Fic: Change of Pace
Title: Change of Pace
Author: brate7
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Rating: PG
Word Count: 670
Summary: Sherlock loves a mystery.
Note: Originally posted at thegameison_sh for a prompt of "one change."
Change of Pace
By Brate
With a last glance at the cabbie, Sherlock lifted the pill to his mouth, the urge to prove his superiority overwhelming his sense of self-preservation. Just as his lips touched the capsule, the window behind him exploded, sending a shower of glass into the room.
Miraculously, he was untouched.
The cabbie had not been so lucky. There was large shard in his chest, it would unquestionably be fatal. But Sherlock wasn't willing to give up his prey that easily. He placed a foot over the dying man's wound, pressing down and demanding answers. At the shouted "Moriarty," Sherlock relented, easing his foot off and stepping away.
He sent a text to Lestrade, informing him that he'd found the murderer, and maneuvered over to examine the broken window.
What could've caused it to shatter in that manner?
***
In the underground tramway, Sherlock wrestled with Zhi Zhu, the Tong assassin, straining to reach Sarah in order to untie her. The sand was trickling out of the bag and onto the ground, lowering the metal weight closer to the bowl on the ancient Chinese crossbow-the deadly balance shifting. One touch would release the feathered spear, shooting it directly into Sarah's heart. She had less than half a minute to live.
John was trussed up, useless, struggling to reach the weapon. He would not be in time.
Wrenching at the silk wrapped around his neck, Sherlock fought off the black spots creeping into his vision. The countdown ticked off in his head, seconds left, and he turned in time to see the ballista shift.
The spear shot to the side of Sarah, straight into Zhi Zhu's chest.
The length of silk loosened and Sherlock sucked in a deep breath. He unwound himself and released Sarah, comforting her briefly. Shan was nowhere to be seen, not unexpected, and Sherlock moved to liberate John. He ignored the reunion between John and Sarah, replaying the last several minutes in his head.
No one had been near the crossbow.
***
The hand tightened in his hair as the knife traced a line on his neck. Sherlock's legs ached from being forced to kneel for the last twenty minutes. But he had only himself to blame.
Marshall Williams had been blackmailing his employer, who in turn hired Sherlock. Normally the consulting detective would have ignored such a tedious and mundane case, but John had been complaining about the lack of funds, and Sherlock had a weak moment.
Which he was paying for now.
John stood on the other side of the room, arms out, placating, trying to talk sense into Williams. Talk him into releasing his hostage.
Knowing it was pointless, Sherlock mentally ran through strategies. He was startled from his thoughts by the knife slicing through his flesh.
John's eyes narrowed and the blackmailer's knife flew across the room, embedding itself into the far wall with a thunk.
Sherlock was on his feet in an instant, and laid out Williams with two punches. He glanced at the knife, then pointed at John. "I knew it!" Sherlock cried, absently swiping at the blood running down his neck.
John's head flew up in surprise, and he sputtered, "Y-you did not!"
"I most certainly did. You're not as careful as you think you are."
Mouth opening and closing, John stood speechless.
Sherlock clapped his hands together, gleeful. "We should run some experiments." He dismissed John's groan as irrelevant.
***
Sherlock joined John behind the abandoned car, ducking the onslaught of bullets.
"This is your fault," John growled.
"Of course," Sherlock accepted readily. "Now what say we avoid perforations in our bodies, and take care of our problem, yes?"
Shooting a caustic glare, John leaned around the corner of the automobile. There was a loud clang, and the gunfire ceased. John stood.
Sherlock followed suit, darting his eyes to where the gunman lay unconscious, a garbage bin lid lying next to him. Sherlock grinned at John. "I'd be lost without my telekinetic."
Rolling his eyes, John grudgingly returned the smile.
end
Author: brate7
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Rating: PG
Word Count: 670
Summary: Sherlock loves a mystery.
Note: Originally posted at thegameison_sh for a prompt of "one change."
Change of Pace
By Brate
With a last glance at the cabbie, Sherlock lifted the pill to his mouth, the urge to prove his superiority overwhelming his sense of self-preservation. Just as his lips touched the capsule, the window behind him exploded, sending a shower of glass into the room.
Miraculously, he was untouched.
The cabbie had not been so lucky. There was large shard in his chest, it would unquestionably be fatal. But Sherlock wasn't willing to give up his prey that easily. He placed a foot over the dying man's wound, pressing down and demanding answers. At the shouted "Moriarty," Sherlock relented, easing his foot off and stepping away.
He sent a text to Lestrade, informing him that he'd found the murderer, and maneuvered over to examine the broken window.
What could've caused it to shatter in that manner?
***
In the underground tramway, Sherlock wrestled with Zhi Zhu, the Tong assassin, straining to reach Sarah in order to untie her. The sand was trickling out of the bag and onto the ground, lowering the metal weight closer to the bowl on the ancient Chinese crossbow-the deadly balance shifting. One touch would release the feathered spear, shooting it directly into Sarah's heart. She had less than half a minute to live.
John was trussed up, useless, struggling to reach the weapon. He would not be in time.
Wrenching at the silk wrapped around his neck, Sherlock fought off the black spots creeping into his vision. The countdown ticked off in his head, seconds left, and he turned in time to see the ballista shift.
The spear shot to the side of Sarah, straight into Zhi Zhu's chest.
The length of silk loosened and Sherlock sucked in a deep breath. He unwound himself and released Sarah, comforting her briefly. Shan was nowhere to be seen, not unexpected, and Sherlock moved to liberate John. He ignored the reunion between John and Sarah, replaying the last several minutes in his head.
No one had been near the crossbow.
***
The hand tightened in his hair as the knife traced a line on his neck. Sherlock's legs ached from being forced to kneel for the last twenty minutes. But he had only himself to blame.
Marshall Williams had been blackmailing his employer, who in turn hired Sherlock. Normally the consulting detective would have ignored such a tedious and mundane case, but John had been complaining about the lack of funds, and Sherlock had a weak moment.
Which he was paying for now.
John stood on the other side of the room, arms out, placating, trying to talk sense into Williams. Talk him into releasing his hostage.
Knowing it was pointless, Sherlock mentally ran through strategies. He was startled from his thoughts by the knife slicing through his flesh.
John's eyes narrowed and the blackmailer's knife flew across the room, embedding itself into the far wall with a thunk.
Sherlock was on his feet in an instant, and laid out Williams with two punches. He glanced at the knife, then pointed at John. "I knew it!" Sherlock cried, absently swiping at the blood running down his neck.
John's head flew up in surprise, and he sputtered, "Y-you did not!"
"I most certainly did. You're not as careful as you think you are."
Mouth opening and closing, John stood speechless.
Sherlock clapped his hands together, gleeful. "We should run some experiments." He dismissed John's groan as irrelevant.
***
Sherlock joined John behind the abandoned car, ducking the onslaught of bullets.
"This is your fault," John growled.
"Of course," Sherlock accepted readily. "Now what say we avoid perforations in our bodies, and take care of our problem, yes?"
Shooting a caustic glare, John leaned around the corner of the automobile. There was a loud clang, and the gunfire ceased. John stood.
Sherlock followed suit, darting his eyes to where the gunman lay unconscious, a garbage bin lid lying next to him. Sherlock grinned at John. "I'd be lost without my telekinetic."
Rolling his eyes, John grudgingly returned the smile.
end