donutsweeper (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
donutsweeper) wrote2016-07-07 12:32 am
donutsweeper) wrote2016-07-07 12:32 am
Entry tags:
The Battle Rages On
Title: The Battle Rages On
Fandom/Rating: Sherlock Holmes (ACD canon), rated G
Word Count: 221 words
Summary: Watson was determined to continue to fight.
Author's Note: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
watsons_woes JWP#6.
He suspected that they were surreptitiously trying to kill him, providing only spoilt meat, mouldy bread and water so fetid the reek alone was enough to turn his stomach. "You shan't rid yourselves of me this way," he spat out angrily. "As your prisoner you may have the upper hand, but as long as I have breath within me I shall fight. I am a British Army officer! You underestimate me at your peril!"
It was doubtful his captors would quake at his threat, assuming it an idle one at best and a baseless boast at worst, but the declaration was followed by him knocking the bowl to the floor and breaking the glass, thus providing himself with a weapon. He might yet succumb to his wounds- either the bullet still lodged in him limb or the resulting infection and fever- but he refused to go easily. No, he thought as one approached, no doubt to attempt to do him further harm; he would fight until his last breath.
"Watson! You must stop this!" That… did not sound like an Afghani, the clever bastards, but he would not be fooled. "You'll only injure yourself further. Or me, blast it! Mrs Hudson, help me hold him down. His fever has risen dangerously high, the sooner I can administer this medicine, the better!"
Fandom/Rating: Sherlock Holmes (ACD canon), rated G
Word Count: 221 words
Summary: Watson was determined to continue to fight.
Author's Note: Written for
watsons_woes JWP#6.He suspected that they were surreptitiously trying to kill him, providing only spoilt meat, mouldy bread and water so fetid the reek alone was enough to turn his stomach. "You shan't rid yourselves of me this way," he spat out angrily. "As your prisoner you may have the upper hand, but as long as I have breath within me I shall fight. I am a British Army officer! You underestimate me at your peril!"
It was doubtful his captors would quake at his threat, assuming it an idle one at best and a baseless boast at worst, but the declaration was followed by him knocking the bowl to the floor and breaking the glass, thus providing himself with a weapon. He might yet succumb to his wounds- either the bullet still lodged in him limb or the resulting infection and fever- but he refused to go easily. No, he thought as one approached, no doubt to attempt to do him further harm; he would fight until his last breath.
"Watson! You must stop this!" That… did not sound like an Afghani, the clever bastards, but he would not be fooled. "You'll only injure yourself further. Or me, blast it! Mrs Hudson, help me hold him down. His fever has risen dangerously high, the sooner I can administer this medicine, the better!"
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(Also -- "injure yourself further" does not have very happy implications!)
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