In Which the Darkness is Blinding

I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all.

-Richard Wright

"Ughh…ow, God damn it my head hurts…"

"Holmes? Ow…Holmes? Ouch! Damn it, where am I? Is this…stone? I swear, if I'm in some damned cellar…"

"Holmes! Holmes, where are you? It's too dark here—I can't see anything and my head is pounding…hiss…and bleeding…I think I got hit over the head with something…I can't remember anything…Holmes? Holmes…?"

"Holmes…? Fine. I'm alone, then. Brilliant. Think, Russell…ow! My leg too? Damn it! It's bleeding…oh, God, is that the bone? Ouch! Yes…lovely mess you've made of this, Russell. Just brilliant. Bleeding out through my skull and fibula sticking out of my calf…"


"Holmes? Is that you?"


"Yes, Holmes! Where are you?"

"I don't rightly know that, it's so dark in here…you sound far away. Are you hurt?"

"Haven't you been listening?"

"Unless I can listen while I'm unconscious and bearing a rather spectacular head wound, then no. Again, are you hurt?"

"Yes—I can feel bone out of my left leg and I think I was hit in the head with a candelabra…"

"It was a cane."

"A cane? You remember then! What happened?"

"Can you move? I seem to be chained to the wall. If you get to me I can use your hair-pins to pick the locks. And yes, most of the events."

"Ouch…I'll try…but what happened then? It's all dark to me."

"What's the last thing you remember? Careful!"

"Ow! God damn it, I'm fine!"

"You don't sound fine."

"Well, I am. I remember…remember leaving Mycroft's. We were going to the café to eavesdrop to learn where…Henry's? No, Harold! Gregory Harold's men were transporting the stolen pieces from the museum. I…don't remember ever getting there."

"We didn't. We were attacked on the way by Harold's men halfway there. We nearly got out but a lucky blow struck you down and I made to retrieve you but I was outnumbered by reinforcements and struck by a….short club, I believe. That is all I recall until waking up to your nearly inarticulate ramblings."

"They were not ramblings! If you don't remember, I've a head wound and a bone sticking out of my leg! I think I'm allowed to complain, just this once—"

"No, here, Russell! There. Reach out—ack!—yes, that is me. Do be more…ahem…careful next time, Russ."

"Your voice is higher. Did I hit somewhere…sensitive?"

"Ahem…hmm…your hair-pins, please?"

"Of course, Holmes."

"Have you done it yet? I'm starting to lose feeling in my fingers."

"One moment, Russ. Ah, there it is! I'm free—here, take my hand. Show me where you are injured."

"Here—hiss! And my leg…"

"Indeed…no, you cannot walk in such a state, Russ."

"How're we to escape then? I don't wish to become infected, if possible."

"Lestrade and his hard-working fellows will take far too long to find us. Did they take your pistol?"

"Hmm…ah, no. I've got it, here. And yet they don't think to disarm the lady."

"Fortunately. Give it here. Loaded still, very good. Where are your legs? Alright, take a deep breath—"

"Holmes? What are you—ack! What are you doing? Put me down this instant!"

"Dear God, Russell, I believe you've just deafened me. You cannot walk, I have two capable arms and a relatively strong back and neck—please do not cling too tightly to the latter, I do need to breathe, thank you—so I am carrying you."

"You could have warned me! Dear God, are you always this high up? I feel dizzy all the way up here…"

"I don't believe it is the height that is disorienting you, Russ. Focus on your breathing."

"No…the room is still spinning. If only I could see it…"

"Deep breaths, then. In…out…in….out, good. Keep calm, I've found a door. It will take but a moment to pick. Here, I'm going to set you down."

"I'm fine…Holmes…I'm fine…"

"You sound awfully faint. Do try to stay awake, Russ, please. I'll be with you in a moment…"

"Holmes…? Your voice is echoing, where are you? Holmes! Holmes…?"

"Ah, good to see you awake, Russ. How is your head?"

"I feel as if it's been obliterated and pasted roughly back together. Why am I still in the hospital?"

"Well, you look better than. Here, drink this—it will clear your throat. You've only just come back from surgery, you'll be staying the night and I believe tomorrow."

"And you?"

"I will be staying to keep the company of my injured young wife."

"I meant how your state of health is fairing. It is not every day one must carry their spouse with a tremendous head wound, if your bandage is anything to go by."

"A mere scratch, I've been assured. I am faring well enough. I was nearly restrained earlier, however…"

"Of course. What for?"

"They would not allow me to see you."

"You can see me now."

"Yes. Thank God."

"You are well, then?"

"Now, yes."

"As am I. Now."

First time attempting an all-dialogue. Just for kicks, you know? Sorry for any mistakes. Not a lot of fluffiness but I hope it's alright. Sorry for the slow updates, time ran me over a few times. I still love all of you and I can't wait to see you all again soon. My love to all.