❛ I'M REACHING OUT AND I JUST CAN'T TELL YOU WHY ❜
𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 an untouchable and a self-proclaimed consulting detective band together in the most unlikely of ways
[ bbc sherlock holmes x fem!oc ]
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
SHERLOCK SCRAMBLED TO STAND ON his feet, water sloshing down from his trousers onto the leather of his shoes from where they'd been submerged into the pool next to Poppy, who remained frozen into place. In his hand the gun was held tightly by his leg, and he tried to look around for the source of the red lights. John should've been outside of the swimming pool, greeting the members of Scotland Yard.
"It is a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness. You can't be allowed to continue." Poppy found it in her to look at Moriarty. "You just can't. I would try to convince you, but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind." His arms were spread wide, waiting for a reaction to gauge. The detective spun around slowly with his arm out. "And probably my answer has crossed yours."
There was total silence as the barrel of Poppy's gun was being directed at the coat she'd been bundled up in, green indicator illuminating the surrounding tiles. It was almost comedic how the first notes of 'Stayin' Alive' by the Bee Gees blared around the echoing chamber. Poppy thought she was suffering from delayed delusion after the incident with the chloroform, but when Sherlock looked at her questioningly and pointed at her, she shook her head. "The Spice Girls" She mouthed, and jerked her thumb back at Moriarty. "Do you mind if I get that?"
"Oh no, please. You've got the rest of your life."
When Moriarty extracted the phone from his pocket and examined the caller I.D, his face was of very close resemblance to a teenager who'd just received a call from home after being out past the designated curfew time. "Hello? . . . Yes, of course it is. What do you want?" He took it away from his ear to murmur 'Sorry' to Sherlock, who said 'It's fine' back.
It was as if a switch had changed within the consulting criminal, going from barely bothered with the person on the other end of the line to seeing red within seconds. "SAY THAT AGAIN!" Poppy's brows pinched together in fear and confusion. "Say that again, and know that if you're lying to me, I will find you, and I will skiin you." He picked at a non-existent hangnail, "Wait." And paused the call.
Sherlock was debating internally whether to still shoot at the explosives, but Poppy shook her head in a minute gesture. "Sorry . . . wrong day to die."
"Oh. Did you get a better offer?"
"You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock. And I haven't forgotten about you Miss Rockefeller, though don't wait up for my letters." He began to walk away from them, instead of leaving through one of the changing cubicles Moriarty exited the way he revealed himself, speaking into his phone once more. "So if you have what you say you have, I will make you rich. And if you don't, I'll make you into shoes."
He clicked his fingers. The sniper targets vanished. As if it was orchestrated, Scotland Yard came bursting in through the corridor Sherlock had entered with the bomb disposal squad making a beeline for the green puffer jacket. He hauled Poppy up from the dips in her elbows as Lestrade walked forward with an orange shock blanket, a stretcher being wheeled in behind him by Theodore Carmichael. Poppy tried to avoid his eye. "What just happened?" She asked.
