Deerstalker - a Sherlolly story

Caught in the Act

With the world fading in and out Sherlock still kept on trying to flee from the already lost fight. With all the power he had left, he pushed himself off the wall and out of the grip off his attacker. The boy stumbled backwards a little and Sherlock believed for a split-second that all might not be lost. Unfortunately, he didn’t spot Rob closing in on him from the side. Before he knew it, he was pinned against the wall again. The impact his head made when it met the crumbling surface, made his vision blur even further. Rob’s hand was on his throat. “You little shit!” He could hear Rob spit in his face, but his voice seemed as if his voice came from miles away. Sherlock let his body go limp, letting Rob’s hand hold him up like a rag doll. He could feel the darkness close in on him like a warm blanket and this time he let himself slip into it peacefully.

When another blow to his head was about to send him to complete darkness, Sherlock could suddenly hear a loud bang!. The noise was followed by several crashing sounds and loud voices. 

“Let go off the boy, right now!” One of the voices commanded angrily.  Suddenly, Rob’s fingers released the hold on Sherlock’s throat. His legs shook and he immediately sunk to the floor.

From the dark corner he had crouched into, he could hear more noises that made his head throb. A loud smack. A groan. “We had nothing to do with!”. The click of closing handcuffs. Footsteps on the floorboards.

Suddenly, a bright flash of light hit Sherlock’s face. He squinted and held out a hand protectively in front of his face. The sudden shock that it brought, made his brain start up again, though. He blinked and could now identify where the voices from earlier had come from. In the hallway, with a kicked-in door behind them, stood several policemen. One was holding the flashlight that created the bright beam on his face.

“Can you stand up, kid?” The flashlight-carrier asked while he moved towards Sherlock’s weak figure. Behind him Sherlock could see Rob and his two unexpected helpers being led out of the mansion and towards one of several police cars.

“Y-Yes,” Sherlock replied while he tried to pull himself up, his left hand pressing into the wall for support. Once he managed to straighten his wobbling legs, he started for the door. After making it halfway across the hall the world started to spin in front of his eyes again. As his body started to tilt to left just a bit too much, a strong hand grabbed his upper arm. Keeping him upright.

“Easy there, young man.” Flashlight guy told him, while helping him reach the front door. Meanwhile Sherlock’s brain was finally starting to work to its fullest again and it had begun to talk some sense into the swaying body that carried it. Get it together. Now. Snap out of it. How could you have let this happen? You idiot.

As soon as they stepped through the front doorpost (there was not much left of the door), Sherlock took a deep draft of the cool night air and straightened himself. No matter how much he hated to admit it he had failed, but that didn’t mean he had to act like a failure.

In the big field in front of the mansion several police cars were parked. Around them stood several police officers, filling in papers and debating how they were going to close off the crime scene. The car with Rob and his accomplices had apparently left already. Officer Flashlight opened up the door of one of the cars and instructed Sherlock to sit down on the front seat.

“How are you feeling, kid? We can take you to a hospital right now or we have to take you to the station for questioning. You should probably still go see a doctor, though.” The officer, a large man with an impressive moustache, asked Sherlock while supporting himself with his hand on the car’s roof.

“I’m feeling fine. Excellent.” Sherlock replied, having to use all his effort to muster up his signature smile. “Let’s go to the station, so we can settle this quickly.”