Sherlock meets The Flash and Arrow

Chapter 34

Oliver

I hear something whistling towards me. Instinctively, I whirl around and catch the things. They're the training bars that I use to spar with Diggle.

I glare in the general direction of where the bars are stored. "What was that for?"

"Testing your instincts," Sherlock says. "Besides, I prefer to train with someone else and I've never tried sparring with metal bars before."

John, still hanging upside down, says, "Sherlock! You could've killed him!"

"No, I couldn't've. He's got a fighter's instincts." Sherlock turns to Diggle. He's turned around, following our conversation. Sherlock lobs the other two bars at him.

Diggle catches them. "What are these for? I thought you wanted to fight."

"I do. But, as I said, I've never even seen someone fight with these. I want to see you and Oliver first. They are the bars you practice sparring with, after all."

Diggle sighs and jumps onto the training section of the floor. "Are you sure this isn't just a chance to humiliate me?"

John laughs. Diggle turns to him. "What?"

John replies, smiling, "I know the feeling. Same one as when Sherlock asks me to deduce something. I know I'm going to fail. That he's going to show me and my failures up."

Diggle smiles back. "Okay, okay. You've got it worse." He balances the bars in his hands, preparing to fight. Sherlock steps over next to us to get a better view. Casually, he tips one of Diggle's bars and nudges his foot back slightly, then steps back.

Diggle blinks, looking a little confused, then turns to me and says, "Ready." I jump at him. We twist and turn, the bars blurring with the speed. He's faster and more stable than normal. Probably just feeling the pressure of people watching. He whacks the back of my left knee, forcing me to crumple to one knee.

But he's overextended slightly. I catch the opening and slip behind him, pulling the bar in front of his neck and trapping him. I've obviously won.

Slowly, I step away from him and turn away. Suddenly, something hits me, hard, and I fall to the ground. Diggle pins me to the ground, and says, quietly, "Never turn your back on your enemy, Oliver. You know that."

Mentally berating myself, I glare at the mat that's an inch in front of my face. Of course. I try to struggle out of his hold, to no avail.

I can hear Diggle's smile. This almost never happens. "Give up?"

I groan. "No." I keep struggling, reaching back with my bars to try to get him off.

Diggle sighs. "Pride, Oliver. It'll hurt you every time. Oh, I almost forgot. What are we going to?"

"Surrender, incapacitation, or injury, like normal," I say, knowing that the rule will probably make this fight end badly for me.

Diggle sighs. "I don't want to have to hurt you, Oliver." I don't reply. There is a certain amount of pride here. Besides, if only Diggle just tries to hurt me, I can get out of this, I know I can...

Diggle says, calmly, "What sort of injury counts as an injury?"

"Bruises, cuts, anything."

Diggle takes his hand off my arm for a second and draws his hand back to punch me. I twist, and drag him back, flipping our positions. Unlike Diggle, I don't hesitate. Quickly, I knock his arm into the ground, hard enough to bruise.

Diggle groans. "I almost had you."

"Almost," I say, smiling.

John

The fight's over now. Suddenly, Oliver says. "Sherlock. You're a teacher!"

Sherlock turns to him, confused. "What?"

Oliver, continues, hesitantly, "I'm not you, Sherlock, but I can see this much...The way you corrected Diggle's stance and his grip. It looked...habitual. Like you'd done it hundreds of times before. And...where you're standing. Far enough away from us so that if the fight were to suddenly come in your direction, you could be out of the way. But close enough...close enough that if either of us were about to accidentally hurt the other, you could interfere."

I smile. "You've missed something."

Oliver turns to me. "What?"

"You've missed the most obvious sign of a teacher. The way his eyes lit up when Diggle hit you, when he pinned you. His joy at his pupil's success. That's the real mark of a teacher."

Oliver blinks. "Huh."

Now I'm laughing. Hard. Oliver turns to me. "What?"

Gasping, I choke out, "Sherlock...Now you know what it's like...to have your life...laid out in front of you."

"My methods, John. You're learning." Sherlock sighs. "You're right. I was a teacher. I've been learning hand-to-hand combat since I was a child. I started teaching at the age of ten, once I got better than the instructors. Kept at it until I graduated high school. I guess I still remember."

Diggle smiles. "I guess you do. I've never done that before, you know. Pinned Oliver. Only did it with your help."

"You just needed a wider stance and a looser grip on the bars. It was mainly you."

Now I really can't stop laughing. "Wait. Write this down. Sherlock Holmes is being modest."

Sherlock says, sarcastically, "Thank you, John."

I don't say anything. I'm just thinking it. You really love teaching, don't you, Sherlock. Why did you stop? Who buried this joyful, kind teacher under the hard, emotionless sociopath? Maybe I am learning, because there's so much hidden under there. I can just see it written all in Sherlock's actions. It couldn't have been you who left the teacher behind. This isn't natural. Someone hurt you, deeply. Convinced you that emotion and caring were weaknesses.

Tell me who it was. Because you don't deserve this, Sherlock.

Tell me how I can help you.

Tell me how I can save you from your past.

Tell me how I can save you from yourself, like you saved me.