Cruel Religion
Title: Cruel Religion
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Characters: S. Holmes, J. Watson
Table: Five
Prompt: #6. Crucify
Word Count: 284 words
Rating: PG-13
Summary: He bit his lower lip to keep from screaming as Mauley hammered the huge nail home thru his feet.
Author's Notes: Warnings, violence. I've finally figured out that there really is no limit to what torture I will put Holmes and Watson through in my writing with this ficlet. And it bugs me to no end that I had to have Mauley hammer those nails in the wrong places, but they didn't know any better back in the Victorian Era.
He bit his lower lip to keep from screaming as Mauley hammered the huge nail home thru his feet.
The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth as he bit down hard enough to draw blood.
As he felt Mauley's hand adjusting his right hand, positioning it against the rough wood of the cross he was tied to, something inside the detective finally snapped and he struggled, trying to make things difficult for his crazed captor and buy Watson a little bit more time to find him.
Waves of agony engulfed him as his desperate struggles against the ropes on his wrists and Mauley's restraining hands jarred his already nailed feet, but Holmes did not let that stop him, urging himself on with the fear that if Mauley managed to nail his hands, he would never be able to use them ever again, to be dependent on someone else (probably Watson) for every little thing he needed.
And to a man as independent as Sherlock Holmes, it would be a fate worse than death, and so he struggled and fought against the inevitable nailing of his hands.
But even his great mind could overcome only so much pain, and he eventually succumbed to the pain emanating from his feet.
As everything faded to black, Holmes thought he heard Watson cry his name, but he wasn't sure whether he'd imagined his friend's voice into existence at that moment or not.
Not that it really matter to him, not at the moment between consciousness and the blessed black nothingness of unconsciousness where he had faltered for a moment just long enough to hear his friend's cry before the black nothingness engulfed him and he knew no more.
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Characters: S. Holmes, J. Watson
Table: Five
Prompt: #6. Crucify
Word Count: 284 words
Rating: PG-13
Summary: He bit his lower lip to keep from screaming as Mauley hammered the huge nail home thru his feet.
Author's Notes: Warnings, violence. I've finally figured out that there really is no limit to what torture I will put Holmes and Watson through in my writing with this ficlet. And it bugs me to no end that I had to have Mauley hammer those nails in the wrong places, but they didn't know any better back in the Victorian Era.
He bit his lower lip to keep from screaming as Mauley hammered the huge nail home thru his feet.
The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth as he bit down hard enough to draw blood.
As he felt Mauley's hand adjusting his right hand, positioning it against the rough wood of the cross he was tied to, something inside the detective finally snapped and he struggled, trying to make things difficult for his crazed captor and buy Watson a little bit more time to find him.
Waves of agony engulfed him as his desperate struggles against the ropes on his wrists and Mauley's restraining hands jarred his already nailed feet, but Holmes did not let that stop him, urging himself on with the fear that if Mauley managed to nail his hands, he would never be able to use them ever again, to be dependent on someone else (probably Watson) for every little thing he needed.
And to a man as independent as Sherlock Holmes, it would be a fate worse than death, and so he struggled and fought against the inevitable nailing of his hands.
But even his great mind could overcome only so much pain, and he eventually succumbed to the pain emanating from his feet.
As everything faded to black, Holmes thought he heard Watson cry his name, but he wasn't sure whether he'd imagined his friend's voice into existence at that moment or not.
Not that it really matter to him, not at the moment between consciousness and the blessed black nothingness of unconsciousness where he had faltered for a moment just long enough to hear his friend's cry before the black nothingness engulfed him and he knew no more.