Writing Meme - 3rd Fill
Feb. 23rd, 2011 03:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
r_scribblesCumberholmes RP. Sally & Irene actiony snipey almost-friendly-but-not-really, for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aimeebeff
3 – Sally & Irene
If she could just get to her gun…
But this guy was faster and heavier than she’d anticipated. He slammed into her, her foot slipped on the wet cement and down both of them went – her getting the harder landing by far. Winded, still she battled him in the alley – her trying to reach for her gun without him spotting it first, him trying to pin her arms. She was never going to hear the end of this from the lads at the Yard, a small voice at the back of her head mocked her as she fought – the silly girl who tried to play the Big Boy’s Game, who tried to deal with a case by herself instead of calling for help – that was, if she managed to get out of this alive, which at this rate was looking…
There was a dull thud from behind her attacker. For a moment, he looked annoyed and distracted, as if trying to work out what had happened to him, then he slumped, unconscious. Behind him loomed the large figure of Irene Adler, calmly putting a blackjack back into a large Louis Vuitton handbag.
‘Oh,’ grunted Sally, pushing the unconscious thug off herself, ‘it’s you.’
‘You’re welcome, dear.’
‘Do you really have to follow me around? I was working, you know.’
‘As was I.’ Irene held a hand out to help Sally up. Sally ignored it. ‘One can’t exactly meet up with a fence anywhere too well lit. I happened to see a damsel in distress, it made my blackjack itchy – what can I say. Had I known who the damsel was at the time, I’d have just let you carry on “working”, since you were obviously doing such a sterling job.’
‘I had the situation under control,’ seethed Sally, getting to her feet. ‘I was just about to get him to take me to his gang’s hideout before the next shipment of heroin went out, which is in half an hour, which I will now miss, thanks to your decision to swoop in and save the day.’
Irene sighed, and looked the comatose ruffian up and down. ‘He was headed towards the hideout?’
Sally nodded. ‘I followed him down this alley.’
‘So, he was going North West. Pappa Don Preach’s patch is only a half mile in that direction, and this guy isn’t wearing green sneakers, so he can’t be in his gang – and if anybody had tried get even close to muscling in on Pappa’s turf, I’d have heard about it. So, we must be practically on top of their hideout by now.’ She started off down the alley. ‘Come on, I’ll help you find it.’
‘Eurgh.’ Sally followed suit. ‘Must you? I mean, you do know who you sound like when you do this Amateur Lady Detective thing, don’t you?’
Irene shrugged. ‘Girl’s gotta have a hobby.’
‘Yeah, and we all know who your hobby horse is. If you include him on this, Adler, I swear, I’ll use him as a cue and you as a pool ball and pot you both into the river. No one at the Yard trusts your weasel boyfriend with cases that have anything to do with drugs – not even Greg. And with bloody good reason.’
Irene stopped at the end of the alley, and gave Sally a sharp smile. ‘Firstly, Sally dear, he has a name. Secondly, he’s not my boyfriend. And thirdly… you really think I’d ever let him know where he could find more drugs? Exactly how stupid do you think I am?’
‘Stupid enough to get romantically involved with a narcissistic, misogynistic psychopath,’ replied Sally.
Irene arched an eyebrow. ‘Quite. And how is Mr Moran keeping, these days?’
‘Shut up.’ Sally glanced up and down the street that the alleyway had opened out into. ‘So, where now?’
Irene nodded at a doorway that lead down to a basement, signposted “Members Only Private Gym”. ‘That’s no gym.’
‘How would you know what a gym looks like?’ Nevertheless, Sally readied her gun and, keeping it concealed, prepared to cross over the street towards the “gym”.
‘Well, that’s hardly a regulation weapon,’ Irene noted.
‘Yeah, well. Doing things by the book doesn’t exactly get you anywhere round here, these days.’ A faint wistful smile curled her lips for a moment before she was able to subdue it. ‘One month anniversary present,’ she added.
‘Ah,’ sighed Irene, ‘the Honeymoon Period.’ There was a faint glimmer as several tiny throwing knives were drawn from her handbag and swiftly hidden up her sleeve. ‘Marrakesh,’ she explained. ‘Pulled them from Berglind’s garter with my teeth.’
‘You revolt me.’
‘Feeling’s mutual, Dear.’
‘Then why are you helping me?’
‘Because,’ Irene replied, ‘as far as I’m concerned, the Heroin trade can crawl under a rock and rot, along with wife beaters, sex traffickers, Sarah Palin, my first husband and Victor Trevor.’
‘Must be a pretty big rock.’
‘Getting bigger every day.’
They reached the door. Sally pressed her ear to it. There were voices within – distant and muffled. It sounded as though they were counting.
‘Notice I’m not under the rock,’ said Sally, quietly. ‘Help me kick this thing down. On three.’
‘You skirt the perimeter,’ Irene told her.
‘Yeah,’ replied Sally. ‘You skirt mine, too. One… two… three!’
aimeebeff3 – Sally & Irene
If she could just get to her gun…
But this guy was faster and heavier than she’d anticipated. He slammed into her, her foot slipped on the wet cement and down both of them went – her getting the harder landing by far. Winded, still she battled him in the alley – her trying to reach for her gun without him spotting it first, him trying to pin her arms. She was never going to hear the end of this from the lads at the Yard, a small voice at the back of her head mocked her as she fought – the silly girl who tried to play the Big Boy’s Game, who tried to deal with a case by herself instead of calling for help – that was, if she managed to get out of this alive, which at this rate was looking…
There was a dull thud from behind her attacker. For a moment, he looked annoyed and distracted, as if trying to work out what had happened to him, then he slumped, unconscious. Behind him loomed the large figure of Irene Adler, calmly putting a blackjack back into a large Louis Vuitton handbag.
‘Oh,’ grunted Sally, pushing the unconscious thug off herself, ‘it’s you.’
‘You’re welcome, dear.’
‘Do you really have to follow me around? I was working, you know.’
‘As was I.’ Irene held a hand out to help Sally up. Sally ignored it. ‘One can’t exactly meet up with a fence anywhere too well lit. I happened to see a damsel in distress, it made my blackjack itchy – what can I say. Had I known who the damsel was at the time, I’d have just let you carry on “working”, since you were obviously doing such a sterling job.’
‘I had the situation under control,’ seethed Sally, getting to her feet. ‘I was just about to get him to take me to his gang’s hideout before the next shipment of heroin went out, which is in half an hour, which I will now miss, thanks to your decision to swoop in and save the day.’
Irene sighed, and looked the comatose ruffian up and down. ‘He was headed towards the hideout?’
Sally nodded. ‘I followed him down this alley.’
‘So, he was going North West. Pappa Don Preach’s patch is only a half mile in that direction, and this guy isn’t wearing green sneakers, so he can’t be in his gang – and if anybody had tried get even close to muscling in on Pappa’s turf, I’d have heard about it. So, we must be practically on top of their hideout by now.’ She started off down the alley. ‘Come on, I’ll help you find it.’
‘Eurgh.’ Sally followed suit. ‘Must you? I mean, you do know who you sound like when you do this Amateur Lady Detective thing, don’t you?’
Irene shrugged. ‘Girl’s gotta have a hobby.’
‘Yeah, and we all know who your hobby horse is. If you include him on this, Adler, I swear, I’ll use him as a cue and you as a pool ball and pot you both into the river. No one at the Yard trusts your weasel boyfriend with cases that have anything to do with drugs – not even Greg. And with bloody good reason.’
Irene stopped at the end of the alley, and gave Sally a sharp smile. ‘Firstly, Sally dear, he has a name. Secondly, he’s not my boyfriend. And thirdly… you really think I’d ever let him know where he could find more drugs? Exactly how stupid do you think I am?’
‘Stupid enough to get romantically involved with a narcissistic, misogynistic psychopath,’ replied Sally.
Irene arched an eyebrow. ‘Quite. And how is Mr Moran keeping, these days?’
‘Shut up.’ Sally glanced up and down the street that the alleyway had opened out into. ‘So, where now?’
Irene nodded at a doorway that lead down to a basement, signposted “Members Only Private Gym”. ‘That’s no gym.’
‘How would you know what a gym looks like?’ Nevertheless, Sally readied her gun and, keeping it concealed, prepared to cross over the street towards the “gym”.
‘Well, that’s hardly a regulation weapon,’ Irene noted.
‘Yeah, well. Doing things by the book doesn’t exactly get you anywhere round here, these days.’ A faint wistful smile curled her lips for a moment before she was able to subdue it. ‘One month anniversary present,’ she added.
‘Ah,’ sighed Irene, ‘the Honeymoon Period.’ There was a faint glimmer as several tiny throwing knives were drawn from her handbag and swiftly hidden up her sleeve. ‘Marrakesh,’ she explained. ‘Pulled them from Berglind’s garter with my teeth.’
‘You revolt me.’
‘Feeling’s mutual, Dear.’
‘Then why are you helping me?’
‘Because,’ Irene replied, ‘as far as I’m concerned, the Heroin trade can crawl under a rock and rot, along with wife beaters, sex traffickers, Sarah Palin, my first husband and Victor Trevor.’
‘Must be a pretty big rock.’
‘Getting bigger every day.’
They reached the door. Sally pressed her ear to it. There were voices within – distant and muffled. It sounded as though they were counting.
‘Notice I’m not under the rock,’ said Sally, quietly. ‘Help me kick this thing down. On three.’
‘You skirt the perimeter,’ Irene told her.
‘Yeah,’ replied Sally. ‘You skirt mine, too. One… two… three!’
