, slowly and carefully, but leaves the apple for the homeless man. He certainly needs it more than he does.
Mrs. Hudson isn't home today, her and Mrs. Turner go out for lunch and to the shops on Wednesdays, but he bangs the door just in case. No reply. What's he doing? There's no need for this. The music continues to float through the walls. Just beginning to get frantic. Stop mucking around, John.
He sets the bags down on the bottom of the stairs and grabs the broom that Mrs. Hudson uses to brush off the front steps. He climbs the stairs quickly and carefully and grips the broom tightly. His keys are, for once, right where he remembers leaving them and he makes sure to make just enough noise as he turns the key in the lock.
He throws the door open with a loud thwack and waits until they've spend their bullets. He assumes the worst and waits for a break in fire to come out swinging with the broomstick. He smashes the handle across Assailant Number One's face. He hears teeth go flying and he goes down hard. He grabs his gun from his hand as he falls, thoughtful bugger has just managed to reload, and he shoots Assailant Number Two in the shoulder and then the leg. He manages to fire a diversion shot just above Assailant the Third's head to give him time to get up the stairs.
He opens a window on the way up. He can still hear violin music and it is now very frantic. Much more frantic than it's meant to be played.
Gunshots fire up the stairs and John ducks himself into his room, where he grabs his own gun. He takes a deep breath and then steps out into the hall. Shoulder and leg again. Then man drops with a wail, he shoots him again on top of the other wound. He's got his mobile to his ear and is ready to meet the Assailant he'd downed with the broom when he tries to take a swing at him. He ducks and then tackles the man by the knees. A grunted fuck! comes from the Assailant and then from John as they end up tumbling down the stairs. John doesn't think he's lost consciousness until he hears an insistent voice shouting from his mobile, which has somehow survived the tumble and has landed right by his ear. "Paramedics and police are on the way, sir!" someone is shouting.
Good, John grumbles as he drags Assailant Number One in as straight a line as he can manage. That being said he does not feel bad as the man's head catches on John's chair and again on the table as he turns. He leaves him by the door. He repeats the action with the other two and, once he's disarmed them and he's confident that no one is planning on going anywhere, tends their wounds quickly.
The violin music is playing still but the speed of the piece is now so insanely fast that everyone must think the player is a genius, on drugs, or both. "Shit," he curses, angrily, as he walks over to the sitting room window and opens it. "OY," he yells down. "KEEP IT DOWN, WOULD YOU? SOME OF US WORK NIGHTS!"
The crowd that has gathered, no doubt due to the noise, grumbles abuse at him as it slowly disperses to make way for the paramedics and police more than because of his yelling. The violinist is last to leave as he chases after the apple that has gotten away from him. He looks up at him when he picks it up. John salutes him quickly in thanks and urges him on his way. "Before you're seen," he urges aloud but to himself as the figure rushes off.
The paramedics are apparently coming from the A&E he works at and are calling him by name. He paints the face of a confused, innocent, man as they approach him while really, on the inside, he's thankful for the relief of the fight. Danger is more preferable than grief, he'll swear it a hundred more times between now and when it's all said and done, but it's the worry and not the constant vigilance that really gets him some days.
That being said, as much as he wishes the man were farther away than London right now, he certainly appreciates the warning.