The Woman (Prelude)
The woman sank slowly to her knees, her mobile phone clutched in her right hand. She had somehow managed to talk her captors into allowing her one last message. Quite a feat, considering her reputation. She typed her last message and hit send—an action that hit her with a forceful finality. She handed the phone over to her captor, and stared straight ahead, her hand sinking slowly into her lap. She closed her eyes. Waited.
The moan. Her eyes shot open, barely believing what they had heard. For a moment she thought it was a delusion—one her dying brain had concocted after her spinal cord had been severed. But she could still feel her beating heart ravaging her ribcage; feel the sand beneath her knees and the perspiration in her palms. She looked in the direction the sound had come, and saw something that could have never been more beautiful than in these—what might be her last moments of life. Grey eyes behind a veil of black.
"When I say run… run!" She smiled as she saw him lift the blade behind him. She looked ahead again, still unsure if she should believe what she was seeing, but smiling nonetheless. She heard a soft thump and a groan, no doubt the blade coming in contact with her captor. She knew the others would be upon them soon, and figured she had waited long enough. She jumped up and ran to the Humvee, hiding behind it as she heard several more rapid footsteps advance on her savior. She peeked around the front grill of the Humvee, and saw a magnificent black shadow moving with ethereal grace and speed. The blade sliced effortlessly through artery and flesh, each one a deliberate and artfully executed death blow. Five men attacked at once, and five fell dead within minutes. Her savior straightened, looking around at the lumped bodies surrounding him. He pulled his veil away from his face, and looked over at her. She couldn't control her emotions any longer, and sprinted toward him. She didn't slow down, just let her body collide with his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and buried her face in his shoulder. She let out a small noise, part way between choking and sobbing. Her entire body felt drained, physically weak, and she let herself drape against him, overcome with fear and exhaustion. Her arms gripped his neck with such force, as if they were the only thing keeping her from collapsing entirely. She was unsure of what she was doing, or how he would react, but she knew she had been prepared to die only moments ago. She could think of nothing else but him, here, and how safe she felt for the first time in… a very long time. She just stood, clutching him with all the strength that remained to her, for what felt like hours. He didn't back away, never tried to break her embrace. Finally she pulled away from him, and looked up into those grey eyes. The moment their eyes met, he backed away one carefully measured step, and broke eye contact. He looked around the compound, most likely calculating numerous methods of escape, and said "You have to go. Now." He didn't wait for her to respond, instead sprinting toward a line of horses that were tied in a row near the Humvee. He sliced the horse's tie with his blade and jumped lithely onto the animal's back. The horse danced with anticipation and excitement as he gathered up the reigns. He steered the horse to the vehicles and slashed their tires with his blade.
"Take one of the horses. Harder to track." And with that, he thrust the reigns forward, giving the horse its head, and smacked its rear with the broad side of his blade. The horse took off, spraying sand out behind it in a massive cloud.
"Holmes!" She called after him. He kept galloping. "Holmes!" She called again, louder this time. His figure grew smaller against the night sky of the desert. "Sherlock!" She cried, and this time he pulled the horse up, its hooves grinding into the sand as it slid to a halt. He reigned the animal around, and she could barely make him out against the starlit sky. "Dinner?!" She called. She could barely make out an amused giggle, like the purr of a large cat, then he hissed at the horse, digging his heels into its sides, and he disappeared into the night. Sherlock never responds.