Moriarty's Little Puppet
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- Parts 3
Sherlock looked around the room, walls battered with blood from who knows how many victims this maniac had strung up. "Sherlock, dear?" His rich voice echoed across the room, sending Sherlock shivers that bellowed across his body. "Have you figured it out yet?" He asked yet again. Sherlock stayed still. After all, what could he do? Any movement motioned him to be exactly where the criminal was able to kill him. "Oh god..." The man chuckled, "You haven't, have you? Sherlock Holmes, the smartest man alive, couldn't figure out a simple mystery?" A large clank of metal was heard as the door flew open. "It's raiiiiining..." The man began, advancing towards Sherlock in an agonizingly slow way, "It's poooouring..." The criminal mastermind continued to sing, "Sherrrrrrlock is boooooooring..."
"He went to bed, someone shot his head..."
"He couldn't get up"
"In the mooooorning..."
Bang.
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#27
bilbo
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John looked peaceful, his head lulling back and hands clasped together in his lap. His mouth was slightly open, and his breathing even. How had he fallen asleep so perfectly? Most people who had fallen asleep around Sherlock (which was, admittedly, not many) had slept awfully, loud and snorty, sometimes thrashing around, sometimes making weird sounds you're only capable of making while asleep. He sat next to the doctor, being careful not to disturb his slumber. Closing his eyes, Sherlock tried to get to his mind palace. To his dismay, too many thoughts cluttered his head. That had never happened before. Sherlock groaned softly, keeping his eyes closed. Maybe he should get some sleep. He knew John would want him to. "Ah John, what would I do without you?" Sherlock whispered to the sleeping man beside him on the couch. "I'd be a half dead robot if you weren't here. I almost was. I almost was." A small sigh escaped his lips as he slipped into the cool relief of sleep.
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