Prompt from Hades Lord of the Dead: Soft and fluffy

Nonsense

"Hurry Watson! Hurry!" the Great Detective shouted as he flung another suit of ancient armor and its stand onto the stairs, tripping the creature that pursued them.

"But we are cornered, Holmes!" Watson cried, snapping off a pair of well-aimed shots. Both struck center mass and did no more good than the previous two rounds. The creature roared with anger and pain, hurling aside the clutter of armor and taking another step up the winding stair.

"Climb! Climb for your life!" Holmes shouted and cast the last suit of armor down, grabbing his friend by the arm and turning him about. "Go, man! Your revolver is no use! Climb!"

Heart hammering in his chest, Watson obeyed. Leg aching and breaths coming in ragged, panicked heaves, he powered up the dim stairs to a narrow doorway at the top of the old tower. Beyond, he found a cramped room filled with bizarre electrical apparatus illuminated by a lone, dim bulb that flickered with each heavy impact of the monster's feet on the stairs below.

"Help me with this door, Watson," Holmes commanded, entering hot on the doctor's heels.

"It will do little good," Watson observed even as they shoved the thick panel closed and Holmes slammed the bar in place.

"Iron strap hinges and furniture," gasped the Great Detective. "Riveted construction. It will at least delay him."

"Delay him?" Watson demanded. "That creature hardly slowed down at the other door, Holmes."

"You'll not get us, Frankenstein!" Holmes yelled through the thick old panel, grinning in spite of the dire situation.

"Actually, old fellow, that's not Frankenstein," said Watson, bending forward with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "It's actually Frankenstein's Monster, you know."

"Needn't be so pedantic, Watson," scolded Holmes, stumbling to the window and throwing open its shutter. "Here is our escape."

Before Watson could join him, a great crash sounded from the door and the ancient iron hinges shook under the blow. Eagerly Watson rushed to look out the window, discovering there was no true escape as it stood no less than thirty feet above a drift of snow and there was not a handhold anywhere to be found on the tower's sheer side. Another powerful blow made the door jump in its frame.

"We cannot scale down this, Holmes!"

"Of course not, Watson. I mean to jump."

Another blow from the monster without resounded like thunder in the small room.

"Jump?" Watson gasped, gripping his revolver and gaping at his friend.

"Jump, yes," Holmes said nonchalantly.

"We'll break our necks, man!" said the doctor, turning his back to the window and facing the door, which continued to shake under the savage onslaught. The hinges were giving way and the rivets had all come loose.

"The snow is quite soft and fluffy, Watson," Holmes assured him.

"It's madness!"

"Desperation, actually."

"Now you're being pedantic."

"Didactic, actually," sniffed Holmes.

"It's still madness!"

Sausage-like fingers rammed between a pair of loose boards and tore one away, revealing the monster's hideous countenance grimacing in at them. Watson lifted his pistol, hoping at least to blind the creature.

"Now Watson!" cried Holmes, grabbing him by the shoulders and hurling him out of the window.

Shivering with cold and amazed to be alive, Watson rose up, waist deep in the drifted snow. He gaped up at the open window, realizing it had actually been a forty-foot drop. Even as he stared in wonder, Holmes leapt and fell, landing some ten feet to Watson's right.

"Holmes?" The doctor pushed through the drift, rushing to his friend's aid. "Holmes? Are you alive? Holmes?"

"Quite well, old friend," the Great Detective said in his typical unflustered way. "As I said, the snow is quite soft and fluffy."

"We could have been killed!"

"Nonsense, Watson!" Holmes scoffed, brushing snow from his shoulders and arms.

"It is a forty-foot drop!"

"Yes, yes, old friend," said Holmes, looking up to the open window. "But we have neigh invulnerable plot armor. I say, what is that glow?"

"Glow?" Watson cast about until he spotted what his friend was talking about. "Flickering flames, it looks like."

"Indeed? Well, I suspect that will be the villagers," said Holmes.

"Villagers?"

"Yes." Holmes drew his topcoat tighter about himself and nodded. "Pitchforks and torches, Watson. You know the routine."

"Come to burn the castle down?"

"Precisely. Why do not you and I see about getting in out of the cold, eh? Must be a public house down in the village."

"I could go for some warm brandy," admitted Watson. "You know, Holmes, I'm glad it was not Count Dracula chasing us."

"Or the Wolfman, Watson!"

"True. Either would have gotten us."

"Let us seek out the public house, friend. In the morning we shall resume our journey."

"Let's!" agreed Watson and the two began pushing through the snow, making for the narrow carriageway that would lead them to the remote Alpine village far below.

AN: Give a silly prompt. Get a silly response.