Mirrors

Chapter 15: When Hell Breaks Lose

        With Jim gone on his business trip, Moran was tasked with helping Sherlock regain some of his coordination back from the abuse. Moran had his own reservations with task. Not that he was oppose to combat, but he felt oddly bad for beating something already so damaged. Moran saw Sherlock as a dead man walking, because Sherlock was still painfully thin. Moran looked down on Sherlock. That was his first mistake. What Moran didn’t know was that the Academy already conditioned Sherlock for combat. Sherlock knew how to kill a man in many imaginative ways. Sherlock looked small and weak but appearances were deceptive. In reality Sherlock was a killer now too.  Moran was in danger and he had no idea the full depth of it. Moran’s military training, however advanced, wouldn’t help him out much if Sherlock decided to do something drastic.

        Moran and Sherlock circled one another, like the two predators, the two killers they were. Sherlock was wearing a superior smile, one that Moran loathed. He already had one arrogant pain-in-his-ass psychopath, in Moran’s case that was to taken literally as well as figuratively. One psychopath was more than enough for the sniper.  

        Seeing that irritating, self pleased expression on Sherlock’s face changed Moran’s prior reservations about sparring with the detective. To be frank, Moran was fucking tired of the dynamics between Jim and Sherlock. Granted, it was mostly one sided with Jim constantly making googly eyes at the detective. But the point of the matter was that Moran was tired of being shoved aside by Jim’s escapades to woo over Holmes.

        So now that Moran had Sherlock alone, it was time to take the detectives ego down a few pegs. Moran wasn’t going to hurt Sherlock, nothing that the detective couldn’t walk away from. Only because Moriarty wouldn’t be too happy if his new pet was scuffed up too badly. Moriarty was likely to punish Moran, and not the way he liked. Moran chuckled ‘What’s a few strained appendages and perhaps a few cracked ribs between consulting killers, eh Homes.’ Moran thought and advanced on Holmes. Moran laughed to himself, the difference between the two of them was stark. Moran was only a few inches taller, but his build was massive compared with the boney angles of Sherlocks. Moran predicted that this sparring match was not going to last long. Unfortunately the outcome would prove him right.

        Moran lunges at Sherlock, testing him. Sherlock spins out of the way. ‘Oh, he’s fast. Good. That will keep things interesting.’ Moran thought as Sherlock moved out of the way of the blows. All the while, that superior smile never left his face. “Come on, twinkle toes, take it like a man. You can do better than that.” Moran taunted trying to get Sherlock riled,

“Hell I will even give you the first solid shot.” Moran continued and dropped his guard. Moran had intended to bait Sherlock in to make the first move so he could floor the detective on his ass. The grin on Sherlock’s face widens into something sadistic, catching Moran off guard. Too late Seb realized that he didn’t know who was taunting whom and who had the upper hand.

        Sherlock took Moran’s offer  for the first blow, and he took it with a vengeance. Seb lets out an undignified yelp of agony as Sherlock lunged past Moran’s guard to slam his fist into Seb’s side with devastating consequences. Moran had intended to bait Sherlock in to make the first move so he could floor the detective. Moran’s eyes widen as he heard a sharp crackle as his poorly set ribs from a previous job fractured. Gasping, Moran stumbled backwards. Hunched over he looked up as Sherlock sauntered over to him. Sherlock’s eyes waver and flickered like hellfire of the demon within. “Do you need a moment, Tiger?” Sherlock taunted.

        Moran waved him away with a growl and raised painfully to his full height. Moran fully pissed now, and in more than just a little pain. No one other than Jim was allowed to kick him around like that. Seb was ready to put Sherlock in his place.

        Without warning, Moran lunged at Sherlock. Sherlock cackled with a manic glee and danced away, sweeping under Sebastian's wild haymaker. He spun away and gave Seb’s backside a playful slap, fully infuriating the sniper. Moran lunged again, his vision tinted red with rage. Sherlock grinned, this is what he wanted. This time when Moran swung at him, Sherlock blocked the blows with his forearms and drives his fists into the already fractured ribs. But Sherlock doesn’t stop there, he abused the area with a series of well timed blows. With a horrifying crackle, the already fractured ribs buckle inwards.  

        Moran unable to suck his breath in properly, dropped like a stone. Sherlock looked down at the sniper at his feet, gasping for air. “Here’s lesson for you pet. Don’t underestimate me. And don’t pity me.” Sherlock hissed. The detective then kicked the man harshly in the gut. Moran let out a yelp and curled up into a ball to protect himself. Sherlock scoffed and steps over him. “You.” Sherlock snapped pointing a finger at one of of the bystanders watching the match. “Help Moran the moron to the infirmary. Our doctor Watson needs to attend to him.” he commanded. The minions look at each other warily. Sherlock took a threatening step at them and snapped his fingers loudly. “Do you want to be next. Hop to it, you pathetic fools.” Sherlock barked, causing them to flinch and scuttle into action to help support Moran to carry him to the infirmary. “Pathetic.” Sherlock sneers at their retreating backs.

        Moriarty stormed into the room to fix his eyes on Sherlock. He had just returned to his business trip with Xavier just in time to see Moran being half carried to the infirmary.

“What the fuck! Sherlock!”

“Oh, hello, Jimmy.”

“What the hell did you do?!”