Fic: Let's Play a Game
Title: Let's Play a Game
Author: DealliaSnape (harmonymarguerite)
Summary: Blackwood has Holmes and Watson, forcing them to play a little game of Russian Roulette.
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Rating: PG-13
Words: 922
Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and company are the creations of Arthur Conan Doyle.
Notes: Based on a sherlockkink prompt: How about some Russian Roulette? Holmes/Watson. The pair is captured and forced to play Russian Roulette with Blackwood. Blackwood loses. Holmes and Watson are all, "OMG WE'RE ALIVE FUCK YES BTW I'VE REALIZED THAT LIFE IS SHORT AND I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU." Smexing would be nice, but is not required, lol. :] for op: colbertobsessed. And the original thread is here
****
There were two guards on the other side of the door, easily taken out should they get the opportunity. However, getting the chance was debatable.
“Come, gentlemen, it’s just a little sport.” Blackwood smiled at them, waving his hands dramatically over the table. “What could be more fun than this?”
“I can think of a few.” Watson replied, eyes wild and grim-faced.
They were seated around the small table, both Watson and Holmes handcuffed to their chairs, while Blackwood sat in a third. The chairs themselves were bolted to the floor, and the range of movement was limited. The only thing on the table was a handgun, five cylinders empty, one filled.
“Let’s see who goes first, shall we?” Blackwood spun the cylinder, than placed the gun back down, spinning it on the table.
The barrel pointed to Holmes.
“Well, aren’t we the lucky one?” Blackwood chuckled, pushing the gun over.
Holmes took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and reached for the pistol. He opened them as he spun the chamber once more, and finally glanced at Watson.
Watson’s eyes were wide with obvious fear but as their gazes met, a look of calm passed over his face. His jaw tightened, and he gave a small nod to Holmes.
The gun was raised, positioned at the temple.
Their gaze didn’t waver.
*click*
Holmes only gave a small smile, but Watson sighed with relief, shoulders falling and eyes briefly closing.
There was no hesitation as Blackwood took the gun from Holmes, spun the cylinder and took an empty shot to the temple. He passed the gun over to Watson.
Watson didn’t look at Holmes until the gun was in place. He took a breath, lips moving slightly as though to say something, but pulled the trigger instead.
*click*
He passed the gun with shaking hands back to Holmes.
This time, Holmes could read Watson’s words as he held the gun up.
Please God, not him.
Odd, he’d never pictured Watson as truly devout.
*click*
The gun was passed to Blackwood again.
The report of the gun going off was too loud in the room after so much silence.
Holmes and Watson hadn’t looked away from each other, but as the sound echoed, both men’s eyes closed, Watson collapsing in relief.
“Please tell me you can get us out of here.” Came Watson’s harsh whisper.
“Yes,” Holmes answered in the same tone. “Just, give me a moment.” His hands were already moving to his boot, searching for an extra pick, and he made short work of the handcuff. He had moved to Watson before there was movement on the other side of the door. “Ah, our honor guard seems to be stirring.”
There was a knock on the door as Holmes dived for Watson’s leg.
“Lord Blackwood?”
“He’ll be with you in a moment.” Holmes called.
“In moments like these, has anyone ever told you that you’re not helping?” Watson snarled.
“You have. Several times.”
Several things happened at once, the cuff came off, the door flew open, and Watson pushed the table to its side, covering Holmes.
“Ready? On three.” Holmes said, as the men rushed closer. “One…”
“Three!” They stood.
*******************************
Hours later, after briefing Lestrade, taking care of Blackwood’s body, and wrapping up the case, Holmes and Watson were finally back at Baker Street. Watson paced up and down the floor, jittery and agitated, while Holmes sat at the window, staring out and watching Watson’s reflection in the glass.
“Watson, old boy, you need to relax. Have a drink.”
“How can you be so damn flippant?”
Holmes didn’t answer, merely turned to meet Watson’s gaze.
It’s either be flippant, or break down.
Watson closed his eyes, body relaxing slightly in acknowledgement, but one hand griped the back of a chair, knuckles turning white.
“Every time you lifted that gun…”
“I know, I was there.”
“And the only thing that was going through my mind… We were one trigger pull away…”
“We’ve been in dangerous situations before.”
“Yes. But never before was I forced to watch you… My God, Holmes, you had a loaded gun to your temple!”
“It was a game of chance, as a gambling man…”
“Hang gambling!” Watson strode over, grabbing Holmes’ face in his trembling hands. “Don’t you dare get us into a situation like that again, Holmes. Or if you do, you best pray I go first, because if I have to watch you…” He stopped, leaning forward those last few inches so his forehead rested against Holmes’.
“What makes you think I would survive watching you die any better than you would watching me?” Holmes whispered.
At that, a small smile passed Watson’s lips, but was quickly gone. “Do you know what I was thinking, every time you lifted that gun?”
The word was barely spoken, simply breathed out. “Yes.”
“I’m glad. Then you won’t be surprised, nor repulsed.”
“I’m still here.”
“Yes, thank God.” And he leaned forward, meeting Holmes’ lips in a soft, almost chaste kiss.
When they broke away, Holmes covered Watson’s hands with his own. “Don’t think for a moment, John, that I would dare leave this world without you.”
Watson smiled and reversed his hands, pulling Holmes up and leading him to the settee. They settled, Watson holding Holmes in his arms, head back on Watson’s shoulder.
“Watson…” Holmes whispered after a moment.
Watson nodded, rubbing his cheek along Holmes, and leaning back to nip at his ear. “I promise I shan’t leave without you either.”
And they were content.
Author: DealliaSnape (harmonymarguerite)
Summary: Blackwood has Holmes and Watson, forcing them to play a little game of Russian Roulette.
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Rating: PG-13
Words: 922
Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and company are the creations of Arthur Conan Doyle.
Notes: Based on a sherlockkink prompt: How about some Russian Roulette? Holmes/Watson. The pair is captured and forced to play Russian Roulette with Blackwood. Blackwood loses. Holmes and Watson are all, "OMG WE'RE ALIVE FUCK YES BTW I'VE REALIZED THAT LIFE IS SHORT AND I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU." Smexing would be nice, but is not required, lol. :] for op: colbertobsessed. And the original thread is here
****
There were two guards on the other side of the door, easily taken out should they get the opportunity. However, getting the chance was debatable.
“Come, gentlemen, it’s just a little sport.” Blackwood smiled at them, waving his hands dramatically over the table. “What could be more fun than this?”
“I can think of a few.” Watson replied, eyes wild and grim-faced.
They were seated around the small table, both Watson and Holmes handcuffed to their chairs, while Blackwood sat in a third. The chairs themselves were bolted to the floor, and the range of movement was limited. The only thing on the table was a handgun, five cylinders empty, one filled.
“Let’s see who goes first, shall we?” Blackwood spun the cylinder, than placed the gun back down, spinning it on the table.
The barrel pointed to Holmes.
“Well, aren’t we the lucky one?” Blackwood chuckled, pushing the gun over.
Holmes took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and reached for the pistol. He opened them as he spun the chamber once more, and finally glanced at Watson.
Watson’s eyes were wide with obvious fear but as their gazes met, a look of calm passed over his face. His jaw tightened, and he gave a small nod to Holmes.
The gun was raised, positioned at the temple.
Their gaze didn’t waver.
*click*
Holmes only gave a small smile, but Watson sighed with relief, shoulders falling and eyes briefly closing.
There was no hesitation as Blackwood took the gun from Holmes, spun the cylinder and took an empty shot to the temple. He passed the gun over to Watson.
Watson didn’t look at Holmes until the gun was in place. He took a breath, lips moving slightly as though to say something, but pulled the trigger instead.
*click*
He passed the gun with shaking hands back to Holmes.
This time, Holmes could read Watson’s words as he held the gun up.
Please God, not him.
Odd, he’d never pictured Watson as truly devout.
*click*
The gun was passed to Blackwood again.
The report of the gun going off was too loud in the room after so much silence.
Holmes and Watson hadn’t looked away from each other, but as the sound echoed, both men’s eyes closed, Watson collapsing in relief.
“Please tell me you can get us out of here.” Came Watson’s harsh whisper.
“Yes,” Holmes answered in the same tone. “Just, give me a moment.” His hands were already moving to his boot, searching for an extra pick, and he made short work of the handcuff. He had moved to Watson before there was movement on the other side of the door. “Ah, our honor guard seems to be stirring.”
There was a knock on the door as Holmes dived for Watson’s leg.
“Lord Blackwood?”
“He’ll be with you in a moment.” Holmes called.
“In moments like these, has anyone ever told you that you’re not helping?” Watson snarled.
“You have. Several times.”
Several things happened at once, the cuff came off, the door flew open, and Watson pushed the table to its side, covering Holmes.
“Ready? On three.” Holmes said, as the men rushed closer. “One…”
“Three!” They stood.
*******************************
Hours later, after briefing Lestrade, taking care of Blackwood’s body, and wrapping up the case, Holmes and Watson were finally back at Baker Street. Watson paced up and down the floor, jittery and agitated, while Holmes sat at the window, staring out and watching Watson’s reflection in the glass.
“Watson, old boy, you need to relax. Have a drink.”
“How can you be so damn flippant?”
Holmes didn’t answer, merely turned to meet Watson’s gaze.
It’s either be flippant, or break down.
Watson closed his eyes, body relaxing slightly in acknowledgement, but one hand griped the back of a chair, knuckles turning white.
“Every time you lifted that gun…”
“I know, I was there.”
“And the only thing that was going through my mind… We were one trigger pull away…”
“We’ve been in dangerous situations before.”
“Yes. But never before was I forced to watch you… My God, Holmes, you had a loaded gun to your temple!”
“It was a game of chance, as a gambling man…”
“Hang gambling!” Watson strode over, grabbing Holmes’ face in his trembling hands. “Don’t you dare get us into a situation like that again, Holmes. Or if you do, you best pray I go first, because if I have to watch you…” He stopped, leaning forward those last few inches so his forehead rested against Holmes’.
“What makes you think I would survive watching you die any better than you would watching me?” Holmes whispered.
At that, a small smile passed Watson’s lips, but was quickly gone. “Do you know what I was thinking, every time you lifted that gun?”
The word was barely spoken, simply breathed out. “Yes.”
“I’m glad. Then you won’t be surprised, nor repulsed.”
“I’m still here.”
“Yes, thank God.” And he leaned forward, meeting Holmes’ lips in a soft, almost chaste kiss.
When they broke away, Holmes covered Watson’s hands with his own. “Don’t think for a moment, John, that I would dare leave this world without you.”
Watson smiled and reversed his hands, pulling Holmes up and leading him to the settee. They settled, Watson holding Holmes in his arms, head back on Watson’s shoulder.
“Watson…” Holmes whispered after a moment.
Watson nodded, rubbing his cheek along Holmes, and leaning back to nip at his ear. “I promise I shan’t leave without you either.”
And they were content.