Title: Rescue on the Tracks

Author: Pompey

Universe: BBC Sherlock

Rating: PG

Warnings: none?

Word count: 1177

Summary: Criminals are stupid; help comes from an unexpected source.

Prompt: July 5 - Include at least one stereotypical peril

Most criminals are stupid. Lestrade had mentioned it often enough. John's perception was biased because Sherlock would only accept unusual interesting cases that tended to skew to more intelligent criminals.

The four men who attacked John clearly had more biceps than brains. The blow to John's head only dazed him, which surprised his assailants, clearly expecting him to be knocked out cold. They also clearly expected him to be much slower and weaker, as evidenced by Thug #3 landing on the ground from a hard punch and crying out, "Oy, that's not fair!"

But never estimate the power of stupidity in large numbers. One well-trained army doctor is, unfortunately, no match for four stupid but determined men, especially when said army doctor is hampered by one infant daughter. John ended up with hands lashed behind his back, watching in rage and terror as Rosie was carelessly slung over Thug #2's shoulders and carried off down the street. Thug #3 followed him. John and the other two headed down into the nearby Underground tube station.

"Wait'll your boyfriend sees this," gloated Thug #4 into John's ear. "Who's he gonna rescue, eh? His live-in lover or the kid? He can't be in two places at the same time, and he definitely can't be in three."

"Three?" John couldn't help but repeat.

"Shut it," warned Thug #1, which gave John an inkling as to what was going on. He and Rosie were bait of some kind, a distraction to keep Sherlock from focusing on a third location. But where were they taking Rosie and what were they going to do to her?

"But it's a classic," whined Thug #4. "Helpless victim left on the train tracks and all."

"You're not going to leave her on the tracks!" John shouted, horror overcoming all else. "The rails are electrified!"

The two thugs stopped and glanced at each other as if this was news to them. "She's a baby. She ain't gonna run away," Thug #1 finally decided.

"No, but she'll crawl away," snapped John. "She's just a baby! She won't know touching the rails will kill her!"

The thugs paused again. "Well, shit," Thug #1 said and pulled out his mobile. "Oy, Jeff. Change of plan, mate. You can't put the baby on the tracks . . . . Well, cuz she'll touch the rails . . . So the rails is electrocuted, right? Baby touches the rail and zappo . . . . Well, no, mate, we don't want her DEAD, just, y'know, in peril, yeah? . . . Look, I dunno, just sort it out. Bye."

"Well, what about him, then?" asked Thug #4. "We gonna put him on the tracks?"

"Well, yeah," replied Thug #1, smirking at John. "He ain't a baby. He knows not to touch the rails."

The matter settled, the two dragged John to the edge of the platform and shoved him over. John did his best to try to land on his feet, and not on top of the center rail. He failed at the former – landing more on his knees – but mostly succeeded in the latter. The edge of one knee came close enough to the center rail that it gave him a sharp shock and slightly singed his jeans. John gasped and jerked back. The two men above him laughed rather nastily and walked off.

John began debating his options – struggle to his feet and try to loosen his bonds, hold still and wait for help, try to hunker down in the "dead man's trench" beneath the rail – when he heard sounds of a major scuffle and the two thugs shouting. Turning his head allowed him to hear better, but it also allowed him to see down the tunnel . . . . and to catch the single light of an oncoming train.

Right. Dead man's trench it was, then.

John tilted to his side until he toppled over onto his shoulder and wiggled his way into the shallow depression, being very careful not to touch the center rail again. He knew that current was weaker than the one in the rail against the wall, but "weaker" didn't mean "safe." And he had to survive, if for no other reason than to find and rescue Rosie. But to John's surprise, the train wheezed to a stop about eight meters from him.

"Sir? Are you hurt?"

John craned his neck up to see a flash of neon orange from the platform staffer's safety vest. "Not hurt," he replied, "but anxious to get out of here and find my daughter."

"Those two idiots never even made it to the tube station," Sherlock commented, watching John hug Rosie tightly. "They were too busy arguing about where to leave her."

Rosie whimpered and John shifted to holding her on his hip. "How did you find them so quickly?"

"As I said, they're idiots. They attacked you almost in full view of a CCTV camera. From there, it was a simply a matter of tracking the two parties with the CCTV and to notify the authorities to come and arrest them in their two respective locations. The next step was to notify the tube staffs that the trains should be stopped before the platform so as to not impede the police. This became even more imperative when the CCTV picked up that they meant to leave you on the tracks, John."

John bounced Rosie a few times while he considered. "So, Mycroft then?"

"Mycroft's people, at least." Sherlock waved his hand as though trying to dissipate the thought of his brother like smoke. "He is, on rare occasion, useful."

Which meant they would try to steer clear of Mycroft for at least the next month. He would undoubtedly be insufferable after helping to rescue both John and Rosie. Which reminded John - "I think Rosie and I were meant to distract you from something happening elsewhere," he said. "They said something about how you couldn't be in three places at one time."

"Oh, that." Sherlock huffed a slight laugh. "They meant to try to rob a bank while I was occupied with trying to save you two. Apparently, it never crossed their walnut-sized brains that you could be rescued by anyone other than me, or that the platform staff have protocols for people on the tracks, or that the police are in fact capable of focusing on more than one crime at a time."

John waited for the other shoe to drop. It didn't. "What, no sarcastic condescension for the Yard today?"

"Not today," Sherlock replied seriously. "I wasn't . . . . I wouldn't have been in time to rescue you or Rosie. Not by myself. Your lives were in the hands of the professionals from the very start, and all of them did commendably."

John nodded slowly. "I think we have some thank-you note to write."

Sherlock looked at him sharply to see if he was serious, noted that he was, grimaced slightly, and nodded too. "Though perhaps not to Mycroft," was his only caveat.