Fic: Superheroes
Title: Superheroes
Rating: Any
Summary: Prompt "Sherlock and Harry are captured and both held at gun point. John, while trying to save them, can only help one and has to chose which one to save while the other will most likely be shot. Who will he chose? His sister or his life time friend?" And, after the angsty last one I reposted, time for an angsty prompt with humorous fill... Totally didn't fill this as the OP wanted.
"I always promised I'd get even with you John," Steve growled, ripping the tie used as a blindfold off John's face. John blinked, the room surprisingly bright for an abandoned warehouse. He twisted his hands again, despite knowing nothing would come of it. Steve had always been best at securing the enemy.
His eyes adjusted, the glare from staring directly into a spotlight fading, to reveal Sherlock and Harry, forced to their knees. Each had a gun leveled at their head.
Sherlock looked calm, despite his ruffled clothing. Bored almost, as if he was already assured of the outcome. Harry was listed to the side, leaning into the gun to provide balance. She was a mess, dark circles, stained and wrinkled clothing, with eyes that kept drifting shut jumping open at every loud noise - all signs of her deteriorating state due to drinking. John wouldn't be surprised to learn she was drunk now - or hungover. Sherlock had gone missing 28 hours ago, and as he didn't keep in close contact with Harry, he couldn't say how long she's been held.
"I've been waiting for three long years John," Steve said, relishing in every word, footsteps echoing as he paced, "Three years John. You don't know how long that is, every day worse than the one before. Oh, but I had hope. One day, I would be able to destroy your life as you did mine."
John tried to watch Steve, to keep an eye on his men, but he kept finding his gaze drawn back to his sister. It wasn't fair to her. She may be a drunk, may have destroyed her own life, driven away anyone who cared for her, refused every offer of help, but she couldn't expect this. Sherlock loved it, lived for this outcome, but Harry? She was just trying to survive another day.
"Brilliant, isn't it?" Steve asked, stopping in front of John and cluing him back into conversation. John stared back silently, trying to figure out what was going on. Steve had a monotone voice so very easy to tune out - one everyone joked could put a charging bull to sleep.
Steve laughed at his lack of reaction, "Oh, don't be that way! It's perfect. Just like the day you ruined my life, you get to make a choice. Who will you save? Your sister or," Steve drawled out or, a grin on his face, "your 'friend', Sherlock. What means more to you? Blood or the body that warms your bed?"
John ignored Steve's crude implications, looking beyond him to Sherlock and Harry. Harry had done the impossible and looked to be sleeping, depending completely on the gun to keep her upright. Sherlock was studying Steve closely, calculating outcomes likely. For all the trouble they'd been in, this situation was rather new.
"Well John? Say a name or I'll just kill both."
John met Sherlock's eye, wondering at his lack of fear. Without taking his eyes off Sherlock, John answered. "Harry. I save Harry."
It was as if everything paused, everyone considering the choice he made (rather easily actually, he didn't try to protest once) before Sherlock's eyes widened. Surprise. Shock. Fear. It could be any of that, for all that time seemed to slow, John's attention was caught elsewhere.
Harry had taken advantage of the pause from John's easy capitulation, throwing herself sideways at Sherlock. Without hesitation she jumped up from Sherlock's downed form and tackled the man who had been holding a gun to Sherlock. They fought over the gun, it discharging once harmlessly into the ceiling. A slow smile formed on John's face as Harry fought, holding nothing back. She fought dirty and didn't care. Knees slammed repeatedly into groins, her hard and bony elbows finding the tenderest spots, fingers shoving at the mouth and eyes, teeth biting and tearing.
Sherlock was recovering from the tackle, scooting back and trying to right himself when the second gunman finally reacted. The man brought his gun up, aimed at the fight but hesitant to fire. Steve growled, grabbing the gun, "What's wrong with you? Shoot! Just shoot!"
Steve didn't have time to aim.
Harry had successfully gained the gun. Laying on her side she fired, watching emotionlessly as Steve doubled over. Without moving to fix her form she shot again and again and again until all three captures were dead.
John's ears were still ringing from the gunfire when Sherlock finally struggled to his feet, hands tied behind his back. "Well. Yes. I could have done the same," Sherlock sniffed at the looks the Watson siblings sent him, "I could have, if they had deemed me to be as low a threat as Harry. I'm sure you noted her hands tied in front of her body and mine behind and that's why you chose her." Sherlock looked a little loss when he added, "Right John?"
"Right." Actually, John hadn't noticed at all.
Harry rolled her eyes, dropping the gun to the floor. John sent her a smile, but she ignored him and began picking at her tied hands using her teeth.
Hours later, after they'd given their statements to Lestrade and had finally made it home, Sherlock turned to John, "Really? You chose Harry? Not me?"
John shrugged, "She's my sister. Besides," he added, watching Sherlock deflate, "it was a situation we had discussed at length as children."
Sherlock frowned, "As children, you and your sister discussed how to behave in hostage situations, specifically if one of you were forced to choose between multiple people?"
"Yeah," John said casually. It was amusing, watching Sherlock so completely out of his comfort zone. "Superheroes had to make the choice all the time - we needed to be ready. Though usually," John added thoughtfully, "I played the kidnapped sidekick. Harry promised to kill me herself if I ever failed her in a hostage situation."
Rating: Any
Summary: Prompt "Sherlock and Harry are captured and both held at gun point. John, while trying to save them, can only help one and has to chose which one to save while the other will most likely be shot. Who will he chose? His sister or his life time friend?" And, after the angsty last one I reposted, time for an angsty prompt with humorous fill... Totally didn't fill this as the OP wanted.
"I always promised I'd get even with you John," Steve growled, ripping the tie used as a blindfold off John's face. John blinked, the room surprisingly bright for an abandoned warehouse. He twisted his hands again, despite knowing nothing would come of it. Steve had always been best at securing the enemy.
His eyes adjusted, the glare from staring directly into a spotlight fading, to reveal Sherlock and Harry, forced to their knees. Each had a gun leveled at their head.
Sherlock looked calm, despite his ruffled clothing. Bored almost, as if he was already assured of the outcome. Harry was listed to the side, leaning into the gun to provide balance. She was a mess, dark circles, stained and wrinkled clothing, with eyes that kept drifting shut jumping open at every loud noise - all signs of her deteriorating state due to drinking. John wouldn't be surprised to learn she was drunk now - or hungover. Sherlock had gone missing 28 hours ago, and as he didn't keep in close contact with Harry, he couldn't say how long she's been held.
"I've been waiting for three long years John," Steve said, relishing in every word, footsteps echoing as he paced, "Three years John. You don't know how long that is, every day worse than the one before. Oh, but I had hope. One day, I would be able to destroy your life as you did mine."
John tried to watch Steve, to keep an eye on his men, but he kept finding his gaze drawn back to his sister. It wasn't fair to her. She may be a drunk, may have destroyed her own life, driven away anyone who cared for her, refused every offer of help, but she couldn't expect this. Sherlock loved it, lived for this outcome, but Harry? She was just trying to survive another day.
"Brilliant, isn't it?" Steve asked, stopping in front of John and cluing him back into conversation. John stared back silently, trying to figure out what was going on. Steve had a monotone voice so very easy to tune out - one everyone joked could put a charging bull to sleep.
Steve laughed at his lack of reaction, "Oh, don't be that way! It's perfect. Just like the day you ruined my life, you get to make a choice. Who will you save? Your sister or," Steve drawled out or, a grin on his face, "your 'friend', Sherlock. What means more to you? Blood or the body that warms your bed?"
John ignored Steve's crude implications, looking beyond him to Sherlock and Harry. Harry had done the impossible and looked to be sleeping, depending completely on the gun to keep her upright. Sherlock was studying Steve closely, calculating outcomes likely. For all the trouble they'd been in, this situation was rather new.
"Well John? Say a name or I'll just kill both."
John met Sherlock's eye, wondering at his lack of fear. Without taking his eyes off Sherlock, John answered. "Harry. I save Harry."
It was as if everything paused, everyone considering the choice he made (rather easily actually, he didn't try to protest once) before Sherlock's eyes widened. Surprise. Shock. Fear. It could be any of that, for all that time seemed to slow, John's attention was caught elsewhere.
Harry had taken advantage of the pause from John's easy capitulation, throwing herself sideways at Sherlock. Without hesitation she jumped up from Sherlock's downed form and tackled the man who had been holding a gun to Sherlock. They fought over the gun, it discharging once harmlessly into the ceiling. A slow smile formed on John's face as Harry fought, holding nothing back. She fought dirty and didn't care. Knees slammed repeatedly into groins, her hard and bony elbows finding the tenderest spots, fingers shoving at the mouth and eyes, teeth biting and tearing.
Sherlock was recovering from the tackle, scooting back and trying to right himself when the second gunman finally reacted. The man brought his gun up, aimed at the fight but hesitant to fire. Steve growled, grabbing the gun, "What's wrong with you? Shoot! Just shoot!"
Steve didn't have time to aim.
Harry had successfully gained the gun. Laying on her side she fired, watching emotionlessly as Steve doubled over. Without moving to fix her form she shot again and again and again until all three captures were dead.
John's ears were still ringing from the gunfire when Sherlock finally struggled to his feet, hands tied behind his back. "Well. Yes. I could have done the same," Sherlock sniffed at the looks the Watson siblings sent him, "I could have, if they had deemed me to be as low a threat as Harry. I'm sure you noted her hands tied in front of her body and mine behind and that's why you chose her." Sherlock looked a little loss when he added, "Right John?"
"Right." Actually, John hadn't noticed at all.
Harry rolled her eyes, dropping the gun to the floor. John sent her a smile, but she ignored him and began picking at her tied hands using her teeth.
Hours later, after they'd given their statements to Lestrade and had finally made it home, Sherlock turned to John, "Really? You chose Harry? Not me?"
John shrugged, "She's my sister. Besides," he added, watching Sherlock deflate, "it was a situation we had discussed at length as children."
Sherlock frowned, "As children, you and your sister discussed how to behave in hostage situations, specifically if one of you were forced to choose between multiple people?"
"Yeah," John said casually. It was amusing, watching Sherlock so completely out of his comfort zone. "Superheroes had to make the choice all the time - we needed to be ready. Though usually," John added thoughtfully, "I played the kidnapped sidekick. Harry promised to kill me herself if I ever failed her in a hostage situation."