Many thanks to Guest and ME a guest (I hope to hear from you guys again, you made my day!) for reviewing!
ME a guest suggested many wonderful B words, and Blindness stuck out to me. That and it had enough letters for a structure of a story. I am honestly quite happy with this one... thank you very much ME a guest, this is dedicated to you! Also big shout out to those who are following, cim902, theAwesomeReader, and ellenlooney! I hope you are enjoying!Stayed up 'till 1:15 making this!
Alright, I'm done blabbering, (Ha, there's a good B word too!) here is B!
The Sherlock Alphabet: B is for Blindness
Blindness = 9 letters = 900 words.
"This is nice… a very nice part of town…" John mumbled sarcastically as he and Sherlock stalked through the back alleyways of outer west London. They were hot on the trail of Cascado, a serial killer who had claimed two lives through decapitation and was currently hunting another. John should have known someone so sinister would hide away somewhere just as damp and dark. He felt so blind to even simple things in the dark, and in all honesty: being so blind scared him. In the army being blind meant you were as good as dead. John gripped his flashlight until his knuckles ached, and watched Sherlock's coat flapping as they quickly made another turn. He inhaled deeply, knowing they were far from where they started.
"It's the perfect place to make headquarters, or hide hostages…" Sherlock's eyebrows crinkled in thought as he beamed his flashlight into the black of the night.
"It's the perfect place for new city projects…bring some rightful business here…get rid of all…this…" John bit his lower lip in apprehension. Something about this place made him uneasy. It wasn't so much as the location itself as it was what dangers lurked inside of it…
The tall detective snorted as they slowly rounded what seemed like the hundredth blind corner, "Not even the city council would dare bringing such 'projects' into this part of town…" John knew he was right, this place was practically swarming with fugitives and criminals. People you certainly do not want to mess with.
And yet here he is with Sherlock Holmes, hunting down one of the most dangerous killers that found refuge in this ghastly place.
Figures.
Meanwhile, Sherlock's mind was swimming with possible deductions on Cascado and his secret location within the countless abandoned buildings that surrounded them. "John, what time is it?" he asked suddenly.
"Uhh…half past one…" John replied, yawning subconsciously.
"Hmmm…."
"Why?" John asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as Sherlock peeped around another corner.
"Mail carriers stop delivering at midnight." he answered in a hushed whisper.
"What does that have to do with any-oof!" Sherlock's lengthy arm hastily pressed John to the brick wall so they both lay flat, blending in with the shadows.
"There's a mail truck parking on this street." Sherlock explained, gesturing around the corner with his head, "Listen…" he whispered. John closed his eyes, secretly thankful Sherlock was next to him, and did just that. Sure enough, the familiar rumbling and rattling of a mail carrier faintly echoed off the alleyway walls. The car noises stopped, causing John's heart to pound at an alarming rate. "No need to panic just yet, John…" Sherlock flicked his head to look at his short friend. He had felt John's increasing pulse through his still outstretched arm over his chest.
John simply nodded and whispered, "Someone's gotten out…"
Sherlock turned his head to the corner once again, listening as a truck door was slammed shut. "Indeed…" Another door opened and shut, then silence. Footsteps…then muffled distant voices. Concentrating as hard as he could, Sherlock listened to the tone and specific words he could pick out… Deep tone, many slang words... topic of large knives. Obviously Cascado.
"Gun," Sherlock mouthed, his icy blue eyes meeting John's in alarm, telling him to prepare himself for the worst. John ever-so-slowly reached for his handgun, taking a shuddering breath as footsteps clomped towards their location. Sherlock gradually did the same, eventually pressing his own handgun to the wall. Sherlock turned to John once more and mouthed "Cascado plus two…" John simply nodded, a serious look on his face as he scooted closer to Sherlock.
The footsteps grew louder and slower until Cascado and his 'guests' were a few feet from London's best detectives, who still could not possibly be seen.
"Who is here?" the deep voice of Cascado growled threateningly.
Sherlock smiled at an anxious John and mouthed "Ohhh he's good…"
"Come out now and I'll think twice about killing you!"
In a flash Sherlock was around the corner, his gun pointed at the culprits.
"No you won't." he stated calmly.
"GET THEM!" Cascado bellowed. Two burly men with razor-sharp machetes lurched towards the detective, swinging with incredible power. Sherlock managed to duck the first attack and shoot the man's leg. Once bent over to grasp his wound, he was greeted by a strong fist to the face. "One down!" Sherlock yelled proudly, turning around just time to see John surprise the other guard with a swift elbow to the gut from around the corner, then a gun handle to the head, rendering him unconscious.
"Two." John panted.
"Now who could be left?" Sherlock sarcastically asked, pointing his gun to weaponless Cascado. John did the same.
Cascado wore a sinister smile as he lifted his right hand that held a black box with a single button. It was then the detective duo noticed the colored wires under his jacket. With a dark chuckle, Cascado pressed the button.
"JOHN!" Sherlock's eyes widened as he dropped the gun and lunged for John, grabbing his waist and knocking them both safely around the corner. An ear shattering explosion sent blazing inferno in all directions, burning anything around Cascado to a crisp. Sherlock and John both landed hard on the unforgiving ground, and for once: John was thankful for the dark's blindness.
Letter "C" to come soon, I have a purrrrr-fect word! (As if that just didn't give it away!) :)