So yeah, y'know how life is.
-shakes fist at sky- FIE THIS LIFE!
Sad, sad stuff. So I wrote some (minor) angst today, if the stuff that puts me to sleep counts as angst.
(oops.)
Molly became a pirate a second time and this time around you get more of her bloody doctor!! (yay!)
And lots and lots of evilness
(muahahahahah)
Enjoy the lameness!
#####
######
The enemy’s four
escorts sank within minutes, the minutes filled with the agonizing cries of the
drowning royal navy. Some managed to climb aboard the Scarlet letter for safety, but many more were drowned instead. This
left Sherlock wondering how Lestrade had gotten his men out without the ship to
their rear seeing them, but he had little time to as he ran back to the hull
and began giving orders to pull up anchor and get out of there as fast as
possible before Moriarty’s crew knew what was happening and gather their wits
to fire upon them.
########
John’s fingers were cramping. He was
clinging to the now-sailing ship, the outside of it more specifically, and
pressing his ear to the wet wood of the boat in an effort to listen to the
conversation inside. Somehow he had managed to hold his position for the night,
though, now that it was morning, he was
exhausted. The room was quiet, and he decided he’d just drop onto the balcony
for a chance at rest. As soon as he had begun to inch over, however, Moriarty’s
raised voice from inside the cabin came to him. John considered his options,
sick of sticking to the side of the ship, and realized, with the way that
Moriarty sounded, that Molly was possibly in danger. So he stuck with his
intended course and, after a moment of struggling along, dropped to the
balcony.
He grimaced at the loud noise and the
sudden silence from inside the cabin. John almost slapped himself, but then
pulled it together and crouched low in anticipation of the enemy opening the
door. It happened none too soon, and John launched himself at the opening,
which was made possible by a large sailor who came down with a lightning hard
right from John. The doctor sprung into the cabin, swinging and hitting a
second sailor with left that was just as heavy, then turned and delivered
another right to a third. In the pause in which the enemies were attempting to
regroup or pick themselves up off the floor, John chanced a glance around the
cabin. Molly was tied to a post on the left, staring wide-eyed at him. Moriarty
stood before her and John noticed the massive bruise beginning to form on her
face.
Feeling his face heat up with anger, he
dodged a blow from an oncoming enemy and rammed up against him, driving him
back into another behind him. John jumped out from underneath them and hit
another one coming on. He had only two more between him and Molly, both of
which he took down with heavy blows. Seeing as he had downed all the men in the
cabin but the captain, he rushed at Moriarty with a cry and, with a massive
blow, knocked the man nearly senseless.
Still, all his enemies had regrouped and
now the biggest one grabbed him from behind. John struggled and flailed, but to
no avail as the others came and helped to pin him down. Just as they were
binding John’s hands behind his back, Moriarty found his feet and grinned at
the doctor. “Good!” He congratulated, blinking his right eye, which undoubtedly
smarted from the quickly-forming welt beneath it. “Very good!”
John was breathing hard but managed to
maintain a steady glower until one of the sailors helping to tie his hands
yanked his arms up in the air and he gave a cry, doubling over as if it would
help.
“The hold, Captain?” One of the sailors
asked.
“Ehhh…No.” Moriarty grinned, and Molly
whipped her gaze up to look at him, knowing what that meant. “Keep him in here.
I want everyone out but Seb.”
Seb hauled John to his feet as everyone
else left the cabin and Moriarty clucked his tongue, putting his hands in his
pockets and stepping forward to examine John, who glowered at him. “Fiesty,
aren’t you?” Moriarty asked. In answer, John spat at him. “I see.” Moriarty
smiled, then peered closer. “We’ve met before, haven’t we?” John only glowered
at him. Seb, however, twisted his arms harder behind his back.
“He asked you a question.” The sailor
hissed, to which John gave a small cry and a short,
“Yes.”
“I thought so.” Moriarty mused, glancing at
Seb, who loosened his grip. “Molly.” He turned back to the captain, whose eyes
were wide and on the verge of shining, “Do you know Johnny boy here?”
She
shook her head and otherwise didn’t say anything.
“Wrong
answer!” Moriarty cackled, and smacked her with the biggest backhand slap she
had ever felt. At that, John’s blood ran hot and he twisted away from Seb with
such force that the sailor had no choice but to let go, then sprang up and
launched himself at Moriarty, knocking him away from Molly. Before he could do
better, though, Seb came up behind him and delivered a kick so hard to the back
of his head that John would have passed out, had Seb not then been grabbing him
by the back of his shirt and dragging him away. As John was pulled off of
Moriarty, the enemy captain looked up and grinned.
“You do!!” He cried, as if very pleased to
know this, “Very good!” Molly opened her eyes and very slightly shook her head,
but Moriarty didn’t notice, or didn’t choose to. He was too busy standing and
walking over to John to employ this very exciting new development.
“So if I did this,” Here he wound up and
rammed a fist into John’s gut as hard as he could, then whipped around to gauge
Molly’s reaction. She, however, had hardened her resolve, and had seen John
take worse hits, so kept her face emotionless. Moriarty made an apologetic
face. “Well, of course, he’s fine.” He made a noise at Molly. “Awkward…” Without
another word he then pulled a gun from his pocket, and without looking, pointed
it at John’s head, who realized the danger and began flailing in an effort to
release himself from Seb’s grip. Molly’s eyes widened considerably, and
Moriarty grinned. “Better.” He applauded, “Let’s try this again.”
#####
Sherlock was calm, to some extent. They
were still in sight of the Scarlett
letter. They had managed to swing away, as if they meant to run, but as
soon as the enemy ship had begun on its course, had followed in wary pursuit.
Sherlock sighed and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, feeling a little
jumpy even as the sun warmed his back. He wasn’t sure what to credit his
uneasiness to unless it was the fact that Lestrade was nowhere to be seen on
the ship or anywhere surrounding it. All of his men had made it back on, but
none had seen what had happened to the boatswain. He had brushed it off though,
seeing movement behind the Scarlet Letter
just as they had been setting out, and only hoped that Lestrade had somehow
climbed on. If not, he had just abandoned him and the trusty boatswain who
Sherlock had always considered a friend would have drowned long ago. Sherlock
brushed the notion aside, somehow feeling that Lestrade was, indeed, on the
enemy ship, and safe for that matter. Indeed, Sherlock hadn’t instructed him as
he had John to keep Molly well, and so, his conscience at least a little clear,
Sherlock tucked the disturbing issue away and concentrated on steering.
#####
John was just happy that the pain was
being administered to him instead of his captain. Molly, however, wasn’t. Her
lips were pursed tightly though she refused to break down and whenever the two
allies managed to lock gazes she would just shake her head. With every passing
second, John couldn’t help feeling disappointed with himself. He’d given
Moriarty leverage. Molly had had this under control. It would have been better
if he hadn't even dropped in. Moriarty had not shot John, as promised, but he
looked like he was planning on it, as Molly refused to talk and John refused to
beg for mercy. The interrogation was not going well, and Moriarty’s patience
was being tried. As soon as Seb’s yearning to break John’s ribs had passed,
Moriarty signaled to him and he stepped aside.
“Anything to say, Miss Hooper?” Moriarty
addressed Molly, who stared at him and didn’t answer. “Good then.” Moriarty
held his gun up and aimed again at John, who looked up and swore before looking
away again and squirming as if in an effort to free himself. Moriarty made a
point at cocking the gun slowly. The click sounded loud to all four. Molly made
a brave face and stared hard at Moriarty as John made a weak attempt at a
laugh.
“Good then, what, Mr. Moriarty? You kill
me, and what leverage have you left? You kill me, then the captain here has
nothing to lose and-”
“Last chance, Molly.” Moriarty’s voice was
low and dangerous. Molly forced her eyes to stay dry and pursed her lips. “You
don’t talk, I aim for his head. You talk now, I aim somewhere else.”
“Like where?” Molly forced, her voice
hoarse.
Moriarty shrugged. “Won’t kill him, my
dear.”
There was a long pause. Moriarty finally
shrugged and shifted the gun in his hand, turning and aiming harder at John.
“Stop, stop!” Molly cried and Moriarty,
without looking at her, grinned. There was a pause, where Molly looked like she
was reconsidering her life’s choices and John looked up at her, eyes wide, not
even sure what it was that she was about to spill.
“Go on.” Moriarty probed.
Molly took a deep breath and looked him
dead in the eye. “The map is on the mainland.”
Moriarty froze, then laughed. He pulled
the trigger on his gun and the bang hurt all of their ears. John gave a sudden
and loud cry of pain as the bullet ripped directly into his shoulder. He
doubled over, clenching away the sudden pain and fighting back a cry as
Moriarty strode up to Molly and pointed the gun at her head. “Say that again!”
He shouted. John took a glance up to see what was going on and froze upon
realizing that Molly was being threatened with a gun. He tried to struggle free
of the ropes holding him to the post behind him but was intercepted by the
smashing pain in his shoulder. He gave another cry as Moriarty cocked the gun
and pressed it to Molly’s forehead. She winced and John screamed as he
struggled to get free.
“Say that again.” Moriarty’s tone was low.
“The map is back in England.” Molly reiterated,
keeping her stare at him fearless and void of emotion. Moriarty scowled and
lowered his gun.
“You wouldn’t happen to remember any of
it, now, would you, Miss Hooper?”
Molly set her jaw and didn’t answer.
Moriarty raised his gun again, this time pointing it at John. “Not going to
miss this time.” He warned. John had looked up and now closed his eyes, his
head half-turned away in his effort to struggle free. Moriarty cocked his head.
“Is John Watson’s life worth it, Molly dear?”
“Stop, stop, alright!” Molly gasped, “I’ll
show you, just stop.”
John opened his eyes and looked up, his
face expressing the shock of that last statement. “Molly, Molly no-”
“Please untie the captain, Seb.” Moriarty
ordered, keeping his gun now trained on her. As Seb moved to obey, Molly looked
up at John and she could clearly see the flush on his face as he suddenly
turned away. Molly felt a sudden anger
at the doctor. She had had nothing to lose but her life and he had to come in
and give Moriarty leverage that he so desperately needed. She glared at him the
whole time she was prodded out of the room. Whilst she walked out, Moriarty
turned and looked at John. “Not so tough now, eh, Johnny?” Then he followed the
two out and slammed the door shut behind him, leaving the doctor alone to his
thoughts and pain.
#####
The room was silent as Molly drew up the
map. Seb had a gun pointed to the back of her head, but more ominous was the
promise from Moriarty to instantly dispatch John if she stopped drawing for
even a second. She worked quickly, the route not being too hard, and once she
had finished with the main path, turned to Moriarty and beckoned him over. She
then proceeded to point out booby traps and other odds and ends to him, even
drawing them in. Once she had finally finished, she leaned back and handed her
pencil to Moriarty.
“Done?” Moriarty asked.
She nodded. “Done.”
“All of it?” He asked.
She nodded whilst glaring at him. “All of
it.”
“We’ll make sure in good old America, now
won’t we?” Moriarty smiled at her, but she sensed the threat.
“I suppose so.” She forced back, suddenly
thinking of Sherlock and her crew.
“Good.” He congratulated, “Seb, please
make our guest back at home.”
They dragged Molly back to the captain’s
cabin. John lifted his head as they came in, and it was no secret that he was
looking Molly over for any kind of scrape or even bruise. When he deduced that
she was unhurt, he closed his eyes. Molly instantly whirled out of Seb’s grasp
and stepped past him to Moriarty.
“Five minutes to tend to him.” She
demanded. Moriarty’s gaze widened at the sudden request and for a moment seemed
surprised. Then he shrugged and gestured to her doctor in permission to her
request. Seb let go of her as she wrenched away and strode over to John,
untucking her shirt from her belt as she went. She instantly knelt and slapped
John so hard that he gasped in pain and surprise and looked up. She proceeded
to rip the bottom of her shirt off and, balling it up, pressed it to his bloody
shoulder. He gave another cry but she pushed harder and his cry turned into a
plea for mercy.
“Molly, Molly, please, stop.” She eased on
the pressure and he closed his eyes against the pain, his grip slipping from
her sleeve.
“John Watson, you are in every way a
mutineer and deserve just the fate of one.” She hissed, slamming the ball of
now bloody fabric back into his shoulder. He gave another cry.
“Captain, p-please.” When she pushed
harder, he gave another cry and gasped, “If anything, I realize I’ve only made
everything worse, and I’m sorry.”
He looked up, his brown eyes sincere, and
the two froze for a moment looking at each other. Then Molly looked away and, a
little more gently, pressed the linen to his bleeding shoulder, trying to stem
the blood-flow.
Moriarty held to his vow of five minutes,
and Molly had managed to stop the blood at least a little bit before her time
was up and Seb roughly dragged her away and retied her to her former post.
#####
Haha see? Lameness!
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