Author's Note: I'm afraid you guys might have to be a wee bit patient with this one. I wrote it several years ago; it was actually my first fan-fiction, in any genre that I actually finished. The story is basically from a dream I had after obsessing over Sherlock for weeks. Considering that it's adapted from a dream and I wasn't an experienced writer, it kind of stinks. BUT. It's Friday and I don't have anything else prepared for you guys yet, so I thought I'd take a chance and post it. It's set sometime between seasons 1 and 2. Lemme know what you think!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. Written purely for my own geek-ish delight.
Anonymous Caller
John Hamish Watson, formerly of the British military, trudged down the street on a rainy day in October. The rain was pouring down over London and he had turned his collar up against the freezing gusts of wind that would blow sometimes without warning. It was much too cold for this early in the fall, John thought to himself.
He caught himself limping. Again. He stopped walking and looked around, feeling foolish. People scurried past him on the sidewalk, hurrying to get out of the rain. Black London cabs and other cars splashed on down the street, their windshield wipers clearing the line of sight for the drivers and the bright headlights illuminating the downpour ahead. John walked a few more steps before spotting a coffee shop and stepping inside to get a respite from the continual drizzle and seeping cold.
Captain John Watson had been wounded serving in Afghanistan, and honorably discharged because of it. Though he recovered completely physically, it had taken a while to get over the psychological aspect of the injury. For a while he had suffered from a psychosomatic limp, and even his therapist was making little headway in clearing it up. The war haunted him.
Then he had met Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective. Through a mutual acquaintance they found out about each other; both were in need of new quarters, a flat somewhere in London being preferred, but neither could afford such a situation on his own.
Though John could never quite explain how, he found himself moving into a flat with a man he hardly knew the next day, and as a result was caught up in a case the detective was engaged in solving.
John, if he didn't understand him, at least knew Sherlock well by the end of the ordeal, and they two had solved two more cases together, each case having some link to the name "Moriarty". Sherlock had built John's confidence again and helped him get over his unnecessary limp.
But though they had had a run-in with the great mastermind of crime, and barely managed to escape with their lives, all was quiet for now. That, of course, meant the hyperactive Sherlock becoming pessimistic and sarcastic, and as a result very tiresome and hard to cope with.
John had gone out just to escape the house, and Sherlock was out in the city somewhere trying to remedy his boredom and most likely getting himself into trouble, as always. The last time he'd been bored, he'd loaded the wall of his flat with hot lead from his pistol.
"Can I help you?" a young lady behind the counter asked.
"Sure. Mocha Cappuccino," John said, looking forward to the hot drink.
"Cold out there?" she inquired with a smile, observing the water dripping from his short blond hair.
"Oh yeah, definitely. You have no idea."
She handed him the coffee and he laid a few bills on the counter before stepping out into the rain again. He hailed a taxi and told the driver to take him to the nearest library. He wanted to use the internet to get on his blog and update it. It just wasn't a good day to be out.
He watched the drops trailing down his window. Sherlock had said something about a symphony being in town that night. Maybe they could do that this evening…Suddenly his mobile rang. The number was withheld.
"John Watson," he said.
"Hello, John," a strange voice answered. Though the tone was not sinister, chills went up John's spine for a reason he couldn't explain.
"Who is this?" John asked.
"I'm sure you can guess," the voice said, "Now. We have somebody that wants to say hello. Friend of yours, perhaps?" There was a moment of silence.
"John." A different voice. The hair on the back of John's neck stood up.
"Sherlock?"
"Listen, John, don't cooperate. Whatever he tells you, ignore him. I'm fine." Sherlock's voice was unafraid, commanding.
"Sherlock!" There was a crackle on the phone and the first voice came on.
"Yes, none other than the brilliant Sherlock Holmes."
John told the cabby to pull over.
"What do you want?" he said into the phone. His knuckles gripping the mobile were white, and his voice was shaking with tension.
"Ah, now we get to it, don't we? Nothing unnatural, I assure you. But before I get into the details, let me make you more aware of the terms. If you cooperate, this whole thing can go along very smoothly and you will see your friend –or so I may call him- again. Otherwise…"
John held his breath. The voice went on.
"If you don't do what I say…I probably don't have to tell you this, but I'm sure I could find some way to make things very unpleasant for Sherlock and yourself. You'll find his dead body in a matter of hours, left on your front doorstep. Am I understood?"
John swallowed hard.
"What is it you want? If I can do it I will."
"There, you see? That's the spirit. All I require is the modest sum of five hundred thousand dollars."
John choked but said nothing.
"Listen to me. If you bring the cops into this Sherlock is dead. If you try to find me, he is dead. If you fail to come up with the money, he-"
"Is dead, I know," John interrupted, "How long will you give me?"
"One day. After that, well, it gets ugly."
"What do I do when I have it?"
"I'll call tomorrow night. And let's hope you can find it, for both your sakes. Cheerio." And the line went dead.
Author's Note: So there's the first chapter. *grimaces* Not enough dialogue and too much wordy back-story and description, I think. I saw it very clearly in my head and I wanted to get it across. :P I also think I'm noticing a pattern in my longer Sherlock works where Sherlock is captured and totally useless and John has to rescue him. I might have to do something to correct that in my next story...
Anyway, though, do please leave a review! Feedback is always good. And JohnMitchel, if you're reading this, just wanted you to know I been missing hearing from you! You're one of my best commenters, so thanks for all the kind reviews.