Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Claymore

Chapter 5

Sherlock watched John as he gathered up the last of his supplies that he would need for their tracking of the Golem. John’s body quivered with excitement at the prospect. He reminded Sherlock of a dog before the hunt. John turned around and smiled at Sherlock his eyes full of life and love. Sherlock swallowed and looked down at the ground. John’s love for him was a mystery that Sherlock would never be able to fathom. In his entire life Sherlock had never felt so strong and confidant. The flip side was that Sherlock had never felt so afraid; it was a type of fear that threatened to consume him at the thought of anything happening to John.

John pulled at Sherlock’s arm like a child. “Quit daydreaming, Sherlock. It’s time to go.”

Sherlock, John and Clare, crept out of 221b Baker Street and blended into the inky darkness of the night. It took a while to get a cab and when they all piled into the back seat; the cabbie looked like he regretted the decision to pick them up.

“I want part of my fare upfront,” the cabbie said as he nervously eyed John and Clare.

John shrugged and put some money into the cabbie’s hand and then he leaned back and put an arm around Sherlock and Clare. “Let’s give him something to talk about,” John laughed as he looked from Sherlock to Clare.

Sherlock wasn’t self-conscious at the impression that the cabbie would arrive at; however, he didn’t like being part of a game where he didn’t know the rules. Sherlock slipped out from underneath John’s arm. “I’ve got to think, John and I can’t with your arm around me.”

John slyly glanced at Sherlock from out of the corner of his eye. “I’ll just bet you can’t.”

Not wanting a repeat of their last cab ride, Sherlock scooted as far away from John as he could get.

John laughed. “Sherlock, for someone who is so brilliant, you don’t hide your intentions very well.”

Sherlock was starting to get angry. He didn’t like being teased, especially in front of Clare. “Stop it, John. You are beginning to annoy me and probably Clare too.”

Clare watched the exchange between John and Sherlock in silence. John still had his arm around Clare and started to come back with a pithy retort.

Sherlock cut him off. “John, just shut it, so that at least one of us can be productive.”

John goaded Sherlock more. “Aw, tisk, tisk, is somebody becoming like his brother Queen Mycroft?”

Sherlock could feel his face flushing, as he shouted back. “John, just shut the hell up, now.”

John shrugged looked over at Clare and leaned back against the seat. No one said a word until they arrived at China Town. The cabbie seemed relieved to be rid of them and drove off so quickly the cab’s tires squealed against the pavement. Once they were alone John and Clare each took a deep breath, looked at each other, and began to head deeper into the dark recesses of China Town. Sherlock hurried after them, feeling like a small child trying to keep up with his older siblings. They only had gone a few feet when a dark figure loomed out in front of them.

Clare was the first to react as she pulled her sword on the Golem “God, they were terrifying creatures,” Sherlock thought as he observed the height, and the grotesque facial expressions of the thing in front of them. John rounded on the creature next, slashing at its neck with his sword. Clare drove her weapon into the Golem’s kneecap and he went down with a groan. John rounded on him next, his eyes feverish with the thrill of the kill that was soon to be his.  Taking his sword in both hands John plunged it into the Golem’s throat. Thrusting his hips forward John buried his sword up to the hilt in the Golem’s neck.

Before the Golem breathed his last he shrieked at John. “You are too late, human.” The rest of the sentence was cut off by a gurgling sound and then the Golem lay silent.

Sherlock winced as John struggled to pull his weapon out of the creature. Then with a sickening crack the sword was John’s once again. John trotted over to Sherlock like a puppy, heedless of the gore that covered the front on his chest, and neck. It reminded Sherlock of the time that his dog Redbeard had brought a dead rabbit to Sherlock. Sherlock had been repulsed by the ripped up creature that Redbeard had so lovely laid at his feet. Sherlock had been about ready to scold Redbeard, and then Redbeard’s tail started to wag. Sherlock had looked down into the loving eyes of his dog and said, “Good boy, now let me get rid of this mess.” A slight scrapping noise brought Sherlock back to the present. John stood before him expectantly. Sherlock couldn’t help the tears that filled his eyes. “That was good John. I am very impressed.” Then just like Redbeard’s expression of love through his wagging tail, John expressed his love by throwing arms around Sherlock. John closed his eyes leaned closer to Sherlock and held him tight. Sherlock glanced at their reflection in a shop window a happy, white good luck cat figure waved back at them. Sherlock stared at the cat for a few seconds, something wasn’t quite right. “What is wrong with this picture?” Sherlock thought moments before he was knocked unconscious.

Sherlock stirred and winced at the shooting pain that encompassed his entire skull. Regardless of how much it would hurt Sherlock sat up and looked around him. Where were John and Clare? Sherlock felt gentle cool hands supporting his neck. Even before he spoke Sherlock knew it was John’s touch that supported him.

“Sherlock, easy, you probably have a concussion.” John whispered gently as he took Sherlock’s pulse.

Sherlock detested when individuals that had been knocked out sat up and invariably asked in a sing song voice,” What happened?” Despite it being a pet peeve that is exactly what Sherlock did as he sat up with John supporting him, “What happened?”

Clare answered from the corner. “We were ambushed by a group of Golem.”

Blinding pain and nausea threatened to overtake Sherlock as he proceeded with his inquiries. “Did you say a group of Golem?”

Clare nodded. “John and I had the situation under control, until one of them held a knife to your throat. Without hesitation John surrendered his sword.”

Sherlock didn’t doubt that John would surrender his sword to protect him, but Clare? Sherlock looked over at Clare. She was calm, cool, not a hair out of place. “Clare, you surrendered your sword too?” Sherlock asked skeptically.

Clare make a noise that Sherlock supposed was Clare’s form of laughing. “No, I wasn’t going to surrender my sword, however, John convinced me by holding a knife at my throat. Basically, he threatened to kill me in a slow tortuous way unless I did as your captors suggested.” Clare stared at Sherlock with irritation. “So, here we are.”

Sherlock let John pull his body closer to that he would be able to sit up and yet still have John’s body against his back for support. Sherlock was out of breath from the small effort. “So, where is here?” he gasped.

John answered this time. “I have no idea. After we surrendered our weapons the Golem knocked us out too.”

All three prisoners made note of their surroundings. They were in what appeared to be an old brick dungeon, complete with iron bars, chains and manacles. Sherlock was surprised there wasn’t a skeleton or two lying around. He sighed. “Have our captors said what they want from us?” Sherlock asked.

John shook his head. “It appears that we are to rot down here.”

Sherlock glanced over at Clare. Even though Claymore’s had little need for food, Sherlock had no doubt that she would not hesitate to eat the flesh off of his dead body if she needed subsidence. For a moment no one said anything each lost in their own reflections of their current situation. Sherlock was about to ask another question, when they all three heard the door from the top of the stairs slowly creaking open.