SHERLOCK I, II, III & IV • #wattys2016

Locked In

Sherlock cradled the pistol in his hands, weighing it. “Now, let me explain this to you again. Either way this goes, whether I die or he dies, you’re still not going to get the formula.”

“And what if I gave you John for it?” Evangeline asked, impatiently examining her nails.

“You know I’d give it to you, I’m a man of my words.”

“So,” Evangeline stepped forward towards the table, arms still crossed, “You would risk millions and millions of lives for a single man’s?”

Sherlock placed the pistol onto the table and spun it. “If my life depended on it; and it seems that it is at the moment.”

The pistol came to a tottering halt, the end pointing at Sherlock. Smirking, the detective picked it up, pressed the trigger lightly while keeping his eyes on Evangeline. He opened his mouth and placed the tip inside. He pressed the trigger, letting loose just a ‘click.’ He set the gun back onto the table and gave Evangeline a smile. “Why are we doing this?” He asked, folding his arms on the table and carelessly spinning the weapon again.

“Mr. Holmes, it’s a game, everything is. The question is, how seriously do you think I am about it?”

Stopping the weapon in mid-twirl, Sherlock picked it up and laid it on its side on his flattened palm. “You’re not serious enough to really load this.”

Gasping, Evangeline snatched the weapon and leaned in so close to Sherlock that their noses brushed. “How could you possible know that? You didn’t fire all eight chambers. You can’t deduct just clicking it once!”

Keeping the grin on his face, Sherlock replied, “I’ve held hundreds of guns. I know their weight. I know the proper balance most handguns should be at from one bullet to the full round. I’ve taught myself to know how they function blindfolded.” In a mocking manner, he kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Did I spoil it for you?”

Evangeline, in a rage, kicked Sherlock’s chair back, spilling the detective out onto the ground. Sherlock rolled over his shoulder and onto his hands, his eyes not leaving the woman. Evangeline charged him, stopped in front of him and, in a blur, pulled her foot up and sent it smashing down onto Sherlock’s hand. Sherlock flinched, but sent the pistol he had been holding crashing against her shin.

Evangeline screamed and crumbled to the ground. Sherlock scrambled to his feet and straddled her. He pinned her wrists down and stared victoriously in her eyes. “You wanted to see my limits, didn’t you? You wanted to see what I would give away or say before I died? You wanted to break me. Well, Ms. D’ Nour,” Sherlock pressed himself against Evangeline and one hand trailed down her back, “you will be the last person to do that to me.”

Not knowing any other tactic, Evangeline, knowing Sherlock’s innocence in love, kissed him hard on the lips. Sherlock returned it, bringing her up from the ground. In a passion unknown to both, Sherlock picked her up completely and placed her on the table. As she wrapped her legs around his waist, Sherlock slipped a hand to the back of her pants and pulled out the envelope.

Without breaking the kiss he looked over to the door and then at the keys she had hooked on her utility belt. Figuring out a quick plan, Sherlock kissed her neck, distracting her into euphoria as he untangled the keys. Once he had both the possessions he wanted in his hands, he gave Evangeline a final, overwhelming kiss and then broke it.

In a character he hadn’t seen in Evangeline since they had met, the woman remained still on the table, her eyes closed and her breathing escalating.

Raising an eyebrow at the awkward situation, Sherlock wiped his mouth and made his way to the door. He took one look at the keyhole and then at the selection of keys in his hands. He only had to choose once from the collection. He jabbed the key into the keyhole and turned it. “You made a mistake, Evie.”