Fic: Protection Detail
Summary: Mycroft's closest companion saves Lestrade! (And Mycroft, but that's the damn job!)
Rating: G
Word Count: 1875
Written for this prompt:
http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/5013.html?thread=15542933#t15542933
"BAMP!mycroft saves Lestrade life. " Where apparently BAMP means BAD ASS MOTHER PARASOL!!
This stars Mycroft's Umbrella, first met in It's Not About The Rain and while I don't think you need to read that first, it won't hurt.
======================================
You can't always tell how good a man is when you are watching him, but you can get a fair idea. You won't know for sure until he has handle in hand and you can feel his confidence and his understanding of just what an umbrella is for, but you can tell a lot by looking.
I've seen a lot of men in my time. You are protection detail for a man like Mycroft Holmes, you see all sorts. Even relaxing in the stand in the office, I keep my wits about me because you never know when you might need to get involved, you had better have been watching then!
And so it proved with that Detective Inspector.
Now I know my job. And I'm good at it, ask anyone. Hard rain and 40 knot winds, a summer shower, or a stroll around Pall Mall I'm ready and able.
And I know when to keep quiet, believe it or not there's some as doesn't. Some of the gossip I've heard! Oddly enough, it's overcoats are the worst, apparently some people keep them on far longer than you'd expect...
But I don't gossip, when you are privy to the sorts of things I have been you don't chatter about them. Whether it's a seat on the 6:17 you are resting by, or up against the door in a car with blacked out windows, you will hear things. If you are close protection detail you had better be quiet as the grave because while you might not have signed the Official Secrets Act, there are standards you are expected to uphold. Else at best you'll be in the bargain bin at the Salvation Army faster than you can say Clearance Revoked, and at worst... well let's just say there are apparently 2,000 umbrellas in the lost property warehouse at Virgin Trains and some of them haven't seen rain in fifteen years.
So when it became rather clear my employer was seeing the Inspector in more than a purely business capacity, I kept my thoughts to myself and my mind on the job.
Should you find yourself on the Detail when the Inspector's around, take a look. He's not hard on the eyes as men go, but it isn't the face you should be noting. Never is. Check the hands, are they steady? Sure in the grip and strong in the wrist? Check the walk, and the balance, are you going to be more of a crutch than a protector? Bugger all you can do against trouble, H20 or human, if your tip's on the ground and 12 stone of weight holding you there!
I liked the look of the inspector when I saw him. Good hands, and a solid confident walk. Although he was a raincoat wearer, so I wasn't sure he and I would mesh well if we had to work together. Nothing against coats you understand but their wearers tend to be a bit awkward with a brolly, open you up too late, and tilt you at the wrong angle thinking their coat does all the hard work and you are just to keep the rain out of their eyes. And they have no idea of the space you take up so you are forever trying to keep your ribs out of people's eyes and no help from the handle end!
I suppose given his job, he would find a proper protection detail too much trouble so he had to make do with the lesser stuff, but it did mean when trouble came I had no idea how he'd react.
He and Mr Holmes were out that evening. Dinner (proper umbrella stand for once, nice to find standards haven't slipped everywhere), and then a stroll along the edge of St James's on a balmy summer night.
Some of what happened might be my fault I admit. I wasn't expecting rain, and while I suppose I should have been expecting other trouble, we'd done that stroll through the park every week for months without so much as a beggar looking for cash, never mind thugs in balaclavas with trouble on their minds.
So when they came bursting out of the bushes, I was taken by surprise as much as Mr Holmes and his companion were. I blush to admit it, but if you don't admit your mistakes, you can't learn from them.
The other mistake I made was assuming they were after my employer. So I had my weight shifted for close defence and my tip to the front, but they shouldered us aside and went for the Inspector!
Once we realised that though, it was shift for attack and all in!
The Inspector was no pushover mind, he was giving as good as he was getting but three against one is bad odds in anyone's language.
Mr Holmes and I went for the closest one, and the practice paid off. He provided the power, I shifted my weight well forward and it was perfect distance so I hit him on the temple with my tip at full weight and Mr Holmes's not inconsiderable strength behind me,
It's good working with a man who knows how to use you properly. None of this whack 'em with the middle so half the power is robbed by your fabric and even a Solid Stick model might end up with a sprung shaft or a bent rib. Tip or handle, anything else is asking for trouble.
So one down two to go, and then it all went pearshaped.
They realised there was trouble and instead of legging it they turned their attentions to us! They were quick and determined and knew that the man with the weapon was trouble and best thing is to take the weapon out of the fight.
Mr Holmes wasn't going to run, and running probably wouldn't have worked anyway, he's no athlete. One of the grabbed for me and I slicked my fabric as much as a could and twisted in his grip, while Mr Holmes jerked my handle up at as close to the right angle as he could to rip me out of the bastard's grasp. He did let go but the other bloke grabbed Mr Holmes's arm and whacked him hard, and he let go then!
I fell to the ground, hard on the path, and I tell you, there's nothing so damned helpless as a brolly flat on the damned floor in the middle of a fight. Sure, the TV stars might roll and manage to trip someone up, but in the real world you'll just get 14 stone and a size ten hard on your midsection and you'll be lucky to get just creases out of that!
Now unarmed, Mr Holmes is not helpless. He's used to me and I'm used to him, and if there's trouble we work well together, but he's no fool and he's done the training. It was down to two against two now, and those odds weren't too bad until one of 'em pulled a knife!
I think they wanted the Inspector, and figured they'd threaten Mr Holmes and get him that way, but they reckoned without me. I rolled quick as I could and nudged the Inspector's foot hard, twice.
Had to be twice, there are some who are used to tuppenny ha'penny cheap import brollies who are helpless useless things in a shower never mind a fight and it would never occur to such people that a trained brolly is a partner in the enterprise. But the Inspector had been around Mr Holmes long enough to know I was not some nine to five jobsworth who could hardly roll his own fabric, so he slammed his fists into his man one! two! gut and solar plexus, dropping him like a stone, ducked and grabbed me, and twisted around to give us room for a strike.
I think he was a bit disconcerted as I shifted my weight tipwards, he'd never handled a trained brolly before so didn't know what to expect. I wouldn't normally shift before the strike but I thought it best to indicate to him what he should be doing, seeing as he wasn't used to my sort of fighting,
He got the idea quick enough though, stepped around, and brought me down hard into the knife man's wrist, metal tip crunching very satisfyingly into bone. It's amazing how much weight you can get into your tip if you try. Another blow to the head and down he went. Didn't have the luck to fall on his knife, but can't have everything.
So we had three down, in much less time than it takes to tell, but just as the Inspector was handing me back, one of them was up again!
If he'd had any sense he'd have run, but maybe he thought his mates would be up soon, maybe he wasn't thinking. Anyway Mr Holmes's hand had just closed around my midsection (the Inspector is a good man, but like I say, not used to brollies) when this bloke came up and hard at the Inspector! He'd grabbed him and twisted him and had him in a joint lock before you could say "Look out!"
Mr Holmes wasn't slow, he brought his arm back, grip loose, so I ran back through the loose grip and co-ordinated my weight shift as he brought me down handle end first onto the thug's head.
Now I knew it was going to hurt, and believe me when I tell you Mr Holmes knew too. If the Inspector had handed me over properly then I'd have been tip into kidneys or under the ear, and no problem. Instead I was handle-to-bloody-hard-skull and well you can imagine what that felt like!
The thug dropped and the Inspector yelped as he did so, because of that joint lock you understand. Mr Holmes damn near dropped me at the sound, but he's not done it deliberately before and he didn't do it now. A man you can trust, Mycroft Holmes.
He was on his knees by the Inspector, placed me to hand, and checked the man over, very much concerned. I kept watch as best I could in case one of the others got up, but they didn't seem to have any fight left in them.
Now you know I said you couldn't know a man till he'd had you handle in hand? Well I tell you, the Inspector has hands that look like they know how to manage, and a good striding walk, and although I know I shouldn't be thinking such things, I don't think a man like my employer would be seeing him as he does if he wasn't a good 'un.
Well I've only spent a few minutes in the Inspector's hand but they were enough. He was clearly not used to a good brolly as a partner in the exercise but he learned quick enough, and I bet those hands can do anything he has a mind to.
I can always hope he'll get rid of that raincoat and work with a proper protection detail, and I'd say if he does young'un you could do a lot worse
Rating: G
Word Count: 1875
Written for this prompt:
http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/5013.html?thread=15542933#t15542933
"BAMP!mycroft saves Lestrade life. " Where apparently BAMP means BAD ASS MOTHER PARASOL!!
This stars Mycroft's Umbrella, first met in It's Not About The Rain and while I don't think you need to read that first, it won't hurt.
======================================
You can't always tell how good a man is when you are watching him, but you can get a fair idea. You won't know for sure until he has handle in hand and you can feel his confidence and his understanding of just what an umbrella is for, but you can tell a lot by looking.
I've seen a lot of men in my time. You are protection detail for a man like Mycroft Holmes, you see all sorts. Even relaxing in the stand in the office, I keep my wits about me because you never know when you might need to get involved, you had better have been watching then!
And so it proved with that Detective Inspector.
Now I know my job. And I'm good at it, ask anyone. Hard rain and 40 knot winds, a summer shower, or a stroll around Pall Mall I'm ready and able.
And I know when to keep quiet, believe it or not there's some as doesn't. Some of the gossip I've heard! Oddly enough, it's overcoats are the worst, apparently some people keep them on far longer than you'd expect...
But I don't gossip, when you are privy to the sorts of things I have been you don't chatter about them. Whether it's a seat on the 6:17 you are resting by, or up against the door in a car with blacked out windows, you will hear things. If you are close protection detail you had better be quiet as the grave because while you might not have signed the Official Secrets Act, there are standards you are expected to uphold. Else at best you'll be in the bargain bin at the Salvation Army faster than you can say Clearance Revoked, and at worst... well let's just say there are apparently 2,000 umbrellas in the lost property warehouse at Virgin Trains and some of them haven't seen rain in fifteen years.
So when it became rather clear my employer was seeing the Inspector in more than a purely business capacity, I kept my thoughts to myself and my mind on the job.
Should you find yourself on the Detail when the Inspector's around, take a look. He's not hard on the eyes as men go, but it isn't the face you should be noting. Never is. Check the hands, are they steady? Sure in the grip and strong in the wrist? Check the walk, and the balance, are you going to be more of a crutch than a protector? Bugger all you can do against trouble, H20 or human, if your tip's on the ground and 12 stone of weight holding you there!
I liked the look of the inspector when I saw him. Good hands, and a solid confident walk. Although he was a raincoat wearer, so I wasn't sure he and I would mesh well if we had to work together. Nothing against coats you understand but their wearers tend to be a bit awkward with a brolly, open you up too late, and tilt you at the wrong angle thinking their coat does all the hard work and you are just to keep the rain out of their eyes. And they have no idea of the space you take up so you are forever trying to keep your ribs out of people's eyes and no help from the handle end!
I suppose given his job, he would find a proper protection detail too much trouble so he had to make do with the lesser stuff, but it did mean when trouble came I had no idea how he'd react.
He and Mr Holmes were out that evening. Dinner (proper umbrella stand for once, nice to find standards haven't slipped everywhere), and then a stroll along the edge of St James's on a balmy summer night.
Some of what happened might be my fault I admit. I wasn't expecting rain, and while I suppose I should have been expecting other trouble, we'd done that stroll through the park every week for months without so much as a beggar looking for cash, never mind thugs in balaclavas with trouble on their minds.
So when they came bursting out of the bushes, I was taken by surprise as much as Mr Holmes and his companion were. I blush to admit it, but if you don't admit your mistakes, you can't learn from them.
The other mistake I made was assuming they were after my employer. So I had my weight shifted for close defence and my tip to the front, but they shouldered us aside and went for the Inspector!
Once we realised that though, it was shift for attack and all in!
The Inspector was no pushover mind, he was giving as good as he was getting but three against one is bad odds in anyone's language.
Mr Holmes and I went for the closest one, and the practice paid off. He provided the power, I shifted my weight well forward and it was perfect distance so I hit him on the temple with my tip at full weight and Mr Holmes's not inconsiderable strength behind me,
It's good working with a man who knows how to use you properly. None of this whack 'em with the middle so half the power is robbed by your fabric and even a Solid Stick model might end up with a sprung shaft or a bent rib. Tip or handle, anything else is asking for trouble.
So one down two to go, and then it all went pearshaped.
They realised there was trouble and instead of legging it they turned their attentions to us! They were quick and determined and knew that the man with the weapon was trouble and best thing is to take the weapon out of the fight.
Mr Holmes wasn't going to run, and running probably wouldn't have worked anyway, he's no athlete. One of the grabbed for me and I slicked my fabric as much as a could and twisted in his grip, while Mr Holmes jerked my handle up at as close to the right angle as he could to rip me out of the bastard's grasp. He did let go but the other bloke grabbed Mr Holmes's arm and whacked him hard, and he let go then!
I fell to the ground, hard on the path, and I tell you, there's nothing so damned helpless as a brolly flat on the damned floor in the middle of a fight. Sure, the TV stars might roll and manage to trip someone up, but in the real world you'll just get 14 stone and a size ten hard on your midsection and you'll be lucky to get just creases out of that!
Now unarmed, Mr Holmes is not helpless. He's used to me and I'm used to him, and if there's trouble we work well together, but he's no fool and he's done the training. It was down to two against two now, and those odds weren't too bad until one of 'em pulled a knife!
I think they wanted the Inspector, and figured they'd threaten Mr Holmes and get him that way, but they reckoned without me. I rolled quick as I could and nudged the Inspector's foot hard, twice.
Had to be twice, there are some who are used to tuppenny ha'penny cheap import brollies who are helpless useless things in a shower never mind a fight and it would never occur to such people that a trained brolly is a partner in the enterprise. But the Inspector had been around Mr Holmes long enough to know I was not some nine to five jobsworth who could hardly roll his own fabric, so he slammed his fists into his man one! two! gut and solar plexus, dropping him like a stone, ducked and grabbed me, and twisted around to give us room for a strike.
I think he was a bit disconcerted as I shifted my weight tipwards, he'd never handled a trained brolly before so didn't know what to expect. I wouldn't normally shift before the strike but I thought it best to indicate to him what he should be doing, seeing as he wasn't used to my sort of fighting,
He got the idea quick enough though, stepped around, and brought me down hard into the knife man's wrist, metal tip crunching very satisfyingly into bone. It's amazing how much weight you can get into your tip if you try. Another blow to the head and down he went. Didn't have the luck to fall on his knife, but can't have everything.
So we had three down, in much less time than it takes to tell, but just as the Inspector was handing me back, one of them was up again!
If he'd had any sense he'd have run, but maybe he thought his mates would be up soon, maybe he wasn't thinking. Anyway Mr Holmes's hand had just closed around my midsection (the Inspector is a good man, but like I say, not used to brollies) when this bloke came up and hard at the Inspector! He'd grabbed him and twisted him and had him in a joint lock before you could say "Look out!"
Mr Holmes wasn't slow, he brought his arm back, grip loose, so I ran back through the loose grip and co-ordinated my weight shift as he brought me down handle end first onto the thug's head.
Now I knew it was going to hurt, and believe me when I tell you Mr Holmes knew too. If the Inspector had handed me over properly then I'd have been tip into kidneys or under the ear, and no problem. Instead I was handle-to-bloody-hard-skull and well you can imagine what that felt like!
The thug dropped and the Inspector yelped as he did so, because of that joint lock you understand. Mr Holmes damn near dropped me at the sound, but he's not done it deliberately before and he didn't do it now. A man you can trust, Mycroft Holmes.
He was on his knees by the Inspector, placed me to hand, and checked the man over, very much concerned. I kept watch as best I could in case one of the others got up, but they didn't seem to have any fight left in them.
Now you know I said you couldn't know a man till he'd had you handle in hand? Well I tell you, the Inspector has hands that look like they know how to manage, and a good striding walk, and although I know I shouldn't be thinking such things, I don't think a man like my employer would be seeing him as he does if he wasn't a good 'un.
Well I've only spent a few minutes in the Inspector's hand but they were enough. He was clearly not used to a good brolly as a partner in the exercise but he learned quick enough, and I bet those hands can do anything he has a mind to.
I can always hope he'll get rid of that raincoat and work with a proper protection detail, and I'd say if he does young'un you could do a lot worse