I wanted to write this.
They're running and running. The word "fugitives" sinks into his head slowly. He can't afford to have it sink in slowly right now though. He needs to hurry up and get over the initial shock. Police are coming after them. Knowing how much Donovan and Anderson hate Sherlock (not including the rest of the force) they're probably already up after them; guns and hostage or no. The sirens seem like background noise that's drowned out by his heavy breathing and their footsteps.
These cuffs are ridiculous. It's so difficult to run while attached at the wrists like this. They chafe his skin and every raise of Sherlock's arm that he doesn't catch is followed with the metal cutting into his skin so hard he's surprised his wrist isn't bloody yet.
"We need to hold hands!"
Sherlock's right.
"Got it," he replies breathlessly as they're hands fumble and finally grasp each other. They haven't stopped at all to rest and now he's holding Sherlock's hand. It's like some clichéd escape scene in an action/romance movie.
"Great, now people are really going to talk."
The newspapers are already saying he's a confirmed bachelor and the last thing he needs besides the fact that Moriarty is planning on proving Sherlock a fraud, is some idiot with a cellphone snapping a picture detailing how the "great detective and his sidekick" are obviously in some kind non-platonic relationship. Huh, "idiots"… sounds more like what Sherlock would say. Oh dammit all. He's starting to act like his flat mate. Can't be helped. They are living together after all. Sherlock's hand is also pleasantly warm; probably from all the running.
Next thing he knows Sherlock casually jumps an iron fence and he groans as he slams into the metal. His face painfully connects with one of the bars and he can feel that his side will be bruised tomorrow.
"Sherlock, we need to coordinate," he suggests over the pain.
"Ah, yes, move to the right and up…"
The chains clink over the sharp edges of the bars and with a bit of help from Sherlock he's over it in seconds. A police car screeches by the alleyway where they are and Sherlock pulls them both against the brick wall. Even in this exhausted state his training that was pounded into his head forces his attention to places where they could be watched. His training will never let up or leave him be. Never.
It's one of the hit-men. He's following them, but why? Sherlock simply shook hands with one and the man was gunned down in an instant. He listens dutifully as Sherlock realizes that the hit-men are to protect him. Then comes the crazy idea.
"John, we're going to run in front of that bus."
Unsurprisingly, he can only reply with a blank, "What?"
The things he'll do for Sherlock; even he knows how ridiculous they are as they are ready to enter the path of a two level bus.
Hmmm… that was fun. I wonder if I should do more of these.
