For Skeller- I am afraid that it sucks and it's not what you wanted, but for you all the same!
“Now, I'd like for you to take a moment and think about what your next words are going to be. People in your position tend to say the same fucking things to me and I'm thoroughly sick of hearing the useless shit that comes out of your mouths, because let me assure you, these ARE the last words you will ever say, and I'd really rather not hear you begging for your life as that is an absolute waste of your very precious and rapidly escaping time. You see, I am more than professional in my duties and you are nothing but a loose end and these words I am allowing you time to think over are a mere courtesy I feel all persons such as yourself should be allowed. So do think carefully. I'll give you a moment longer, and then I am going to shoot you directly and without further ado, so please, do think on it, and don't disappoint.”
The camera pulls back around the corner and you hear a whimper, a few desperate sounding words, a disappointed sigh, and a perfunctory gunshot.
George isn't a fan of unoriginality.
The first time was for a job. The mark was just an address and a picture. It wasn't supposed to be easy, George didn't get called in for easy, but it appeared to be a normal job all the same. He liked his work. It paid the bills, there was ample vacation time (not that he ever went anywhere), and when it wasn't incredibly boring, it was incredibly exciting.
It turned out that this was one of the incredibly exciting times.
The man, when cornered, talked. And not just any nattering, but brilliant flights of fancy and impenetrable logic that made George smile. It helped that the man made jokes at his own expense when a gun was trained on his head. George decided to let him go.
Sherlock knew he would.
The second time was because George was incredibly, incredibly bored. He was working for himself this time, curious about The Man and amused at the complete lack of shock his employer had shown when he came back empty-handed. George occasionally came back without his quarry, but the reasons he gave were always more than convincing, as was his overall success rate, only this time he hadn't needed any. Just showed up and his client said he expected as much and that it was worth a try anyway.
George did his research. He found rather an incredible abundance of information, most of which he discarded as spurious-- mostly smoke and mirrors-- and the shape of what he was left with formed a rather thoroughly interesting man. It seemed that Sherlock Holmes solved crimes. Murders specifically, and that he did it exceptionally well. Which begged the question-- why hadn't Holmes come after him? It's not as though he was hard to find, it was just that most people would rather not find him. His brand of violence left little to the imagination, and was as brutal as it was effective. What it wasn't, was subtle.
George likes puzzles. That's how he explains to himself how he ends up trading riddles with a recently conscious, semi-effectively restrained muzzy-headed Holmes. Even with the last vestiges of the tranquilizers still making his speech slurred, Holmes is brilliant and manages to be self-deprecating and disarming enough to escape his bonds and throw himself out a window and into the river. George isn't particularly disappointed. Those were certainly not his best knots, and he didn't enjoy not getting to thwart a marks efforts to escape. He liked thwarting, but it wasn't part of the game.
The next time he doesn't go to the trouble of restraining Holmes as he's fairly certain that even his best knots wouldn't hold him for long, but he thinks he knows something that might. After jumping out of a window and landing squarely on top of Holmes, all George does is pin him down and give him a riddle. It actually takes Holmes a few moments to get this one and George is rather proud of that fact, but he does get it and gives another in return which George thinks on and responds in what he thinks might be record time. Holmes punches him in the face and he twists out of George's grip. As he runs off he turns and they both grin like madmen at each other before he's gone.
There is a fourth and fifth time, and George is hunted by Holmes on both occasions. Once in a dark alleyway where George never even sees him, just feels the cold prick of a knife at his throat and feels Holmes' breath go past his ear as he asks his riddle, and once on his way out of the butcher's where Holmes' query is written on the paper his fish has been wrapped in. George yells his answer over the Saturday crowd, knowing that Holmes is close enough to hear it. They could end this game, but neither of them want to give up the pure fun of the chase and the constant testing of their abilities. If either of them didn't want to be caught, they wouldn't be (except perhaps through a stroke of luck). They are well matched for all their differences, and that's a rare enough thing that they both know well enough to savor each meeting.
The next time they meet it's much more mundane. Holmes and Watson stroll into the pub George has taken a fancy to in the weeks past. They sit at the bar, Watson casually passes the barkeep a few notes and they chat about the weather while they drink their beer. Holmes rather pointedly does not look in his direction. George knows that Holmes knows that he's there and is giving him the opportunity to set the tone for this new interaction. As he was planning on leaving anyway, he happily buys their next round, collects his change, tips his hat to Holmes, smiles at Watson and walks out into the evening's shadows.
George isn't sure about this new development just yet, but he's grown really rather fond of their little interactions and doesn't want them to end anytime soon. He puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out the note the barkeep slipped him. It reads--
George Harris,
Watson is beginning to suspect the bruises I have been acquiring are a bit less than innocent. I told him they were from a rather persistent assailant, but you must admit, it does seem to be a tall tale that I would be caught by the same man so many times.
So then, shall we follow the logical course of action? My dining room, Sunday at noon. I should like to introduce my intelligent new friend to my better half and restore my previous levels of domestic bliss.
Perhaps we could discuss your possible employment? I could use some additional muscle when intimidation is the most effective method. Watson is depressingly skinny.
-Holmes
George thinks that he'll go.