valeria2067:

“Happy Hallowe’en,” John said half-heartedly as he left Mike at the pub and headed back home.

Hallowe’en just wasn’t that exciting, anymore.

Not much could compete with the life of danger and mystery that John had found with Sherlock Holmes, the world’s only Consulting Detective.

It didn’t particularly bother John that he wasn’t celebrating tonight.

Or, perhaps it did bother him, just a little. But he knew there was no club or party that could give him the kind of thrill he’d begun to need.

When he opened the door to the flat, he felt mildly disappointed to find it so dark and so quiet.

“Sherlock?”

John stepped cautiously forward, looking over his shoulder.

“You all right?”

Sherlock had sent a typically cryptic message asking John to come home at once. Any other day, John would have rolled his eyes and texted back something snarky about pub night with Mike taking precedence over Sherlock’s sock index. Tonight, though, he felt like getting back early, away from the group of giggling, drunken office girls sporting the latest in sexy Halloween costumes. Not that he didn’t appreciate the view, but, really, it was a bit like shooting fish in a barrel. John “Three Continents” Watson preferred his conquests to have a sporting chance (and the ability to give full, unhindered consent).

Something small and hard bounced against a glass beaker in the kitchen, and John turned quickly in that direction. He had just enough time to register the sting of a needle at the back of his neck before he blacked out.

Trick

Read More