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The story is here.
“Game”
The two women whipped around at the intrusion, having been facing each other in the hallway. Whitman was at the other end of the hall next to an open door, crowbar in hand, and Thalia was only a yard or two away from him holding a new KA-BAR. She stared at him, suspended between surprise and annoyance. Then Whitman bolted through the open door and suddenly they were running side by side.
The story is here.
“The Feral Child”
“Mrs. Ross, is it?” asked Sherlock, easy but business-like.
“Yes.” She absently folded the apron in her arms.
“You remember Dr. Lawrence?” asked Sherlock. The name belonged to Thalia’s last psychiatrist, who was well known for checking up on his patients often. “Dr. Lawrence Foley?”
“Yes, I do,” said Mrs. Ross with a nod. “Are you his assistant? I’m not sure I remember you…”
“I’m his new assistant, yes. I’m Dr. Bancroft,” said Sherlock.
The story is here.
“Then Throw Them In”
There was a woman in the corner, sitting in a booth and drinking from a large white mug. She wore a dress shirt and slacks, heels and a green scarf, and a simplistic pair of frameless glasses, but he knew that face. He knew those eyes, light hazel, that glared at people when she wasn’t focused on her drink, and wouldn’t keep still for too long. The assassin he’d been searching for, wearing what was most likely a disguise.
“She says you get off on this.”
“And I said dangerous, and here you are.”
No light, no light in your bright blue eyes
I never knew daylight could be so violent
A revelation in the light of day
You can’t choose what stays and what fades away
In the last chapter I posted, I did NOT mean to include the part with the cane. John does not use a cane. I fixed it just now. But. I’m a bit embarrassed.
Anyways, back our regularly scheduled programming.
The story is here.
“Whittle Them Off…”
”Tell me exactly what happened after she took you hostage,” Sherlock said at length. He didn’t meet the doctor’s eyes, but rather trained them on the door in a faraway manner.
John stared for a moment and then swallowed, drumming for two short beats on the edge of his stool in an awkward manner. It was one thing for Sherlock Holmes to accuse John of being worried about him, and another thing entirely to see the impenetrable detective show worry for John, which was exactly what his question meant on the underside.
The story is here.
“A Human Thing”
“So how much do you trust me, John Watson?” the woman asked her hostage, as the detectives and cops disappeared from view around the corner.
This next chapter is going to be very talky. I’ll work out how to make it not-boring in the beta stage. Yeesh.
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