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The Prey	By : amandalee Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 3755 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: The authors do not claim ownership to Sherlock or any of its characters, and we make no money from writing this.

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Title: The Prey

Authors: AmandaLee and BloodylocksBathory

Summary: What started for John Watson as an idyllic vacation to the rustic wilderness with a girlfriend turns upside down when Sherlock Holmes joins them with the promise of a new case. But a secluded resort stirs past desires back to life, and the case becomes something neither detective nor doctor could imagine.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, John Watson/Mary Morstan, Sherlock Holmes/others

Rating: M

Prologue

A woman wandered along the dirt path, muttering the lyrics to some half-remembered song. She wore little else but a sarong loosely draped over her plump body, thin sandals protecting her feet from the ground. She was enjoying the beauty of the trees around her and the sounds of the forest.

Nothing entered her mind that she was being watched.

Two shadows, one large and one small, wordlessly watched from behind a grove of trees. Both were desperate to move or make a sound, but they had to be patient. Otherwise, their prey would be spooked and the hunt might end badly. The smaller figure was already salivating at the thought of sinking its teeth into the woman’s quivering flesh.

Then a sound reached her ears and she paused. She was trying to decipher the source of the noise, and she looked ready to turn and run. It did not matter. The creaking bow of a third shadow was aimed at her. The arrow would reach its target perfectly.

The woman did not even make three steps before she hit the ground. She looked up to identify her approaching attackers, but already her vision was fading. She could only see three shadows.

Chapter 1

Doctor John Watson closed his eyes, but that did little to block out the continuous drumming of Sherlock's feet against the wall. It had gone on for a while, and John knew better than to cater to the other's infantile need for attention - it would only exacerbate the situation - but it was still getting on his nerves. Especially as he was trying to focus on reading.

Only when the noises took on a decidedly angry tone did John give in and finally head down to check on his friend, flatmate and occasionally lover. Sherlock had been known to hurt himself before during his tantrums and not notice it until later, if he ever did.

Predictably, the consulting detective was sitting or rather half-lying on the sofa and ferociously kicking the wall with his right foot, which was starting to take on a rather angry shade of red from the abuse.

"If you don't stop, you could hurt yourself," John pointed out. "And I'm not taking you to the A&E again."

"Why would you have to? I have you to tend to me," Sherlock replied acerbically. "Doctor Watson."

John decided not to take the bait. "You're scaring Mrs. Hudson," he said instead.

Sherlock demonstrably ignored the warning and resumed his noisy habit, this time hard enough to make the wall, and everything attached to it, rattle. A painting crashed to the floor, inadvertently making John twitch.

"We could go out and have a bite," he tried. "I hear there's a new Thai restaurant..."

"I am not hungry for food," Sherlock cut in, emphasizing his statement with another kick to the long-suffering wall.

"You haven't eaten anything for over two days..."

"It is my brain that is starving, not my body!" the detective snapped. "I need a case, not greasy East-asian food! Something!"

John was undaunted. “Some food would likely deter your stress levels at this point.”

“You and I both know that food is no way to deal with stress,” Sherlock retorted, purposefully ignoring his friend’s point. “I don’t want to end up looking like you.”

He received no response, but Sherlock did not have to turn his head to see the aggravated look which he knew had to be on John’s face.

“Behaving like a child is not going to change my plans on leaving,” the doctor finally said.

This time Sherlock was silent. He continued kicking, this time with both feet, his expression blank. The kicking was vaguely reminding John of a child having a tantrum, which was not much of a stretch.

“This has been cast in stone for nearly two months now,” he continued. I have a chance to go on holiday and enjoy some time with Mary. Your opinion of her notwithstanding, I am deeply looking forward to traveling with her.”

“But to America?” Sherlock asked, incredulous. “What could possibly possess you to spend your vacation there?”

“It’s bloody better than Glastonbury, at least. The summer there is warmer, for one thing.”

“More snakes, mosquitos… uncouth locals.”

John rolled his eyes. “Not all of America is like an excerpt from shoddy horror film. Especially not all of the Appalachian Mountains.”

“No, most of it is. Considering it was Marian’s suggestion—”

“MARY.”

“Considering it was her suggestion, I’m not surprised she chose the destination… based on key distinguishing characteristics.”

John’s eyes widened in bafflement and anger. “And that’s supposed to mean what?”

“Nothing.”

“Was that a remark comparing her looks to those of some backwoods freaks of nature?”

“You said it, not me.”

If John had ever been dangerously close to punching Sherlock in the face, now was that time. He balled his hand into a fist behind his back instead, biting back further objections, which he knew would only serve to rile Sherlock up.

"I do not care what you think," he finally said, keeping his head high. "This is no business of yours. You are not a part of this relationship, whether you like to believe so or not."

Sherlock responded by giving the doctor one of his derisive half-sneers. "Only when you find it convenient, isn't that right?"

John briefly felt his face heat up from shame. No, he would not allow himself to feel guilty about that. Sherlock was a grown man - even though his behaviour sometimes contradicted it - fully capable of making his own decisions. He had entered their so-called relationship very much aware that it might not work out. And they had remained friends... hadn't they?

"I'm getting something to eat," he announced. He needed to get out of the flat for a while, be away from Sherlock and his incessant noise-making. "Can I get you anything?"

"Don't bother," the detective snapped, his face now turned away from John.

The doctor left with a sigh, making sure that his phone was in his pocket before exiting the apartment. Maybe he could call Greg Lestrade, ask if he wanted to go out for a beer or two. He was, after all, one of very few people besides John himself who had even limited understanding of how Sherlock's mind worked. And what a pain in the arse he could be.

TBC...
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The Prey