Watson was standing stiffly on a rain-soaked city curb, trembling from the cold and the damp. He could see his breath hanging in front of him in little puffs of white as he rubbed his hands together in an effort to keep warm. The streets around him were empty and bleak, everything was tinged in shades of black and white. It was almost as if the color had been sucked out of everything. A thick, eerie mist sank into his jacket and clung to the gritty sidewalks like icy tendrils that sought to smother any light or color. The buildings around him where tall, menacing. The cement was cracked and covered in grime, as if no one had been there in years. It was like no place he had ever been. And yet... he almost felt nostalgic. As if he had seen this place somewhere before.
Wait... how did I get here? Watson wondered. He didn't remember coming here. In fact, he couldn't remember much at all. Everything seemed a bit fuzzy. Something about a case... in New York? He shook his head, unable to reach the memories he sought.
"Where am I?" he ventured aloud. His voice echoed out into the dim streets. There was no reply, only silence. Sensing movement, his eyes darted down to the ground, only to find more mist. The tendrils of silver-grey curled and slithered across the ground like snakes. Each tendril seemed to have a mind of its own, moving about like sentient beings, curiously probing into dark crannies and curling around his legs. It was as if they were lost puppies, inquisitive and full of longing. Watson knew he should feel nervous or afraid, but he felt only pity for such lonely creatures.
Why am I not afraid? he thought, furrowing his brow. Why am I so calm? I don't know where I am, the mist looks like it's alive, I'm all alone... I should be at least a tad uneasy. But, no. I don't feel even the slightest bit scared.
Ah, but all is calm before the storm, John Watson, a smooth voice whispered in the back of his brain. He shuddered, cramming his hands into his pockets while trying to ignore the voice. Everything was going to be just fine. He would... find a pay phone or something. He would call a cab and all of this would be over and done.
Then, a piercing scream rang out through the mist, breaking the spell, causing Watson's hair to stand on end. The mist suddenly vanished from around him, fleeing into alleys and dark corners as if they were afraid.
Dammit.
"Hello?!" He spun wildly, searching for the source of the frightening sound. Watson could feel his heart pounding in his throat as he clenched his fists, digging his fingernails deep into his palms. There were a few small, choked sobs, and then silence.
"Is there anyone there?" he called, struggling to keep his voice steady, "P-please, I can help you. Just... signal me somehow. Tell me where you are!" There was silence, aside from the sound of his heartbeat and heavy breathing.
Suddenly, another shriek blasted through the silence, followed by muffled cries and fearful pleas he couldn't quite make out. It was coming from the narrow alley, just across the street. He could see two vague shapes in the retreating mist. One was backed against the wall, curled up in the fetal position. The other was raising a knife. Adrenaline hit Watson like a sledgehammer.
"Hold on!" he cried, breaking into a fierce run, "I'm coming, I can help you! Just hold on!"
As his foot struck the asphalt, it liquefied and pulled him down like quicksand. Pain jolted through his knee as his right leg was held fast while the rest of him kept moving forward. He fell hard on the concrete with a pained grunt, quickly sinking up to his thigh while his other leg was pulled down as well. He clawed at the ground in a desperate attempt to full himself up onto the street again, but his hands were soon trapped in the liquid asphalt's sticky grasp. Another desperate scream caused his stomach to lurch. There were a few choked gasps, then a horrid gurgling sound.
Blood, fresh and steaming in the cold, pooled out of the alley and dripped sluggishly down the curb. Watson's face went slack with shock.
"No..." he whispered, "N-"
He felt a pair of icy hands latch onto his calves, much to his surprise and fear. They jerked him violently under before he could say another word.
Blood. Blood everywhere. Blood dripping down the stone walls, blood in his eyes. A pair of eyes that shone menacingly amid the crimson haze.
Blood and more blood. Everything smothered in blood.
John was drowning, yet he could still breathe. He was struggling, yet unable to move.
Bloody images flashed before his eyes. A low, brick building. A gravestone. A white ribbon.
Then... darkness,
I could have saved her. I wasn't fast enough, I wasn't strong enough. I wasn't smart enough.
Sherlock would have known what to do
A woman's voice rang out the the dark, a thunderous voice that resonated deeply through his whole body and up into his skull.
Doubt is unbecoming of you, John Watson. You must remain strong, even if your heart grows heavy with fear. You will need to be ready for the trails that lay ahead.
But they don't need me. I'm useless, just an old soldier with nothing to lose. But Sherlock... he's...
Sherlock will need you, now more than ever. He is afraid, terrified, more than he has ever been in his life. You need to be there and keep him grounded. Make sure he doesn't plunge headfirst into despair.
But...
Something is coming, John. Something unlike anything you've ever faced before, something that may even break the mighty Sherlock Holmes. You must stand with him. You must stop it.
How?!
... How do you think?
Twilight gazed out at the horizon, at the distant buildings and lights that flashed and shone in the night. Next to her, Watson muttered and tossed restlessly in his sleep. Even as he slept, he still had a troubled look etched in his face.
"Does he always look so... worried?" Twilight asked, turning her gaze to Sherlock, who was currently flipping through pages of her favorite tome on Equestrian history.
Without looking up, he muttered, "I don't often watch him sleep, if that's what you're implying."
Twilight blushed and shook her head wildly. "N-no! That's not what I- well of course it's fine if you trot that way I suppose... um..." She trailed off nervously, unsure of how to proceed. Sherlock made a somewhat annoyed huffing sound and turned a page. There was an uncomfortable silence for several minutes.
"I hope you realize I intend to work with you on this murder case, Miss Sparkle." Sherlock muttered, startling the purple mare.
" What?"
"I intend to work on this case and solve it, of course. I've got very little else to do at the moment and you are clearly quite out of your depth."
"I beg yo-" Sputtered Twilight, but Sherlock quickly cut her off.
"Oh, please. Don't act like you know what you're getting into, you clearly have never dealt with anything more violent than a schoolyard fight in this country." The grey unicorn stated coolly, "I, on the other hand, have solved countless baffling murders and faced off against criminals unlike any you've ever seen. I would think you would welcome someone as experienced as myself into the investigation."
Twilight was taken aback by his frank and somewhat rude proclamation. He had no right to just insert himself into a criminal investigation! He had no way of proving his claims and she had no reason to trust him.
He was right about one thing, though she didn't want to admit it. She really was out of her depth. What if he could help? What is if wasn't lying? She chewed on her lip nervously. She could use all the help she could get...
She needed time. Time to weigh out her options and made an educated decision.
"I'll... have to think about it," Twi responded carefully. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.
"Really?"
"What, is there something wrong?"
"Usually I just get a flat out, 'No,'" Sherlock said absently, causing the mare to giggle.
"So, you often ask to jump into official investigations?" Twilight asked. Sherlock smiled slightly.
"No, I almost never ask permission. You should consider yourself fortunate that I even made my intentions known."
"Oh, really?" Twilight inquired curiously. Sherlock finally looked up from his book, shutting it with an air of finality.
"Do you doubt me?" he asked, almost sharply.
"Yes."
"Good, trusting a complete stranger on their word is stupid. It's nice to know John and I won't be working with a complete dunce." He stated, reclining against the front of the chariot. Twilight scowled and turned away, curling up on the floor of the chariot. She may as well get some rest or something. The conversation wasn't going anywhere, anyways.
"It's nice to know I may be working with a total jerk..." She muttered sourly.