Amnesty Prompt 5: The Raid
Title: The Raid
Author: arwen_kenobi
Rating: PG-13
'Verse: BBC Sherlock
Word Count: 1157
Summary: In all the mad things he has done since partnering up with Sherlock Holmes this has to be the maddest.
Author's Notes: For Amnesty Prompt 5 of the July writing prompts at watsons_woes. This one was: put your MP3 player on shuffle, turn on the radio, or otherwise tune into a random stream of music. Use the fifth song in the playlist as your inspiration.
Said Fifth song was The Battle by Hans Zimmer from the "Gladiator" soundtrack. The above fic was also equally inspired (in idea of an insane raid on a building crawling with criminals) from the film "The Raid: Redemption". Title borrowed from that as well.
"Any questions?" John hasn't heard a resounding chorus of "no sir!" in response to him in a good long while. It feels good and it almost makes him forget what they're doing here. In all the mad things he has done since partnering up with Sherlock Holmes this has to be the maddest.
"I do hope you know what you're doing." John really has no idea what Mycroft is doing here. Probably to fulfil the same purpose that Roman Emperors did in going to battle. Not to fight but to stand there and oversee the glory of his troops and the conquests they bring him. John doesn't bother answering. He knows what he's doing and he knows why and who for - none of those answers involve Mycroft Holmes in any way.
As the team hops into the vans Lestrade comes toward him. He's ready to snap a salute but John stops him. "You're all geared up for battle, aren't you?" It's a moot statement since he and Lestrade are both attired in SCO19 standard issue. He hadn't known that Lestrade had done a bit of time as an SFO before transferring after his first child was born. He supposed the fact that Lestrade had had access to a gun for the Baskerville case should have been enough of a hint there.
"Everyone's in the same uniform," Lestrade reports. "The army blokes too." He tosses John his helmet. "No way to tell us apart, except for the degree of arse kicking I'd imagine." That was part of the plan of course, the real SFOs would do what they do best while the military unit would be heading in for the assault. Mycroft had called most of them in - except for three of them that John had served with in the past and had asked to join in when they'd somehow been made aware of what John was planning.
Lestrade whistles up at the building. "We've had our eye on this building for years. Never tried to get in, there was no way we'd get in. No way we'd get anything. Even Sherlock said there was no point in trying." He smirks John's way. "Guess they'd never thought of you."
"He'd do the same for me."
"He would."
John looks up and takes a deep breath. "Do you think they still think I'm dead?"
"Probably," Lestrade allows. "They were in a rush and you didn't move. I watched that footage." When John hisses Lestrade hushes him, sharply. "Hey, if you hadn't had played at it they may have caught you and you'd both be up there now. Then where would we be?"
"I just hope he doesn't think so."
Lestrade laughs. "He's probably keeping himself sane with all the ways he could have done better. He has done better, remember?"
"With more time!" John defends. He's not convinced him not getting up, holding his breath, and being creative with where he was bleeding is enough to fool anyone. They had what they wanted, whether or not John was alive was a side issue.
HIs earpiece crackles to life. "In position, sir."
Lestrade rushes off to get into his, behind the wheel of the armoured vehicle he intends to drive into the building's lobby. John nods. "On my signal, unleash hell."
=====================================================================================
Sherlock comes around to the sound something driving through the front door. His captors swear and then start screaming into their earpieces. Or at least they try to until each and every one of them pull their ear piece out. Sherlock can hear the crackling from the one behind him as it flies past his head. He feels himself yanked behind the desk, and then turned to face the wall of CCTV covering this building. "What is going on!" the man orders. He pistol whips Sherlock before he can process anything on the one in front of him let alone the rest. "Tell me what they think they're doing!"
He shakes some sense into himself and shakes the sweat and blood soaked hair out of his eyes. He zeroes in on the lobby by accident. Lestrade of all people hops out of the driver's side and promptly dispatches the man attempting to shoot him in the head. He is followed by a sprawl of SFOs. Mostly SFOs, Sherlock amends. There was something else there too...
"Military," he spits out when the ringleader grabs Sherlock's face and presses a switchblade to his eyeball. "Military and police both." Mycroft, he doesn't say. This is Mycroft's doing.
Then the windows of the floor he's on shatter. Targeted explosions and then a hail of gunfire. While the rest of the room is coated with it the area of the room where he is much more targeted. Sherlock is never in danger of being hit, even as people slowly gravitate to the safer half of the room. No one touches him. Anyone who even thinks of using him as a shield is dispatched.
This isn't Mycroft's doing. He may have helped but the actual idea is ridiculous. The fall out in the criminal community and to the city itself is immense. Mycroft would not have touched this with a ten foot pole. Lestrade may have argued his way into it - some of his mates from SCO19 may be willing to do something for Lestrade himself but not for him.
That left one possibility. An impossible one. He'd seen him fall...
A voice yells that the room is clear and then Lestrade walks in. "You alright, mate?" He cuts Sherlock free from the zip ties. "Christ, you're a wreck. Lee, would you get the paramedics? You're going to hospital. I don't care what you or John say."
So it is true. "John's alive?" he gasps as Lestrade helps him to his feet. More moans of pain from the fallen gang as they are hauled off. Most of them are alive. It's only on his side of the room where people are dead.
"You didn't know?" Lestrade asks, surprised. He presses his hand to his ear piece. "Would you hurry up? This expression isn't going to be on his face all that long."
"Nearly there!" comes John's voice as he walks in, dressed in uniform to match everyone else. He doesn't rush over right away. "Alright, Sherlock?"
Sherlock nods. "I am now."
Lestrade walks Sherlock over to John, who is more than ready to pass off his sniper rifle to one of the officers. "I'm sorry," he apologizes. "They would have shot me then and there otherwise. I'm actually surprised they didn't just to make sure."
"Doesn't matter," Sherlock grits out as they make their way to the lift. "It's all fine now."
John smiles in agreement. "For us, maybe. We have caused a bit of a mess."
Sherlock laughs, hisses in pain, and then laughs some more. "That is an understatement." He softens his voice. "Thank you."
"Any time," John replies in the same tone.
Additional Author's Note: John's line of "On my signal, unleash hell" is lifted from "Gladiator" as well. I couldn't resist.
Author: arwen_kenobi
Rating: PG-13
'Verse: BBC Sherlock
Word Count: 1157
Summary: In all the mad things he has done since partnering up with Sherlock Holmes this has to be the maddest.
Author's Notes: For Amnesty Prompt 5 of the July writing prompts at watsons_woes. This one was: put your MP3 player on shuffle, turn on the radio, or otherwise tune into a random stream of music. Use the fifth song in the playlist as your inspiration.
Said Fifth song was The Battle by Hans Zimmer from the "Gladiator" soundtrack. The above fic was also equally inspired (in idea of an insane raid on a building crawling with criminals) from the film "The Raid: Redemption". Title borrowed from that as well.
"Any questions?" John hasn't heard a resounding chorus of "no sir!" in response to him in a good long while. It feels good and it almost makes him forget what they're doing here. In all the mad things he has done since partnering up with Sherlock Holmes this has to be the maddest.
"I do hope you know what you're doing." John really has no idea what Mycroft is doing here. Probably to fulfil the same purpose that Roman Emperors did in going to battle. Not to fight but to stand there and oversee the glory of his troops and the conquests they bring him. John doesn't bother answering. He knows what he's doing and he knows why and who for - none of those answers involve Mycroft Holmes in any way.
As the team hops into the vans Lestrade comes toward him. He's ready to snap a salute but John stops him. "You're all geared up for battle, aren't you?" It's a moot statement since he and Lestrade are both attired in SCO19 standard issue. He hadn't known that Lestrade had done a bit of time as an SFO before transferring after his first child was born. He supposed the fact that Lestrade had had access to a gun for the Baskerville case should have been enough of a hint there.
"Everyone's in the same uniform," Lestrade reports. "The army blokes too." He tosses John his helmet. "No way to tell us apart, except for the degree of arse kicking I'd imagine." That was part of the plan of course, the real SFOs would do what they do best while the military unit would be heading in for the assault. Mycroft had called most of them in - except for three of them that John had served with in the past and had asked to join in when they'd somehow been made aware of what John was planning.
Lestrade whistles up at the building. "We've had our eye on this building for years. Never tried to get in, there was no way we'd get in. No way we'd get anything. Even Sherlock said there was no point in trying." He smirks John's way. "Guess they'd never thought of you."
"He'd do the same for me."
"He would."
John looks up and takes a deep breath. "Do you think they still think I'm dead?"
"Probably," Lestrade allows. "They were in a rush and you didn't move. I watched that footage." When John hisses Lestrade hushes him, sharply. "Hey, if you hadn't had played at it they may have caught you and you'd both be up there now. Then where would we be?"
"I just hope he doesn't think so."
Lestrade laughs. "He's probably keeping himself sane with all the ways he could have done better. He has done better, remember?"
"With more time!" John defends. He's not convinced him not getting up, holding his breath, and being creative with where he was bleeding is enough to fool anyone. They had what they wanted, whether or not John was alive was a side issue.
HIs earpiece crackles to life. "In position, sir."
Lestrade rushes off to get into his, behind the wheel of the armoured vehicle he intends to drive into the building's lobby. John nods. "On my signal, unleash hell."
=====================================================================================
Sherlock comes around to the sound something driving through the front door. His captors swear and then start screaming into their earpieces. Or at least they try to until each and every one of them pull their ear piece out. Sherlock can hear the crackling from the one behind him as it flies past his head. He feels himself yanked behind the desk, and then turned to face the wall of CCTV covering this building. "What is going on!" the man orders. He pistol whips Sherlock before he can process anything on the one in front of him let alone the rest. "Tell me what they think they're doing!"
He shakes some sense into himself and shakes the sweat and blood soaked hair out of his eyes. He zeroes in on the lobby by accident. Lestrade of all people hops out of the driver's side and promptly dispatches the man attempting to shoot him in the head. He is followed by a sprawl of SFOs. Mostly SFOs, Sherlock amends. There was something else there too...
"Military," he spits out when the ringleader grabs Sherlock's face and presses a switchblade to his eyeball. "Military and police both." Mycroft, he doesn't say. This is Mycroft's doing.
Then the windows of the floor he's on shatter. Targeted explosions and then a hail of gunfire. While the rest of the room is coated with it the area of the room where he is much more targeted. Sherlock is never in danger of being hit, even as people slowly gravitate to the safer half of the room. No one touches him. Anyone who even thinks of using him as a shield is dispatched.
This isn't Mycroft's doing. He may have helped but the actual idea is ridiculous. The fall out in the criminal community and to the city itself is immense. Mycroft would not have touched this with a ten foot pole. Lestrade may have argued his way into it - some of his mates from SCO19 may be willing to do something for Lestrade himself but not for him.
That left one possibility. An impossible one. He'd seen him fall...
A voice yells that the room is clear and then Lestrade walks in. "You alright, mate?" He cuts Sherlock free from the zip ties. "Christ, you're a wreck. Lee, would you get the paramedics? You're going to hospital. I don't care what you or John say."
So it is true. "John's alive?" he gasps as Lestrade helps him to his feet. More moans of pain from the fallen gang as they are hauled off. Most of them are alive. It's only on his side of the room where people are dead.
"You didn't know?" Lestrade asks, surprised. He presses his hand to his ear piece. "Would you hurry up? This expression isn't going to be on his face all that long."
"Nearly there!" comes John's voice as he walks in, dressed in uniform to match everyone else. He doesn't rush over right away. "Alright, Sherlock?"
Sherlock nods. "I am now."
Lestrade walks Sherlock over to John, who is more than ready to pass off his sniper rifle to one of the officers. "I'm sorry," he apologizes. "They would have shot me then and there otherwise. I'm actually surprised they didn't just to make sure."
"Doesn't matter," Sherlock grits out as they make their way to the lift. "It's all fine now."
John smiles in agreement. "For us, maybe. We have caused a bit of a mess."
Sherlock laughs, hisses in pain, and then laughs some more. "That is an understatement." He softens his voice. "Thank you."
"Any time," John replies in the same tone.
Additional Author's Note: John's line of "On my signal, unleash hell" is lifted from "Gladiator" as well. I couldn't resist.