Summery: Two seedy characters break into Sherlock's flat with malicious intent but they have an unexpected complication. John's feeling viciously protective. Warning: Dark!John & Dark!Sherlock
"This is going to be easy. All we have to do is be quick and quiet," he said as they picked the lock of the man's flat. "If there's a scuffle, you distract him and I'll take him down, then, we disappear."
Gravely, they misjudged their surroundings. There were 2 men instead of just the one. The darkness didn't work to either of their advantages. Her accomplice was tackled from behind and she heaved a chair at the man causing him to let go. Her accomplice got away and they both ran out into the shadows.
She hid in the shadows quietly to listen if she was being followed and to plan her next move. In the distance, she watched as the shorter man had caught her accomplice again. His street fighting was no match for the other man's apparent skill. She held her breath as the shorter man then struck him in the head causing her friend to have to be drug off. She turned and ran. Glancing behind her, no one, she took a deep breath of relief. Suddenly in her path stood Sherlock. She stopped abruptly. "Coward. Where are you going?" he asked with a heavy breath.
She looked around panicked at what she could use as a weapon to get away from this man. Nothing. She used this moment to catch her breath planning another run. She ran off with Sherlock on her heels, running blindly through someone's yard. She darted around some trees and her heart almost stopped when she saw a tall fence made of wooded planks. She got a new burst of energy when she saw a door build in the fence and flew through it. She shut it just in time with him close behind and had to hold it shut because the lock latched from both sides. They stared each other down, breathless.
He sized up the fence. "I could climb this fence quite easily you know. How far would you get? You better start running." He smiled when he saw her considering it. To his amusement and blatant lie, she turned and ran. He was upon her in moments. Thoughts of going to prison made her fight viciously. She used her head her legs and her elbows. She heard him say stop but didn't listen. Suddenly, she felt paralyzed in almost unbearable pain. She wanted to scream but couldn't. "Let's go in a have a little chat and call the police," he said as he swiftly drug her back to the flat, keeping his hand on a pressure point.
His painful grip let her go and she could breathe again. She looked back at him, breathless and she noticed she had made contact during their scuffle. He had a small bloody cut on his lower lip. He watched her face. The shorter man let her accomplice drop to the floor. "Sherlock, please tell me they didn't come here to," he paused walking over to his friend. "Did she do that to you?" John asked breathing heavily. He was silent. She looked back and forth between them. Then with out warning John slapped her across the face causing her fall on her knees and lean against a near by chair. "Sherlock, what's going on?" he asked. "Don't tell me they came to do what I think they came here to do."
"Relax John, it's ok," he said calmly.
"It's not ok, none of this is ok."
"Relax, this is contained and it will stay that way." He turned his head. "Get up," he told her. She rose cautiously keeping her eyes on the man who hit her but avoiding his face. "Sit." She sat in the chair and scanned for exists but they where both in her way. "Who are you? Both of you," Sherlock asked. She looked to her accomplice and watched John walk over to him, then looked at her escape routes.
"He's dazed," said John. "I didn't realize I hit him so hard. She's going to have to do most of the talking." Sherlock watched her squirm like they most often do and lie like they always do.
"Jane Spletzer," she answered.
"And him?"
"Adam Woods."
"Why did you come here, Jane?" She thought fast of something to say, anything but the truth which would get them the largest sentence.
"We were looking for something of value, something to steal."
"Steal from our flat," he laughed. "Unlikely. There are many higher end districts to choose and break into to when no one is home."
"Security, this place didn't seem secure. Your lock was easy to pick. You can't judge a place by how it looks on the outside, the people there might still-"
"Ok, improbable but still possible," he cut her off. "John, check his pockets see if he stole anything from us." He turned his attention back to her as her whole body chilled.
"What. Did. You. Steal?"
"Nothing, nothing's in his pockets. Nothing in his bag." John responded.
"We didn't have enough time-"
"Stop lying," he said suddenly.
"I'm not-"
"It is after all, with the many death threats I get, that someone finally attempts to do it, comes to my very flat, very brashly I might add?" he stated. The man on the floor didn't say anything. John stood over him, watching him, wound tight.
"No, we were robbing you. We are not murderers." she protested. He smiled a little, getting off on being right.
"You're obviously not part of organized crime or money for that matter. I can tell from your shoes, your clothes and your hair that looks like it hasn't had a proper cut in years." His eyes rolled toward the ceiling. "You're amateur, bold, childish, idiotic," then his gaze pointed at her. "And cowardly. I am insulted at the quality of hit men they choose. What would they have done had you not succeeded, well, what will they do?" He asked rhetorically. She didn't answer. She really didn't know. Everything crashed down around them. They didn't have a plan B. They were caught and where both going to prison. "And a gun, they gave you gun?" He pointed it at her. "That could get very hairy. No silencer, noisy, brash and careless." He laughed. "It's like they wanted you to get caught. I'd ask who you pissed off if the idea weren't so absurd. Who was it that I sent to prison or to the gallows or what ever and who are you really?" he asked looking bored.
"I told you my name is Jane."
"I said stop lying," he bitingly cut her off. "You know who I am. It doesn't work." Her demeanor changed.
"We don't have to talk to you," she said.
"Oh come on, it will be in the papers tomorrow," he coaxed. She remained quiet. John strode toward her and she went to rise from the chair, though she couldn't go anywhere. Eyes of steel blue cut into her.
"We, don't have to let this breaking and entering go off with out another incident," he threatened, glancing to her accomplice lying on the floor.
"I'll tell the police you assaulted us." He shook his head frustrated, putting his palm to his face, on the verge of doing something terrible. He suddenly took her hand and started twisting it, making her gasp in pain. Sherlock watched curiously.
"I'll do this nice and slow and you just talk when you're ready, ok?" asked John. She hated the paralyzing move Sherlock had used on her and was determined not to let anyone have that sort of grip again. She made a move to kick him and attack his face with her fingernails. He easily grabber her other hand in his and twisted her wrist a little faster. She gasped and fell to her knees. "You have about a minute before it breaks," he warned. "Stop, stop please," she gasped.
"I will when you start talking."
"Alice my name's Alice Vickander."
"Is it?" He glanced up at Sherlock who nodded.
"He's Cory Salinger.
"See? That was easy wasn't it?" He let go. She rubbed her sore hand and backed away from them till she was breathing heavy against the fireplace.
"Salinger, Salinger, Salinger," Sherlock repeated. "That name sounds familiar. Ah, he was put away on charges of fraud embezzlement and murder."
"The family depended heavily on him and his, business so when he went to prison and was ultimately executed, everything fell apart," said Alice. Sherlock glanced up.
"John, we have a runner."
"No we don't." John walked over to Cory who fought but was put out of commission frighteningly quickly by John's training. Alice got to her feet put her hand over her mouth.
"What, what are you doing?" he said as he rolled over in pain on the floor. "You, you guys are insane!" he said.
Alice was slowly realizing this wasn't ending in a normal fashion with the police being called. She didn't want them to be called but something about the delay made her wonder what was really going on that and how they handled them was ominous and very illegal. She then noticed the knife sticking out of the mantle. She was desperate for the right time to go for it and hoping she wasn't seen eyeing it.
"Listen, I didn't want to do this. I'm not part of his family," Alice began trying to plead her case and lower their guard.
"Liar, you were all for it." Cory said from his spot on the floor. Alice looked horrified.
"No I wasn't. My family owed his family a favor. I was sent to be a look out."
"You lying bitch. We both wanted this. You said it would be easy!" Cory insisted.
"That's not true!" she cried.
"Oh no, no, no, you said you wanted to come even though your father didn't want you to because you are a girl!"
"Shut up you son of a bitch! I didn't say that! I never wanted to come here! Your family coerced me!"
"Cut the bullshit Alice. We're caught. It's over and if you ever set foot back home again, my family will kill you for mucking this up!" Alice was horrified nearly in tears.
"It's so like you to throw me under the bus you crazy, reckless, lying, backstabbing bastard!" Sherlock threw his hands in the air and shouted,
"Shut up, both if you! Shut up! John, I'm calling the police, unless you'd like the pleasure."
"No," she said.
"No," said John quickly.
"No?" asked Sherlock.
"I think we can handle this," said John. Sherlock gave him a questioning look.
"John?"
"Are you in need of any severed heads, eye balls, or thumbs?" Sherlock's expression then gave way to a semi horrified look.
"John." Moments passed. "Are you certain?"
"Yes," he said with out missing a beat. A creepy ghost of a smile appeared then disappeared.
"I'm genuinely shocked. It's truly heartwarming that you'd like to contribute these two murderous wannabes to my studies."
"He's kidding, right?" she asked.
"Oh no, no, no, no," said John. "Not kidding. Come have a look," he said dragging her away from the knife in the mantle and up to the refrigerator. "I come across one of these grotesque displays at least once a week."
"You can't, honestly, mean to kill us. You're joking right?" she said slowly. John turned to Sherlock.
"You can think of a way out of this, right?"
"Yes. Several," he paused. "Five already." She watched him smile like a snake. She couldn't believe what was transpiring. Things felt off about these 2 men. The detective was so nonchalant when talking about murder, like he liked it. This wasn't the man she was told about, the shrewd inspector.
"You can't…you guys are joking," was all she could say, still in dooming disbelief.
"Do pay attention Alice. We can't make it more obvious." said Sherlock condescendingly.
"I can," John said as he opened a kitchen drawer and casually lifted a knife. Before she had thought she had to remain quiet to get away as unnoticed as possible. Now getting out and run screaming into the street was her only thought. Cory was a head of her when he was going for the door and started yelling for help. Knocking over a small table full of clutter behind her to block his way, she made a run for the door as well.
"Get her," said John as he again chased her accomplice, knocked him to the floor and put a foot on his throat. She was about to scream when a hand covered her mouth and she instantly stilled thinking she would feel paralyzing pain again at any moment.
"Now," he said calmly. "If you scream or try to run, I can hurt you, do you hear me?" She nodded. Keeping his arm around her shoulders, he took his hand off her mouth. She was shaking thoroughly now. Corey fought John but he couldn't get up with his injured leg. She watched John seemingly toy with her accomplice and let his anger out.
"You seem strangely unaffected by all this," Sherlock said into the side of her head. "Watching your accomplice being hurt."
"I told you, "She said quietly and severely shaking. "I'm not part of their family, a part of this revenge. I told you I don't have any ties to them apart from a favor I owed them."
Seeing John suddenly start to walk over to her, she involuntarily braced herself against Sherlock. "Sherlock Holmes wouldn't do this," she said.
"What do you know about Sherlock Holmes?" Sherlock asked beside her ear. "Obviously you know enough about him to believe he deserves to be dead."
"You know this is wrong," she struggled desperately to look in his face.
"I do whatever my doctor recommends," he replied coldly.
"He'll be relatively quiet for the duration of the rest of this," John said to Sherlock, then turned his attention to her and she flinched. "What about John Watson? Do you know what John Watson would do? Because if you did you wouldn't have come here," he said with the blood still pumping fast through his veins. "John Watson is an army doctor and a soldier meaning he knows exactly how to hurt people and how much pain they can take before they pass out or die."
"Tell him," she begged Sherlock. "Tell him I didn't have a choice."
"What? Are they blackmailing you?" asked John. "Threatening someone you love? Did they put a gun to your head?" He held the gun to her head and she shut her eyes tight. He watched her cry. "Hm? Have you no idea what loosing someone can do to you? Do you? Do you! The pain, the constant anguish that, that they're not going to be there when you come home." His voice faltered and he turned his back to her. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat and continued. "So you move away. But you can run away from it. You can't bury it. You can't burn it. It's always there, burning you."