SHERLOCK I, II, III & IV • #wattys2016

aceyla marinca

Aceyla Marinca walked through the stinging cold air, one arm swinging back and forth to keep the heat circulating throughout her body. Her other hand held tight to her suitcase. Once in awhile, she would stop to stretch her freezing fingers and stimulate her numbing cheeks. Her breath came out in a small cloud, casting an enchantment against the navy blue sky. Collecting her strength again, she pursued the long walk down the back streets of the Amsterdam city. She didn’t take the back streets like secretive people often do, as she knew Andrew could possibly be hiding in the crevices and holes he once told her about. She picked up her pace.  The mere thought about being caught was colder than the weather. The grey scenery in front of her became a blue and she found herself running. The rumbling of her suitcase clattered unevenly on the pavement and her breath came out in sharp gasps.

She turned a sharp corner and collided into another warm body. Hands wrapped around her before she had time to identify the face. A hand sealed her mouth shut and she felt herself being tugged aggressively into the shadows. She heard whispering and the footsteps of at least three more people. Aceyla reached up to pry the resilient fingers off of her before she felt the familiar gnarly knuckles and the long fingers. Her heart beat dropped and, rather than fighting against the arms, she fell into them and allowed them to carry her. When she found herself in the darkness of a tunnel, she was placed gingerly onto the ground and the arms that at first seized her violently, took her in like a gentle breeze. Her cold cheek leaned against the rough felt fabric of the large coat and the tips of her finger caressed the sharp cheekbones.

“Is this Aceyla Marinca?” John’s voice came. He found the whole sight surprising. He never categorized Sherlock Holmes with feelings, especially towards women. He’d seen the detective express loyalty towards friends, but never one as affectionate as love.

Sherlock looked up at John and said curtly, “Of course.”

“What do we do?” Simon asked, pacing in front of the arched entrance of the tunnel. He stopped between strides, looking up and down the streets in case the enemy was hunting them. “I mean, we don’t know if they’re coming back, right?”

“I gave him my phone, that should keep him occupied until it erases.”

“Erases?” John repeated.

“I set my phone to erase everything after twenty minutes.”

“So, we’ve got twenty minutes?” Charlie said. He sat down on the pavement and then got up, for it was very wet and cold. “What should we do in the meantime?”

Sherlock helped Aceyla off the ground and gave her a warm smile. “Well, we tell Aceyla the plan.”

“What plan?” Aceyla said, looking at Sherlock and then at John. “Where’s Andrew?”

“Doesn’t matter where he is, but the time it takes for him to find us once my phone deactivates. The plan is,” Sherlock began in his proud, literate voice, “Aceyla is going to go and ask for Elise and Mrs. Hudson, John’s daughter and our landlady. I will go with her to make sure the deed is done, and to deliver the code.”

Aceyla flashed a terrified look at Sherlock. But she didn’t say anything, for she knew that any doubt would cause the plan to fail.  Her lips went dry and she closed her eyes just long enough to say a prayer to herself.

“You will tell them the code.”

“Are you crazy?” John said, “You do know the importance of those codes?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, John! Stop being so dull, it will work. Besides, you, Charlie, and Simon are going to go ahead of me and get the file before we arrive.”