Cliche Bingo - Centre Square (Manacles)
Title: The Dungeon Interlude
Cliche: Wrists in manacles (see centre square here)
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Characters: Watson, Holmes
Rating: All ages
Notes: Vignette. Yes, liberties have been taken with the books/canon, but I guaran-fucking-tee not as many as the movie's going to take. Wait, now that I've said fuck, do I need to change the rating?
Summary: The case itself was so mundane that the details even now escape me.
*********************
To say that my friend always observed the niceties of polite society would be erroneous in the extreme. If the details of a case went so far as to engage his estimable mind, he would pursue the perpetrator single-mindedly, heedless of any social strictures that did not serve his purpose.
Nevertheless, Holmes was a gentleman, and as such, completely discreet about his personal-that is to say, intimate-engagements. Being at the time of our first meeting ill and easily exhausted, I found myself sufficiently engaged by the enigma Holmes presented as a man, a scholar, and a professional; my inherent lack of curiosity, as Holmes would describe it, left me uninterested in more plebian considerations.
The circumstances under which I was first made aware of Holmes' predilections were so lurid and sensational that it is only now, when all parties involved in the case have passed beyond this vale of tears, that I feel it permissible to set the matter down on paper. It goes without saying that this is purely a self-indulgent exercise, as the personal particulars of this case are in no way suitable for public record.
Indeed, the case itself was so mundane that the details even now escape me. What I do remember from the night the net drew 'round our prey was that they somehow got the jump on us.
I regained consciousness sharply, drawing in a long, shuddering breath as though my life depended on it. Indeed, once my faculties returned, it appeared that may have been the case. My hands, bound up in iron manacles, were all that kept me upright, their chain nearly suspending me from a high stone ceiling. I could barely touch the floor, my movement severely hindered.
"Ah, Watson," came the tranquil voice of my companion. "You're awake. I did warn you."
Holmes appeared to be in the same predicament as me, wrists suspended from the ceiling in manacles just two feet to my right. Nevertheless, I was not in the mood to be lectured.
"You said they would attempt to capture us unharmed, rather than maim or kill us outright!"
"Yes," Holmes agreed. "And surely that statement implied some chemical means of subjugation would be brought to bear."
"It certainly did not," I said coldly. Lately Holmes' penchant for jumping six steps ahead of me seemed occasionally to be a deliberate act of malice, rather than the innocent mistake of a genius at work.
"Well, never mind," said Holmes. "I was able to abstain from inhaling the ether-a clumsy weapon, and a potentially dangerous one, by the way-and so have been making a start."
"How-"
"A simple matter of breath regulation. One can easily train oneself in the art, with a bit of persistence. The Hindoo holy men can accomplish truly amazing bodily feats-"
"I would much rather discuss your plans for escape, if you don't mind," I said, my voice terse given the circumstances.
"You don't wish to stay?" Holmes said, with what I deemed to be ill-judged levity. "Surely they mean to torture us. The experience could provide us with invaluable information."
"I would rather rely on your powers of deduction, thank you." I rattled my chains to emphasize my point, then noted that my companion was fidgeting in a most peculiar way. "Holmes, what the devil are you doing?"
"Making a start, as I said." He twisted one way, then the other. "Doctor, if your good leg can stand it, I would appreciate some assistance."
"What do you need?"
"A quick boost, man, so that I can grab the chain."
"The chain above these manacles?" I glanced up. "To what end?"
"A demonstration is quicker than an explanation. Come to me…shift as close as you can."
I did as he bade me, though in truth could not move far. My arms were in agony from the exertion of being stretched above my head.
"Close as you can," Holmes repeated. "Can you brace your good leg to take some of my weight?"
"I think so," said I, though I had no idea of his aim.
"Let me know if you feel you may falter, Doctor," he replied. "I would not for anything have you come out of this adventure the worse for wear."
Saying thus, he sprang up, with great energy, a full foot in the air, and managed to grab hold of the chain above his manacles. I divined his purpose even as he instructed me to brace my leg.
His foot found purchase on my thigh, and my stance steadied him as his upper body began to contort in a most gruesome fashion.
"Holmes!" I cried. "What happens?"
With a ghastly gagging noise, he shuddered violently and then suddenly went still.
After a space of three heartbeats, he relaxed. "A simple sideshow ruse, my dear Watson." His hand brandished a small iron pick. "The illusionists and circus men have known this trick for years."
I could see he was working industriously at his manacles' lock. "You swallowed that sharp thing with the idea of…of…" Even though it was saving our lives, as a medical man I could barely fathom the risk he'd taken.
His hands were soon free and he obliged me by removing his weight from my person. "Everything is working out just as I foresaw," he said, his body pressing against mine as he grasped the chain above my head and began to pick the lock.
"Would it be too much," I asked a touch acidly, "For me to be privy to these fortunes before they occur?"
The manacles opened and my poor abused wrists fairly fell out of them.
"You, dear Doctor," said Holmes, grinning madly, his eyes twinkling, his breath hot on my cheek, his body still pressed flush against mine, "Would never believe me."
I felt myself begin to smile.
END
Cliche: Wrists in manacles (see centre square here)
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Characters: Watson, Holmes
Rating: All ages
Notes: Vignette. Yes, liberties have been taken with the books/canon, but I guaran-fucking-tee not as many as the movie's going to take. Wait, now that I've said fuck, do I need to change the rating?
Summary: The case itself was so mundane that the details even now escape me.
*********************
To say that my friend always observed the niceties of polite society would be erroneous in the extreme. If the details of a case went so far as to engage his estimable mind, he would pursue the perpetrator single-mindedly, heedless of any social strictures that did not serve his purpose.
Nevertheless, Holmes was a gentleman, and as such, completely discreet about his personal-that is to say, intimate-engagements. Being at the time of our first meeting ill and easily exhausted, I found myself sufficiently engaged by the enigma Holmes presented as a man, a scholar, and a professional; my inherent lack of curiosity, as Holmes would describe it, left me uninterested in more plebian considerations.
The circumstances under which I was first made aware of Holmes' predilections were so lurid and sensational that it is only now, when all parties involved in the case have passed beyond this vale of tears, that I feel it permissible to set the matter down on paper. It goes without saying that this is purely a self-indulgent exercise, as the personal particulars of this case are in no way suitable for public record.
Indeed, the case itself was so mundane that the details even now escape me. What I do remember from the night the net drew 'round our prey was that they somehow got the jump on us.
I regained consciousness sharply, drawing in a long, shuddering breath as though my life depended on it. Indeed, once my faculties returned, it appeared that may have been the case. My hands, bound up in iron manacles, were all that kept me upright, their chain nearly suspending me from a high stone ceiling. I could barely touch the floor, my movement severely hindered.
"Ah, Watson," came the tranquil voice of my companion. "You're awake. I did warn you."
Holmes appeared to be in the same predicament as me, wrists suspended from the ceiling in manacles just two feet to my right. Nevertheless, I was not in the mood to be lectured.
"You said they would attempt to capture us unharmed, rather than maim or kill us outright!"
"Yes," Holmes agreed. "And surely that statement implied some chemical means of subjugation would be brought to bear."
"It certainly did not," I said coldly. Lately Holmes' penchant for jumping six steps ahead of me seemed occasionally to be a deliberate act of malice, rather than the innocent mistake of a genius at work.
"Well, never mind," said Holmes. "I was able to abstain from inhaling the ether-a clumsy weapon, and a potentially dangerous one, by the way-and so have been making a start."
"How-"
"A simple matter of breath regulation. One can easily train oneself in the art, with a bit of persistence. The Hindoo holy men can accomplish truly amazing bodily feats-"
"I would much rather discuss your plans for escape, if you don't mind," I said, my voice terse given the circumstances.
"You don't wish to stay?" Holmes said, with what I deemed to be ill-judged levity. "Surely they mean to torture us. The experience could provide us with invaluable information."
"I would rather rely on your powers of deduction, thank you." I rattled my chains to emphasize my point, then noted that my companion was fidgeting in a most peculiar way. "Holmes, what the devil are you doing?"
"Making a start, as I said." He twisted one way, then the other. "Doctor, if your good leg can stand it, I would appreciate some assistance."
"What do you need?"
"A quick boost, man, so that I can grab the chain."
"The chain above these manacles?" I glanced up. "To what end?"
"A demonstration is quicker than an explanation. Come to me…shift as close as you can."
I did as he bade me, though in truth could not move far. My arms were in agony from the exertion of being stretched above my head.
"Close as you can," Holmes repeated. "Can you brace your good leg to take some of my weight?"
"I think so," said I, though I had no idea of his aim.
"Let me know if you feel you may falter, Doctor," he replied. "I would not for anything have you come out of this adventure the worse for wear."
Saying thus, he sprang up, with great energy, a full foot in the air, and managed to grab hold of the chain above his manacles. I divined his purpose even as he instructed me to brace my leg.
His foot found purchase on my thigh, and my stance steadied him as his upper body began to contort in a most gruesome fashion.
"Holmes!" I cried. "What happens?"
With a ghastly gagging noise, he shuddered violently and then suddenly went still.
After a space of three heartbeats, he relaxed. "A simple sideshow ruse, my dear Watson." His hand brandished a small iron pick. "The illusionists and circus men have known this trick for years."
I could see he was working industriously at his manacles' lock. "You swallowed that sharp thing with the idea of…of…" Even though it was saving our lives, as a medical man I could barely fathom the risk he'd taken.
His hands were soon free and he obliged me by removing his weight from my person. "Everything is working out just as I foresaw," he said, his body pressing against mine as he grasped the chain above my head and began to pick the lock.
"Would it be too much," I asked a touch acidly, "For me to be privy to these fortunes before they occur?"
The manacles opened and my poor abused wrists fairly fell out of them.
"You, dear Doctor," said Holmes, grinning madly, his eyes twinkling, his breath hot on my cheek, his body still pressed flush against mine, "Would never believe me."
I felt myself begin to smile.
END