» »______н σ ʟ м e s"I am lost without my Boswell."
 people are s t r a n g e when you`re a stranger
A twitch of movement. It came from the right knee; in an instant Holmes knew that his opponent planned an attacking with a left kick to the stomach. Just as swiftly he countered the move with a quick adjustment of footing, his jumping nerves causing a slight but adjustable slip in the slick mud. The sound of dark chuckling was swallowed by the roar of the waterfall below. He was keenly aware that the edge of the cliff was aggravatingly close, and he planted his feet firmly in the mud.
With no delay or elaborate monologue, Moriarty rushed forward first. Holmes' reflexes began the counter-attacks as his mind planned further and further in advance, eyes wide and blank as he devoted every ounce of energy into calculating the end. He crouched down, stepped forward and followed with a right kick to the chest, block with left arm, right strike to the jaw. In the effort to disorientate, he kicked his left foot into the mud, causing it to spray toward his opponent. Moriarty reacted in defense to what he presumed would have been a step and a punch to the face, raising both arms, catching Holmes' own block mid-air. A sudden pause followed, as they were physically locked and mentally frozen, each of their minds having to work backwards and figure how to be the one to attack first while the other was so vulnerably close.
Moriarty laughed grimly. "You forget yourself, Holmes," he declared over the wail of rushing water. "I must admit, I feel slightly let down that you haven't already planned it - it would've made for such a more intriguing end."
"Oh?" was his response, words and thought detached as his mind continued processing the next move. "Do enlighten me," he urged with his usual calm arrogance. His black hawk eyes spotted a flicker of movement as Moriarty shifted his feet, and his mind whirred with rapid activity, analyzing, contemplating, and then deciding.
"Too late for that now, I'm afraid." In a blur of movement, Moriarty lowered one of his arms, reached into his jacket and pulled out the gun that had glimmered and caught Holmes' attention. In that split second the gun was still lowered, and at the precise moment his opponent turned his hand for the proper grip on the trigger, Holmes struck. His hand darted to Moriarty's wrist, simultaneously bending back and twisting it until receiving the satisfactory yelp of pain. Holmes caught the gun from his slackened grip and took one step back. With one swift movement he turned his head behind him and looked down at the waterfall below; when he turned back to Moriarty, still crouching in pain, he had already committed the sighting to memory, knowing the location of the nearby branches and rocks that jutted out of the cliff. He took hurried aim at his quickly recovering opponent, fired once, and took another step back.
The wind rushed toward him, the water screaming all around him as he traveled down, down, and further down past the cliff.
The battle hadn't lasted more than twenty-five seconds.
faces look ugly when you`re a l o n e____________
 Tecnia · Sat Mar 13, 2010 @ 07:42pm · 0 Comments |
