On the eighth day of Sherlockmas: In Closets, Hidden (3/3), for xenadragon_xoxo
Author: pippnfrodo
Title: In Closets, Hidden
A gift for: xenadragon_xoxo
Characters/Pairing: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft Holmes, Harry Watson, OCs
Category: Gen
Rating: PG13
Warnings: violence, mention of drugs (overdose), coarse language
Summary: When the past you've tried years to forget about decides to come back to haunt you, and comes after you, your sister, and your friends, it's always nice to have a consulting detective as a friend/flat mate. And a Detective Inspector and British Government doesn't hurt either.
Author's Notes: Thanks goes to my friend KP for letting me babble and rant about this, and for brainstorming with me. Thanks to xenadragon for the wonderful prompts! I hope you enjoy this and its a good gift. Happy holidays!
7.
"Come on out Johnny!" The man called again, closer this time. "And where is little Harriet? Come out so I can see you!"
John glanced one last time first at Harry then Sherlock, his gun now in his hand and the safety off. Then he slid around the doorway, keeping his back to the wall and brought up his gun to point it at the man standing in the middle of the hallway.
John pressed himself into the corner where the doorway met the wall and eyed up the other man. The man was holding a gun in his right hand, not very expertly but John wasn't being critical when it was pointing at him. He was dressed casually in jeans and a sweatshirt, the hood pulled up over his head probably in an attempt to hide his face. The sunglasses he was wearing even indoors also helped. He still looked pretty threatening, especially with the gun.
The man smiled crookedly at him, and greeted, "There you are Johnny. Surprised to see me?"
"Not really since you followed us here." John replied calmly. If the man thought he would turn into a shaking mess just because he had a gun pointing at him, he was sorely mistaken. "I'm just surprised to see you so soon. I thought you'd wait to come after us. But here you are, already barging in and threatening us."
A shadow passed across the man's face and he thrust the gun forward towards John. "I waited long enough. I spent year after year in that awful place just waiting until I was free and I could come after you. All of you ruined my life. Just because you happened to find us we were all put away and you boys were such heroes. Heroes for putting away the mean, dirty criminals."
"That's what happens to criminals, you're locked away behind bars where you belong," John barked angrily, letting all his anger funnel into his voice.
"We didn't belong there!" The man shouted, advancing on John two more steps. He gestured wildly with the gun again. "You don't know what it was like! It was awful!"
"You deserved it!" John shouted back, bringing up his other hand to steady his gun.
The man smiled coldly at him. "What, you gonna shoot me Johnny?"
"If he doesn't, I will," Sherlock promised as he moved from around the other side of the doorway to stand against the wall. He was hiding something behind his back but John couldn't tell exactly what.
The man's confidence slipped for a second as he glanced over at Sherlock. "And who're you?"
"A friend of John's," Sherlock answered calmly. "And also someone who would feel perfectly in their right shooting you."
"You won't shoot me," the man said confidently, but he shifted the gun to point at Sherlock. "Neither of you will."
"How sure of that are you?" Sherlock asked evenly, watching as John began to slowly move down the hallway toward the man, his back still against the wall.
John nodded at Sherlock, silently indicating for Sherlock to keep the man's attention focused on him.
Sherlock nodded in return and started talking again. "You really think you can shoot either of us? You may be a criminal but you're not a killer. You don't have the stomach for murder."
From his closer vantage point John saw the man's mouth twist in a sharp smile. "I've already killed. I killed Mark, remember? He deserved to die, and it was such a slow death."
"Yes, by overdose wasn't it? Pretty messy for an experienced murderer." Sherlock commented skeptically. "Not your best work. And it also means you didn't kill him; you just used a handy means of making him die. You didn't do it yourself."
"I killed him! I got my revenge!" The man shouted, matching the level the alarm was still making.
"If you say so," Sherlock replied still keeping his voice even, and smiling the superior smile that always annoyed John.
By now John was nearly level with the man, standing behind him against the wall. After a reassuring nod from Sherlock John peeled away, his gun trained on the man's back.
He took one slow step then another as Sherlock continued talking, criticizing the man's actions and motives in sentence after sentence while not giving the man any time or opening to respond. From the gleam in Sherlock's eyes John could tell he was enjoying it.
John took one last step, silently shifting his weight from toe to hell until he was standing directly behind the man, bare inches from his back. John raised his arm, moving slowly as to not make any noise, and pressed the muzzle of his gun into the man's neck.
"Drop your gun," John ordered, pressing harder.
The man froze in place, his breath catching.
"Drop. Your. Gun." John commanded. "Now."
"Okay, okay," the man said, all confidence gone from his voice. He started lowering his arm, crouching down, and for a second John thought he might actually do as he was told.
But then he was coming back up, turning around to face John his gun moving with him. John's gun slipped from the back of his neck and John had to readjust his aim. He was almost confident he could move faster and be pointing at the man before the gun was trained on himself again, but could he really?
A gunshot rang out, echoing in the tight hallway. John instinctively ducked, still pointing his gun up in the general direction of the man.
But the man gave a strangled yell, dropping the gun like it had shocked him. A second later the man collapsed to the floor himself, falling to his knees clutching at his arm.
Now there was no immediate danger anymore John slowly rose to his feet, gun still trained on the man. He was gripping his right arm with his left hand, blood pooling under his fingers. So he'd been shot in his arm and the shock had made him drop his gun. But John hadn't fired his weapon, which meant…
John looked over at Sherlock who somehow had a gun in his hand now, a gun that he had definitely not been holding before. "Thanks," John said, still a little shocked.
Sherlock smiled at him. "No problem at all."
John took a few steps so he could kick the intruder's gun away to where it wasn't within reach. He kept his gun on the intruder but was looking at Sherlock when there noise from by the open front door.
John and Sherlock both turned and Harry slowly came over to stand off to one side. Just outside the front door Lestrade had arrived with two other men, all wearing bullet-proof vests with ‘Police' in large font and their guns up and ready.
Lestrade declared "Police!" then advanced inside with his gun still at the ready… until he saw John and Sherlock standing in the hallway, and the man on the floor clutching his arm.
Lestrade sighed and lowered his gun, holstering it again. "Never mind, put your guns away," Lestrade told the other two men with him who did as they were told, looking faintly surprised at the scene they'd stumbled on.
Lestrade looked first at John, eyes pausing on the gun still in his hand, then over to Sherlock where he noticed that gun as well. Then the Detective Inspector shook his head and asked, addressing both of them, "Is this one of those times where I'll have to look the other way and pretend I didn't see anything?"
John treated Lestrade to his best innocent smile. "I don't know what you mean, Detective Inspector. We were just defending ourselves."
Sherlock was a bit more to the point. "No need to worry, Lestrade. Both guns are perfectly legal and have documentation. That one, however," he said, pointing at the gun the intruder had used, "likely does not."
"Uh huh, I see," Lestrade said reasonably. "So let me guess what happened. You two were just visiting when this fellow barged in, pulled a gun on you, and started threatening you. So you decided to defend yourselves, and made the man drop his weapon by shooting him in the arm?"
"Yeah, that's a pretty good summary of what happened actually," John agreed nodding.
"All in self-defense, Detective Inspector, with no messy dead bodies for you to deal with." Sherlock added.
"Well, thanks. I appreciate that," Lestrade told them as he walked over to the man still on the floor.
He grabbed the intruders arm and pulled him up to his feet, ignoring the man's cry of pain. "You are under arrest. I think we should take a trip down to my office, have a little chat." Lestrade pulled out a pair of handcuffs and closed them around the man's wrist then twisted his other arm back to close it around the other wrist. "Come on," he said, turning the man around and pushing him towards the front door.
"All in a days work, Detective Inspector," John called as Lestrade walked with the man towards the front door, one hand on his shoulder and the other around his wrists.
"You owe me a beer Watson!" Lestrade called back and stepped outside and down onto the paved walk. One of the officers who'd been with him followed close behind.
The other officer came over and used a gloved hand to pick up the intruders gun, dropping it inside an evidence bag he taken from his pocket. "Good work," he told Sherlock and John then turned and followed Lestrade.
Once all the police were outside on the road by the police car, John turned to Sherlock and asked a question that had been nagging at him. "Where did you get that gun anyway? You didn't have it before."
Sherlock smiled at him. "This is Mycroft's place, John. You really think he doesn't have weapons stored all over just in case something exactly like this happens?"
"Well, I suppose not. He does seem paranoid like that," John agreed. He put the safety back on his gun and slid it into his waistband.
"Exactly," Sherlock agreed.
"Are all of your cases like this?" Harry asked from where she was still standing against the wall, out of the way.
"Not always," John reassured her as he walked to her. "The bad guy usually doesn't give a speech like that. And someone doesn't always get shot."
"And the police don't always arrive just in time," Sherlock added, following John.
"Sherlock!" John scolded, shaking his head at him. John stopped in front of his sister and lightly gripped her shoulders. "Are you okay?"
Harry nodded, obviously not looking over his shoulder at the small pool of blood on the carpet. "I'm fine," she said in a surprisingly strong voice given what she'd just witnessed. "But… it's all over now right? We're safe?"
"We're safe," John promised, and gave in to the temptation to give her a hug. He squeezed her tightly around the shoulders and added, "Lestrade's a good man. He'll make sure that guy goes away for a very long time. And he'll make sure none of the others can ever get out either."
"Good," Harry said strongly. John felt her arms snake around his waist and she squeezed once. "Then…"
"Yeah?" John asked, pulling back a bit when she trailed off.
Harry raised her head to meet his eyes. "Can we have that tea now?"
John heard Sherlock laugh from somewhere over his shoulder. "Yeah, Harry," he said, feeling his face split with a smile. "We can have that tea now."
Title: In Closets, Hidden
A gift for: xenadragon_xoxo
Characters/Pairing: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft Holmes, Harry Watson, OCs
Category: Gen
Rating: PG13
Warnings: violence, mention of drugs (overdose), coarse language
Summary: When the past you've tried years to forget about decides to come back to haunt you, and comes after you, your sister, and your friends, it's always nice to have a consulting detective as a friend/flat mate. And a Detective Inspector and British Government doesn't hurt either.
Author's Notes: Thanks goes to my friend KP for letting me babble and rant about this, and for brainstorming with me. Thanks to xenadragon for the wonderful prompts! I hope you enjoy this and its a good gift. Happy holidays!
7.
"Come on out Johnny!" The man called again, closer this time. "And where is little Harriet? Come out so I can see you!"
John glanced one last time first at Harry then Sherlock, his gun now in his hand and the safety off. Then he slid around the doorway, keeping his back to the wall and brought up his gun to point it at the man standing in the middle of the hallway.
John pressed himself into the corner where the doorway met the wall and eyed up the other man. The man was holding a gun in his right hand, not very expertly but John wasn't being critical when it was pointing at him. He was dressed casually in jeans and a sweatshirt, the hood pulled up over his head probably in an attempt to hide his face. The sunglasses he was wearing even indoors also helped. He still looked pretty threatening, especially with the gun.
The man smiled crookedly at him, and greeted, "There you are Johnny. Surprised to see me?"
"Not really since you followed us here." John replied calmly. If the man thought he would turn into a shaking mess just because he had a gun pointing at him, he was sorely mistaken. "I'm just surprised to see you so soon. I thought you'd wait to come after us. But here you are, already barging in and threatening us."
A shadow passed across the man's face and he thrust the gun forward towards John. "I waited long enough. I spent year after year in that awful place just waiting until I was free and I could come after you. All of you ruined my life. Just because you happened to find us we were all put away and you boys were such heroes. Heroes for putting away the mean, dirty criminals."
"That's what happens to criminals, you're locked away behind bars where you belong," John barked angrily, letting all his anger funnel into his voice.
"We didn't belong there!" The man shouted, advancing on John two more steps. He gestured wildly with the gun again. "You don't know what it was like! It was awful!"
"You deserved it!" John shouted back, bringing up his other hand to steady his gun.
The man smiled coldly at him. "What, you gonna shoot me Johnny?"
"If he doesn't, I will," Sherlock promised as he moved from around the other side of the doorway to stand against the wall. He was hiding something behind his back but John couldn't tell exactly what.
The man's confidence slipped for a second as he glanced over at Sherlock. "And who're you?"
"A friend of John's," Sherlock answered calmly. "And also someone who would feel perfectly in their right shooting you."
"You won't shoot me," the man said confidently, but he shifted the gun to point at Sherlock. "Neither of you will."
"How sure of that are you?" Sherlock asked evenly, watching as John began to slowly move down the hallway toward the man, his back still against the wall.
John nodded at Sherlock, silently indicating for Sherlock to keep the man's attention focused on him.
Sherlock nodded in return and started talking again. "You really think you can shoot either of us? You may be a criminal but you're not a killer. You don't have the stomach for murder."
From his closer vantage point John saw the man's mouth twist in a sharp smile. "I've already killed. I killed Mark, remember? He deserved to die, and it was such a slow death."
"Yes, by overdose wasn't it? Pretty messy for an experienced murderer." Sherlock commented skeptically. "Not your best work. And it also means you didn't kill him; you just used a handy means of making him die. You didn't do it yourself."
"I killed him! I got my revenge!" The man shouted, matching the level the alarm was still making.
"If you say so," Sherlock replied still keeping his voice even, and smiling the superior smile that always annoyed John.
By now John was nearly level with the man, standing behind him against the wall. After a reassuring nod from Sherlock John peeled away, his gun trained on the man's back.
He took one slow step then another as Sherlock continued talking, criticizing the man's actions and motives in sentence after sentence while not giving the man any time or opening to respond. From the gleam in Sherlock's eyes John could tell he was enjoying it.
John took one last step, silently shifting his weight from toe to hell until he was standing directly behind the man, bare inches from his back. John raised his arm, moving slowly as to not make any noise, and pressed the muzzle of his gun into the man's neck.
"Drop your gun," John ordered, pressing harder.
The man froze in place, his breath catching.
"Drop. Your. Gun." John commanded. "Now."
"Okay, okay," the man said, all confidence gone from his voice. He started lowering his arm, crouching down, and for a second John thought he might actually do as he was told.
But then he was coming back up, turning around to face John his gun moving with him. John's gun slipped from the back of his neck and John had to readjust his aim. He was almost confident he could move faster and be pointing at the man before the gun was trained on himself again, but could he really?
A gunshot rang out, echoing in the tight hallway. John instinctively ducked, still pointing his gun up in the general direction of the man.
But the man gave a strangled yell, dropping the gun like it had shocked him. A second later the man collapsed to the floor himself, falling to his knees clutching at his arm.
Now there was no immediate danger anymore John slowly rose to his feet, gun still trained on the man. He was gripping his right arm with his left hand, blood pooling under his fingers. So he'd been shot in his arm and the shock had made him drop his gun. But John hadn't fired his weapon, which meant…
John looked over at Sherlock who somehow had a gun in his hand now, a gun that he had definitely not been holding before. "Thanks," John said, still a little shocked.
Sherlock smiled at him. "No problem at all."
John took a few steps so he could kick the intruder's gun away to where it wasn't within reach. He kept his gun on the intruder but was looking at Sherlock when there noise from by the open front door.
John and Sherlock both turned and Harry slowly came over to stand off to one side. Just outside the front door Lestrade had arrived with two other men, all wearing bullet-proof vests with ‘Police' in large font and their guns up and ready.
Lestrade declared "Police!" then advanced inside with his gun still at the ready… until he saw John and Sherlock standing in the hallway, and the man on the floor clutching his arm.
Lestrade sighed and lowered his gun, holstering it again. "Never mind, put your guns away," Lestrade told the other two men with him who did as they were told, looking faintly surprised at the scene they'd stumbled on.
Lestrade looked first at John, eyes pausing on the gun still in his hand, then over to Sherlock where he noticed that gun as well. Then the Detective Inspector shook his head and asked, addressing both of them, "Is this one of those times where I'll have to look the other way and pretend I didn't see anything?"
John treated Lestrade to his best innocent smile. "I don't know what you mean, Detective Inspector. We were just defending ourselves."
Sherlock was a bit more to the point. "No need to worry, Lestrade. Both guns are perfectly legal and have documentation. That one, however," he said, pointing at the gun the intruder had used, "likely does not."
"Uh huh, I see," Lestrade said reasonably. "So let me guess what happened. You two were just visiting when this fellow barged in, pulled a gun on you, and started threatening you. So you decided to defend yourselves, and made the man drop his weapon by shooting him in the arm?"
"Yeah, that's a pretty good summary of what happened actually," John agreed nodding.
"All in self-defense, Detective Inspector, with no messy dead bodies for you to deal with." Sherlock added.
"Well, thanks. I appreciate that," Lestrade told them as he walked over to the man still on the floor.
He grabbed the intruders arm and pulled him up to his feet, ignoring the man's cry of pain. "You are under arrest. I think we should take a trip down to my office, have a little chat." Lestrade pulled out a pair of handcuffs and closed them around the man's wrist then twisted his other arm back to close it around the other wrist. "Come on," he said, turning the man around and pushing him towards the front door.
"All in a days work, Detective Inspector," John called as Lestrade walked with the man towards the front door, one hand on his shoulder and the other around his wrists.
"You owe me a beer Watson!" Lestrade called back and stepped outside and down onto the paved walk. One of the officers who'd been with him followed close behind.
The other officer came over and used a gloved hand to pick up the intruders gun, dropping it inside an evidence bag he taken from his pocket. "Good work," he told Sherlock and John then turned and followed Lestrade.
Once all the police were outside on the road by the police car, John turned to Sherlock and asked a question that had been nagging at him. "Where did you get that gun anyway? You didn't have it before."
Sherlock smiled at him. "This is Mycroft's place, John. You really think he doesn't have weapons stored all over just in case something exactly like this happens?"
"Well, I suppose not. He does seem paranoid like that," John agreed. He put the safety back on his gun and slid it into his waistband.
"Exactly," Sherlock agreed.
"Are all of your cases like this?" Harry asked from where she was still standing against the wall, out of the way.
"Not always," John reassured her as he walked to her. "The bad guy usually doesn't give a speech like that. And someone doesn't always get shot."
"And the police don't always arrive just in time," Sherlock added, following John.
"Sherlock!" John scolded, shaking his head at him. John stopped in front of his sister and lightly gripped her shoulders. "Are you okay?"
Harry nodded, obviously not looking over his shoulder at the small pool of blood on the carpet. "I'm fine," she said in a surprisingly strong voice given what she'd just witnessed. "But… it's all over now right? We're safe?"
"We're safe," John promised, and gave in to the temptation to give her a hug. He squeezed her tightly around the shoulders and added, "Lestrade's a good man. He'll make sure that guy goes away for a very long time. And he'll make sure none of the others can ever get out either."
"Good," Harry said strongly. John felt her arms snake around his waist and she squeezed once. "Then…"
"Yeah?" John asked, pulling back a bit when she trailed off.
Harry raised her head to meet his eyes. "Can we have that tea now?"
John heard Sherlock laugh from somewhere over his shoulder. "Yeah, Harry," he said, feeling his face split with a smile. "We can have that tea now."