Sherlock meets The Flash and Arrow

Chapter 7

John

I knew Sherlock had a tight hold on his reactions, and that only by sheer force of will did he refuse to show any pain to being shot and electrocuted. But now I truly appreciate how tight a hold he really has.

I'm sure Sherlock could give me the science behind what happens next, but I don't really care. The arrow hits me, but it doesn't go further than puncturing the skin on my shoulder. I take one more step. Then the green liquid in the arrow slips out and my arm feels like it's on fire. I fall over, screaming.

The Arrow walks over to me and says, "Borrowed that trick from Barry. It feels about the same as his lightning." Dimly, I wonder how Sherlock could've taken even one of Barry's lightning shocks if they hurt like this, and then I remember: he's Sherlock.

Lestrade

I can hear screaming downstairs. Something goes whump. I really don't want to know what's going on beneath me.

Cisco

John falls over screaming, but I really can't pay attention to him right now because I just realized: I locked myself in a cell with Sherlock Holmes. The man who almost beat Barry, who evaded Oliver, and I just locked myself in a cell with him. Sherlock, however, doesn't hesitate like I do while I have this revelation and I find myself pinned to the wall.

Then I realize I'm not helpless. I phase through him. But there's a problem. I can phase by vibrating at the same frequency as something. Then my atoms can pass freely through those of the other object. But I can't vibrate at two different frequencies...Like Sherlock, and the door. I usually phase through the first thing, pause, recalibrate, then phase through the second thing. I don't think Sherlock will give me the luxury of pausing (and asking nicely won't help). So now I'm fighting him while vibrating at the frequency of the door.

If only I could get just one step closer to the door... I wonder what would happen if I used a sonic blast and Sherlock dodged it... it'd rebound off the door and hit me. Not fun.

Sherlock grabs my arm and pulls it in a way that my arm screams at me that it doesn't like this. My arm makes a dull pop and I cry out. Sherlock throws me at the wall, but in the instant before contact, I remember that I can phase through the wall and do. I slam into the far wall of the next cell.

Barely conscious, I groan. Imagine if I was still in Sherlock's cell, and I'd hit that wall instead. I'd certainly be unconscious. Oliver comes running over, "Cisco! Are you alright?"

I just groan. Oliver bangs on the glass. "How do I open this thing??"

I sort of weakly gesture at the screen behind the blast door. Oliver rushes over. I really hope he doesn't accidentally open Sherlock's cell, but he just opens mine. By now, I'm over the whole being-slammed-into-the-wall thing, so I notice—sort of passively—that my arm hurts. Like crazy.

Oliver jumps into the cell and walks over to me. He takes one look at my arm and sighs. "This'll hurt." He reaches down and grabs my arm just above and below my elbow and pushes. I scream, but as soon as it comes the pain fades to a dull ache. I stagger to my feet. Oliver helps me out of the cell.

John

The pain is slowly fading away, but I still don't feel like standing up. I'm not Sherlock, and that hurt like crazy.

Cisco says to The Arrow, "Was that really necessary?"

The Arrow says, "Probably not for him, but I put three of them in Sherlock and he didn't even seem to notice. I was just testing them."

I wince and pull myself up. This is the first time I've been able to see Sherlock since he came running out of the containment cell. He looks pretty beat up. There's a gash in his leg and a hole through his hand, which he has crudely bundled with a piece of his sleeve. Is his hair also...frizzy? That's not a word I'd use to describe his hair normally, but it is. Probably from the electricity.

I walk over to Sherlock's containment cell. Behind me, I hear The Arrow's bow creak, but I don't turn around. If he's going to shoot me, it won't do any good for me to be turned around. If he's not, then I'd rather talk to Sherlock. I know Sherlock must know what's going on, but I have no idea.

Cisco

John and Sherlock are both looking at each other. I let them have that moment because both of them have been through a lot in the past hour or so. But I'm still pissed at Sherlock. He did just shove his hand at my heart, which is not a memory I would prefer to relive. "How did you know about the...you know?"

Sherlock just smiles. "Obvious."

John just sighs and hits his head against the glass of Sherlock's cell.

Sherlock looks at me and then looks at Oliver and John. "Is it really not obvious to you? And here I thought you were smart, Cisco. Being the top mechanical engineer in the country and all."

I just gape at him. Oliver says, "He's a telepathic meta. Has to be."

"He's...not. Not a meta, that is."

I repeat, "How did you know about the...you know."

"Easy." I look at him quizzically. He starts speaking quickly. "Whenever you wince—which you do a lot—you curl around your chest, specifically your heart. That signifies that you have had a traumatic injury to your chest sometime in the past. If it was a bullet, you would've taken Lestrade's gun when you noticed it. Must've been a blade. You're obviously suffering from minor PTSD, it makes sense that the motion of a hand moving rapidly upwards towards your heart would trigger some sort of emotional response. A flat hand mirrors a blade. Incidentally, what kind of blade was it?"

I'm sort of surprised at this outburst, but I keep talking. "Try a hand. A vibrating hand that shredded my chest and crushed my heart."

"How are you still alive?" This time, it's John talking.

Before I can get a word out, Sherlock says, "Alternate timeline. Just like we're in an alternate dimension. And their superpowers came from a particle accelerator explosion which released dark matter. All obvious."

John mutters, "Show off."

I jump in. "Wait, who told you?" John starts laughing, hard. I look at him. "What?" He laughs even harder and leans over onto Sherlock's cell door to keep from falling over, still laughing. Sherlock's even smiling, and from what I've seen, he's like Oliver. It takes a lot to get him to smile.

"What?" I say it even louder now. John stops laughing and gasps for breath. "...Just... the look on your face when Sherlock told you what he knew..."

"Okay. Okay. But who did tell him?"