City of Fear

Chapter 11

A/N - Less than a week! We're doing amazing! However, although we can't promise next month will be as update packed, we assure that this story will definitely be finished without another year- or month-long wait in between chapters, God willing.

Queue: Or should I say Fluffy willing.

Fluffy: Now, now, it's not a good idea to compare me to our lord and savior, but I appreciate the compliment :D

Queue: Touché. You're getting better at this.

Fluffy: Getting better at what?

Queue: . . . Never mind.

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Sherlock felt his heart rate increase as he ran, surprisingly having trouble keeping pace with the blonde woman. Night had fallen as he'd been talking to Gaius, and he kept his senses acute to catch sight of dark logs and patches of mud. As he ran through the sleeping village, he thought the woman over.

She was nothing extraordinary; anyone else might have mistaken her for an average peasant. Her hair was knotted and frizzy, matching the wild look in her eyes. According to her fast pace, he concluded that she must have been desperate. But for what reason? She was a bad actress, and Sherlock was no amateur; he knew no son of hers was at the bottom of any well. The real reason he'd followed her was to find out what she was hiding.

"Hurry!" she called back. "He's just through these trees—oh, God, I hope he hasn't drowned-"

Sherlock peered over her shoulder, spotting the outline of an old stone well beyond some bushes. He pushed himself forward, rushing towards the well and skidding to a stop before looking inside. He felt it best to play along for now.

"Hello?" he called down. He listened for any sign of movement or a response, but the water was calm below.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, whipping back around towards the blonde woman. "There's no boy in there." He pointed behind himself as he spoke.

Her whole demeanor seemed to change upon that sentence. She straightened her back, and her eyes changed from panicked to cold. The worried lines on her forehead disappeared as her expression went slack. "I know." Her voice had a trace of smugness in it. Instantly, Sherlock knew why she'd brought him out here. He felt a wave of satisfaction pass over him; it was the feeling he always got when he was close to solving a case.

"Seems like extra work, bringing me all the way out here to kill me," Sherlock commented, being careful to face her and keep his expression cool. "I'm sure you could have found a much easier way to kill me in town."

The shape-shifter smirked. "Who said I intended to kill you?"

"Something told me this wasn't just a pleasant forest stroll."

A titter of laughter. "What gave it away?"

"I have several. Would you like me to list all of them, or just-"

She rolled her eyes as he talked, and did not hesitate to interrupt him, "Funny, how much they talk about how smart you are. I'm not really seeing it."

"Oh?"

"Because, you see, you're standing with your back towards a well that has walls shorter than your knees."

Although she presented it as a simple fact, Sherlock realized the warning too late. Just as he tried to leap out of the way, Sherlock felt an invisible blast force him backwards. He was carried in the air for a moment, but then his heel caught on the edge of the stone wall and there was a stomach-dropping sensation as he began to plummet below ground. As he was immersed in even deeper darkness than the night above, his hands groped at the damp stone on either side of him, but he wasn't sure it was doing much to stop his acceleration toward the black water below.