I couldn't wait to write this new chapter, so here it is! I hope you enjoy!
Stomping down the East Hall, John was furious. How dare Sherlock put them at risk like that! Why on Earth he ever decided to spend more than one night here John didn't know, but it was over now. He was walking out those doors and never coming back.
As soon as he stepped into the Dining Room, all that confidence fled his body. Standing across the room, was Chica. Big and yellow, it was considerably bigger than John. The organic eyes met the robotic ones, and Mike's warning hit John like a pile of bricks. Don't leave during the night. They'll come for while you're exposed. How could he have been so stupid!? Now he was having a staring contest with a killer animatronic, with no way out in sight.
In a flash, John saw Sherlock burst from the entryway into the room. The same instant, the animatronic's attention snapped to the detective, eyes focused on his chest.
Then it charged.
The animatronic wasn't very fast, but it sure was menacing. Waiting until the last second, Sherlock leaped out of its way, akin to a matador dodging a bull.
"RUN!" The detective screamed at John.
John ran. He ran faster than he thought he could, straight for the door. He could hear behind him a second set of footsteps, and turned to look. Bonnie had just entered the room, and as he watched Freddy himself stepped off the stage. Sherlock was running towards him, yelling things that sounded like "What are you doing?" and "We've got to go!" but John was mesmerized. He could see something in their eyes. Something besides their mechanical instinct. Something that seemed almost… alive.
Sherlock barreled past him, catching him by the arm and dragging him outside. Once the duo stood outside the building the animatronics didn't follow, but they didn't leave to return to their places either. They just stared, focused on Sherlock.
"What the hell were you thinking just standing there like that?! We almost didn't make it!"
The detective's words seemed to pass right by John, because he too was focused on Sherlock. He noticed that now that all eyes were focused on his shirt.
"What on earth is it? Is there a stain or something? Does it offend your strict sense of style?" Sherlock said, charging it with as much sarcasm as he could.
"The color." John replied.
"Yes? What of it?"
"It's purple."
"So? What does that have to do with anything?"
John seemed like he had woken from a trance. "I-I'm not sure. It just…gives me this dark sense of foreboding. Like it represents more than we know."
"Pfft. That is utter nonsense John. Apparently this job has been getting to you."
"It doesn't matter because I'm not going back. If you want to throw your life away with those stupid robots than be my guest, but I would prefer not to be shoved into a costume."
"I never said you had to do it. It was your choice all along, so don't blame me if you got a little fright."
"A little fright?! A little fright?! Sherlock those things were seconds away from killing us! Entering that building is automatically entering a life or death situation!"
"Well maybe if you hadn't stormed out like a child we wouldn't have been in that life or death situation."
"Don't you dare blame this on me. First of all, those things are aggressive no matter what we do and second, you're the one who wanted to willingly allow one of them to attack us! What kind of an idea is that?"
"One that would've helped us in the long-run. But it doesn't matter because now I'm doing this on my own, without you to get in my way."
"Well excuse me for caring about your well-being! Have fun in this hell hole by yourself!" With that, John turned and walked towards the road, hailed a cab, and was gone.
Suddenly this task of surviving five nights seemed a whole lot harder.
They're ok... for now! Will John rejoin Sherlock? Is Sherlock secretly a matador? And don't think I've forgotten about the cupcake!