if_inconvenient | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Sherlock is perfectly confident in his ability to take on a vampire in hand-to-hand combat and survive, unless the vampire in question has significant training. That's one vampire.

He is also perfectly confident in his ability to take on any number of them at a distance with his laser in hand, at a distance being the operative phrase.

The situation he finds himself in, when he tracks down the lair of the conspirators at last, transpires to be somewhat chancier. There is little margin for error, and at the end of what is unquestionably the most violent fifteen minutes of his life, he is lying on a richly carpeted floor surrounded by clouds of dust and wishing there were two of him so he could delegate the job of calling Peter Beardsley to the other one. Surely Tony could have cooked up an extra while he was at it.

No, that is not a productive train of thought. Coughing hoarsely, he drags himself to his feet and finds a telephone.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Damn," Connolly says regretfully.

Then,

"Oh well, at least I won't have to pretend to like vegan restaurants anymore. It's like eating Chinese, you're hungry again an hour later."

"Good heavens," he says dryly. "Now there is a metaphor one doesn't want describing one's relationship."

Connolly laughs.

He's starting to see why Sherlock is so popular around the Chandler home.

A faint smile curves his lips. He settles back in his seat, pleased.

A couple minutes later, Connolly's driving up the long driveway to the Stark residence.

"I'm going to walk you to the door and make sure you get in all right," he says. "Anything you need before I head home?"

"No, thank you." He smiles again.

Connolly nods and pulls up near the front door, settling more firmly back into security mindset. He gets out and goes around to open Sherlock's door for him.

Under the circumstances, he decides not to protest.

Those circumstances include him being out of the car and scanning the treeline already, of course. Nothing but wildlife. He doesn't need to check the house; Jarvis checks himself just fine.

Yeah, Connolly probably should've expected that.

He's looking too, keeping close to Sherlock. The area appears secure, so he says,

"Ready?"

"Quite."

It's not far to the door. He walks steadily—a little stiffly, but steadily.

The front door unlocks itself when he's still a few steps away.

Handy.

Connolly steps forward to open the door, keeping Sherlock in his line of sight while he also scans the interior automatically; he knows his employer trusts the security here, and that a vampire breaking in is pretty unlikely unless the brother was stupid enough to issue an invite, but still. He checks.

Then he steps aside so Sherlock can go in.

The front hall is quiet, dark, empty, and covered by a frankly ridiculous number of cameras. When Sherlock walks in the door, the lights come up.

"Thank you for driving me home," he says politely.

"Not a problem," Connolly smiles. "Glad to be of assistance."

"Good luck with the cat."

Connolly's smile turns wry.

"Her neighbor's cuter, anyway," he says. "You take care of yourself."

No more raiding vampire nests until you've fully healed, young man.

"I will endeavour to go at least a week without anyone trying to kill me."

"That's the spirit."

Connolly grins and turns to go.

He shuts the door.

"I had to tap the Chandlers' security phoneline just to find out whether you were alive or dead. The next time you worry me like that, I'm locking you in your rooms. Tony can pass food in through the air vent."

Sherlock sighs.

"Your concern is noted. Next time I won't inform you when I am about to enter enemy territory, only when I have safely emerged."

"Oh, go celebrate your victory with Tony. He's downstairs. Try not to injure yourself further."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only