This is a story told in drabble form. I currently use the prompt table from my livejournal community. I do not own anything beside the inspiration.
Evil
By all means the case had been a simple one. The suspect hidden in a house fit for demolition, leaving an easy trail for Holmes and Watson to follow. Lestrade and two policemen were handcuffing the culprit, hauling him out of the house, the old floorboards creaking beneath their heavy boots.
Inexplicably, he shot them a hideous smile over his shoulder when he vanished out the door.
"Well, that was a case hardly worth my attention," said Holmes.
Watson merely lifted an eyebrow and made as if to reply but a deafening explosion silenced him and the world around them.
Terror
Holmes was aware of rough wood beneath his cheek as well as the slicknes and sensation of blood. His head hurt, but his nose hurt most of all.
Lying face-down on the floor did not help pushed himself up on trembling arms. His sight was hazy at best, he could hear voices calling from the outside in.
There was a lingering scent of some kinds of chemicals that must have been responsible for the explosion.
On hands and knees, he looked around the wrecked remains of the house. Holmes's blood turned to ice when he remembered Watson.