Sherlock Holmes (
howdull) wrote in
fossilised2016-11-06 04:25 pm
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For John Watson
[Sherlock is still finding pieces of the melted laptop in the carpet.
It had actually been quite an ingenious booby trap to be devised by a fourteen year old boy with only household chemicals to work with but, as Sherlock surmised, rather overkill to keep his mother from finding his extensive porn collection. Not one of their more illustrious cases, but it had been quite entertaining to watch both the boy and mother's faces as he revealed that he did know the how and why. He lost interest after the mother started shouting and John started shouting and the whole thing turned tedious.
He rather thinks John won't actually be doing a full write-up of this one on his blog.
It's been two days since their last case and he's beginning to get more than a little antsy. Lestrade has sent him nothing, just a boring hit and run that he refused to even leave the flat for, and nobody interesting has appeared through the blog. Said blog he is currently scrolling through on John's laptop, having borrowed it again.
He did ask, it's not his fault John hadn't been in the room at the time.]
Bored, John.
[He doesn't even know if his flatmate is even in, but that's hardly a necessity for him to actually speak to John. Frustrated, he throws the laptop across the room to hit the wall, where it summarily breaks. Which is where he can be found whenever John appears, sulking amidst pieces of laptop, both from the melted one of their last case and John's poor broken one.]
It had actually been quite an ingenious booby trap to be devised by a fourteen year old boy with only household chemicals to work with but, as Sherlock surmised, rather overkill to keep his mother from finding his extensive porn collection. Not one of their more illustrious cases, but it had been quite entertaining to watch both the boy and mother's faces as he revealed that he did know the how and why. He lost interest after the mother started shouting and John started shouting and the whole thing turned tedious.
He rather thinks John won't actually be doing a full write-up of this one on his blog.
It's been two days since their last case and he's beginning to get more than a little antsy. Lestrade has sent him nothing, just a boring hit and run that he refused to even leave the flat for, and nobody interesting has appeared through the blog. Said blog he is currently scrolling through on John's laptop, having borrowed it again.
He did ask, it's not his fault John hadn't been in the room at the time.]
Bored, John.
[He doesn't even know if his flatmate is even in, but that's hardly a necessity for him to actually speak to John. Frustrated, he throws the laptop across the room to hit the wall, where it summarily breaks. Which is where he can be found whenever John appears, sulking amidst pieces of laptop, both from the melted one of their last case and John's poor broken one.]
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She squeezes his hand, though, briefly but firmly to get his attention.]
Then we look, but we stay out of sight. Be careful, John, Sherlock won't forgive me if I go home without you.
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Just looking. [Unless he sees there's something he can do. Then there will be doing.] C'mon.
[John does his best to move them past people and onto the next carriage while avoiding brushing up against too many people. He still feels slightly feverish and a general sort of malaise, but this task has focused his mind, at least. Sometimes living in anticipation can be worse than just having something happen, good or bad. It had been that way between battles in Afghanistan and these past few weeks have reminded him of the battlefield. Moments of dead quiet, waiting for the first stray bullet to graze past you and the next skirmish to start.]
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The final one they step into, which should be halfway down the train, is in pandemonium and it's easy to see why. The front of the train has disconnected and disappeared, leaving them stranded in the tunnels.]
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Everyone calm down. I'm a doctor. I need to know if there are any injuries and what's happened.
[Hopefully, it will get at least a few people to pause.]
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We thought there was just a technical fault, but the train disconnected and went. Someone went out of the door and I think-- I think they're hurt out there. Isn't the track live?
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Molly, stay in here and try to calm everyone down. I'll try to get them back inside.
What did the person look like, miss?
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[Molly reaches out to try and grab him by the elbow, voice low and concerned.]
You can't, she said it's live, you'll just electrocute yourself too.
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He can't have got far if it's live. I can at least take a look out for him... maybe we can pull him back in with something. I know it's early, but if someone's just come from the shop or if they're a cleaner, they might have some marigolds. We can use those to dampen the charge.
Could you ask around while I take a look?
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Okay, just be careful, Sherlock'll kill me if I let you die.
[She smiles, sudden and a little embarrassed.]
I'd miss you too.
[Since they've become sort of friends during this madness. At least, she hopes they have.]
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I promise I won't do anything stupid, Molls. Find us those marigolds, all right?
[He nods to her and to himself before stepping over to the door and moving to open it up. Once he does, John will look around for signs of a body.]
Hullo? Is anyone out there? Can you hear me?
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It won't be hard for John to see someone out on the track, they're barely four feet from the carriage door. A man in his thirties, jeans and a t-shirt, face down and unmoving. He doesn't respond to the call.]
John?
[That's Molly.]
We've got no marigolds. But we've got a plastic mop handle, does that help?
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Yeah. Thanks. I need another bloke. Someone who looks like he can lift someone. I'm not gonna be able to pull him in on my own.
[He'll take the handle if Molly offers it, and reach out with it to lay it gently on the man's back. He's just trying to get a feel for if there's a current running through the man.]
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Hey-- you! Yes, you! Please come and help here, don't argue with me.
[John will find himself next to a middle aged black gentleman who has been bullied into assisting.]
I ain't a doctor.
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I'll be the doctor, mate. [John assures him.] We need to get that man back inside. We need to get this handle under his clothes and pull him in. I'll... [John trails off. He'd been about to say that he'll lean out and try to snag him, but even running on adrenaline, the doctor can feel how his body aches, how weak he actually is at the moment.]
I'll brace you. You've got a longer reach. I'm John. I need you to fish him up for us. As soon as you've got him close enough you're not gonna tip out, I'll help. Do you think you can do that? We may be his only chance to survive.
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[Something about this young man, despite being shorter than he is by a good foot, seems to have an air of command enough that he doesn't hesitate in obeying. He's never done anything like this before, but he starts to lean out of the cab.]
My name is Reuben, and I can't say as I've ever hung out of a train before, you sure you can keep me from falling while I get him?
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Molly, grab another bloke just in case we need it.
[Just in case. He's not going to let go of the other man, and he'd really rather they both don't go out.]
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No! Someone else can brace him, you're going to be no good at administering first aid if you're on the floor yourself. John!
[God, it's like she's babysitting, and the annoyance at him ignoring his injuries again is enough to break through her usual deference and awkwardness.]
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I won't be on the floor. Just get someone else if you don't want me doing this alone.
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She glares around and then goes to grab the back of John's jacket herself, she still has one good arm after all.]
Fine, I've got you.
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Close to hooking him, by chance, Reuben.
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[He's doing his best, okay! He leans out further, allowing John to take more of his weight, trusting him to hold on.]
Just a bit... further...
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And all of a sudden the weight doubles as Reuben successfully hooks the unconscious man and his dead weight is added to what needs to be pulled back into the tube carriage.]
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Bloody hell if the person nearest us doesn't help Molly, I'm putting you out on the tracks next. We're trying to save someone's life.
[He doesn't think about the implication of those words, he's just angry that Molly couldn't get someone bigger and less injured than her to help apart from Reuben. Maybe he should have waited, gotten a second man, himself.]
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Molly grunts as her arm throbs under the pressure, but she's not about to let go. Thankfully, Reuben is up and in the cab again in about a minute, then he can help lift the unconscious man the rest of the way in. It feels like it takes hours, though, and Molly can't help but cradle her arm to her chest when she's not needed for bracing any more, sucking in slightly shaky breaths. And if she's hurting then she's worried that John must be hurting much worse.
Reuben steps back, looking half proud of himself.]
Alright, now what? Can I still help?
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Agh! I thought I responded to this ages ago. Sorry!!!
Don't worry about it!
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cw: allusion to suicidal ideations/suicide
cw: allusion to suicidal ideations/suicide
Happy 3-year Anniversary on this PSL, by the by!
oh wow, that's nuts! Happy 3 years to you too.
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