Hello once again, I hope you enjoy this part. Reviews are like always welcome ^^
I don´t anything and yeah, have a nice day xD
16. May 2011, The Fight
Over two weeks after the first infection
"So can we begin?", asked Moriarty with a smug grin.
"Yes, I am ready." Sherlock had pushed up his shirt sleeves and opened the first buttons. It was easier for him to move this way. Moriarty hadn´t changed anything and had just waited politely for Sherlock to complete his preparations.
"Then let´s begin." Sherlock moved into a defence fighting stance and waited for Moriartys first attack.
First: Check out the skills and strength of your enemy.
Moriarty attacked and tried to land a blow with his right hand. Sherlock easily avoided it and memorized every movement. The man recovered fast and tried to land the next blow with his left hand. Sherlock had already moved to avoid the blow again, but was surprised by Moriartys right hand suddenly connecting with his jawline.
Startled the tall man moved back to recover and noted the pulsing pain in his jaw. It would probably move on to be a really nasty bruise soon. Sherlock watched the other man with caution. Moriartys movements weren´t professional, but what he lacked in skill he made up with strength.
"Won´t you attack, Sherlock? I quite enjoy to hit you, but I want you to fight back." Sherlock lurched forward and used a combination of several blows. Moriarty moved a step back, but still Sherlock hit him. He couldn´t see, that as the same time, Moriarty was getting something out of his pockets and slipping it onto his knuckles. He more felt, then saw what hit him seconds later.
His jaw felt like a train had hit him and he cut the inside of his mouth by the sudden impact. He tasted blood and spit it on the ground.
"Really, Jim? Brass knuckles? That´s downright dirty, not that I didn´t expect it, but still dirty.", commented the consulting detective and fought the impulse to rub his jaw.
"They are pretty good for breaking bones. I am always having a pair in my pockets. Other people always have their clock with them and I have my brass knuckles with me instead." Moriarty shrugged his shoulders and snickered in amusement. Sherlock ignored his talking and tried to focus on defeating Moriarty.
Second: Find weaknesses.
"So, Jim, how do you like a world full of zombies?", asked Sherlock, while scanning Moriartys body. His enemy was putting his weight more on the right leg then the left, probably a habit from an old injury, like a broken leg.
Maybe he could even use the brass knuckles against Moriarty, but that would be too difficult and would need too much energy.
"I love it. I lost my work, sure, but killing zombies and destroying them completely is so much fun."
"I thought you didn´t like to do the dirty work yourself?"
"It´s something else with killing zombies, it´s like hunting. Also it´s good for my new business. I meet new people and can get my supplies from them. Seeing them die, because some hungry zombies "accidently" made it to their camp is hilarious." Sherlock almost had to gag, innocent people dyeing just for fun.
"I see that you don´t like my new work, Sherlock, but you will soon come to appreciate it, because you will have to help me and satisfy me." The tall man tried desperately to remain calm to not do anything stupid, but Moriarty was making it really hard.
"I won´t, Jim. You are clearly not my type." Sherlock dived forward and tried to hit the right knee, so Moriarty would fall down and give him an advantage. But Moriarty surprised the him once again, moved back and swung his fist once again to hit Sherlocks head with full force.
Sherlock fell down to the ground, his head was exploding and he could feel blood oozing out of a wound. His eyesight was filled with gray spots and his ears were ringing.
"Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock... What a foolish attack. I think, I will hit you unconscious and then follow your sweet doctor and kill him."
"No!", Sherlock tried to move up, but couldn´t. He was out of balance and fell down again.
"Yes, Sherlock, and I will love doing it!" Moriarty already started to move his arm back, when suddenly he fell forward to the ground, right next to Sherlock.
"Nobody hits my brother! Only I am allowed to beat him!", said Mycroft with his beloved umbrella still in fighting stance, behind him was Lisa already with ropes in her hands. Sherlock looked from his fallen enemy to his rescue party and back, his mind was foggy and it was hard to think.
"Come on, Sherlock, we need you to get to John. That gash on your head looks pretty bad and I don´t want you to die yet. Lisa, you know what to do, put him in one of the cages."
Mycroft helped his brother up, while Lisa started to bind the hands of the still unconscious criminal. It was hard for Sherlock to move, because he somehow couldn´t balance his weight and every little move made him want to puke.
"You destroyed my dramatic act of defeating Moriarty, Mycroft."
"Right, Sherlock, at least you are still conscious and not too much hurt."
"John will be mad with me, won´t he?"
"Yeah, Sherlock, he will probably be." Sherlocks face took on a certain shade of gray and he bent forward to throw up his last meal.
"I think, I am not feeling too good." Mycroft was worried, hopefully John could fix him and they wouldn´t need anything more serious.
"It will be okay, brother. John will fix you."
Mycroft was right, John would fix him, John would make him feel better again and when it was just one small smile of his, thought Sherlock as he bent over again to puke.