Sherlock flung the contents of the bucket over John. A wall of water hit him square across the face and chest, snapping his head to one side with the shock of the impact. Water cascaded from his shoulders turning the stage into a pool of rusty red mud, covered in floating patches of irridescent oil.
There was a moments stillness punctuated only by the clicking of the shutter button of Sally's camera before John shook his head and quietly and quite deliberately said:
“Fuck.”
“Sorry,” said Sally biting her lip.
“Keep shooting,” said Sherlock.
“Fucking fuck.”
“Excellent,” said Sherlock. “Shock, dawning anger. Are you getting this Sally?”
“Yes,”
“Fuck, that’s cold.” John pushed his hair from his eyes. “Did you chill it?”
“I might have added a few ice cubes,” said Sherlock. "It's an old hack's trick."
John growled, the clay remained trapped in the oil coating his skin, clogging his hair, etching the lines across his face in stark relief and dripping in dirty runnels from his chin.
“Good,” said Sherlock. “Savage, primitive, come on.” He picked up his own camera.
John clenched his fists and started towards him deliberately. His bare feet slipped on the slick of clay, water and oil which coated the tarpaulin and he fell to one knee with a muttered curse. Tried to get up and slid again, covering himself with streaks of wet dirt.
“Primal,” said Sherlock and took a single picture with a final deliberate sounding click.
“We are done here,” said John.
“Quite right,” said Sherlock. He slipped the memory card from his camera. “That’s a wrap.”
“Ok,” said Lestrade coming back from the phone call. “Change of plan, you don’t need to...” he took in the scene of devastation in front of him.
“Too late?”
“Just a bit,” said John, he knelt up, wiped water from his eyes.
“What’s happened?” said Sally.
“They’re wavering on calling it Wet Earth. Can we get John a towel before he turns blue, someone? They’re thinking of turning the bottle silver and calling it Moon Rock. And having it advertised by dolphins.”
“What’s the moon got to do with dolphins?” said Sally.
“Who knows,” said Lestrade. “Anyway, they send their apologies; they’re going to pay the full fee plus an additional twenty per cent for lost opportunity. And if we want to get involved with the dolphins give them a call next week.”
“I’m not working with dolphins,” said Sherlock transferring the images onto the laptop. “It’s cruel."
They looked at him.
"What?” he said. “They’re very clever animals, they’d find it stressful.”
“I know how they feel,” said John. They'd found him a towel which he'd wrapped around his waist. His teeth were chattering.
“So they’re not going to use any of them?” Sally said.
“Apparently not,” said Lestrade. "Sorry guys." He looked at his watch. “Ok let’s call it a day.”
“What do you want done with this,” said Sally looking at the mud spattered tarpaulin. “Shall I try rinsing it off?”
“Leave it out and let it dry a bit. We’ll roll it up and take it to the tip tomorrow. Don’t want to risk a fine for clogging the drains on top of everything else,” said Lestrade. “John, you’ve been the consummate professional. Here’s my card; give me a call if there’s any future projects you think we could work on.”
John looked at it.
“Just ‘Lestrade,’” he said. “No first name?”
“He only uses the one name,” said Sally. “He’s like Kylie, but without the gold lame hot pants.”
“Well, only at weekends,” said Lestrade, he gave a wiggle. “Right, I’ve got to go and pick up the kids. Sally, Sherlock, good work today. Shame it didn't work out, but win some, lose some. Anyone need a lift?”
“I’ve got to shower,” said John collecting up his things.
“I'll stay and let you out,” said Sally.
“No, I'll stay," said Sherlock. "I need to edit these.”
“I’ll take you up on that lift then,” Sally said to Lestrade after a pause. “Bye, John. Nice working with you. Sorry the campaign isn't going to fly."
“Oh well," he said. ”I expect there will be others. Probably. Best of luck. I, er, won’t shake your hand.” He held up his dirty palms in explanation.
“That’s ok,” she said and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t let him follow you home,” she added in a lower voice. “Bye!”
“Bye,” said John, blinking.
“See...you...later,” said Sherlock engrossed in editing.
There was a moments stillness punctuated only by the clicking of the shutter button of Sally's camera before John shook his head and quietly and quite deliberately said:
“Fuck.”
“Sorry,” said Sally biting her lip.
“Keep shooting,” said Sherlock.
“Fucking fuck.”
“Excellent,” said Sherlock. “Shock, dawning anger. Are you getting this Sally?”
“Yes,”
“Fuck, that’s cold.” John pushed his hair from his eyes. “Did you chill it?”
“I might have added a few ice cubes,” said Sherlock. "It's an old hack's trick."
John growled, the clay remained trapped in the oil coating his skin, clogging his hair, etching the lines across his face in stark relief and dripping in dirty runnels from his chin.
“Good,” said Sherlock. “Savage, primitive, come on.” He picked up his own camera.
John clenched his fists and started towards him deliberately. His bare feet slipped on the slick of clay, water and oil which coated the tarpaulin and he fell to one knee with a muttered curse. Tried to get up and slid again, covering himself with streaks of wet dirt.
“Primal,” said Sherlock and took a single picture with a final deliberate sounding click.
“We are done here,” said John.
“Quite right,” said Sherlock. He slipped the memory card from his camera. “That’s a wrap.”
“Ok,” said Lestrade coming back from the phone call. “Change of plan, you don’t need to...” he took in the scene of devastation in front of him.
“Too late?”
“Just a bit,” said John, he knelt up, wiped water from his eyes.
“What’s happened?” said Sally.
“They’re wavering on calling it Wet Earth. Can we get John a towel before he turns blue, someone? They’re thinking of turning the bottle silver and calling it Moon Rock. And having it advertised by dolphins.”
“What’s the moon got to do with dolphins?” said Sally.
“Who knows,” said Lestrade. “Anyway, they send their apologies; they’re going to pay the full fee plus an additional twenty per cent for lost opportunity. And if we want to get involved with the dolphins give them a call next week.”
“I’m not working with dolphins,” said Sherlock transferring the images onto the laptop. “It’s cruel."
They looked at him.
"What?” he said. “They’re very clever animals, they’d find it stressful.”
“I know how they feel,” said John. They'd found him a towel which he'd wrapped around his waist. His teeth were chattering.
“So they’re not going to use any of them?” Sally said.
“Apparently not,” said Lestrade. "Sorry guys." He looked at his watch. “Ok let’s call it a day.”
“What do you want done with this,” said Sally looking at the mud spattered tarpaulin. “Shall I try rinsing it off?”
“Leave it out and let it dry a bit. We’ll roll it up and take it to the tip tomorrow. Don’t want to risk a fine for clogging the drains on top of everything else,” said Lestrade. “John, you’ve been the consummate professional. Here’s my card; give me a call if there’s any future projects you think we could work on.”
John looked at it.
“Just ‘Lestrade,’” he said. “No first name?”
“He only uses the one name,” said Sally. “He’s like Kylie, but without the gold lame hot pants.”
“Well, only at weekends,” said Lestrade, he gave a wiggle. “Right, I’ve got to go and pick up the kids. Sally, Sherlock, good work today. Shame it didn't work out, but win some, lose some. Anyone need a lift?”
“I’ve got to shower,” said John collecting up his things.
“I'll stay and let you out,” said Sally.
“No, I'll stay," said Sherlock. "I need to edit these.”
“I’ll take you up on that lift then,” Sally said to Lestrade after a pause. “Bye, John. Nice working with you. Sorry the campaign isn't going to fly."
“Oh well," he said. ”I expect there will be others. Probably. Best of luck. I, er, won’t shake your hand.” He held up his dirty palms in explanation.
“That’s ok,” she said and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t let him follow you home,” she added in a lower voice. “Bye!”
“Bye,” said John, blinking.
“See...you...later,” said Sherlock engrossed in editing.
Reply
Leave a comment