Trapped Together in a Bank Robbery

Sherlock was bored. Madeline rocked on her heels beside him as she waited for the queue to progress, and he groaned under his breath.

"Can I just leave and go home?" He complained, "You don't need me to cash a check with you." Madeline frowned at him.

"I need to get my paycheck so we can afford groceries, Sherlock. You spent most of last month's budget on repairing Mrs. Hudson's window, remember?" She reminded him pointedly. Sherlock rolled his eyes, searching the vaulted ceiling of the bank for something to interest him.

"I didn't mean to break the entire window," He said defensively. "I just needed one pane and the entire thing decided to shatter."

"That's what happens when you take a hot poker iron to a window, Sherlock." Madeline said irritably. The clerk finished with one customer, and they gathered their change and left. The line shuffled forward slowly and Sherlock groaned again. Madeline sighed.

"If you're going to make annoying sounds in my ear, then just go home." She admonished. Sherlock grinned triumphantly and spun on his heel, swatting Madeline's knees with the tail of his coat as he went. She rolled her eyes and turned back to the line, impatiently resigning herself to a waiting game.

The line started moving quickly after Sherlock left, and Madeline was jokingly muttering about him being bad luck when she heard a bang. She and everyone else in the bank turned around, trying to find the source as the sound bounced off of the ceiling. Madeline caught sight of a figure standing just inside the entrance to the bank, wearing a dark coat. For a second she thought that Sherlock had returned and had done something stupid to set off the bang; but when they pulled out a gun and fired another round at the ceiling, she knew she'd been mistaken.

Some people looked around wildly, some people skittered side to side like agitated horses; but most of the people in the bank immediately dropped to the ground. Madeline hit the marble floor so hard that her teeth clacked together on the tile and her ears rang. She watched the assailant out of the corner of her eye as they swept farther into the bank. Three bank guards sprinted into the lobby, guns drawn, but were easily picked off by the semi-automatic. The people on the ground shuddered and screamed at each gunshot, and Madeline shut her eyes tightly when she heard the bodies collide with the floor.

"Nobody move!" The intruder roared, "This is a robbery!"

"No shit." Madeline muttered. She carefully lifted her head off of the ground to watch the robber stride across the marble as her hand slowly crept towards her coat a few feet away. She'd been holding it bundled in her arms; but had dropped it as soon as the gun started going off. She flicked her fingers to work her hand into the pocket of the coat, stopping whenever she heard the intruder's footsteps on the tile. From the sound of it, he seemed to have moved past her and was at the counter with the cashiers.

"Open the drawers," He demanded, "Now!" Madeline could hear the clerk fumbling with the drawer until it slid open with a clang. When she heard the rustling of bills, she assumed that the robber was busy and quickly yanked her phone out of her coat pocket and pushed it under her chest. She lay on top of it for a second, breathing heavily and quickly until she felt confident enough to pull it out and unlock it. The thought occurred to her to dial for the police; but instead she sent a text to Sherlock.

Bnk robber HELP pls asap

She sent the text and quickly flattened herself on the floor again as the bank robber strode past her to get to the next cashier. Madeline shoved the phone into her pocket and hoped he didn't see. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a woman in a two piece suit watching the intruder's every move. Her shoulders tensed as she slowly pushed herself off of the floor, quietly kicking off her heels beforehand. A quiet wave of breathing and hushed noises swept through the bank as he other people watched the woman slowly stand up and creep forward. In a few lithe steps, she sprang forward and latched her arm around the bank robber's neck.

He staggered backwards, involuntarily squeezing off rounds from his gun into the ceiling. Customers screamed and buried their heads under their arms as plaster and marble chips rained down; but Madeline was focused on the woman.

She was clawing at the criminal's face, trying to get a good stab at his eyes with her fingernails as her left arm still tried to constrict around his throat. With a growl, he dropped his gun and spun around in her grasp so that they were chest to chest. He raised his arms up and shoved her backwards, and she sprawled onto the ground.

Madeline raised herself into a crouch and darted towards the gun a few steps. The bank robber advanced on the woman, who stared him down defiantly and started to get up. He smirked and kicked her in the stomach, then wordlessly brought his foot down on her leg with an audible crack. The woman's scream made Madeline pause, and other people whimpered on the floor. She leaned forward to cradle her shattered leg in her arms; and the assailant hit her once more before stepping back to admire his work.

Madeline slunk forward again and was ready to make a grab for the gun when the intruder noticed a mother staring at her over his shoulder. He spun around and Madeline froze, then they both moved at once. Madeline dove for the gun, while he stormed forward. She'd just wrapped her hands around the cold metal when she saw his foot sweep into view and hit her in the face. Madeline fell backwards, clutching at her nose. She could feel blood leaking from between her fingers; but her nose didn't feel broken.

"That's real cute." The robber sneered, "Should I crack your leg too?" Madeline pinched her nose and glared at him. After all of her experiences with Moriarty and assorted crime lords, she knew better than to antagonize him with words. He huffed a laugh.

"That's what I thought. Not so firey now, huh?" He scoffed, plucking his gun from the ground and turning to the next clerk. He was about to order him to open the cash drawer when Madeline's phone buzzed in her pocket. He turned around slowly, still brandishing his gun, and Madeline felt her chest tense. Instead of reacting with more violence, the assailant was remarkably calm.

"Give it to me." He demanded, holding his hand out towards her. Madeline felt her phone vibrate again and knew that Sherlock was texting her back. She knew that she didn't need to keep her phone to make sure he was coming- he was definitely on his way; but if he'd sent her a plan then the last thing she needed was for the bank robber to read it aloud. He rolled his eyes and fired one shot into the ground by Madeline's leg. She jumped as the marble shrapnel stung her skin and quickly dug her phone out of her pocket.

"Here." She snapped bitterly, still wiping at her nose. The intruder reached forward for it, and she chucked it at him. When he stretched out to catch it, Madeline lunged to her feet and tried to ram her skull into his nose. He caught on too quickly to the move and reeled backwards so that Madeline's head caught him in the chin instead. The man stumbled backwards and lifted his gun; but Madeline dropped to the floor before he could fire at her. Once she was on the ground though, there wasn't anywhere else to go. When Madeline looked up she was staring right up the barrel of the semiautomatic, and the bank robber was grinning down at her.

"You don't have many bullets left." Someone called. Madeline felt herself sag with relief at the condescending voice as the assailant jerked backwards in surprise. "I wouldn't recommend wasting them on her," Sherlock continued, emerging from the entrance to the men's room with his hands in his pocket and a smirk on his face. Madeline felt her jaw drop.

"You son of a bitch! You were here the whole time?" She asked incredulously. Sherlock shrugged.

"I had a tip that this bank would be hit today."

"Then why did you want to leave?"

"I didn't. I doubled back to find a safe hiding place. Unfortunately the doors here automatically lock when a window is broken, so I had to circumnavigate the entire bank to get back here." Sherlock said simply. The robber tilted his head in disbelief.

"And just who the hell are you?" He asked furiously. To Madeline, Sherlock looked a little miffed.

"I can tell from your atrocious accent that you're from the bad side of town; but I know you have telly and tabloids over there. I can come over if you want a closer look." He offered, gingerly stepping over the people cowering on the floor and sweeping towards the intruder and Madeline.

"I was so worried." She breathed, not able to keep the smile off her face as he approached. Sherlock frowned at the blood drying on her face.

"You did something stupid, didn't you?" He asked flatly. He was about to take another step forward when the bank robber regained his nerve.

"Stop right there." He demanded, "You're close enough. I know who you are, Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock huffed.

"I know. The entire previous exchange was purely rhetorical to occupy you while I got closer. Don't tell me you have the IQ of a child." He snapped.

"Sherlock, maybe don't entice the man with a gun." Madeline whispered pointedly. The assailant reached down and knotted his fist in her hair, jerking her backwards across the floor. She yelped in pain, and Sherlock stopped cold when the intruder pressed the muzzle of his gun to her head.

"Like I said," Sherlock repeated lowly. "You don't have many bullets left. I wouldn't bother wasting them if I were you."

"Putting a gun to her head sure made you stop, though." The robber spat. Sherlock smiled, but his eyes didn't move.

"Fair point; but if you do harm her, you'll still have to deal with me. Except I'll be even angrier." He warned. Madeline leaned her head forward slightly, only to have it yanked backwards again. She hissed between her teeth as her eyes watered, not bothering to check the way Sherlock's eyes darkened.

"You've used about five hundred and fifty rounds so far, and your gun is capable of firing twenty-five rounds every two seconds. That's about six hundred bullets in all, and if you keep spurting off rounds like you have been, you're going to be sorely outmatched when the police get here." He said calmly. The assailant took another step back, dragging Madeline in an awkward squat-crawl position as well.

"I would highly advise against this, Roy." Sherlock said. Madeline could feel the grip on her hair loosen for a second before it tightened again.

"How do you know my name?" The intruder snarled. Sherlock's mouth bent into a smirk again, and this time the movement reached his eyes.

"I've got friends in high places," He replied. "Albeit they do live under rocks sometimes, but they serve as my connections."

"And how do you know my name?" The robber repeated, raising his gun again. Sherlock saw Madeline's eyes widen as the gun pointed itself past the two of them to the woman curled on the floor, holding her leg, and sobbing.

"I was given a tip." Sherlock said, raising his hands in a placating motion. "From your husband." Madeline could see the tip of the gun twitch, drawing gasps and whimpers from the other people on the floor. "He called me in after he was released from the ICU." Sherlock continued. "He told me about your financial troubles, and for that I'm truly sorry." Madeline risked a glance upwards and saw that Roy's eyes were flooding with tears. "We can try to find you another way to pay for the hospital bills; but until, then you can't do something as rash and stupid as this." Sherlock added firmly.

"Sherlock. Tone." Madeline murmured, noting how the grip on her hair was growing even tighter. The last thing she needed was for Sherlock to upset him further and end up with even more bodies on the floor. The only indication that Sherlock gave that he'd heard her was a small wave of his hand from beside his leg. It was almost dismissive; but at least Madeline knew he'd heard her.

"I know you're scared, Roy." Sherlock continued.

"I'm not scared, I'm bloody incensed!"

"I can see that." Sherlock said wryly before remembering his role as a negotiator. "But why don't we work on discussing a better plan instead of barging into a bank and firing off guns like some Vatican cameo." That was the signal, Madeline thought. Sherlock needed her to do something. She looked to him; but he was busy staring down Roy.

"What the hell are you talking about?" The intruder snapped. "What's a Vatican cameo?" Madeline twisted around underneath him until she got her legs underneath her in a crouch; but Roy didn't notice or even seem to care. Sherlock was the imminent threat, with his intimate knowledge of his family life and personal finances. However, Sherlock wasn't the biggest threat. Not anymore.

Madeline used her legs underneath her to rocket upwards, jumping straight up in the air. Her momentum, paired with Roy's hand in her hair, also pulled her backwards into him. They tumbled to the floor together and Madeline swatted the gun away towards Sherlock. He picked it up and deftly emptied the rest of the clip into the ceiling, ignoring the dust that rained down and collected in his curls. Madeline rolled off of Roy only to pin him down with her knees on his shoulders and a hand grasping his hair.

"Doesn't feel too good, does it?" She snarled. "Not so firey now." Sherlock gently pushed her away and pulled Roy up by his coat. He whipped a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket and hauled the intruder to the grates separating the clerks from the lobby, then handcuffed Roy to the brass gate and left him there. When he turned around, Madeline was already trying to approach the businesswoman with the broken leg. A few other people had risen off the floor, and two of them hurried over under the claims that they were off duty paramedics. They shoved Madeline away and started to set the woman's leg, and shadows appeared on the other side of the glass doors.

The doors flew open to admit a swarm of police officers, and Madeline stepped aside so they could do their job. Sherlock stepped away to speak to Lestrade, but not before handing her a rag to mop the blood off of her face and pressing his lips lightly to her forehead. Madeline sighed and started to gingerly scrub at her nose, then went to her coat and tried to find the check she'd originally come to cash. It was crumpled and stained with a few drops of her blood; and Madeline stared at it blankly. Finally, she frowned and stuffed it in her pocket, frowned, and promised herself to come back and cash it another day.