Bang! : A Sherlock Holmes Story
Title: Bang!
Author: azuhra
Fandom: ACD-Bookverse Sherlock Holmes
Word Count: 442
Rating: PG13
Characters: Watson, Holmes, Inspector Gregson
Pairing(s): None.
Warnings: : Mild Violence, Mild Blood
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys.
Prompt: JWP Amnesty Prompt #3 (Type a phrase, search images. The first picture that appears must be your inspiration.) at watsons_woes
Summary:
Even Victorian Watson can be a BAMF. In fact, he was a BAMF first.
Chapter Eighteen 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
Chapter Twelve: It Burns Like Summer
Chapter Thirteen: Meeting in the Fire
Chapter Fourteen: Leaping and Sprinting
Chapter Fifteen: Take What You Will
Chapter Sixteen: Sutures and Revolvers
Chapter Seventeen: Expecting Rescue
A/N: Lack of creativity really, but I typed 'Sherlock Holmes Shooting.' And the first thing that popped up was this. Chapter named after the art :)
---
I barely had the time to throw myself from the settee before a bullet imbedded itself into the stuffing I had just vacated. This was the very least of my concerns, however, as I heard an angry yell from Inspector Gregson and a grunt of pain from Holmes. I cast a look toward the Inspector's battle with two of the thieves. Beneath their tangled feet lay my revolver.
To the side, Holmes was entrenched in very ungentlemanly combat with the leader, Edgewise Edgar. Making a rapid decision, I crawled painfully toward Gregson, hoping to retrieve my weapon and possibly lend the man a hand. Or a back, as it were, as I planted myself directly behind one of the criminals and let the man trip over my crawling figure to sprawl across our floor. Gregson nodded his quick thanks and I fetched my gun.
I then switched my attention back to Holmes, just in time to see Edgar slam his fist into my friend's side. Holmes hissed with pain while staggering back against the mantle. He slid his hand beneath his jacket and I saw his finger's come away bloody. Feeling anger overwhelm me, for had not the mad-men caused enough injury and death that night, I staggered to my feet and tackled Cunningham. The glassware around us shuddered and broke.
---
Edgewise Edgar and I wrestled for several minutes. Wounded as I was, I was not at all insulted by Holmes interrupting our struggle by breaking Mrs. Hudson's teapot over my opponent’s head. I stayed where I was, seated on the floor near our fireplace and panting as though I had run a marathon. Holmes gave the leader a kick out of his way before slumping down beside me on the floor. We watched as Gregson finally took out the last of the bandits, sweat beaded on his forehead as well.
“Well, Mr. Holmes. I had hoped to come here to arrest you this night. You should be lucky that I showed up when I did to arrest these felons instead!”
“Luck had nothing to do with it, Inspector, for I had it planned. And next time you come here to arrest me, do bring more men! I will put up a fight!”
The Inspector turned red with anger, one finger raised to lecture my friend. I saw movement behind him. Mr. Hunt had risen from the floor and had his gun aimed at the Inspector. I raised my revolver, and Holmes raised his hand in a mock gun beside me. I cleared my throat to get his attention, but Holmes spoke first. “Mr. Hunt,” he barked, “bang!”
Author: azuhra
Fandom: ACD-Bookverse Sherlock Holmes
Word Count: 442
Rating: PG13
Characters: Watson, Holmes, Inspector Gregson
Pairing(s): None.
Warnings: : Mild Violence, Mild Blood
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys.
Prompt: JWP Amnesty Prompt #3 (Type a phrase, search images. The first picture that appears must be your inspiration.) at watsons_woes
Summary:
Even Victorian Watson can be a BAMF. In fact, he was a BAMF first.
Chapter Eighteen 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
Chapter Twelve: It Burns Like Summer
Chapter Thirteen: Meeting in the Fire
Chapter Fourteen: Leaping and Sprinting
Chapter Fifteen: Take What You Will
Chapter Sixteen: Sutures and Revolvers
Chapter Seventeen: Expecting Rescue
A/N: Lack of creativity really, but I typed 'Sherlock Holmes Shooting.' And the first thing that popped up was this. Chapter named after the art :)
---
I barely had the time to throw myself from the settee before a bullet imbedded itself into the stuffing I had just vacated. This was the very least of my concerns, however, as I heard an angry yell from Inspector Gregson and a grunt of pain from Holmes. I cast a look toward the Inspector's battle with two of the thieves. Beneath their tangled feet lay my revolver.
To the side, Holmes was entrenched in very ungentlemanly combat with the leader, Edgewise Edgar. Making a rapid decision, I crawled painfully toward Gregson, hoping to retrieve my weapon and possibly lend the man a hand. Or a back, as it were, as I planted myself directly behind one of the criminals and let the man trip over my crawling figure to sprawl across our floor. Gregson nodded his quick thanks and I fetched my gun.
I then switched my attention back to Holmes, just in time to see Edgar slam his fist into my friend's side. Holmes hissed with pain while staggering back against the mantle. He slid his hand beneath his jacket and I saw his finger's come away bloody. Feeling anger overwhelm me, for had not the mad-men caused enough injury and death that night, I staggered to my feet and tackled Cunningham. The glassware around us shuddered and broke.
---
Edgewise Edgar and I wrestled for several minutes. Wounded as I was, I was not at all insulted by Holmes interrupting our struggle by breaking Mrs. Hudson's teapot over my opponent’s head. I stayed where I was, seated on the floor near our fireplace and panting as though I had run a marathon. Holmes gave the leader a kick out of his way before slumping down beside me on the floor. We watched as Gregson finally took out the last of the bandits, sweat beaded on his forehead as well.
“Well, Mr. Holmes. I had hoped to come here to arrest you this night. You should be lucky that I showed up when I did to arrest these felons instead!”
“Luck had nothing to do with it, Inspector, for I had it planned. And next time you come here to arrest me, do bring more men! I will put up a fight!”
The Inspector turned red with anger, one finger raised to lecture my friend. I saw movement behind him. Mr. Hunt had risen from the floor and had his gun aimed at the Inspector. I raised my revolver, and Holmes raised his hand in a mock gun beside me. I cleared my throat to get his attention, but Holmes spoke first. “Mr. Hunt,” he barked, “bang!”