I wrote this a long time ago.
And this somehow got me over the whole Reichenbach thing. Gahhhh.
Please enjoy my pets :)
Scattered scraps of paper, leather bound dismembered books and what only could be recognised as shell casings lined the floor of 221b; The home of Sherlock Holmes and his companion.
If passing by on the high street, you would think a mass murder of some kind was taking place; Crashing of plates, the fire of guns, shouting, screaming.
Though to the neighbours of Mr. Holmes and Mr. Watson this could only be described as 'the norm'.
However, something was wrong; something was odd; not right, awry, fallacious, however you may want to put it.
It was almost, in some ways, too obstreperous.
And then, another outcry of sheer anger, from one counter-part to another,
"Someone is after you, Sherlock. And by any means I see fit I will protect you!"
A man, two, one slumped in the brown unravelling armchair with hands placed, as like in pray, under his chin, calm and composed, and the other working his way, pacing, back and forth across the mangled room, shirt half untucked and hair a mess where he had been strenuously pulling and ruffling unable to take the tension.
"No. I will find him. I need you to leave. Find a place. Run away. Leave me be." A deep breath was need from the man draped in a navy dressing gown.
"We've come this far," Watson let out a nervous laugh, "Why stop me now?"
Rising from the chair in a state of annoyance, Sherlock let go of his clam, contempt self.
"Because I don't know how big a threat this enemy may possess and for the crimes we have seen him commit he is not one to show mercy, not even to a child!... Please."
The room became shrouded in silence. Both stood in utter belief to what Mr. Holmes had just come forth with. Was this sentiment? A characteristic he had never dared show anyone.
Though Watson, still enraged with what had been suggested by his associate, was torn between his feelings, nevertheless he still acted on his strongest emotion in play; Anger.
"How- How dare you! 'Run away'? After all this time and I have always been by your side, now you tell me to run away?!"
Sherlock was out of ideas. Pleading had not helped nor had anger or threats. So he used his last card.
"You are- You're the one who ran away from the war. Not me."
Clumping his grey hair, feeling trapped, feeling betrayed. What's Watson to do now?
"I was shot in the bloody leg! I-" before he could finish, Sherlock had his say.
"You're part of a machine. No. You are a machine; Clock work and spear parts clumped together… You're nothing that can't be replaced…"
And so he left.
Understand the title? Yeah!
I based it on the line 'You're a machine' - John Watson.
I hope you enjoyed :D
