221b
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock Holmes or any of the affiliated characters or ideas--their creator is the remarkable Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
KS: Time for another 221B ficlet. xD
I hope you like it!
"Holmes!" I coughed through the smoky haze as the room we were in burned about us.
"One more moment, Watson!" my friend cried, down on his knees and attempting furiously to force the door's lock. "I almost have it!"
The room grew hotter as the blaze flared about us. Holmes muttered an oath, wiping the profuse sweat from his brow with his shirtsleeve. After another moment there was a barely audible metallic snap, and Holmes growled angrily as he stood.
"The lock-pick has broken!" he said, his grey eyes frantically darting about the room.
I coughed, beginning to feel light headed; we would die if we did not escape soon. Holmes again wiped his brow, turning to me.
"We must force the door."
I wanted to protest—my injuries from my fall were causing much pain, and Holmes was in no shape to knock the door in, either, but we had no choice. I nodded.
"All right, Watson. On three. One, two, three!!"
We ran at the door and threw our weight upon it, but it did not open.
"Again!" Holmes cried hoarsely.
We tried again, and still nothing.
Holmes glanced at me. For a moment I read fear, but in an instant his eyes hardened into steely resolution.
"Once more." he breathed.
This last time, we broke through the barricade.
KS: Thanks for reading, please, review!
