Face the Odds

Chapter 9: Link?

Three hours later, Sherlock's patience was rewarded. Just as the clock passed ten o'clock, the back door creaked open and a shadowy figure crept into the living room, carrying a thick duffel bag and making swiftly for the Thatcher bust.

Just as the figure grabbed the bust, Sherlock switched on the lights, alerting the intruder to his presence as he asked: "It would be much simpler to take out your grievances at the polling station."

The masked figure turned instantly, a gun already raised in his hand while he stuffed the bust into the bag. Sherlock reacted swiftly, grabbing the gun with both hands and pulling it harshly while hitting the other man's wrist to force him to let go.

The other man reacted by swinging his heavy duffel bag at Sherlock, but Sherlock blocked it instantly, and shoved it off, causing the bag to fall harmlessly to the ground. Sherlock quickly threw in a punch at the man's exposed face, but the man retaliated with a quick elbow jab to Sherlock's face.

Sherlock blocked the next punch but missed the one after that – and he winced slightly as the punch landed squarely on his cheek and eye. Ignoring the throbbing that indicated he was definitely going to have a bruise, Sherlock threw a few quick, sharp punches back at his assailant.

The man was good, clearly highly trained, and Sherlock barely managed to land one solid punch after four blocks. He quickly used his advantage to land another two punches to the man's stomach, adding a kick to the man's shin for good measure.

The man grabbed a nearby bar stool and swung it to hit Sherlock's side, but Sherlock allowed it to fall carelessly to the side as he threw another punch. The man grabbed him, and Sherlock grabbed the man's arms to prevent the man from gaining an advantage.

Unfortunately, the man retaliated by throwing his head forward and head-butting Sherlock, hard, and causing him to drop the gun. Sherlock blinked, dazed, and the man quickly used the moment to grab Sherlock by the head and shove him down onto a wooden cutting board left on the kitchen bar.

He used his leverage on Sherlock's hair to smash Sherlock's head into the board a few times, before Sherlock managed to regain enough control to throw in a surprise punch to the man's stomach. The man doubled over, and Sherlock used the moment to quickly pull off the other man's balaclava.

A man, perhaps mid-thirties and of Indian heritage, glared back at Sherlock. He looked worse-off, Sherlock noted, indicating that while he was clearly highly trained – Sherlock guessed as a mercenary of sorts – he wasn't making much if anything.

Odd for his skill set. Sherlock thought briefly. But perhaps not, if he lost what I think he did.

"You were on the run." Sherlock said aloud as he stared at the other man intently as intently as the man was staring at him. "Nowhere to hide your precious cargo."

He threw in a quick kick to the other man's knee, causing him to grunt. The other man growled and kicked back, but Sherlock backed neatly out of reach.

The other man mimicked his movements, and the two men circled each other as Sherlock continued: "You find yourself in a workshop. Plaster busts of The Iron Lady drying. Clever, very clever."

His voice then turned darker as he added: "But now you've met me, and you're not so clever, are you?"

"Who are you?" The man demanded, and Sherlock answered firmly: "My name is Sherlock Holmes."

The man's jaw tightened and he said darkly: "Goodbye, Sherlock Holmes."

With a roar, he charged Sherlock, who braced himself for impact. But the other man simply tackled him and, using his momentum, threw them both through the glass wall of the pool room. The glass shattered with an ear-piercing crash, and the two men fell with a large splash into the indoor pool on the other side.