First One-shot story I made :) This story takes place after the "Return of Sherlock Holmes". does nto contain much case detail, so more for a Shewatsonlock rather than a pure Sherlockian who wants to read mystery (wink)
Disclaimers: i DO NOT own Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. but Arundel Swift is a character of my pure imagination.
Warning: contains some violence (not much, do not worry) and romantic Slash.
Obedience
I believe it was one of those quiet case-free days when Holmes was sitting by the window, staring blankly into the town. For the day was cold, I had preferred staying huddled near the fire, concentrating my thoughts on the latest book that found its way to my hands. Holmes was obviously itching to use the great mind of his, for piles and piles of old records of cases and mystery was at his foot, several chemicals boiling in his room, and a black lettered book lay on his lap. Sadly, none of these things seems to grab his interest, and we just sat there without doing much.
"Watson, grab you coat, we are heading out." It was around three in the afternoon when he said those words. Without further explanation, we were briskly walking out of the warm comfort that our compartment provided. Holmes swiftly crossed from streets to streets, with me lagging a little bit behind. Finally, he had a sharp turn to an alley, I hurriedly following his lead. The alley was dark and for a moment I had lost all signs of my friend.
"Quickly, my dear Watson!" The all too familiar hands pulled me behind the dump and motioned me to keep silent. In a very low voice, he said, "I believe you have your revolver with you."
"Unfortunately, my revolver is back at home. But if you will just explain to me all this, I will be more than happy to go back and grab my gun. It will take less than 5 minutes." Said I in the lowest voice I could produce with all the excitement and thrill. It seems like Holmes had one way or another gotten a case without my knowledge and had been brooding over it in a different manner.
"No, we don't have time for another trip home. Just stick close to me then, Watson. This case is promised with danger." His face twinkled with delight and interest, but then knitted into a frown. "I am sure you would not want to miss this for the world. But to expose you to such harm without a single weapon to defend yourself…"
"I will be fine." I said in the calmest manner possible, for he was right when he said I would not want to miss such an adventure. Holmes just shrugged, but his expression was an uneasy one. We were both crouched down, invisible to any eye that passed by the street yet able to see everything going on there. Around three minutes had passed when Holmes gave a violent tug, motioning me to stand up. We waited for another minute, and then rapidly headed back into the streets. The streets were pretty empty due to the cold temperature, and I could clearly see the men that gotten my partner's attention.
They were both men of great size, one wearing a tall hat and other a black overcoat. Both were remarkably well dressed, and obviously in a hurry. We followed them in a safe fifty-foot distance, making sure that they weren't out of our sight. After a 10 minute walk, they turned and entered a shop, leaving us behind to wait.
It almost has been half an hour since they entered, but no signs of them were seen. Holmes was impatient, stumping back and forth, mumbling to himself. After an hour, he finally snapped and faced me.
"Watson, I'm going in." He said in an exited yet irritated tone.
"Are you sure they did not come out, and we just have missed them?"
"By George, Watson! Have some faith in me!" said he with a chuckle. "I would never miss them, not for the world! Now Watson, listen carefully. I do not know what kind of shop that is, but one thing I know is that those two men are of extreme danger. I currently do not have time to explain my affairs, but pray do follow every word I say. You are to assist me by waiting here and being on the watch. I would be surprised if I would not be back out within the next half an hour. But in the case I would not come back out but the two gentlemen will you are not to pursue them, but rather, come look for me."
With that Holmes rushed into the shop leaving me behind. After a minute or two, a cab stopped some distance away from me. Its curtains were drawn, preventing me from seeing the figures that occupied the said vehicle. After a while, I lost interest and stared at the shop, hoping to see some signs of my friend.
The events that took place next are of some confusion to me, but I will try to narrate them as clear as possible. While my eyes were trailing the people that went in and out of the said store, I would safely guess that two people had walked up behind me. I was too focused on the given job that I did not even recognize their presence. They gagged me with what I presume to be chlorine soaked handkerchief, knocking me out, and took me away in the cab. I remained unconscious for quiet sometime for the next thing I knew, I was tied up against a post, in an unknown room. The room was dark, with deep red curtains drawn to prevent any light to shine in the room. There was a single grand table and an armchair turned from me, so that I would not be able to see the person sitting. I shuffled a little, trying to see if I could get myself free with no avail.
"Dr. Watson. It seems you are awake." said the man who sat at the chair. He stood up, turned, facing me. He was a tall man of thin built, with light brown hair, neat mustache that covered his upper lips, and big bright pair of eyes that shone with enthusiasm. His smile was wide and genuine, but something about this man gave me the creep.
"Well, yes I am." I responded in a calm tone, trying to conceal the panic I was in. "So it seems that you know me well. Pardon me, but I do not have the slightest idea who you might be."
"Hullo! Hullo! What's this? You haven't heard a single thing from Mr. Sherlock Holmes, did you not? Well, pardon my rudeness. I am Arundel Swift, the owner of this humble house. Pray do make yourself at home." said he. He lit a cigar and puffed with pleasure.
"Do you smoke, Doctor?" he asked. "Well, you must! You must! How silly of me to ask." He answered himself even before I had a chance to understand the question. Arundel Swift was a weird fellow indeed, with energetic movements and a loud excited voice. He once again sat in his chair, but this time facing me.
"Well, Mr. Swift, enough with the small talk. What is it that you desire from me?" asked I.
"Well, aren't you always the impatient one. No matter. I too would love to go right down to business. So, Dr. Watson, what is it that you and Mr. Holmes want?" his tone dropped, and his hands locked as he inquired me of our unknown motives.
"I honestly do not know it myself."
"Do you honestly think I will believe that? Let's be frank here, will we not?" is eyes hardened yet his mouth formed a smile.
"Well, I am telling nothing but the truth. I am to aid Holmes in his cases, but I do not have the habit of inquiring him none stop. I believe he is to tell me the details when the time is ripe. Unfortunately, he did not inform me of anything yet." I was please to know that not a single sign of panic was heard in my voice. Mr. Swift just shrugged as if my lack of knowledge was not of a big deal.
"This will be harder on you if you really do wish to be uncooperative." He drew closer, still puffing his cigar…
I must confess that I almost had lost my consciousness more than twice. My body was sore with burns and bruises, and my wrist was already starting to bleed due to me grinding against it. Arundel Swift had already given into the fact that I do not have a single knowledge of this case, but he continued to torture for other information like my roommate's weakness, our house lay out, his habits and so on. I did not open my mouth for any of these questions, and had no plans even if it meant my life. I would never wish to disgrace myself and my friend's name even more.
Soon enough, the master of the house himself got tired and frustrated with my silence. He called for someone and a tall man entered. His hair was trimmed short, and his eyes were hard. Mr. Swift frowned for a moment, hesitated and finally ordered this newcomer.
"Well, you seem to be new here. But this mansion is too big for me to know everyone in it. Well, you seem like a trust worthy man. Very well, prove yourself to me, and I would grantee you a better standing than you find yourself now in. Your task is simple. Get information from our dear doctor. He been asked for quiet sometime now, and if I go on I might lose my temper, and it won't be pretty. I need him alive and alive he will be. So pardon me now. I'll be in the tea-room if you need me."
"Yes sir." answered the man. "I will make sure you won't be disappointed."
"Well, you better please me." Mr. Swift said with a smile. "Or it might cost your neck." and walked out of the room.
As I heard the door slam, my felt my body shudder involuntarily with fear. The floor was already coated with my blood from cuts, and I believe I would not be able to stay awake for long time. As I imagine the new horror that will unfold right in front of me by this new man, I bit my tongue swearing not to mention even a word that might harm Holmes in anyway.
"Why don't you talk?" ask him in his deep voice. The hardness of his eyes disappeared and was replaced by doubt, pity, sympathy and…. Sorrow… Was it really sorrow that I saw?
"I would never disgrace me or Sherlock Holmes's name by doing so." I said with a hoarse chuckle.
He came closer, and my body tensed. His hand made its way to my face, and I closed my eyes, getting ready to receive the blow. But instead, the next turn of events took my by surprise.
"It's all my fault." He grumbled while gently checking the wounds on my face. Something about his fingers was familiar. "Could you stand up, my dear Watson?"
"Holmes!" I cried with joy. "How in the world did you get here? And the attire! I did not recognize you!"
"Lower your volume! You seem to have more energy than you look. I should have sent you with your revolver. And it was foolish of me to leave you behind! But such a sweet trap they had left. They sacrificed all their major pieces just to have you in their possession." Said he as he untied me from the post and helped me stand up. But with hours and hours of torment, my body finally gave up, and the word went blank before me.
The next thing I knew, I was once again in a cab, but these times with Holmes by my side. My wounds were still open and seeping of blood, and my burns started to blister. I groaned in pain as I tried to sit up.
"How in the world did you get me out?" I asked.
"That is a long story. The night is young, and we better head back to Baker Street, where I can narrate my own story with ease." He said with a knitted brow. His eyes told me how guilty and sorry he felt. But without uttering another word, I drifted back to sleep.
Once we reached 221 Baker Street, he gently rose me up, and we slowly made out way up the stairs. Once in, I stagger away from Holmes and leaned on the window sill for support. I noticed that one of my friends' legs was breeding, most probably from a bullet wound. His face was pretty beaten up too, but his injuries were minor compared to mine.
"You better have that looked into." I pointed out.
"Removed your shirt." He said, waving my words away.
"No." my body was a mess from bruises, cuts and cigar burns. I did not wish unnecessary guilt and pain in my friend's part. "I could care for myself. Now sit down and tell me, what this day was all about. Or better, let us call a doctor to care for your wound first."
"Remove your shirt!" Holmes screamed. This startled me, for even if he did implement strict obedience, he was usually a clam man, and never had I seen him this worked up. But still, I shook my head no. He swiftly made his way to me, slightly limping from the shot and gently grabbed my arms. He rolled the sleeves up, exposing the raw wounds from the rope. His eyes hardened and he groaned once more.
"I should have never left you." He whispered. I just stared at him, not knowing what to say. He slowly lifted my arm and kissed the wounds in my wrist. I winced at the pain, and he looked up. Our eyes meet and we stood there staring at each other, Sherlock's sharp eyes whispering "sorry". A minute passed, then two. His hands slowly made their ways up my chest, examining the damage, and then it softly caressed my face. He traced my cheeks, my nose my eyes and my lips. His lips quietly murmured its apologies in my ears and I was slowing drowning in the atmosphere. Without both of us even realizing, our lips found each other and kissed. I tasted the metal tint of blood, but either of us parted even with the pain and discomfort. Our sinful yet fervent act went on and on, one of us gasping of air every now and then. Just like that, our night slowly passed with a gentle yet passionate, but morally unacceptable apology.
That I say was my rather unfortunate adventure to Mr. Arundel Swift's mansion. Holmes never, up to this day, told me what the case was about, and how it was concluded. How I got out of that house is another mystery I would have to solve. We both quickly recovered from our wounds, but it will never be the same as before, for I had refused to heed my master's command when I declined to remove my shirt, and for the apologies he made to me are never going to leave us. But since Holmes refuses to mention a thing about either of them, aside from the occasion sorry look in his eyes whenever he sees my wounds and scars, I too will lock this story up in my heart and in the pages of my diary. This adventure is never to leave the cover of my personal journal for it contains a secret only the two of us will share…