It Burns Like Summer: A Sherlock Holmes Story
Title: It Burns Like Summer
Author: azuhra
Fandom: ACD-Bookverse Sherlock Holmes
Word Count: 442
Rating: PG13
Characters: Watson, Holmes
Pairing(s): None. Friendship is the key here.
Warnings: Blood, Corpses, Fire
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys. I just take them out to play.
Prompt: JWP #07 (”Write a story using the theme of one of the seasons.”) at watsons_woes
Summary:
Explosions are messy and brutal affairs.
Chapter Twelve of my JWP story: The Case of the Antique Massacre
Chapter One: Rain for the Cab Man
Chapter Two: Less Than Benign
Chapter Three: Word Games
Chapter Four: Relief and a Quote
Chapter Five: The Horror Unfolds
Chapter Six: Undercover Detective
Chapter Seven: Plan of Attack
Chapter Eight: Mud, Oil, and Cowards
Chapter Nine: Falling for You
Chapter Ten: The Bloodshed Begins
Chapter Eleven: Turn-Coat
A/N: Erm, I used this prompt liberally. It seems, even approaching this prompt during amnesty, I'm still struggling to incorporate a season based story/chapter into my overall story. I hope this backwards workaround will do.
---
True to their leader's orders, the men swung toward and shot the four bags about the room before running out the main doors. The bag were located near us, near those trapped, and it occurred to me a moment too late about what they contained. I regret to say that I had not even the time to warn the others.
With a yell of combined horror and anger I dove over top the child I was meant to doctor just as the world around me exploded.
The summer had been hot, but the heat of this inferno was worse. Worse than Afghanistan. Though it lasted but a moment, there was such a fiery inferno as a summer spent in hellfire. I thought fondly, if distractedly, of that cool rain the last several weeks had brought us. It was a far preferable thing to the rending sensation I felt in it as those summer-like flames burst through the great room.
As the bright and heat like a blazing July sun cooled to the dull roar of a summer's full moon, I heaved myself from where I lie on top the child and gazed with horror across the room. There was not so much as a moan from the twelve odd individuals whose corpses now lay sprawled across the room, mangled and burnt.
---
I returned my attention to the little girl, who I realized I did not even have a name for. The child was unconscious, and gasping very softly, I watched with a bubble of grief in my throat, as she took her last breath, surrounded by pool nearly as large as she of blood. It had soaked into my trousers, blending with the mud all ready there. I chocked on an unintentional sob as I heaved myself to my feet.
I did not know if the others had survived this, though from where I stood, it did not look as though they had. I stumbled numbly from one corpse to the next, my concern for where the thieves had gone entirely forgotten in the face of my duties as a doctor. I felt for a pulse on all of them, and was disappointed at each turn. So many lives, so needlessly lost.
I staggered away from the last of what once was the household staff and leaned heavily on a wall. The stench of burnt flesh, blood, and yet burning timber nearly overwhelmed the place. A large hole in the wall gave view to the peacefully raining night beyond. I hardly knew what to do with myself in those shocked moments, but to stand there and watch the house around me burn.
Author: azuhra
Fandom: ACD-Bookverse Sherlock Holmes
Word Count: 442
Rating: PG13
Characters: Watson, Holmes
Pairing(s): None. Friendship is the key here.
Warnings: Blood, Corpses, Fire
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys. I just take them out to play.
Prompt: JWP #07 (”Write a story using the theme of one of the seasons.”) at watsons_woes
Summary:
Explosions are messy and brutal affairs.
Chapter Twelve of my JWP story: The Case of the Antique Massacre
Chapter One: Rain for the Cab Man
Chapter Two: Less Than Benign
Chapter Three: Word Games
Chapter Four: Relief and a Quote
Chapter Five: The Horror Unfolds
Chapter Six: Undercover Detective
Chapter Seven: Plan of Attack
Chapter Eight: Mud, Oil, and Cowards
Chapter Nine: Falling for You
Chapter Ten: The Bloodshed Begins
Chapter Eleven: Turn-Coat
A/N: Erm, I used this prompt liberally. It seems, even approaching this prompt during amnesty, I'm still struggling to incorporate a season based story/chapter into my overall story. I hope this backwards workaround will do.
---
True to their leader's orders, the men swung toward and shot the four bags about the room before running out the main doors. The bag were located near us, near those trapped, and it occurred to me a moment too late about what they contained. I regret to say that I had not even the time to warn the others.
With a yell of combined horror and anger I dove over top the child I was meant to doctor just as the world around me exploded.
The summer had been hot, but the heat of this inferno was worse. Worse than Afghanistan. Though it lasted but a moment, there was such a fiery inferno as a summer spent in hellfire. I thought fondly, if distractedly, of that cool rain the last several weeks had brought us. It was a far preferable thing to the rending sensation I felt in it as those summer-like flames burst through the great room.
As the bright and heat like a blazing July sun cooled to the dull roar of a summer's full moon, I heaved myself from where I lie on top the child and gazed with horror across the room. There was not so much as a moan from the twelve odd individuals whose corpses now lay sprawled across the room, mangled and burnt.
---
I returned my attention to the little girl, who I realized I did not even have a name for. The child was unconscious, and gasping very softly, I watched with a bubble of grief in my throat, as she took her last breath, surrounded by pool nearly as large as she of blood. It had soaked into my trousers, blending with the mud all ready there. I chocked on an unintentional sob as I heaved myself to my feet.
I did not know if the others had survived this, though from where I stood, it did not look as though they had. I stumbled numbly from one corpse to the next, my concern for where the thieves had gone entirely forgotten in the face of my duties as a doctor. I felt for a pulse on all of them, and was disappointed at each turn. So many lives, so needlessly lost.
I staggered away from the last of what once was the household staff and leaned heavily on a wall. The stench of burnt flesh, blood, and yet burning timber nearly overwhelmed the place. A large hole in the wall gave view to the peacefully raining night beyond. I hardly knew what to do with myself in those shocked moments, but to stand there and watch the house around me burn.