Harriet Watson
Teacher of languages and general trainwreck.
Posts: 787
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Post by Harriet Watson on Mar 18, 2012 16:39:19 GMT
*She shrugs, running barefoot along the corridor, adrenaline covering up any pain*
Luck?
*She leads the trio outside to the carpark. She hastily rips the bottom of her dress so it's knee-length, throwing the green fabric away.*
Right. That one.
*She walks towards a car, takes a knife from a belt tied around her calf and jimmies the lock of a nearby Ford Fiesta*
It'll do. Get in.
*She climbs in the drivers seat, searching around the car until - bingo. Two pistols, loaded.*
Okay?
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Sherlock Holmes
Consulting Detective
The world's only consulting detective
Posts: 1,230
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Post by Sherlock Holmes on Mar 18, 2012 17:23:29 GMT
Oh, yes, suspected re-broken ribs, practically immobile, and an accessory to, if nothing else, auto theft and assault. Yes, I'm perfectly okay.
*his hands are shaking, not from fright, but because his body temperature has suddenly plummeted*
*Quinn is feeling a bit of a moral conflict. He doesn't want to be involved in criminal activities, but where Sherlock goes, he has to*
"Is this really the best idea?"
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Harriet Watson
Teacher of languages and general trainwreck.
Posts: 787
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Post by Harriet Watson on Mar 18, 2012 17:31:42 GMT
Nope. You got a better one?
*She kicks a panel away and begins to hot wire it. The engine revs into action*
Hold on gentlemen. This isn't going to be gentle.
*She accelerates furiously, the tyres squealing. She flicks the steering wheel to launch them out onto the road. Within moments two cars are in pursuit*
Okay. Rules are - try and stay alive.
*the first gunshot hits the body of the car, smashing the drivers' window. Harry immediately returns fire, aiming for the tyres of the second vehicle, somehow managing to keep control of the car*
Mind your head, I'm blowing out the back window.
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Sherlock Holmes
Consulting Detective
The world's only consulting detective
Posts: 1,230
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Post by Sherlock Holmes on Mar 18, 2012 18:41:36 GMT
*Sherlock's face is screwed up in pain as he's had no way to keep himself still, and as a result, he has been thrown around quite violently. At present he's lying across the middle seat, on top of his broken ribs, but there's nothing that can be done at present as sweat begins to bead on his pale forehead*
*Quinn ducks as Harry shoots the windows out and in doing so, nearly swerves into oncoming traffic*
"Bloody hell, woman!"
*she stamps on the brakes to avoid hitting the car in front and Sherlock slides to the floor with a thud and a groan--they didn't have time for seat belts. He has hit his head on the centre console and begins to black out, sound and vision slowly fading. He doesn't go completely out, but enough to where the impressions he's getting of the world around him are vague and distant and he is unresponsive*
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Harriet Watson
Teacher of languages and general trainwreck.
Posts: 787
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Post by Harriet Watson on Mar 18, 2012 19:59:32 GMT
Sherlock - cover your face, mind the glass!
*A bullet comes perilously close to her right ear. She doesn't skip a beat, firing back and blowing out the tyre of one of the cars. It rolls and crashes into a tree. Harry gives a noise close to laughter, before the second car accelerates next to her. Harry makes a sharp right turn, into an empty multi-storey car park. Her ears filled the sound of screeching tyres and revving engines, he speeds up to around 60mph, encouraging the other car to follow. It does, and she speeds up even more, apparently meaning to drive straight into the sOlid wall*
*Harry smiles. The driver of the car is still behind her, taking aim. At the last minute, she swerves right. The driver of the other car doesn't. The crash is spectacular. Twisted metal mixed with paint and the air quickly Fills with the smell of petrol. Harry doesn't think twice before driving swiftly out, only catching the resulting fireball in her rear view mirror.*
Everyone okay?
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Sherlock Holmes
Consulting Detective
The world's only consulting detective
Posts: 1,230
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Post by Sherlock Holmes on Mar 18, 2012 21:13:09 GMT
"Not really, no."
*Quinn's voice is a little shaky as he checks on Sherlock*
"We didn't have time to buckle up and he got tossed around pretty badly. He's out of it, I think. I need to get him back upright. His broken ribs are being crushed under him and his head's bleeding pretty badly."
*Sherlock's opened stitches are bleeding fairly copiously and Quinn takes his pocket square and uses it to staunch the bleeding*
"We need to pull over so I can do a proper check."
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Harriet Watson
Teacher of languages and general trainwreck.
Posts: 787
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Post by Harriet Watson on Mar 18, 2012 21:59:04 GMT
We pull over and we die. The hotel's close. Just... keep him alive.
*She drives, slightly more carefully. The hotel is soon in view. Harry pulls in, ignoring the look on the valet's face as she throws him an envelope with five hundred euro inside and gesturing for him to help Quinn*
I'll meet you up in the room.
*She takes the workman's lift, avoiding people as much as possible. When she reaches the room, she finds a total stranger in the mirror*
*She's plastered in dust, blood and sweat. Her dress is ruined. She pulls back the duvet to prepare for Sherlock and grabs towels from the bathroom.*
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Sherlock Holmes
Consulting Detective
The world's only consulting detective
Posts: 1,230
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Post by Sherlock Holmes on Mar 19, 2012 0:38:10 GMT
*Quinn is carrying Sherlock in. Sherlock is doused in sweat and extremely pale, a moderate line of blood flowing down his face, as if the wound has been completely reopened*
"Excuse me."
*Quinn knocks on the door with his foot and Harry answers. He brings Sherlock, still unconscious, to the bed and begins to remove his shirt*
"Pardon me, Mr. Holmes."
*there is a large purple area lined with a sickly yellow where his ribs have rebroken. Quinn gingerly feels his side, Sherlock groans sharply when Quinn runs his hand down the bruise*
"Three, no, four ribs broken. Unfortunately, without a hospital's equipment, I have no way of telling if there are any punctured organs."
*he winces every time Sherlock does, but finally gets out the thermometer and puts it on Sherlock's temple*
"35.6. Give me all the blankets--he's in shock and his temperature was low to begin with. We need to warm him up."
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Harriet Watson
Teacher of languages and general trainwreck.
Posts: 787
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Post by Harriet Watson on Mar 19, 2012 0:45:02 GMT
*Harry hesitates for a moment, numbness starting to flood out of her body.*
What? Yeah, sure.
*She hands Quinn what he needs with trembling fingers, before lighting one of her Gitanes*
Don't look at me like that. I just need to settle down.
*She can't smoke it, not really. The guilt chokes her and she throws it off the balcony.*
What can I do? Only, I need to start cleaning up.
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Sherlock Holmes
Consulting Detective
The world's only consulting detective
Posts: 1,230
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Post by Sherlock Holmes on Mar 19, 2012 1:09:15 GMT
*Quinn tucks Sherlock in fairly tightly with all the blankets in the room, leaving his face exposed so he can breathe*
*Sherlock's nose flares at the cigarette smoke, but makes no other response*
"I have no idea how long he'll be out."
*Quinn rubs his hands through his hair, tired, before chuckling slightly*
"When Mr. Holmes--Mycroft, his brother--asked if I'd be interested in helping out, I had no idea what I was signing up for."
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Harriet Watson
Teacher of languages and general trainwreck.
Posts: 787
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Post by Harriet Watson on Mar 19, 2012 1:45:44 GMT
Get used to it kiddo. Give it a while, you might even start to enjoy it.
*She pulls off her dress, as always unashamed of nudity, and shoves it into a plastic bag.*
I'm going to wash a load of blood out of my hair. You call me when he wakes up. And you put his clothes in that bag. You wash his hands. Okay?
*Without waiting for a reply, she locks herself into the bathroom and stares at herself, hard. First, she bursts out laughing, greeted with a ghost reflection of herself, four years ago. Then the tears come. The tears and the pain and the guilt. She flicks on the shower and climbs in, the scarlet washing away but the emotions remaining.*
What if he dies? What if he dies, and then there's no-one, and he'll kill you?
*Resolutely making up her mind to kill herself before Jim Moriarty manages to, she steps out the shower and dries off, before stepping back into the bedroom. Quinn is sat on the armchair, dozing off- she's been a while.*
*She stares at Sherlock's unconscious body, and suddenly wishes he was awake. To tell her how stupid she is. To tell her he hates her. Just to make her feel again.*
*Numbness flooding through her for a second time that evening, she grabs one of Sherlock's shirts from his case and wriggles it on. It's far too long. Without caring, she climbs into the bed next to Sherlock and falls asleep*
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Sherlock Holmes
Consulting Detective
The world's only consulting detective
Posts: 1,230
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Post by Sherlock Holmes on Mar 19, 2012 3:58:02 GMT
*Sherlock awakes in the middle of the night, not used to another human in his bed, and he starts when he realizes there's someone else there. He rolls his eyes once he figures out who it is. She rolls over in her sleep and places an arm across his chest, across his bruise, and violating what little personal space boundaries he has*
Get off.
*he moves her arm weakly away. Temperature-wise, both the blankets and Harry have brought him back to normal, but his headache is quite literally splitting and as he sees Harry's eyes open, he whispers so as not to wake Quinn. There are things they need to discuss*
I see you're awake now.
*most other people in their physical positions would be at least dating, at most lovers, and he practically snarls*
You have no right. You have no right to kiss me. You have no right to wear my clothes or to strip down in front of me.
*his voice is pure acid*
I am not your boyfriend. I am not someone you can be intimate with, even in the slightest. You can't--you can't steal these things from me. Even if I liked you, I wouldn't let you act like this. Did it ever once occur to you that just maybe I didn't want my first kiss from you? Even if it hadn't been the first one, I would never have wanted it, and the only thing keeping me from--
*he breaks off and swallows, emotional, not sure how to continue*
Get. Away. From. Me.
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Harriet Watson
Teacher of languages and general trainwreck.
Posts: 787
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Post by Harriet Watson on Mar 19, 2012 4:07:46 GMT
*She sits up, incredulous*
You're annoyed? About a kiss? A stupid kiss?
*She laughs, her face in total disbelief*
I thought I might end up shooting you in the head. Of course I'm going to bloody kiss you.
Does - does any of that even mean anything? I mean... what? I - I don't even know what to say!
*She gets out of bed, furious at all the insinuations he's making*
Do you... do you think I fancy you? I mean, really? Because now is the time to say it. You know why I got into your bed tonight? Because I thought you might not want to be alone. I thought you might want the company. I thought it would be safer. There are a thousand reasons, and none of them are what you think.
And as for stripping off - I have spent the majority of time in your company covered in f**king blood. But sure, next time I come in looking like a Lord of the Flies extra, I'll make sure to put up a bloody screen.
*She walks to the bathroom, morning sickness already threatening to overwhelm her.*
You know what Sherlock Holmes, I hate you. Not because you're rude. Not because you're a total arrogant arse. But because you never bother to try and understand. You make your deduction, and that's it. You can see everything, but can you actually feel?
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Sherlock Holmes
Consulting Detective
The world's only consulting detective
Posts: 1,230
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Post by Sherlock Holmes on Mar 19, 2012 4:18:53 GMT
If I didn't, would I be so upset at feeling...violated? Or do you not understand that not everyone goes around sharing themselves so freely? And you wouldn't be the first lesbian to develop feelings for me. But at least she showed some intelligence. You're all internal chemical warfare and bloody-mindedness. Most mothers-to-be would have the sense not to go pretending they're in a James Bond film. Looks like John got all the brains in the Watson family.
*his nose twitches*
*Quinn has already woken up, but he recognizes the need for both Sherlock and Harry to vent and so stays silent*
Besides, being called a heartless bastard's nothing new to me. In fact, it's fairly run-of-the-mill. So you'll excuse me if I do nothing to dispel that notion.
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Harriet Watson
Teacher of languages and general trainwreck.
Posts: 787
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Post by Harriet Watson on Mar 19, 2012 4:25:54 GMT
YES, WELL MOST MOTHERS-TO-BE AREN'T ME, OKAY?
*She's absolutely livid now, hands shaking with anger as her voice rises and rises*
You have NO idea Sherlock Holmes. You don't know how I feel. You couldn't even begin to understand how I feel. Do you know how hard it was to get out of this life? Do you know how dangerous it was? And I come back in it. Why? For you. For my brother. To protect him.
I am doing this because I care. I care about him more than I care about anything in my life. I care about him a hell of a lot more than you ever could.
It was just a f**king kiss, Sherlock. Get over it.
*She grabs a blanket and walks over to the sofa, angrily settling on it*
And for the last time, I do NOT fancy you.
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