SH - The Russian Ballerina 4Sherlock Holmes was rapidly coming to realise something. It is difficult and uncomfortable to ride pillion on a dirt-bike, even at the best of times.More Like This
Especially when it is being controlled by a teenager whose general scatter-brained air and drug habits were common-knowledge to all who knew him.
And, as said teenager was traversing London's darkened, rain-slicked streets with a reckless disregard for the state of his bike or his passenger's spine, in a desperate attempt to prevent the death of Sherlock's niece, this could hardly be considered as the best of times . . .
The brakes howled as Banjo's dirt bike skidded to a halt at a curb, the battered Ford Fiesta following them screeching to a stop and missing them by all of six inches.
As the occupants of the Fiesta scrambled out, Sherlock tore the helmet from his head and gasped as the cool air hit him.
"She must be clos-" He began but he froze as a sound sliced through the air.
A gunshot like a distant crack of thunder.
Then a desperate
Sherlock-Criminal Mastermind 2John Watson sighed.More Like This
He and Sherlock's breaking and entering attempt was not going well so far. He hadn't believed Sherlock when the man had initially told him that all criminal activities the great detective took part it always went disastrously wrong but he was swiftly coming to realise the truth behind Sherlock's words.
John had nearly had a panic attack at the sight of Milverton's pet snake, Sherlock had single-handedly destroyed half of the man's furniture and they had been here for over an HOUR and they STILL hadn't found the blackmail materials they were searching for.
The length of time that they had been illegally occupying the property whilst the owner was at the theatre was making Sherlock jumpy and as such he was having John stand look out whilst he searched Milverton's study alone. John knew it was a worthy task, but after a while it did become chronically dull.
He sighed again. Then, reaching onto Milverton's desk, he hefted a crystal paperweight in his hand and held it up
SH - Lestrade's Revenge"Ok. I admit it. That was completely worth the permanent notation on my criminal record." John Watson grinned.More Like This
Sherlock wriggled awkwardly in attempt to alleviate the pressure on his wrists which were cuffed behind his back, nevertheless he smiled. "Anderson's reaction was . . . an utter masterpiece."
"Love how Lestrade had to tie him to his chair until he calmed down." John rubbed his nose on a wall in an attempt to relieve an itch, his own hands cuffed behind his back restricting his movement. "I pity whoever has to clean up the mess to be fair."
"I know. Blood is difficult enough to clean up at the best of times. When you mix photocopier toner in too it becomes virtually impossible." Sherlock mused.
"It's not even like it's in an easy place to reach. They're going to have to get a stepladder to get it off the ceiling."
"How did it get on the ceiling again, I think I was looking the wrong way at that point?"
"A combination of a high pressure nosebleed and an electric fan I believe."