[Sherlolly fanfiction] Silhouettes

Chapter 34-- By The End Of It

(MONTHS LATER)

Since the Watsons had moved, John came to visit Sherlock every few weeks, to see if he needed any assistance on a case or something. This fitted well into their new lifestyles.
But that's not to say they'd changed that much.

"When will you learn that it's not all about you and what you want to do?!" John snaps.
"Do I detect a rebuke?" Sherlock responds casually, not at all reacting to their situation.
"Yes, you bloody well do!" John raises his voice, "You had one job, Sherlock, one job!"
"Well, in all fairness--"
"No! You said that you'd do it and you didn't and now look where we are!"
Sherlock observes the wall, emotionless. "I hope you realise that the rope is wrapped around my body, therefore I cannot turn around and see what you can. I can see a wall."
"You're damn lucky that I can't wrap the rope around your neck and slam your head into the wall." His little body moves as he rants, despite the ropes wrapped around his abdomen keeping his body to the back of the chair. John struggles to keep his rage contained.
"OK, I had that one coming." Sherlock admits.
John is about to continue, but the doors swing open and a rough man strolls in with a gun, shouting before he can. "Shut-up, will you?!"
John purses his lips, though he finds it difficult not to continue.
"Apologies for Dr Watson, he just wants attention." Sherlock explains.
John scoffs, "That's rich--"
"Shut-up!" The bald man repeats, holding the gun at John's head.
Sherlock grunts. "He knows a tantrum is no good if nobody's watching."
"I swear to god, I will head butt you." He continues, despite the deadly weapon pointing at him.
"I don't doubt it."
John sees that his threats won't get him anywhere, and so, he tries a new approach. He turns back to the man who is holding the gun at his head. "Look, we really have to go." He says, looking down the barrel, indicating for him to lower it.
"Why?" He blurts, not moving.
"Because Sherlock Holmes has places to be." He reminds, more to Sherlock than to the man.
"John," Sherlock warns, "don't mention it."
The man's large brow lowers. "Mention what?"
John smiles at the large, ugly gentleman. "He's going to be a dad."
"John--"
"And he just got back off his honeymoon." He adds, embarrassing his friend ever more.
"Don't say that." Sherlock whispers carelessly.
"Why?"
"Because," He whispers, "it undercuts my tone."
The ugly man nods in agreement, lowering the handgun. "It does a little bit. Boy or girl?"
They both turn their heads to the side and look at him. "Sorry?"
"Is the baby a boy or a girl?"
"Girl." John clarified. "See, Sherlock, it wasn't that bad. Now we can play the 'Don't kill me, I have a wife and a child' card."
"That'll get us out of here." He mumbles with great sarcasm in his voice. He pauses for a moment, actually considering the thought. He turns his head to the man the best he can, "Don't kill me, I have a wife and child. They need me." He tries.
The man looks at him, unamused.
Sherlock accepts his failure and turns his head back to the wall with a sigh. "Well, that got us far."
"Don't blame me for trying to get us out of this. This is still all your fault."
"I'm not disagreeing with you."
"All you had to do was pay for the damn parking ticket. It wasn't even that hard of a job."
The man interrupts the one-sided argument. "I thought you were here because you stole a car." His deep voice grumbles in confusion.
"Well, yes, we did--He did, actually."
"What's this about a parking ticket then?"
"Oh, well," John laughs, preparing to tell the story, "Sherlock Holmes was too smart to remember to buy a parking ticket for my car which ended up getting toed away. And because we didn't have a car, he continued his streak of genius by stealing--or, as he put it, 'borrowing'--a drug lord's vehicle."
"Oh." The man nods, now understanding the situation.
"In my defence, I wasn't aware it was--"
"Yes you were!"
"--okay, yeah, I was."
The large man speaks again. "Couldn't you just have walked?"
"Yes, yes we could've. But Sherlock Holmes The Great Detective's feet were hurting as he so clearly moaned." He says, turning his head to the side, directing his speech to his best friend whom he was tied back to back with.
The man grumbles a laugh at their situation, now standing rather comfortably after seeing the entertainment of these two men. John silences himself, no more to say on the matter.
This silence continues for another minute or two, the neanderthal of a man watching them with a smug and entertained look on his face.