Okay so this is my first actual fic, so go easy on me. This fic is based mostly on the series Dead like me. Its okay if you havent seen it, this fic will explain anything you really need to know. So tell me what you think!
Sherlock stopped for a moment, gazing around, searching for his assigned location before glancing back down at his designated post-it note. It read:
R.W & J.W
ETD: 3:46 pm
"Excuse me," he said, as a man passed by. "Do you have the time?"
"Yes, of course," the man replied, looking down at his watch. An expensive watch, most likely a promotional gift, which, judging from the briefcase, and the well-tailored suit, his line of work had something to do with an office. Of course he wasn't going to waste much time on a simpleton as this man. "It is three thirty-nine." He said with a polite smile.
So, he had seven minutes to locate his assigned souls and reap them before a calamity insues. This was his first important reap-a double reap, at course, if you asked Lestrade, he would say that all souls are important, no matter how it left this world. Idiot.
Most of his assigned work had been old women dying in their beds, self-poisoned idiots- simple, easy, deaths - for Sherlock, anyways.
Sherlock had believed that, with so many of the small-minded, and the weak, and just so little of the clever and witted, such as himself, that he'd be one of the last to leave this world. In fact, death seemed extremely unlikely on his part, given the statistics on something happening that he could not work his way out of.
It was no unusual day, he was on his way back to his flat after visiting the grocer. Boring, of course, but he was in need of vinegar for his most recent experiment. He was in the middle of studying the effect of different liquids to wool when he realized he had ran out.
He was almost there when he was stopped by a man with high eyebrows, an unusually large nose, and an obviously forced smile.
"Excuse me, sir. I was wondering if you knew the time?" The man inquired, as he twirled an umbrella in his right hand. Sherlock glanced down at his phone quickly, "One Fourty-Nine". He then proceeded to step his way passed the man, not realizing he had bumped shoulders with him.
The man smiled as he walked away. "Have a lovely day, sir."
He shrugged off the social grace, not noticing he was suddenly facing the front door of his flat. He furrowed his brows, but not before he spotted a small, black creature lurking its way up the nearest wall.
"Gravelings" he heard a man's voice say.
He turned to the voice, to face a man with grey hair, a plaid button-up shirt, adorned with a black, unbuttoned coat. He had crisp lines around his chestnut-brown eyes, which meant he had to be at least fourty, but something about the way he stood- the way he stood said he's seen so many things, so many horrible things, far too many to be at least fourty.
"Greg Lestrade" his voice spoke. "Hello, Sherlock."
Sherlock open his mouth to speak, but was cut off as Lestrade gestured to the ground beside him with his head.
He looked around the crowded area, there had to be some place that squared off for a decent death. Though of course, he knew that in his line of work, decent deaths weren't exactly common. Giving up hope wasn't much of an option. In fact, it wasn't an option at all. There were consequences. There were always consequences.
Sherlock stood there, ruffling his dark curls with frustrastion.
Well, he wasn't helping anything with just standing, looking through a large crowd, like an idiot. He started to deduce. Two people. Most likely together, but in a place that a death could occur within five minutes.
Well, he supposed that a soul-er two souls- late is better than no soul- er souls- at all.
Until- Ah.
"Sorry to say, but you're dead, mate." Was all he heard as he loomed over the still figure that was his body. His thought process had slowed. He furrowed his brows at the man. Had this been a dream?
Of course, that was highly improbable, Sherlock never had dreams, and certainly none as drastic as this.
"Now, settle down, John." Ruth said, as she turned to her young son. Johnathan Watson, her husband joined in. "This will only take a few minutes, and then we can meet up with your sister." He said, smiling at his son.
"Alright, Daddy!" A young John replied, jumping with exitement. Today was his nineth birthday, and he always felt happy to be just a little bit older, as well as visiting his older sister, Harriet. When she turned eighteen, she had moved into her own flat, and gotten a flatmate, Clara.
The Blonde woman pushed her bangs behind her ears, before pulling out her phone, and dialing a number, putting it up to her ear.
While the phone was dialing, Johnathan called for a taxi.
"Harry, honey? We're on our way, we'll be just a few minutes."
As they worked their way into the taxi, they were stopped.
"Excuse me, sir, madame?" They each were greeted with a tap on the shoulder, as they turned to face a tall, somewhat pale man. He was well-dressed in a thick wool coat, had a suit beneath, complete with a blue scarf.
Ruth pulled her phone away from her ear, to look at the man.
"Yes?" Ruth and Johnathan both said in unison.
The man let out a sigh of relief, then quickly replied "Er, sorry, I think I have mistaken you for some one else."
He then put on a polite smile, as he turned away, waving a hand, remarking "Have a wonderful day!"
As they watched him walk away, they figured how odd of an encounter that was.
Johnathan escourted his wife and son into the cab, calling to the cabby "Twenty Two Northumberland Street."
Whilst the cabby started driving, Ruth continued to chat with her daughter.
"A surprise? Really? Oh. Dating? Oh Sweetie, I'm so happy for you!"
"What, dating? Who is Harry dating?" Her husband asked.
John sat politely next to his parents, looking out of his window to find two birds chatting in their own little bird-way. John had always loved birds. He had a pet bird, once to which he had named Merlin, until he had looked Merlin's species up and realised that that particular coloring in Merlin's feathers had only appeared in females. Oh, but John thought that was just fine. He had himself his own unique Female Merlin, and he loved her all the more. Well, of course until one day he had brought his friend, Mike over to which he had released her to show his friend, she had escaped from the nearest window. Though he was happy for her. Maybe she had gone off and met other bird friends. Maybe even a bird husband- or a bird wife. Either was fine with John, as long as his Merlin was happy.
Everyone was so wrapped up in their own little world that they hadn't realised the taxi had stopped.
"Alright, Honey, well I'll see you soon, we can talk then. Love you too. Goodbye, Harry."
As john heard his mother speak, he realised exactly what he was looking at. The birds outside his window were in a still picture, not a blurr of cars and buildings passing by. He had taken so many taxis with his Mum and Dad before, and every time they stopped, it was where they had told the cabby they needed to go.
"Mummy, Daddy, this isn't Harry's flat."
Ruth and Johnathan both looked up from their phone at the same time to find a gun facing them.
"Get out of the cab." the cabby said calmly, tightening his grasp around the gun.
Ruth and Johnathan got out of the cab, their hands up. "Please, sir, don't do this!" Ruth said, frightened for her life, for her husband's, and for her young son's.
"Shut you mouth, woman!" the cabby yelled.
As he did so, they all jumped with fear.
"Is that a cell phone?" he asked, with a shakey breath.
"Is that a cell phone?!" he jumped, shaking the gun in his hand.
"Yes!" Ruth said, through tears in her eyes.
The cabby swallowed hard. "Drop it." He commanded. "Drop it on the ground now!" he indicated a spot on the cement with the gun in his right hand.
Ruth was oh so terrified, so of course she obliged.
With an eye on the phone on the ground, he slided it with his left foot to a spot closer to himself.
"Now" the cabby swallowed. He used his gun to point at the small purse in the woman's left hand.
"Hand it over"
Ruth started to slip her pocket book off of her wrist slowly, still scared for her life. But more so for her son's life.
"Now!" She jumped, throwing it on the ground, it landing at the cabby's feet.
The cabby's eyes lingered on both Johnathan and Ruth, as he crouched down at the purse. Finally, he put his full attention on the purse. This was his first mistake. He started digging through it, throwing out the occasional gum packet, lipstick, until reaching a wallet.
As Ruth watched teh cabby on the ground, she inched toward the taxi, her small son still inside.
"Mummy, please! I'm scared!" John called as he finally caught sight of his mother.
With that, the cabby snapped back up, raising his gun towards Ruth. This was it, she knew.
Johnathan knew.
And deep down, maybe John knew.
And there went the trigger, and the fall of the woman's fragile body.
"Ruth!" Johnathan reached for her, but as he did so, the trigger was pulled back again.
The still standing man picked up the items on the ground, moved to the back seat of the taxi to find a crying John.
"Get out" he said firmly, grabbing the child's forearm, putting him off to the side, alone with the two still, lifeless bodies.
The cabby proceeded to make his way to the front door of his cab, not looking back as it started.
Not looking back as he drove away.
Not looking back at the young, bawling child clinging to his mother's white -Now pink- dress.
Alright, so that was it. And no, the cabby idea was not inspired by study in pink. And the northumberlands street was just put in there because i couldnt think of anything else. also, this fic is WiP. But! i will try to update at least every two to three weeks. so rate and review, its appreciated.