Written for a challenge but it did not place, I like it and I wanted other people to read it so I posted it here.

I hope you all like the twist!

Bart

Quarry

Footsteps echoing on cobblestones came to his ears out of the fog.

Watson leaned against the splintered door of the hovel.

They're still after me...why won't they leave me alone?

Images kept flowing through his tired mind.

The door bursting open, a shot ringing out, Lestrade falling clutching his chest from what must have been a fatal wound, Watson fighting back with everything he had, a collision and blood, and...Running to get help for his friend...and...It was all fog and haze and strangely monochromatic...

He heard them calling his name again.

He made his way through the abandoned building; past discarded crates used recently for furniture...and through the detritus and stench to what had to be the back door.

He leaned his head against it listening for pursuit.

So weary, he wanted to rest, to sleep and find oblivion.

Trying to remember how this all began and where he was, he had to get away and find help for Lestrade, his mind was too jumbled.

"I think he went through here!"

Though the door and out into the forgotten cluttered alleyway, the fog wet on his cheeks.

He stumbled along nearing the end of his strength, but he had to go on.

He reached the end of the alleyway and cautiously glanced out but the street beyond was swathed in vapour and dimly lit by wavering gas light, it gave a sightline too limited to see his pursuers.

He heard what sounded like a cart clip clopping its way in the other direction; he stumbled out and found it in the gray.

He slipped under the wrappings and into the bed as gently as possible, finding a soft covering of hay.

He knew he should stay alert and...

Awakening with a start, he felt the cart under him had stopped, the steed neighing, he heard sounds of carousing and accordion music, the driver must have popped in for a pint.

He slipped out and patted the horses flank as he past, "Sorry old girl, needed a ride."

Lurching off into the swirling eddies away from the sound of the tavern, he sought a main road, and his head was beginning to pound again.

He tried to keep going but his knees buckled.

They would find him, they had found him twice before, whomever it was pursuing was an amazing tracker for sure. He would feel some admiration if they had not been hounding him for the last dark hours.

He heard voices coming out of the fog, he was the topic of conversation...they were closing in again.

He was reaching the end of his rope, so he made a metaphysical knot, and steeled himself in determination. They might take him but it would not be easy.

He found a board in the alleyway, he gripped it knuckles white and waited for them to close in.

I'm sorry Lestrade, I tried, my friend...

"I think he went this way, there is blood on that cart, drops on the cobbles leading off."

Watson touched a hand to his head, it came away tacky and red...strangely...the only colour he could see.

So, that is how they are tracking me...

He felt a faint coming on, but he fought it away with gritted teeth, he would not be weak, they would not find him insentient!

"We are closing now, careful, he is dangerous, he's already laid two men low."

I'll lay all you blokes low, come on and get what's coming to you, he thought grimely.

"Halt! I hear him breathing."

Watson cursed his shortness of breath, but he just could not breathe shallow or he would black out.

"Watson, I know you are there, come out old fellow we want to give you aid," the voice cajoled

"If you want me, then you'll have to come and get me!" he called back not liking the weariness in his voice.

"Drop your weapon, it's over, you need medical attention."

Watson considered his options.

Oh well, it's the charge of the light brigade then!

With a bellow, he marshalled all of his remaining strength and ran toward the voices his makeshift club held high. He swung at any shapes that came to him out of the fog, he met one with a comforting smack, and a grunt of pain before two strong arms grabbed him under his arms and restrained him, his knees buckled and darkness found him, last thing he knew he was being lowered to the street.

~o0o~

"Watson? You have to wake up."

A hand shook him gently.

Watson opened his eyes to white. His eyes refused to focus. He blinked them several times before things began to sharpen.

He was clean and wearing a dressing gown, the scent was antiseptic and familiar.

He turned and saw a familiar face smiling at him.

"Holmes?"

He nodded. "It's me, dear fellow, have no fear. You suffered a severe concussion, which is why I had to wake you."

Watson gave a start. "Lestrade is hurt; we've got to go get him!"

"Oh, quit being so dramatic!" he heard a weak voice to his left declare.

He turned to see the Chief Inspector looking wane, pale, heavily bandaged and irritated about it. The location of the bandages showed Watson's trained eye that the bullet must have lodged in his shoulder and not his chest.

Lestrade rolled his eyes. "You gave us quite the scare and laid out three of my men who were trying to find you."

Holmes chuckled. "I've never been on a more precarious rescue, you are a very dangerous quarry my friend!"

Watson felt his cheeks redden. "I thought I was being hunted by the men that attacked us."

Lestrade laughed. "Oh no, the one that pistol whipped you is not in any shape to chase anyone, you did for him before you stumbled out."

Watson turned to a smiling Holmes, he felt irritated. "Why did you not just tell me who you were?"

Holmes raised a wry eyebrow. "Would you have believed me?"

Watson sighed and laid his head back on the pillow. "No, I would have let you get close and tried to give you the head wound."

Holmes nodded agreement. "An animal wounded is a very tricky hunt to run to ground."

Watson sighed.

This is going to be a topic of discussion for years yet to come!

END

I would imagine that being the hunted with Holmes on your trail would be a frightening feeling indeed, so it was neat to explore that from the point of view of the hunted even if it was mistaken identity. Of course hunting Watson would not be without it's perils LOL!

Thanks for reading!

Bart