Logic of the Sidhe
by Kira S. (alpineowl at hotmail.com)
Disclaimer: I don't own the concepts put forth by the show Sherlock Holmes
in the 22nd Century. And I don't know who does. So that's my habitual legal
jargon. BTW, any characters that you don't recognize are mine unless otherwise
noted. And if you ask really nice (and you really want to) I'll let you
use my original characters. If you don't ask I'll still be ecstatic that
someone thinks I create interesting characters.
On to Part 2!
"Freeze, Scotland Yard!" Inspector Beth Lestrade yelled for the fifth time.
Why, Lestrade wondered offhandedly, was it that all of the criminals who
were in good shape only prowled the streets when she was working the beat?
This particular crook Lestrade had seen trying to break into 223A Baker Street, which
held implications other then simple theft considering that famous consulting
detective Sherlock Holmes lived next door; and in the inspector’s experience,
nothing even remotely connected to Holmes was ever simple.
"James, where are you?" Calista hissed to herself as she ran from the New
Scotland Yard inspector. When she got out of this mess she swore to herself
that Major James Smith of the US Air Force was going to get several words
from her, most of them containing only four letters. Turning sharply right,
Calista used the pole of a handy street lamp to balance herself in the wild
curve. Calista ran out into the street. Once across, Calista plowed into a
park, twisting around trees as they came, always trying to keep something
between herself and the Yardie’s ionizer. Reaching under her black bomber
jacket, Calista pulled out a laser pistol. Adjusting the level to stun, Calista
planted herself behind a statue of Queen Elizabeth II and started firing.
Lestrade dove to the ground when the laser shots started flying. One beam
grazed her upper left arm and all feeling left the limb. Lestrade frowned.
What kind of a thief set their weapon to stun? Pushing the question to the
back of her mind, Lestrade readjusted her own weapon and concentrated on the
Calista cursed herself, James, and the fact that pistol battery magazines
never lasted an entire shootout. Discarding the useless hunk of plastic
Calista pulled another magazine out of her holster and slammed it into the
gun with more force then necessary. Calista was about to start firing again
when warning signals shot off in her head; she threw herself down the hill
the statue she was using for cover rested on top of. Behind her,
electromagnetic energy ropes wrapped themselves around the bronze
Elizabeth’s skirt. Coming out of her roll, Calista reached under her jacket
again and yanked out another laser pistol that matched the first.
Calista could just barely see a man standing about seventy-five yards from
where she had taken cover. He was wearing Victorian-style clothing and moved
more like a robot then a man. Calista swore when she recognized him. Backing
up, Calista didn’t want to know how much worse her luck could get as she
twisted away from another set of energy cords. Something hit the back of
her knees hard and Calista hit the ground. Rolling over, Calista brought her
guns up to bear only to have them sharply knocked away. Calista rolled
again, this time gaining her feet she turned to her assailant. He was a tall
man in Victorian clothing and a deerstalker hat. Calista didn’t have time to
be distraught that she was facing off with Sherlock Holmes. He swung her
cane at her and Calista moved to defend herself when her arms snapped to her
sides as someone’s ionizer finally hit its mark. Her balance thrown off,
Calista fell to her knees -- her head now in the path of Holmes’ cane which
stopped a mere hair’s breadth from the side of her face.
"Very nice aim, Inspector," Holmes commented as Lestrade jogged up.
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