[Sherlock Holmes ACD] --- Last Gift (JWP#23 2015)
Title: Last Gift
Theme: Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2015
Prompt: JWP #23 Improvised Tools. For a truly desperate person anything can be utilized as a tool or as a weapon.
Author: Alaylith
Rating: General Audiences
Universe: ACD
Characters: Watson
WordCount: 350
Summary: Watson's time is running out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The wound won't stop bleeding.
No matter how much pressure Watson applies, the blood continues to dribble down his side and stains the ground.
He leans his head back against the cold wall of his prison and groans slightly in pain. It has been days since his kidnapping (according to the minimal light that filters through the darkened window) and Holmes is still not here.
Wherever these guys took him, it must be a good hiding place. Or maybe they have a distraction, keeping Holmes from finding him.
Or Holmes is not even looking for him.
Watson shakes his head, scolding himself for such thoughts. As long as Holmes knows that Watson is alive, he would not never stop looking for him.
And as only his dead body could convince Holmes of his death, Watson is pretty sure that Holmes is still searching.
The only problem is, that his time's running out.
The wound just won't stop bleeding.
But thinking about Holmes had reminded Watson of something. Back at the Reichenbach Falls, even though it was so very painful to read Holmes' letter, it also gave Watson something to hold on to over the years.
The letter was (is) so important and became one of his most treasured possessions.
He rifles through his pockets and while he still carries his notebook, his pen has been lost or taken.
Looking around, Watson sees a small metal rod on the ground.
He takes a piece of the dry bread his hosts had given him the day before and puts it on one end of the rod.
Now all he needs is ink or something similiar.
He takes another look around, but can find nothing and the dripping of his blood constantly distracts him from his search.
His blood...
He turns his head to the small puddle on the ground and he is mesmerized how the fresh and wet blood shimmers in the little bit of light.
Watson dips his improvised pen into the blood and places the tip on paper, his hand slightly shaking and starts writing.
< My dear Holmes... >
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Theme: Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2015
Prompt: JWP #23 Improvised Tools. For a truly desperate person anything can be utilized as a tool or as a weapon.
Author: Alaylith
Rating: General Audiences
Universe: ACD
Characters: Watson
WordCount: 350
Summary: Watson's time is running out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The wound won't stop bleeding.
No matter how much pressure Watson applies, the blood continues to dribble down his side and stains the ground.
He leans his head back against the cold wall of his prison and groans slightly in pain. It has been days since his kidnapping (according to the minimal light that filters through the darkened window) and Holmes is still not here.
Wherever these guys took him, it must be a good hiding place. Or maybe they have a distraction, keeping Holmes from finding him.
Or Holmes is not even looking for him.
Watson shakes his head, scolding himself for such thoughts. As long as Holmes knows that Watson is alive, he would not never stop looking for him.
And as only his dead body could convince Holmes of his death, Watson is pretty sure that Holmes is still searching.
The only problem is, that his time's running out.
The wound just won't stop bleeding.
But thinking about Holmes had reminded Watson of something. Back at the Reichenbach Falls, even though it was so very painful to read Holmes' letter, it also gave Watson something to hold on to over the years.
The letter was (is) so important and became one of his most treasured possessions.
He rifles through his pockets and while he still carries his notebook, his pen has been lost or taken.
Looking around, Watson sees a small metal rod on the ground.
He takes a piece of the dry bread his hosts had given him the day before and puts it on one end of the rod.
Now all he needs is ink or something similiar.
He takes another look around, but can find nothing and the dripping of his blood constantly distracts him from his search.
His blood...
He turns his head to the small puddle on the ground and he is mesmerized how the fresh and wet blood shimmers in the little bit of light.
Watson dips his improvised pen into the blood and places the tip on paper, his hand slightly shaking and starts writing.
< My dear Holmes... >
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~