Void of Mind
Title: Void of Mind
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Characters: S. Holmes, J. Watson, M. Holmes
Table: Five
Prompt: #77. Experiment
Word Count: 401 words
Rating: PG
Summary: Abductions were supposed to happen on Wednesdays, right?
Author's Notes: Warnings, mild language, twisted POV, alternative universe (modern). In case you couldn't tell, this was written in the middle of the night.
Adrenaline flooded his veins, his heart hammering in his chest. Muscles tensed, at the ready for fight or flight, he wasn't sure which way he'd act. His mouth was drier than the desert sands, while his hands were slick with sweat. In conclusion, Sherlock Holmes was absolutely terrified.
And who could blame him, it isn't like he planned on getting abducted by a mad scientist out of some lurid Jules Verne novel.
Especially since it was Tuesday, abductions were supposed to happen on Wednesdays, right?
"Holmes."
Was it really Tuesday, though? The detective wasn't sure. Maybe it really was Wednesday and this unplanned abduction was wholly justified...though he was sure that it wasn't the case.
"Damnit, Holmes, wake up!"
And what was with that voice? Didn't they know it was rude to interrupt?
"How is he, Doctor?"
Oh dear, it seemed as though Brother dearest had been abducted as well...what sort of experiments did this mad scientist have in mind?
"It's no use, he'll only wake when he's good and ready, and no sooner."
"Well, Doctor, I do hope that he'll be good and ready pretty soon, he's the only witness to a violent murder."
Murder? That sounds interesting. But whose murder?
"Do you think he can hear us, Doctor?"
"Probably, but only bits and pieces of conversations, if the EEG is anything to go by."
EEG? Whatever does that mean? Holmes figured it was just fancy doctor talk and move on with his mental wanderings.
What did the mad scientist look like, he wondered.
Red hair? No, it was brown. Curly? Not really. And he limped, like Watson.
He was beginning to describe Watson, not the scientist, and that was a problem.
"You know, Holmes, the land lady misses you. You have to promise me that you won't tell her that I told you this, though. She'd burn my toast for a week if you did."
Land lady? What did Mrs. Hudson have to do with anything? Was that like the price of tea in China? He wasn't sure, but he wasn't entirely interested in asking.
"The doctors at the hospital think he's never going to wake up, at this rate, Mycroft."
Since when was Watson on speaking terms with his brother?
"Why'd you call him 'Mycroft'?" Holmes slurringly demanded of Watson.
"Holmes!" exclaimed his flatmate in pleased surprise.
To the detective's chagrin, his brother wasn't even in the room.
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Characters: S. Holmes, J. Watson, M. Holmes
Table: Five
Prompt: #77. Experiment
Word Count: 401 words
Rating: PG
Summary: Abductions were supposed to happen on Wednesdays, right?
Author's Notes: Warnings, mild language, twisted POV, alternative universe (modern). In case you couldn't tell, this was written in the middle of the night.
Adrenaline flooded his veins, his heart hammering in his chest. Muscles tensed, at the ready for fight or flight, he wasn't sure which way he'd act. His mouth was drier than the desert sands, while his hands were slick with sweat. In conclusion, Sherlock Holmes was absolutely terrified.
And who could blame him, it isn't like he planned on getting abducted by a mad scientist out of some lurid Jules Verne novel.
Especially since it was Tuesday, abductions were supposed to happen on Wednesdays, right?
"Holmes."
Was it really Tuesday, though? The detective wasn't sure. Maybe it really was Wednesday and this unplanned abduction was wholly justified...though he was sure that it wasn't the case.
"Damnit, Holmes, wake up!"
And what was with that voice? Didn't they know it was rude to interrupt?
"How is he, Doctor?"
Oh dear, it seemed as though Brother dearest had been abducted as well...what sort of experiments did this mad scientist have in mind?
"It's no use, he'll only wake when he's good and ready, and no sooner."
"Well, Doctor, I do hope that he'll be good and ready pretty soon, he's the only witness to a violent murder."
Murder? That sounds interesting. But whose murder?
"Do you think he can hear us, Doctor?"
"Probably, but only bits and pieces of conversations, if the EEG is anything to go by."
EEG? Whatever does that mean? Holmes figured it was just fancy doctor talk and move on with his mental wanderings.
What did the mad scientist look like, he wondered.
Red hair? No, it was brown. Curly? Not really. And he limped, like Watson.
He was beginning to describe Watson, not the scientist, and that was a problem.
"You know, Holmes, the land lady misses you. You have to promise me that you won't tell her that I told you this, though. She'd burn my toast for a week if you did."
Land lady? What did Mrs. Hudson have to do with anything? Was that like the price of tea in China? He wasn't sure, but he wasn't entirely interested in asking.
"The doctors at the hospital think he's never going to wake up, at this rate, Mycroft."
Since when was Watson on speaking terms with his brother?
"Why'd you call him 'Mycroft'?" Holmes slurringly demanded of Watson.
"Holmes!" exclaimed his flatmate in pleased surprise.
To the detective's chagrin, his brother wasn't even in the room.