Vague Shadows

The only motivation I had to fight Sebastian was Sherlock. If I died, Sebastian’s attention would fall onto the defenseless man lying a couple feet up the hill, and there wouldn’t be enough time for John to reach us.

Using the little energy I’d managed to hang on to, I slammed my hand into the side of Sebastian’s head while I simultaneously brought my knee up between his legs. He let out a pained cry and crumpled down onto the grass beside me. The moment I was free, I pulled myself forward across the grass, my hand scrabbling for the spray paint.

Sebastian’s boot slammed into the side of my face, and as my head hit the grass, he grabbed me by the back of my shirt and muscled me out of his way.

I tightened my jaw and spat out the blood welling in my mouth as I forced my head to stop spinning. I’d been taken out before; I had been useless. I had been the damsel in distress; not today. Today I’d be Sherlock’s hero.

Sebastian grabbed hold of Sherlock’s coat and lifted him into the air. Sherlock’s head lulled back, and the sight of the strongest man I knew being treated as trash sent a storm of fury through me. Snagging the can of spray paint, I forced myself up onto weak legs and threw myself into Sebastian, knocking the three of us to the grass.

As I landed on top of Sebastian, I shook the can hard and sprayed what I could into his face. He let out a screech and knocked the can from my hand and began to scrabble at his eyes. As my gaze landed on Sherlock, my breath left me. His eyes were open. He wasn’t unconscious; he was very much awake and aware.

“You’re alive,” I whispered. “You’re here.”

Sherlock blinked, but I could tell even that took effort. As Sebastian began to move, my mind began to race. I was paralyzed, staring into Sherlock’s brilliant eyes. I started to piece together what had happened to him, and the moment I felt Sebastian shift, I breathed,

“You drugged him-“

Sebastian forced himself up with a grunt, and I flew off of him, hitting the ground hard. I scrambled to get back to Sherlock, but Sebastian slammed into me again. I felt something sharp jab into my arm, and looked down. A small needle stuck out of my shoulder; I ripped it out immediately, but he’d already injected a bit of the drug. Not all of it, but enough to do damage.

Sebastian shoved off of me immediately and turned for Sherlock. I had to get up; I had to move. I couldn’t. I could hardly force my hands to slide beneath me, and I couldn’t begin to push myself up.

I saw Sebastian pick Sherlock up like a rag doll. Sherlock’s eyes landed on me, and the look in his eyes was enough to force my body into cooperation. He didn’t look scared for himself, he didn’t show any pain. All I could see was genuine concern for my own well-being. Seeing a supposedly heartless man put his last moment on earth towards caring for me was enough to give me the strength I needed.

I rolled onto my stomach and began to crawl; I couldn’t exactly stand, but I could move. The more I forced myself forward, the more my muscles gave way, and the more I could function. I crawled after Sherlock, mere handfuls of grass the only thing between him and myself.

Sebastian paused at the edge of the overhang, just for a moment, and then he threw Sherlock down into the lake.

No, no, NO! I screamed to myself; Sebastian turned to look at me. He faltered, unable to find me briefly, and then he spotted me at his feet. Just as he reached to grab my arm and stop me, I threw myself over the edge after Sherlock.

I hit the water moments after he did, and only once I was submerged in the lake did I realize that should have thought my plan out a little more.

The moonlight illuminated the water around me, and I easily spotted Sherlock’s dark form, a foot or so below me. I forced my muscles into cooperation; my survival instincts kicked in, and I began to move. Slowly, but surely.

I kicked downwards, stretching my hand out for his. I locked my weak fingers around his wrist and refused to let go. Mechanically, I made my arm retract and pull him to me, and only once he was secure in my arms did I kick for the surface.

We broke the surface just moments before my lungs gave out. I sucked in air desperately as I kicked my sluggish legs, hardly keeping us afloat. I forced Sherlock’s head above the water, and I struggled to keep it there. His eyes had closed now, and I had to fight back the panic that surfaced in me.

Get to the bank, Laicee, get out of the water, I coached my body, determined not to let us drown. I began to maneuver Sherlock onto his back. Once he was half-floating I wrapped my arm over his chest, holding him to my side; slowly, I began to kick.

It was no easy feat, I assure you. I put ‘keeping Sherlock’s head above water’ at the top of my priorities. Several times I elected to go under instead and get a lungfull of water just to keep him afloat. By the time we’d swam fifty feet, my drug-weakened legs were close to giving in.

I could hear John screaming from the trees. Every now and then, a flashlight flickered over the water. I wanted to shout for help, but all my energy was concentrated on swimming and breathing. We were nearly halfway to the shore when Sherlock spoke.

“Laicee.”

It was just one word, one half-whispered word that he breathed out as his head rolled against my shoulder, but it was enough to make me kick just a little stronger, enough to make me swim a little bit harder.

“I’ll keep you safe,” I promised him, my voice blending into the cool summer night. I had nearly given into the demands of the drug when my foot hit the bottom of the lake. I’d made it to the shore, and I could stand.

Well, stand was an operative word. I could prop myself up in the water on two nearly-useless legs while I got my breath back. I turned my back to the shore and slid my arms underneath Sherlock’s, and then began to back out of the lake.

I could hear John closer now, and Lestrade closing in with Donovan. I was nearly out of the lake, the water just past my knees, when John’s light landed on me.

“Christ,” he murmured. “Over here! Greg, Sally, by the lake!”

The moment I heard him begin to race towards us, I finally gave in to the drug. My legs buckled beneath me, and the strength of desperation was wiped aside by my relief. John had found us; John would help us now.

I dropped down into the lake, slumping back onto the shore. Sherlock rested in my lap, and even now that I knew we were safe, even though I knew he would be okay, I refused to let go of him.

He was my anchor, and I wasn’t ready to drown.