Well, I've spent a lot of time in this fandom reviewing stories but I've never posted one until now. This little one-shot was originally part of a much larger story. Unfortunately, the rest of the story was total junk. I'm pretty sure this piece can stand on its own though. A little setup: the original story was a Sherlock Holmes/Frankenstein crossover, with a man duplicating Frankenstein's experiment to create a creature to get rid of his enimies. Long story short, Holmes and Watson start snooping, bad guy gets nervous and sends the monster after them...
Holmes slowly raised his head but was so overcome with dizzyness that he nearly passed out again. He shut his eyes and waited for the feeling to pass. Once it had, he took a glance at his surroundings. He was outside in an alleyway. He could just make out the vauge silhouetes of the buildings through the thick fog. There was a sharp, burning pain in his throat-a result of his attacker trying to strangle him. There was no trace of the attacker now, he had left the detective for dead. But why am I still alive? Holmes wondered. He tried to think. The last thing he remembered was being pinned to the side of the building, his assailent's hands in an iron grip around his throat. Holmes shivered as he recalled staring into the attacker's eyes. They had been vacant, totally devoid of any emotion. The eyes of a dead man.
Then Holmes' heart momentarily stopped beating as the rest of the memory returned to him. In the exact instant before he had lost consciousness, he had heard a voice shouting, "Leave him alone!"
"WATSON!" Holmes shouted, his voice a harsh croak. The action sent his throat ablaze. There was no response to his call. Holmes looked around wildly, but it was hard to see anything. Blast this fog! he thought, trying to fight off the growing panic. At last his eyes came to rest on what at first glance appeared to be nothing more than a pile of rubbish. But instinct told him to take a closer look, and Holmes realised that it was, in fact, a man. Holmes called out his friend's name again as he crawled towards him. Please God, Holmes prayed. Please don't let him be- Holmes stopped when he reached Watson's side.
Watson was lying face down in a heap against the side of the building, he head bent at an unnatural angle. "No... " Holmes whispered, denying what logic and reason were trying to tell him. Very carefully, he turned the doctor over. The fog had started to lift, and now the full horror was staring Holmes in the face.
Watson's eyes were vacant and unseeing, fixed upon the sky. Holmes frantically searched those eyes for some spark of life, for some hint of recognition, but there was nothing. Holmes could no longer deny the evidence in front of him.
Guilt, rage and grief overcame him. "He died saving me," Holmes realised. When that-thing-had been strangling him, it had only held on long enough to cause Holmes to pass out. Watson had rushed at the attacker, distracting it before it could finish its' task. The creature had then turned its' attention on Watson-and had snapped his neck, hence the unnatural position of his head.
"Did you know?" Holmes wondered out loud, his voice tembling. "In your last moments, did you know that you had saved me?" Somehow he doubted it. The last Watson had seen of Holmes was his going limp in the creature's grasp, and it certainly would not have given him a chance to check for a pulse. But Holmes wanted to believe it. Needed to believe that his friend had had at least one small comfort to accompany him to the afterlife.
He gently reached down and closed Watson's eyes. "Don't worry old friend," he said softly, his voice filled with cold rage. "I give you my word, I will find out who's responsible for this-and I will make them pay."
A/N: and there you have it! My first, and possibly last, Sherlock Holmes story. I actually wasn't even going to post this, but a very dear friend convinced me I should. They know who they are.