Of The Logic Of Magic
folder
S through Z › Sherlock (BBC)
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
4
Views:
1,202
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
S through Z › Sherlock (BBC)
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
4
Views:
1,202
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
Sherlock and PotC belongs to BBC and Disney et al. I do not own the series, nor the movies, and make no profit from writing this.
Pt. 2
Of The Logic Of Magic - Part 2
The two men circled each other, frock coats swirling, hands waving expressively. Credit had to be given to Sherlock though, John conceded. He had waited until the utterly incredible tale of undead pirates and cursed treasures had been told, before erupting in a Vesuvian outburst.
“Facts! Data! That is what I need! You can stand there if you want, and talk about sea monsters and goddesses and magical boxes, but unless I have facts, I have no material to work with. My suggestion to you is to stop smoking whatever it is you’re smoking and realize we are not part of your museum exhibit.”
The contrast between the two was amazingly minor, despite the complete 18th century pirate garb. In fact, if John hadn’t known better, he’d have sworn they were related by some obscure past branch of the family.
The “pirate” threw his hands up in disgust. “Forget it, mate. You obviously can’t see beyond your own narrow mind to comprehend something that is unexplainable.” Jack grimaced, then continued laconically. “Everything has to be explained, known, factored in and ticked off like some neat tidy row of sums. No, you’d have never survived a single day back in the age of magic. You’re an even bigger arse than the Commodore was. Pity.”
With a swirl of coattails Jack headed for the door, but was stopped by his partner’s hand on his arm.
“No, wait Jack. Let me.” Turning to Sherlock, Will took a breath and asked in an even tone, “Look, we came to you for help. Can you at least listen to us?”
Sherlock glanced at Will, genuinely incredulous.“What ever for? You’re telling me you have no heart. No, wait. Let me get the facts straight. You DO have a heart, only, it is locked away in this charmed chest. Oh! And let’s not forget the curse and the sea goddess.”
“But those are the facts.”
“WRONG! I’ll tell you why it’s wrong. You wouldn’t be here, walking, talking, breathing, without a heart. Fact. The role of the heart is to pump oxygen-rich blood to every living cell in the body. Fact. In order to achieve its goal, it must continuously beat for a person’s entire lifespan. Fact. Because of its vital role, a non-beating heart always results in death. In other words, without your heart, you’d be dead. Anatomy 101. Any fool knows that. Are you sure it’s not your brain that went missing?”
Jack turned around with a menacing glare and came towards Sherlock, jabbing an accusing finger at him.
“You’re even a bigger smart ass in person than you are on your website!” Like a caged panther, Jack began to circle Sherlock again. “So Mr. Great and Almighty Consulting Detective, I’ll give you the bloody facts. Fact. What Will here told you is the truth. Fact. If we don’t find the chest, Will life is in danger, because yes, he does need a bloody fucking heart to live, and that living heart is now being held for ransom by someone who is bartering for the map, or they are threatening to stab the heart. I, for bloody fucking one, am not going to allow that to happen, with or without your bloody fucking help. Savvy?”
Turning, he strode angrily towards the door. “Let’s go, Will.”
Will nodded curtly to Sherlock and John, then bowed politely to Molly, who was just coming around. Facing Jack, Will said tersely, “Right. I suppose it is time for our leave. I'll meet you outside.”
Without another word, Will turned and disappeared straight through the morgue’s wall.
The only people in the room whose mouth weren’t hanging open in disbelief were Jack, who only lifted his chin defiantly and left without so much as a by-your-leave, and Molly, who, natural with gruesome sights and horrendous deaths, a professional, fainted away again.
****
“That was a bloody waste of time,” Jack fumed as they made their way up the rear stairs towards the exit. “Fucking pompous prick, I could have…”
“Shhh,” Will cautioned, suddenly alert, halting Jack in mid-step. “I heard something.”
“Well, it wasn’t the beating of your heart, now was it?” A unctuously soft voice asked from the alcove opposite them. “Put away your weapon, Mr. Sparrow. You have several high-powered guns pointed at you. I suggest you and your friend come quietly.”
Jack, who had instinctively whirled around and drawn out his sword on the first word, slowly sheathed his cutlass. He studied the dapper man that stepped forward, a proper British gentleman, complete with bowler hat and an umbrella. “There, that’s more like it,” the man said with a small smile. “We can all act civilized, I am certain.” He pointed out the side door of the hospital where a black sedan with darkly tinted windows sat waiting. “We are going to go for a little ride. I suggest the two of you come quietly, without a fuss.”
Jack, who had no intention of going for a ride with anyone, let alone this smarmy git, gave Will a sidelong look.
Nodding almost imperceptibly, Will coughed and paused, just long enough for the man to get within striking distance. Then, like a choreographed dance, Jack picked up a metal trash can and threw it at the man’s knees, while Will swung a chair and launched it at his head. Then, as a team, they both somersaulted as the ‘twing’ of a silenced bullet whizzed by their heads.
Dashing towards the exit, they detoured along a side corridor, and seeing a door, quickly dove inside. The sound of running footsteps passed, halted and finally, receded.
Taking the time to catch their breaths, Will looked around and nudged Jack in the ribs. They were in some sort of supply room, with several bins of clean laundry sat along with a rack of lab coats.
Quickly changing into scrubs and donning white coats, they bundled up their street clothes and stuffed them into a hamper. Then, with a quick look around, they slipped out into the corridor, transferred the wrapped up clothes onto a stretcher that was in the hall, and proceeded to push their “patient” towards the front exit. Reaching the crowded lobby, they quickly glanced for the black sedan, and not seeing it, signaled for a taxi, into which they bundled themselves and their ‘patient‘.
“How good are you at not getting followed?” Jack asked the cabby.
“’Bout as good as you’ll find. Whut, you stealin’ something?”
Will shook his head, lowering his voice for discretion. “No, but we did run into some unsavory gentlemen we owe money. Surely you understand.”
“Fair ‘nough. Where to, gents?”
Jack gave the taxi driver a set of directions, taking them first out of the city, then doubling back and circling towards their flat, only to find that a black sedan was parked on the curb several doors down from theirs.
“Well, aren’t we just well and truly fucked,” Jack brushed a weary hand over his face.
Will’s mobile beeped suddenly, causing them both to jump.
FINE. I’LL TAKE THE CASE. COME TO 221B BAKER STREET. SH
A second message instantly followed the first.
AND IGNORE MYCROFT. HE LOVES THE DRAMATIC.
“Is it a trap?” Will asked quietly.
Jack frowned at the mobile. “Only one way to find out, isn’t there.”
“We really don’t have much choice.” Will agreed, then grinned with a wink, “At least we know it worked.”
Jack tapped on the cabby’s shoulder. “Take us to 221B Baker Street.”
“Gotcha” The cabby said, merging back into traffic.
“Better not,” Jack muttered under his breath, leaning his head back and searching Will’s hand in his own.
The rest of the way was traveled in tense silence, as the two immortals put all their hope in Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Again.
****
The two men circled each other, frock coats swirling, hands waving expressively. Credit had to be given to Sherlock though, John conceded. He had waited until the utterly incredible tale of undead pirates and cursed treasures had been told, before erupting in a Vesuvian outburst.
“Facts! Data! That is what I need! You can stand there if you want, and talk about sea monsters and goddesses and magical boxes, but unless I have facts, I have no material to work with. My suggestion to you is to stop smoking whatever it is you’re smoking and realize we are not part of your museum exhibit.”
The contrast between the two was amazingly minor, despite the complete 18th century pirate garb. In fact, if John hadn’t known better, he’d have sworn they were related by some obscure past branch of the family.
The “pirate” threw his hands up in disgust. “Forget it, mate. You obviously can’t see beyond your own narrow mind to comprehend something that is unexplainable.” Jack grimaced, then continued laconically. “Everything has to be explained, known, factored in and ticked off like some neat tidy row of sums. No, you’d have never survived a single day back in the age of magic. You’re an even bigger arse than the Commodore was. Pity.”
With a swirl of coattails Jack headed for the door, but was stopped by his partner’s hand on his arm.
“No, wait Jack. Let me.” Turning to Sherlock, Will took a breath and asked in an even tone, “Look, we came to you for help. Can you at least listen to us?”
Sherlock glanced at Will, genuinely incredulous.“What ever for? You’re telling me you have no heart. No, wait. Let me get the facts straight. You DO have a heart, only, it is locked away in this charmed chest. Oh! And let’s not forget the curse and the sea goddess.”
“But those are the facts.”
“WRONG! I’ll tell you why it’s wrong. You wouldn’t be here, walking, talking, breathing, without a heart. Fact. The role of the heart is to pump oxygen-rich blood to every living cell in the body. Fact. In order to achieve its goal, it must continuously beat for a person’s entire lifespan. Fact. Because of its vital role, a non-beating heart always results in death. In other words, without your heart, you’d be dead. Anatomy 101. Any fool knows that. Are you sure it’s not your brain that went missing?”
Jack turned around with a menacing glare and came towards Sherlock, jabbing an accusing finger at him.
“You’re even a bigger smart ass in person than you are on your website!” Like a caged panther, Jack began to circle Sherlock again. “So Mr. Great and Almighty Consulting Detective, I’ll give you the bloody facts. Fact. What Will here told you is the truth. Fact. If we don’t find the chest, Will life is in danger, because yes, he does need a bloody fucking heart to live, and that living heart is now being held for ransom by someone who is bartering for the map, or they are threatening to stab the heart. I, for bloody fucking one, am not going to allow that to happen, with or without your bloody fucking help. Savvy?”
Turning, he strode angrily towards the door. “Let’s go, Will.”
Will nodded curtly to Sherlock and John, then bowed politely to Molly, who was just coming around. Facing Jack, Will said tersely, “Right. I suppose it is time for our leave. I'll meet you outside.”
Without another word, Will turned and disappeared straight through the morgue’s wall.
The only people in the room whose mouth weren’t hanging open in disbelief were Jack, who only lifted his chin defiantly and left without so much as a by-your-leave, and Molly, who, natural with gruesome sights and horrendous deaths, a professional, fainted away again.
****
“That was a bloody waste of time,” Jack fumed as they made their way up the rear stairs towards the exit. “Fucking pompous prick, I could have…”
“Shhh,” Will cautioned, suddenly alert, halting Jack in mid-step. “I heard something.”
“Well, it wasn’t the beating of your heart, now was it?” A unctuously soft voice asked from the alcove opposite them. “Put away your weapon, Mr. Sparrow. You have several high-powered guns pointed at you. I suggest you and your friend come quietly.”
Jack, who had instinctively whirled around and drawn out his sword on the first word, slowly sheathed his cutlass. He studied the dapper man that stepped forward, a proper British gentleman, complete with bowler hat and an umbrella. “There, that’s more like it,” the man said with a small smile. “We can all act civilized, I am certain.” He pointed out the side door of the hospital where a black sedan with darkly tinted windows sat waiting. “We are going to go for a little ride. I suggest the two of you come quietly, without a fuss.”
Jack, who had no intention of going for a ride with anyone, let alone this smarmy git, gave Will a sidelong look.
Nodding almost imperceptibly, Will coughed and paused, just long enough for the man to get within striking distance. Then, like a choreographed dance, Jack picked up a metal trash can and threw it at the man’s knees, while Will swung a chair and launched it at his head. Then, as a team, they both somersaulted as the ‘twing’ of a silenced bullet whizzed by their heads.
Dashing towards the exit, they detoured along a side corridor, and seeing a door, quickly dove inside. The sound of running footsteps passed, halted and finally, receded.
Taking the time to catch their breaths, Will looked around and nudged Jack in the ribs. They were in some sort of supply room, with several bins of clean laundry sat along with a rack of lab coats.
Quickly changing into scrubs and donning white coats, they bundled up their street clothes and stuffed them into a hamper. Then, with a quick look around, they slipped out into the corridor, transferred the wrapped up clothes onto a stretcher that was in the hall, and proceeded to push their “patient” towards the front exit. Reaching the crowded lobby, they quickly glanced for the black sedan, and not seeing it, signaled for a taxi, into which they bundled themselves and their ‘patient‘.
“How good are you at not getting followed?” Jack asked the cabby.
“’Bout as good as you’ll find. Whut, you stealin’ something?”
Will shook his head, lowering his voice for discretion. “No, but we did run into some unsavory gentlemen we owe money. Surely you understand.”
“Fair ‘nough. Where to, gents?”
Jack gave the taxi driver a set of directions, taking them first out of the city, then doubling back and circling towards their flat, only to find that a black sedan was parked on the curb several doors down from theirs.
“Well, aren’t we just well and truly fucked,” Jack brushed a weary hand over his face.
Will’s mobile beeped suddenly, causing them both to jump.
FINE. I’LL TAKE THE CASE. COME TO 221B BAKER STREET. SH
A second message instantly followed the first.
AND IGNORE MYCROFT. HE LOVES THE DRAMATIC.
“Is it a trap?” Will asked quietly.
Jack frowned at the mobile. “Only one way to find out, isn’t there.”
“We really don’t have much choice.” Will agreed, then grinned with a wink, “At least we know it worked.”
Jack tapped on the cabby’s shoulder. “Take us to 221B Baker Street.”
“Gotcha” The cabby said, merging back into traffic.
“Better not,” Jack muttered under his breath, leaning his head back and searching Will’s hand in his own.
The rest of the way was traveled in tense silence, as the two immortals put all their hope in Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Again.
****