A month (possible) of woe - Day 3
Not so woeful this one.
Title: Go Team!
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairings: John Watson, Sebastian Moran, Anthea
Summary: The thing is, having a three way knock down drag out fight in the middle of a palace dining room, when there's a meal planned for later the same day, will always have consequences. Fortunately there's more to the sniper, doctor and administrator than meets the eye.
Warnings: None that I can think of
Word Count: 950
Author's Notes: for the 3rd JWP 2014 prompt. I never get your limits. Inspired by PrettyArbitrary's Chance Meetings I am so sorry!
The still and silence after John had finished bandaging the unconscious butler and propping him safely in a corner for later consideration was as profound as the preceding action had been fast and noisy. The three surviving people in the room surveyed the carnage wincing at the bruises that were making themselves known and at the amount of damage they had caused.
"We are dead." Moran summarised the situation succinctly "They will be thrusting spikes into our decapitated heads before sunset."
John swallowed and nodded gently, feeling the sharp edge of a blade at the back of his neck already. Anthea squinted through a black eye that was purple and still swelling and nibbled on her lower lip a thoughtful look on her face.
"Not necessarily"
Both ex-soldiers stared at her and then at the ruin just in case the laws of physics had been rewritten and all the damage had fixed itself.
"Um," John wetted his lips and flicked a hand out a their battlefield "We have two hours tops before Her Majesty comes to do an inspection before tonight's event and half the tables are broken all the flower arrangements are compost and I'm fairly sure we've lost some of the silverware."
"I can fix the tables in two hours," Anthea sniffed then fixing both men with a glare "without Mycroft being any the wiser."
John shuddered and Moran winced at the thought, Her Majesty was bad enough but Mycroft Holmes public execution would be a mercy by comparison.
Moran ran a finger round the neck of his t-shirt, checked to make sure they were truly alone before whispering "ICanFixTheFlowersIfYouDon'tMindJapanesesStyle."
It was Anthea's turn to stare in shocked disbelieving silence, John parsed the sentence for a third time and ventured "Spent some time in the Far East have you?"
"A fair bit yes." Moran replied not meeting anyone's eyes "You'd be surprised how inventive they can be in the art of death by botany."
"No I really wouldn't" John retorted "At this point not a lot surprises me any more."
"Check out back," Anthea told Moran "they always over order on the blooms to give themselves choice."
"Right so tables and flowers fixed, I'll layout places but someone needs to find me a palace acceptable suit if I'm going to direct tonight." John declared reaching for a couple of baskets.
"If you're going to direct tonight?" Anthea asked
"Yeah" John answered absently, "I worked a lot of hospitality jobs to pay for collage and uni. I know how this sort of thing runs."
"I'll just go borrow a tool kit and sort out a suit" Anthea said walking out of the room Blackberry in hand.
"Um yeah, I'll" Moran jerked a thumb over his shoulder and fled.
John began to sort out the debris of cutlery and napkins into his baskets firmly not contemplating how he got into this mess or how they were going to get out of it again.
oOo
At the end of two very busy hours Anthea had some more bruises and a collection of splinters from her emergency woodworking, Moran's arms looked liked he lost a fight with a enraged kitten and John was feeling a little high on silver polish but the room looked as immaculate as it had when they first stumbled in fists and feet flying. Moran and Anthea where discreetly smuggling the awake but groggy butler out a side door and John was tugging his borrowed suit into place feeling just a nervous as he had before his first dress parade when the royal inspection party entered via the main doors. John just caught the sigh of relief that Mycroft wasn't in the party, apparently still to busy manipulating and charming the guests.
Half an hour later after tugging vases a few millimetres this way or that and adjusting chairs minutely the room had been approved and John dismissed to begin preparations for serving, turning a corner he walked into Moran hurrying the other way dressed in footman's livery.
"What the.." John muttered as he stabbed a finger down the corridor to indicate the direction of travel
"Someone needs to stay between you and the other Holmes, can't be the chick he knows her so you got me." Moran fell in behind John with all the ease of a soldier on parade.
"Right" John nodded, "just like mess drill, here are the ground rules. First keep your gloves on and buttoned...."
oOo
How the hell did I survive that? John asked himself later that night as he slumped against the wall of a set of back stairs waiting for his co-conspirators to join him, if we ever managed to sink our differences we'd be more dangers than Jim and both Holmes'. John considered that thought. On the whole he should probably be more disturbed by the fact he was possible more of a danger to society than Jim Moriaty but right now he couldn't muster the energy to care.
The sound of hurrying footsteps and Anthea and Moran bickering brought him upright as fresh surge of adrenalin shot through him.
"Mycroft's on the prowl, I think he made one of us" Anthea told him "we need to get out of the palace grounds. For preference not via a gate."
John swung into step with Moran and shrugged "We trashed and fixed an official palace function in two hours how hard can it be to scale the walls?"
"Split up, anyone gets caught stay silent." Moran commanded as the spiralled down to ground level. "Drinks for the survivors next week?"
Anthea and John nodded in agreement before the three of them headed in different directions on the quest for freedom.