Series: RAID part 1
Title: when you start the war, fight with arrows, spears and swords?
Series: RAID
Author: Felicia Angel
Fandom(s): Sherlock (BBC) / Hellsing (OVA/manga)
Warnings: excessive violence, random acts of silliness, alternate universe, crossover, spoilers for both series
Summary: Sherlock awakens to find John has disappeared, and evidence of something far more sinister behind Moriarty and his organization.
There was cool blue all around him, the chlorine and chemicals, the warmth contrasting with the earlier cold from outside, reminding him that it was indoor, a heated pool, not a lake like what they had at home. He opened his eyes, seeing fire and black smoke above them, feeling the tremor of explosions from the Semtex bomb, remembering that had been strapped to John, that John had worn that bomb and a sniper had pointed his gun at him, had threatened to make him disappear in a rain of fire and blood. Sherlock’s mind, when he saw the bomb, saw what would happen, remembered the building across the street, the scene at the retirement home, and his mind, his ever-working, ever-envisioning, damned mind, had shown him what would happen to John if he allowed that bomb to go off.
John wasn’t there, though. Sherlock panicked, attempting to get to the surface though his mind, his sense, told him to stay under, to take in water if he had to, but the white-black fire-smoke thing that was above them was far more dangerous then drowning.
Sherlock surfaced, gasping in oxygen and carbon dioxide and twenty other things that he knew was horrible and would have to answer for. John would make him answer for them later, when he was back home and had a cough because small pieces of glass were in his lungs. He fell down again, swallowing water in some odd attempt to balance out fire with water, and saw something in the dark, a shadow attached to a human at the arm, unnaturally red pupils looking at him with hunger. In one arm was John, looking half-dead and fearful, much as how Sherlock guessed he’d looked when he was brought in with a bullet in his shoulder. Now, he appeared to have various spots that were dripping blood onto the floor, but his neck was soaked with blood from a wound that had been made by no gun.
Sherlock tried to get closer when there was a roar and scream of metal and concrete, and he looked up to see the fire and smoke disappear around the ceiling as it fell down upon them, a descending-
Sherlock’s eyes snapped open, his mind now forced back into work like a computer forced to start, the images of the odd dream/memory going away as he looked up at the white ceiling, the neutral coloring and lighting stating he was in the hospital, as his ears jumped in and gave him the sound of monitors. He blinked, looking around the room to see it was a larger, private one, and sitting half-asleep in one chair nearby was Lestrade. The image made him smile slightly, allowing his body to wake up and tell him that not only was he hurt, but he was drugged and thus, couldn’t tell how hurt he was.
The second afterwards was reserved to trying to figure out what had happened to John. He recalled, vaguely, the explosion but not much else afterwards. He guessed it was actual shock or a concussion, but either way, the room should’ve been large enough for two and John should be here.
The door opened, causing Lestrade to wake up as Mycroft walked in, earning a frown from Sherlock as he smiled at him, obviously relieved.
“You’ve been asleep two days now,” Mycroft said, “and needed CPR when Inspector Lestrade found you.”
“And I would arrest you,” Lestrade pointed out, “except that your brother posted your bail and then some, and also we caught a group of mercenaries who also happened to get blown up with you. What the hell were you thinking, by the way?”
“I was hoping to catch him, or at least talk to the madman before you lot showed up,” Sherlock pointed out, feeling like none of that came out the way he’d thought it, “Where’s John?”
That earned him odd looks, and he felt something odd, dark and strange rise in his chest.
“What are you talking about?” Lestrade asked.
“John. He left for Sarah’s, and Moriarty caught him,” Sherlock told them, “He was the fifth pip.”
Color drained from Lestrade’s face as Mycroft said, simply, “There was no sign of anyone else there but you, the snipers, and Moriarty.”
---
Mycroft sat at his desk, looking over the reports and what he could find on this “Jim Moriarty” character, which was very little save for a moment that he’d either forgotten to erase or simply couldn’t reach to, which was a note by one professor about a mathematical genius who had given up a theory for astrophysics but had not been heard from again. It was little to go on, but enough for Mycroft to start the search for.
As for John…Moriarty had disappeared during the explosion, and the leader of the band, Moran, had as well, leading Mycroft to believe that Moran only had stopped to take one person, but not giving any indication of who took the other. There was hardly any evidence to go on, and Lestrade was currently pushing himself to find it. It helped that Mycroft was pressuring his superiors to allow it as well, and that most of Lestrade’s men cared enough about John to search for him.
The problem, though, was Sherlock. He had attempted to leave the hospital at least twice before he should, and was becoming a problem. He wanted to find John, and Mycroft had both enjoyed the idea of his brother having someone he cared for but was equally worried what this would mean.
He would give it another week, then have to call in others. He wanted to try and find John without relying on her at all.
---
They reached the final room, the remains of the Wild Geese and the new recruits clearing out more of it and replying that the draculina was most likely there. The leader nodded, feeling the difference and hearing the sound of struggle before pushing into the room, the large gun in one hand and her other a shadow that slowly reached around half the room. The other woman in the room, tall and with blond hair, glared over at the intrusion as the other person in the room, a blond man against the wall and glaring at the woman, his eyes not moving from her as she growled out at the new intruder.
“YOU!” she screamed, like a cat screeching and turning to face the new woman as the man kept his eyes on her, holding a knife out and appearing ready to defend himself as needed. The intruding woman glared at the two, the shadowed other arm moving around the man. It paused at one point, seeming to slow as she heard it whisper, “Luv, tis somethin’ new.”
“Then we’ll get him out of here, and home. Is he dangerous?”
“Not as much as the bird you’re going up against,” the voice said, “I’ll protect him.”
The blond woman who had gotten in, broke into a smile at that as the shadows wrapped around the man, surprising him and the cat-like Draculina. “Let’s go, Carmilla.”
The female vampire growled back, glaring at the woman. “You’re that Hellsing pet vampire, aren’t you? I heard you were all dead!”
The other woman chuckled, hefting the large gun as easily as most normal Humans lifted a pistol. “No…none of us are dead.” The gun went off, the silver-tipped anti-vampire guns hitting the woman to create splatters of blood, the shadowed area around the man keeping him from it as Carmilla leaped forward, attempting to attack the other woman as she pushed her pack, hitting her away and beating her head against one of the stone walls, blood splattering there and covering more of the walls. She heard more then felt the man inside of the safety of the shadow try to fight, as if attempting to find out what was going on, and it made her smile a little at his attempts to get out.
She let herself be tossed aside, hitting the wall as the other within her came out, smiling his wicked smile at her as Carmilla growled out something, jumping at the spot they had hidden the man while screaming, “He’s mine! He’s always been mine, and no one else gets him!”
The other female vampire who ahd entered jumped at her, the two hitting each other as the blond female vampire got the upper hand, holding the other down, her teeth appearing as she latched onto the other’s neck, sucking some of the blood as she let out a screech like a cat who’s tail had been stepped on, the noise turning almost like the growl of a large cat about to die when she was knocked back, blood oozing from the wound and down her yellow outfit.
She got only a second warning before the shadows parted, allowing out an angry and berserker man, the knife not only going through Carmilla’s heart, but also coming out the other side, tearing her body in two.
The woman hoping to take on Carmilla blinked in shock as the one that had held the man disappeared in a rain of blood, the man turning to face her, the knife dropping from his hand and blood coating his face and hair, turning the normally blond coloring a dull, rusted brown and black color. His eyes, while showing blue, had red rims around the iris.
She blinked, then slowly dropped down, the shadows going in as she held out her hand. “I’m Seras. Who are you?”
He swallowed, obviously still in shock, before saying, “John. John Watson.”
Series: RAID
Author: Felicia Angel
Fandom(s): Sherlock (BBC) / Hellsing (OVA/manga)
Warnings: excessive violence, random acts of silliness, alternate universe, crossover, spoilers for both series
Summary: Sherlock awakens to find John has disappeared, and evidence of something far more sinister behind Moriarty and his organization.
There was cool blue all around him, the chlorine and chemicals, the warmth contrasting with the earlier cold from outside, reminding him that it was indoor, a heated pool, not a lake like what they had at home. He opened his eyes, seeing fire and black smoke above them, feeling the tremor of explosions from the Semtex bomb, remembering that had been strapped to John, that John had worn that bomb and a sniper had pointed his gun at him, had threatened to make him disappear in a rain of fire and blood. Sherlock’s mind, when he saw the bomb, saw what would happen, remembered the building across the street, the scene at the retirement home, and his mind, his ever-working, ever-envisioning, damned mind, had shown him what would happen to John if he allowed that bomb to go off.
John wasn’t there, though. Sherlock panicked, attempting to get to the surface though his mind, his sense, told him to stay under, to take in water if he had to, but the white-black fire-smoke thing that was above them was far more dangerous then drowning.
Sherlock surfaced, gasping in oxygen and carbon dioxide and twenty other things that he knew was horrible and would have to answer for. John would make him answer for them later, when he was back home and had a cough because small pieces of glass were in his lungs. He fell down again, swallowing water in some odd attempt to balance out fire with water, and saw something in the dark, a shadow attached to a human at the arm, unnaturally red pupils looking at him with hunger. In one arm was John, looking half-dead and fearful, much as how Sherlock guessed he’d looked when he was brought in with a bullet in his shoulder. Now, he appeared to have various spots that were dripping blood onto the floor, but his neck was soaked with blood from a wound that had been made by no gun.
Sherlock tried to get closer when there was a roar and scream of metal and concrete, and he looked up to see the fire and smoke disappear around the ceiling as it fell down upon them, a descending-
Sherlock’s eyes snapped open, his mind now forced back into work like a computer forced to start, the images of the odd dream/memory going away as he looked up at the white ceiling, the neutral coloring and lighting stating he was in the hospital, as his ears jumped in and gave him the sound of monitors. He blinked, looking around the room to see it was a larger, private one, and sitting half-asleep in one chair nearby was Lestrade. The image made him smile slightly, allowing his body to wake up and tell him that not only was he hurt, but he was drugged and thus, couldn’t tell how hurt he was.
The second afterwards was reserved to trying to figure out what had happened to John. He recalled, vaguely, the explosion but not much else afterwards. He guessed it was actual shock or a concussion, but either way, the room should’ve been large enough for two and John should be here.
The door opened, causing Lestrade to wake up as Mycroft walked in, earning a frown from Sherlock as he smiled at him, obviously relieved.
“You’ve been asleep two days now,” Mycroft said, “and needed CPR when Inspector Lestrade found you.”
“And I would arrest you,” Lestrade pointed out, “except that your brother posted your bail and then some, and also we caught a group of mercenaries who also happened to get blown up with you. What the hell were you thinking, by the way?”
“I was hoping to catch him, or at least talk to the madman before you lot showed up,” Sherlock pointed out, feeling like none of that came out the way he’d thought it, “Where’s John?”
That earned him odd looks, and he felt something odd, dark and strange rise in his chest.
“What are you talking about?” Lestrade asked.
“John. He left for Sarah’s, and Moriarty caught him,” Sherlock told them, “He was the fifth pip.”
Color drained from Lestrade’s face as Mycroft said, simply, “There was no sign of anyone else there but you, the snipers, and Moriarty.”
---
Mycroft sat at his desk, looking over the reports and what he could find on this “Jim Moriarty” character, which was very little save for a moment that he’d either forgotten to erase or simply couldn’t reach to, which was a note by one professor about a mathematical genius who had given up a theory for astrophysics but had not been heard from again. It was little to go on, but enough for Mycroft to start the search for.
As for John…Moriarty had disappeared during the explosion, and the leader of the band, Moran, had as well, leading Mycroft to believe that Moran only had stopped to take one person, but not giving any indication of who took the other. There was hardly any evidence to go on, and Lestrade was currently pushing himself to find it. It helped that Mycroft was pressuring his superiors to allow it as well, and that most of Lestrade’s men cared enough about John to search for him.
The problem, though, was Sherlock. He had attempted to leave the hospital at least twice before he should, and was becoming a problem. He wanted to find John, and Mycroft had both enjoyed the idea of his brother having someone he cared for but was equally worried what this would mean.
He would give it another week, then have to call in others. He wanted to try and find John without relying on her at all.
---
They reached the final room, the remains of the Wild Geese and the new recruits clearing out more of it and replying that the draculina was most likely there. The leader nodded, feeling the difference and hearing the sound of struggle before pushing into the room, the large gun in one hand and her other a shadow that slowly reached around half the room. The other woman in the room, tall and with blond hair, glared over at the intrusion as the other person in the room, a blond man against the wall and glaring at the woman, his eyes not moving from her as she growled out at the new intruder.
“YOU!” she screamed, like a cat screeching and turning to face the new woman as the man kept his eyes on her, holding a knife out and appearing ready to defend himself as needed. The intruding woman glared at the two, the shadowed other arm moving around the man. It paused at one point, seeming to slow as she heard it whisper, “Luv, tis somethin’ new.”
“Then we’ll get him out of here, and home. Is he dangerous?”
“Not as much as the bird you’re going up against,” the voice said, “I’ll protect him.”
The blond woman who had gotten in, broke into a smile at that as the shadows wrapped around the man, surprising him and the cat-like Draculina. “Let’s go, Carmilla.”
The female vampire growled back, glaring at the woman. “You’re that Hellsing pet vampire, aren’t you? I heard you were all dead!”
The other woman chuckled, hefting the large gun as easily as most normal Humans lifted a pistol. “No…none of us are dead.” The gun went off, the silver-tipped anti-vampire guns hitting the woman to create splatters of blood, the shadowed area around the man keeping him from it as Carmilla leaped forward, attempting to attack the other woman as she pushed her pack, hitting her away and beating her head against one of the stone walls, blood splattering there and covering more of the walls. She heard more then felt the man inside of the safety of the shadow try to fight, as if attempting to find out what was going on, and it made her smile a little at his attempts to get out.
She let herself be tossed aside, hitting the wall as the other within her came out, smiling his wicked smile at her as Carmilla growled out something, jumping at the spot they had hidden the man while screaming, “He’s mine! He’s always been mine, and no one else gets him!”
The other female vampire who ahd entered jumped at her, the two hitting each other as the blond female vampire got the upper hand, holding the other down, her teeth appearing as she latched onto the other’s neck, sucking some of the blood as she let out a screech like a cat who’s tail had been stepped on, the noise turning almost like the growl of a large cat about to die when she was knocked back, blood oozing from the wound and down her yellow outfit.
She got only a second warning before the shadows parted, allowing out an angry and berserker man, the knife not only going through Carmilla’s heart, but also coming out the other side, tearing her body in two.
The woman hoping to take on Carmilla blinked in shock as the one that had held the man disappeared in a rain of blood, the man turning to face her, the knife dropping from his hand and blood coating his face and hair, turning the normally blond coloring a dull, rusted brown and black color. His eyes, while showing blue, had red rims around the iris.
She blinked, then slowly dropped down, the shadows going in as she held out her hand. “I’m Seras. Who are you?”
He swallowed, obviously still in shock, before saying, “John. John Watson.”