Hello everyone in the Sherlock Holmes world! I am new to this story but I have written many other stories for other categories before :) Hope you enjoy this one!
These will be one-shots so they won't continue on from each other, just short stories :)
This mustn't register on an emotional level. First: Distract target. Then block his blind jab. Counter with cross to left cheek. Discombobulate. Dazed, he'll attempt wild haymaker. Employ elbow block, and body shot. Block feral left. Weaken right jaw. Now fracture. Break cracked ribs. Traumatize solar plexus. Dislocate jaw entirely. Heel kick to diaphragm. In summary, ears ringing, jaw fractured, three ribs cracked, four broken. Diaphragm haemorrhaging, physical recovery, six weeks. Full psychological recovery, six months. Capacity to spit at back of head, neutralized.
He'd made countless plans like this. All plans within seconds and all within fast-paced action. Anybody would find it exciting and purely handy to have such knowledge as his. That part was true, it was handy. Then there was the fact that he saw everything within anything. Every single little detail, every single little sound. Everyone thought it would be exciting as well. Sherlock doesn't, he'd say it was tiresome.
He sat in the dark. Knees to his chest and gun in hand aiming at the wall. Watson ran up the stairs trying to cease the noise. He flung the door open and stepped inside.
"Still trying to silence the sound of gun fire, Holmes?" Watson's question caught Sherlock's attention.
"Why must you continue to interrupt my utter most fabulous inventions? Don't you have a fiancé to attend to?" Sherlock replied.
"Ah, yes. Speaking of, I'll be leaving tomorrow." Watson stated. Sherlock returned his gaze to the wall, not wanting to speak a word of Watson's engagement.
Watson watched as Sherlock's face slackened. Every time he saw Sherlock's reaction, deep down inside he realised how much he would miss him. All the cases they had solved and all the adventures that were taken all finished because he had found his true love.
They were, after all, brothers. Not in blood but in bond just like the gypsy woman had said.
Yes it was true; they would both miss each other dearly.
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