Human Error - Sherlock Fanfiction

Chapter twenty two - circus

Instead of using the stage, there were a circle of candles that have been laid out in the middle of the floor, about thirty or so feet in diameter, making the room dimly lit. People began to gather around the circle, room enough for everyone to have a clear view. Sarah and John stand side by side whilst me and Sherlock stand behind them.

"When does it start?" I ask as he glances around the room.

"Soon." He answered, just before John decides to talk quietly over his shoulder to his flatmate, turning his head from Sarah so she can't hear.

"You said circus. This is not a circus. Look at the size of this crowd. Sherlock, this is... art." He says, grimacing slightly.

"Well, this isn't their day job is it?" I speak before Sherlock gets the chance to, crossing my arms.

"No, sorry, I forgot. They're not a circus; they're a gang of international smugglers."

I open my mouth to reply, but suddenly there was a sound of someone tapping out a rhythm on a tiny hand drum. Then, an ornately costumed Chinese woman with a heavily painted face - traditionally known as the Opera Singer - walks into the centre of the circle ad looks imperiously out at the audience before raising her hand in the air. The drummer stops, and the woman starts walking across the circle to a large object with a cloth thrown over it. Without hesitation, she pulls the cloth off to reveal an antique-looking crossbow on a stand. Next, she picks up a white feather and shows the audience before gently dropping it onto a metal cup. Within an instant the arrow is released and whizzes across the room, embedded in a large painted board on the other side of the circle. I stare with surprise, whereas Sarah turns to John and laughs, dramatically putting her hand over her heart. I roll my eyes.

The audience applauds as another individual enters the circle, wearing chainmail and an ornate head mask. He holds his arms out to the sides and two men come over to attach heavy chains and straps to him, strapping his now-folded arms in front of him and then backing him up against the board.

"Classic Chinese escapology act."

"What?" I mumble softly, turning my head to look at Sherlock.

"The crossbow's on a delicate string. The warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires."

"How predictable." I muse, my legs starting to hurt from standing in one place. "Can we go explore now?"

A small simper appears on his lips. "Patience."

The woman we saw at the start loads another arrow into the crossbow, whilst the men attach more padlocks and chains to the warrior as he cries out. Thankfully, they finish up and step away. The music begins building in intensity and cymbals crash unexpectedly, making Sarah jump and clutch onto John's arm.

"Oh, Gawd! I'm sorry!" She apologies, laughing in embarrassment as she holds onto his arm. I ignore their annoying interactions, as frustrating as it was to be around, and watch as the Opera Singer picks up a small knife and raises it slightly, displaying it to the audience.

"She splits the sandbag; the sand pours out; gradually the weight lowers into the bowl." Sherlock explained softly. I think he just likes to sound like a know it all, so I don't stop him. I let him continue otherwise he would probably get offended.

Just as predicted, she stabs the bottom of the small sandbag hanging on a long cable. Sand begins to pour out, and the warrior repeatedly cries out with effort as he tugs at his chains. He manages to get one hand free, but the weight lowers quickly and is only about a few feet above the bowl.

"Come on." Sherlock whispers, deciding to disappear whilst everyone was distracted. I don't say a word, just follow after him. Just as we make our way onto the stage everyone breaks out into an applause, so I quickly gather that the warrior has made it out alive.

It looked like the stage was being used for the performers dressing room. There's dressing tables, free-standing clothes rails and many other items around. I see a cute black brush with purple patterns on. "Cool." I mutter, picking it up to get a closer look. Sherlock raises a brow at me but doesn't say anything. Instead he goes over to the curtains and parts them slightly. I go over to him and look through the gap, looking with interest as the acrobat floats around from some cloth or whatever.

Suddenly, Sherlock grabs my arm and pulls me behind a bunch of clothes on a clothing rail.

"What the f--" I begin with surprise, be Sherlock's hand covers my lips. I look at him with confusion but his brows furrow at me, sending me a message with his eyes. Someone else was here.

He removes his hand when he realises that I knew what situation we were in, and we wait patiently. Luckily, the woman leaves soon. But something catches my eye.

"What's in that bag?" I ask quietly, nodding my head towards it. Sherlock opens it and to our surprise we find several spray cans inside.

"Found you." He says softly in a sing-song voice, before pushing through the clothes and approaching a mirror on the dressing table, shaking the can and spraying a single line across the mirror.

"That's the yellow paint." I observe, a smile reaching my lip. "Now we're getting somewhere."

"Eleanor!" Sherlock snaps urgently, before a man charges forwards and lashes at us repeatedly with a large knife. Sherlock pushes me away and ducks to avoids the warriors swings.

"Sherlock!" I call as I hastily pick up the spray can and throw it in his direction. He catches it and uses it to block a blow from the warrior, ducking to avoid their next swing. But the warrior kicks him hard in the stomach and then grabs him by the throat. Sherlock manages to lash his hands away and then sprays the can directly into his masked face.

Without thinking, I quickly charge at the warrior and jump on his back. My arms wrap around his neck and he rushes around frantically, trying to get me off him. We end up being propelled through the curtains, and he trips backwards, making me fall off his back and tumble off the stage. The warrior, however, remains on stage.

Sherlock runs into sight and starts to fight with the warrior again, and John rushes towards me but I'm too winded to focus.

"You, uh... Sher-Sherlock." I stutter, pointing towards Sherlock. John nods, noticing Sherlock needed some help. I watch as John runs straight for the warrior as he takes out a knife and prepares to plunge it at Sherlock. John charges straight into him, pushing him back against the edge of the stage but the warrior lashes out with one foot, sending John stumbling across the room.

John stumbles, trying to catch his balance. Sarah rushes towards us and uses one end of a arrow to slam over the top of the warriors head, and then swings the arrow sideways and smashes it across his ribs before he could retaliate. I finally decide to get off my lazy arse, knowing I couldn't just lie here. I crawl over to the warrior as he lies on the ground, grunting almost unconscious.

"Are you okay?" Sherlock asks, rushing towards my side. I nod.

"Yeah... check his thingy."

Sherlock pulls off his right shoe to reveal a tong tattoo on his heel. John, who has finally managed to come over to us, grabs Sarah's hand and starts to pull her towards the exit. "Come on, we've got to go."

Sherlock scrambles to his feet and helps me up, before quickly supporting me and ushering me out of the building.