Fic: One Week, Two Days, Nine Hours, and Five Minutes - Holmes/Watson - PG
Title: One Week, Two Days, Nine Hours, and Five Minutes
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (Ritchie 'Verse)
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Rating: PG
Warning(s): character in peril
Summary: Holmes has gotten himself into trouble again, and Watson rescues him, doing something completely unexpected upon finding Holmes.
Word count: 866
Notes: Written in response to this prompt at shkinkmeme. Originally published on the meme on March 3.
One week, two days, nine hours and five minutes had passed since I had seen Holmes. I warned him not to take the case when I could not help him and was, of course, ignored. The day he listens to me when I tell him not to do something is the day I have to treat myself for a heart condition. I was following clue after clue trying to find him, all to no avail, and the last clue had very nearly broken me when I read the words scrawled on the dingy paper shoved in our post box:
You have four hours to find him. Otherwise, I hope he likes the taste of Thames water.
My mind raced furiously for nearly three-and-one-half hours as I tried to put together where he could be. I was nearly at my wits’ end by that time. There were only so many places along the Thames I had not looked, and I abruptly clenched my eyes shut as I thought. Just as quickly, my eyes opened, both the realization and the triumph rushing through my body making me cry out aloud as I rushed to the door. Hailing a cab, I promised him an unusually large sum if he could make it to the docks in ten minutes. Those ten minutes were the longest of my life up until that time, and I spent most of it praying that I was right, and I had not lost Holmes.
Tossing some money at the cabbie, I barely waited for it to stop at my destination before I was racing along an alley to a little-known warehouse where Holmes told me he suspected the man who hired him to be hiding. As I stepped inside, I knew that I had barely gotten there in time. The water was all the way up to my shins, and I can freely say now that I began to panic, crying out for Holmes and hearing only my own voice echo back as I moved farther into the warehouse. I fought against the water, cursing as its current pushed me against the wall and into a glass case I had not seen. Inside was a short-handled axe, and I grabbed it, reflexively wanting a weapon with me as I had acted like Holmes in leaving my revolver at Baker Street. Soon, though, I heard my name called over my own curses at the water and shouts of Holmes’ name.
I moved as quickly as I could towards the sound of both my name and a metallic clanking. My fingers clenched against the handle of the axe as I finally found the room. I hoped there was no one other than Holmes in the room, though a small part of me wished for someone on whom I could take out my frustration, as we were rather pressed for time with the water steadily rising. Turning the corner, I spotted Holmes right away, and my breath caught in my throat as I took in his state of total dishevelment: his hair was wet and stuck to his forehead, his trousers soaked through from the water, and his face was streaked with dirt, bruises and cuts while his hands were caught in cuffs fastened around a thick pipe. I had never seen a more welcome sight in my life, and I was across the room before I even registered moving.
I wound my hand in his hair and pressed my lips to his without thinking about it. His mouth opened, probably from shock, and I pressed my advantage, kissing him frantically and sloppily. Holmes was stiff as a board for a moment, but he arched into the kiss quickly enough, tilting his head to get a better angle and coaxing a groan from me as his tongue slid against mine. We broke off abruptly as a particularly large surge of water hit us. Tugging on his bound hands, Holmes recreated the metallic clanking I had previously heard and raised an eyebrow at the axe in my hand. I nodded, hiding my anxiety at the rising water in a frown of determination as I brought the axe to bear on the chain, shattering a weak link Holmes had apparently been working at. As soon as he was free, Holmes embraced me, and I returned the gesture, pressing a brief, hard kiss to his lips as we pulled back.
There was no time for talk or declarations just then, and we moved as quickly as we were able, struggling against the water and having to hold each other up when we stumbled. We barely made it out of the warehouse when the majority of the building behind us abruptly collapsed, falling into the river with an almighty groan and an even mightier wave of water. Holmes had a somewhat manic grin on his face as he watched it fall, and I watched him with relief singing through my body. I moved to step closer to him, but we both turned at the sound of the shrill whistles of approaching constables. I stepped closer regardless, my shoulder pressing against Holmes as we waited for the police to arrive, late as usual.
Fin
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (Ritchie 'Verse)
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Rating: PG
Warning(s): character in peril
Summary: Holmes has gotten himself into trouble again, and Watson rescues him, doing something completely unexpected upon finding Holmes.
Word count: 866
Notes: Written in response to this prompt at shkinkmeme. Originally published on the meme on March 3.
One week, two days, nine hours and five minutes had passed since I had seen Holmes. I warned him not to take the case when I could not help him and was, of course, ignored. The day he listens to me when I tell him not to do something is the day I have to treat myself for a heart condition. I was following clue after clue trying to find him, all to no avail, and the last clue had very nearly broken me when I read the words scrawled on the dingy paper shoved in our post box:
You have four hours to find him. Otherwise, I hope he likes the taste of Thames water.
My mind raced furiously for nearly three-and-one-half hours as I tried to put together where he could be. I was nearly at my wits’ end by that time. There were only so many places along the Thames I had not looked, and I abruptly clenched my eyes shut as I thought. Just as quickly, my eyes opened, both the realization and the triumph rushing through my body making me cry out aloud as I rushed to the door. Hailing a cab, I promised him an unusually large sum if he could make it to the docks in ten minutes. Those ten minutes were the longest of my life up until that time, and I spent most of it praying that I was right, and I had not lost Holmes.
Tossing some money at the cabbie, I barely waited for it to stop at my destination before I was racing along an alley to a little-known warehouse where Holmes told me he suspected the man who hired him to be hiding. As I stepped inside, I knew that I had barely gotten there in time. The water was all the way up to my shins, and I can freely say now that I began to panic, crying out for Holmes and hearing only my own voice echo back as I moved farther into the warehouse. I fought against the water, cursing as its current pushed me against the wall and into a glass case I had not seen. Inside was a short-handled axe, and I grabbed it, reflexively wanting a weapon with me as I had acted like Holmes in leaving my revolver at Baker Street. Soon, though, I heard my name called over my own curses at the water and shouts of Holmes’ name.
I moved as quickly as I could towards the sound of both my name and a metallic clanking. My fingers clenched against the handle of the axe as I finally found the room. I hoped there was no one other than Holmes in the room, though a small part of me wished for someone on whom I could take out my frustration, as we were rather pressed for time with the water steadily rising. Turning the corner, I spotted Holmes right away, and my breath caught in my throat as I took in his state of total dishevelment: his hair was wet and stuck to his forehead, his trousers soaked through from the water, and his face was streaked with dirt, bruises and cuts while his hands were caught in cuffs fastened around a thick pipe. I had never seen a more welcome sight in my life, and I was across the room before I even registered moving.
I wound my hand in his hair and pressed my lips to his without thinking about it. His mouth opened, probably from shock, and I pressed my advantage, kissing him frantically and sloppily. Holmes was stiff as a board for a moment, but he arched into the kiss quickly enough, tilting his head to get a better angle and coaxing a groan from me as his tongue slid against mine. We broke off abruptly as a particularly large surge of water hit us. Tugging on his bound hands, Holmes recreated the metallic clanking I had previously heard and raised an eyebrow at the axe in my hand. I nodded, hiding my anxiety at the rising water in a frown of determination as I brought the axe to bear on the chain, shattering a weak link Holmes had apparently been working at. As soon as he was free, Holmes embraced me, and I returned the gesture, pressing a brief, hard kiss to his lips as we pulled back.
There was no time for talk or declarations just then, and we moved as quickly as we were able, struggling against the water and having to hold each other up when we stumbled. We barely made it out of the warehouse when the majority of the building behind us abruptly collapsed, falling into the river with an almighty groan and an even mightier wave of water. Holmes had a somewhat manic grin on his face as he watched it fall, and I watched him with relief singing through my body. I moved to step closer to him, but we both turned at the sound of the shrill whistles of approaching constables. I stepped closer regardless, my shoulder pressing against Holmes as we waited for the police to arrive, late as usual.
Fin