if_inconvenient | (no subject)

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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.

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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."

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