Soufflés, Skype and Sherlock Holmes

My Holmes

Clara sat very very still in the cab as it whizzed around London. She held onto the small torch she had with white knuckles. They had never done anything like this before, well not with her anyway. First it had been the shoes that were Carl Powers. Then there was the blood found in the abandoned car and after that was the death of Connie Prince. It was escalating, from shoes to blood to a body and now, chasing after a deadly assassin. What would tomorrow bring? Sherlock was actually insane. Yes, Clara was scared behind her wits. Yes, she would kill Sherlock if they all died tonight. But, no matter how frightened she was, if Clara was asked by John or Sherlock to take a cab back to the flat, she would refuse. She loved this, this other evil side of London that Sherlock lived for. Loved the chasing, the finding and dare she say it, the bloody showing off.

John swiveled in his seat and opened his mouth as if to say something, 'No,' Clara interrupted. She shook her head defiantly. 'I am staying with you two and that is final.' Her voice was steady, even if her trembling hands weren't.

'Clara...' Sherlock growled warningly from his seat at the window. She watched him flick his gaze up from her trembling fingers to her brave face, connecting the dots.

She shook her head. 'I am staying. And you can't do anything about it.' She crossed her arms and stared into his grave eyes. She knew what he was thinking. If that one Skype call hadn't happened she might not be here today, about to take on an assassin who was over 6ft tall. Clara Oswald would not go home because of a detective trying not to be his usual selfish self.

Sherlock's gaze hardened. Clara shook her head in response. No. The detective gave her a warning glance. You know what could happen. She frowned and raised an eyebrow. You're being ridiculous, Cheekbones. It was Sherlock's turn to frown. His grey eyes were hard as steel. Go home. We can't keep you one hundred percent safe here. What are you thinking, coming to fight a killer?! Clara raised her eyebrows and folded her arms as if saying: I can take care of myself and you know it. Who was the one sulking the whole night after the old lady, huh?

Sherlock grew flustered and shook off a worried glance from John. Sherlock was about to say something out loud to the stubborn woman when the cab screeched to a stop. Clara jumped out before the detective could lock her in and send her home. 'Are you two okay...,?' John asked as his two other friends stalked off into the night.

'Fantastic!' Clara cried loudly. Sherlock didn't answer. John was sure if she was being sarcastic or not.

The walk into the building was silent and with a flick of a pocket knife the doors were open. The group hurried towards the a loud audio narration, something about the solar system. It kept on jumping randomly with white noise in between. Clara shivered involuntarily. John had his gun out as they rounded the corner and into a dark lit theater except for a massive projector. He aimed at the massive figure in the shadows. 'Golem!' Sherlock shouted and raced towards the assassin.

Clara gasped when she realized another smaller figure was in the hands of the assassin. Professor Cairns. The Golem grunted in surprise and snapped the neck of the smaller figure with a crack. He dropped her to the floor but her fingers dragged across the knobs and buttons at the projector. The video started fast forwarding again, plunging the theater into darkness. Golem dropped out of sight. 'John!' Sherlock called out.

'I can't see him, I'll go round,' John replied, with his weapon at the ready. The footage on the screen was fast forward again, lighting the theater up as bright as the sun, only to plunge it into darkness again.

Clara ran down the stairs to the platform at the bottom, trying to spy Sherlock. 'Who are you working for this time? Dzundza?' Sherlock asked loudly from somewhere in the darkness.

Clara followed his voice, only to see that she wasn't the only one with that idea. The giant assassin was behind Sherlock in an instant. 'SHERLOCK!' Clara screamed in warning. It was too late, Golem had his huge hand plastered on the detectives face and nose. Sherlock clawed at the hand but to no avail. He was slowly suffocating.

John came out of the shadows with his pistol. His hands were steady as rocks. 'Let him go, or I will kill you.' His voice didn't waver as he pointed the gun at Golem's head. Clara breathed out quickly, her mind racing. Sherlock could die, or John could die. She looked around the room trying to go find something, anything, to help. To her left, was a thick microphone stand amongst other sound equipment. She raced over and grabbed the metal object. With a yell more suited to Braveheart, Clara barrelled towards the Golem's back and swung as hard as she could. Even with rubbish grades in P.E, Clara still managed to slam the solid metal pole into the back of the assassins legs with a satisfying crack. The assassin growled but wasn't going to be taken down by a short woman wearing a red apron.

The Golem swung Sherlock around so he was thrown across the room, into Clara. With a long leg he also kicked the gun out of John's grip. The breath was knocked out of Clara as Sherlock sent them both skidding on the ground. She coughed loudly, pinned beneath the rather heavy detective. 'Sherlock!' she wheezed.

Sherlock grunted and rolled off her and scrambled up. They both saw John trying to wrestle the gigantic assassin. As Sherlock regained his balance, John was pushed into him by the Golem and the boys tumbled to the floor. Clara sucked in another breath and grabbed the microphone stand that lay bent on the floor. With all he might she swung it at the assassin's head but he merely deflected it with a huge hand. Sherlock scrambled up and got into a boxing stance to face the Golem. He looked extremely short and insignificant.

Sherlock threw a punch but in a flash he was on the ground again. The Golem reached down and clamped his hands on Sherlock's face. He squeezed with immense force. 'HEY GANDALF!' Clara yelled at the top her voice, trying to divert the Golem's attention. She hoped this impromptu plan John had whispered to her a moment before would work. He grunted and looked up, no, down at her. 'Yeah that's right Big-Bird, I'm talking to you! Now get your hands off of MY HOLMES!'

The Golem raise a hand and took a swipe at her just as John threw himself into the assassin's back. Clara was clubbed on the shoulder with amazing force. She was thrown back across the floor and didn't get up again.

The Golem roared at the person on his back and released Sherlock. The assassin spun around and clawed at John. He shook the short doctor to the floor. As John groggily rubbed his head, the Golem turned around and grabbed Sherlock like he was a rag doll. He threw the detective across the floor into John. As Sherlock slid across the ground he grabbed the forgotten pistol. He aimed and fired at the Golem but the giant man was too quick. He disappeared out the entrance. 'Long dead, exploded into supernovas...' The projector narrated as an image of an exploding star lit up the room. Sherlock angrily slammed his hand down onto the floor and growled something incomprehensible.

John was with Clara, prodding her till she woke up. 'Clara? Clara, come on...' Clara jumped up with a start and waved her arms blindingly in the darkness. 'Clara!' John exclaimed.

'My, my, my...' she trailed off, slightly delirious. 'My soufflé! I left it in the oven!' She cried.

'Your soufflé, Jesus. Come on.' John didn't know whether to cry or laugh.