Chapter 11
In which seconds of planning finally come to fruition

Genre
Suspense/ Humour


It was an abnormally warm night in Riverview. Sherlock was walking home, alone, after yet another disappointing lead, his tailored shirt was sticking to the slight amount of perspiration on his back, but he still refused to take his coat or scarf off. He scuffed his shoe on the pavement - it wasn't right, Sherlock never did this badly on a case, he just had so little to go on. He was even beginning to suspect that Moriarty and his criminal empire had risen from the grave. He was thinking on this when he registered that he was being followed.

"…on the night of the fair or shortly after, another goes missing…"

It wasn't the night of the fair, so they probably weren't going to harm him - unless, of course, they were a very stealthy, unconventional mugger or an old enemy. Without pausing, he quickly pretended to search for something in his pocket, using it as an excuse to twist his head to the side slightly and take a quick look behind him. He saw a quick flash as his pursuer hid behind a garbage can, they were good at this, but not good enough.

White, male, average height, average weight, comparatively good posture, wearing a black hooded jacket and jeans in warm weather, unfamiliar with the town…

"…along with the paramedics who apparently didn't work at the hospital at all; their descriptions didn't fit anyone in the town…"

It wasn't much information, but enough to cross a few suspects off the list, by no means comforting. Sherlock picked his phone out of his pocket and pretended to busy himself texting while listening to the footsteps echoing his own.

Rubber-soled shoes…

Sherlock crossed the street, still looking at his phone, and turned a corner before quickly clambering up a tall stone fence and standing at the top, obscured by a nearby tree and the lack of streetlights on the road. He took off his coat, feeling the air sting his back, losing the heat created by the treasured item of clothing. Sherlock had planned his ambush carefully, seconds of planning were about to come to fruition.

His pursuer turned the corner and stopped short, seeing no one on the road. Sherlock dropped his coat over the head of the man, who let out a quiet exclamation of surprise as his vision was suddenly obscured. As he reached up to rip the coat off, Sherlock jumped off the fence – onto the man below, taking care to position himself so as to simply kick him over and badly wind him if not knock him out. The man didn't even make a sound, save the quiet 'oof' before hitting the pavement with a crack, Sherlock landed next to his unconscious body and smiled slightly as he turned towards his pursuer. He stopped short once he saw the man's face.

Oh.

Ohh…

Sherlock quickly whipped his mobile out and messaged John to come quickly, and bring his medical kit.

He really hoped Lestrade didn't have a concussion.