Being scrutinised by piercing gazes of blue and green didn’t strike him as odd given the circumstances. The smirk on his targets face did, but he was too slow to react as he was suddenly seized from behind and smashed face first into the table with hulking force. He hadn’t heard so much as a whisper of cloth to warn him of anyone sneaking up behind him, yet he could tell by the breadth of the calloused hands at his wrists and neck that their owner must be huge. Could it be that he’d actually switched off? Surely nobody would have taken him unaware had he been paying the proper amount of attention to his surroundings. Had he been.. cocky?
Efforts to fight his way out were futile, and he only earned a blow to the back of the head for his troubles. The room momentarily swam, and he felt something warm and sticky trickle down over his forehead. That was going to really smart, probably needed stitches.
"It appears I am at a severe disadvantage. I must confess that I had no idea this game was so exclusive. Sorry for inviting myself, I’ll show myself out if you’d just be kind enough to release me."
His voice came out steady, but muffled thanks to the awkward detail of having his face pressed against the dark oaken table which dominated the space. Laughter greeted his flippant remark, and he strained his neck to try and catch a glimpse of whoever was mocking him. Ah.. he might have known it would be the obviously mentally unbalanced criminal.
"And why would we do that? It took us such a very long time to get the great Sherlock Holmes alone. Wouldn’t it be such an awful shame to throw away such a unique opportunity just because you asked so nicely? The manners are nice though, do keep it up." The man he knew as Bert Andrews circled around into Sherlocks line of view, and paused to light a cigarette. Even at this awkward angle Sherlock could see that the zippo used to light it had been expensive, exquisitely crafted, most likely unique.. in fact it was definitely unique seeing as it had been engraved. Intricate patterns of vines chased each other around the initials S.M, and Sherlock inwardly berated himself for a fool.
Of course this had all seemed too easy.. it /was/ too easy. So easy that he should have known it as a blind, a cover for something much more insidious.
"I see you’ve all been very busy bee’s, and clever ones too to ensnare me in such a perfectly simple trap. Really my hats off to you mister Moran.. although I must inquire into your reasoning for molesting me when you had succeeded in thwarting the efforts of my brother and all his agents to find you. Why risk it? You must know I’ll be missed. People will be looking for me, and they aren’t completely hopeless. What possible gain could be worth the risk it took to get me here alone, when you could have lived like a king on the back of your success with our late friend Moriarty?"
He was surprised to find his inquiries uninterrupted by either the brute force of muscle still pinning him to the table, or his boss. The latter even seemed pleased by Sherlocks questions, and he grinned wolfishly around his cigarette as he leaned in close, breathing smoke into Sherlock’s face on the exhale as he slowly pulled a drag from the burning stick and flicked the ash carelessly into the detectives curly hair.
"Revenge." He spoke that single word in such a low tone that Sherlock had to strain to hear, but he’d never heard two syllables spoken with such malice before now. It chilled him to the bone despite the brave face he was maintaining in the face of this unexpected turn of events, and he had to repress a shudder as he stared into eyes that could have been made of ice for all the cold intent he found within their depths.
With shame he heard his voice waver as he attempted with futility to seem calm. “For who? Not for your late employer? I didn’t think you were quite so sentimental.”
Re: Complications Part 3
Efforts to fight his way out were futile, and he only earned a blow to the back of the head for his troubles. The room momentarily swam, and he felt something warm and sticky trickle down over his forehead. That was going to really smart, probably needed stitches.
"It appears I am at a severe disadvantage. I must confess that I had no idea this game was so exclusive. Sorry for inviting myself, I’ll show myself out if you’d just be kind enough to release me."
His voice came out steady, but muffled thanks to the awkward detail of having his face pressed against the dark oaken table which dominated the space. Laughter greeted his flippant remark, and he strained his neck to try and catch a glimpse of whoever was mocking him. Ah.. he might have known it would be the obviously mentally unbalanced criminal.
"And why would we do that? It took us such a very long time to get the great Sherlock Holmes alone. Wouldn’t it be such an awful shame to throw away such a unique opportunity just because you asked so nicely? The manners are nice though, do keep it up." The man he knew as Bert Andrews circled around into Sherlocks line of view, and paused to light a cigarette. Even at this awkward angle Sherlock could see that the zippo used to light it had been expensive, exquisitely crafted, most likely unique.. in fact it was definitely unique seeing as it had been engraved. Intricate patterns of vines chased each other around the initials S.M, and Sherlock inwardly berated himself for a fool.
Of course this had all seemed too easy.. it /was/ too easy. So easy that he should have known it as a blind, a cover for something much more insidious.
"I see you’ve all been very busy bee’s, and clever ones too to ensnare me in such a perfectly simple trap. Really my hats off to you mister Moran.. although I must inquire into your reasoning for molesting me when you had succeeded in thwarting the efforts of my brother and all his agents to find you. Why risk it? You must know I’ll be missed. People will be looking for me, and they aren’t completely hopeless. What possible gain could be worth the risk it took to get me here alone, when you could have lived like a king on the back of your success with our late friend Moriarty?"
He was surprised to find his inquiries uninterrupted by either the brute force of muscle still pinning him to the table, or his boss. The latter even seemed pleased by Sherlocks questions, and he grinned wolfishly around his cigarette as he leaned in close, breathing smoke into Sherlock’s face on the exhale as he slowly pulled a drag from the burning stick and flicked the ash carelessly into the detectives curly hair.
"Revenge." He spoke that single word in such a low tone that Sherlock had to strain to hear, but he’d never heard two syllables spoken with such malice before now. It chilled him to the bone despite the brave face he was maintaining in the face of this unexpected turn of events, and he had to repress a shudder as he stared into eyes that could have been made of ice for all the cold intent he found within their depths.
With shame he heard his voice waver as he attempted with futility to seem calm. “For who? Not for your late employer? I didn’t think you were quite so sentimental.”