[COMPLETE] ??? ???? ?? ??? ??????「Sherlock」

015; The Magician and His Assistant

"We're being followed." Sherlock's words hit her harder than the stranger had. She stared at him, her face draining of all colour. Her blood ran cold, her breath coming in frosty puffs as if she were smoking a cigarette. Julia was immediately uncomfortable. It wasn't hard to tell that he was urgently trying to convey to her the gravity of the situation. The dull hum of trillions of simultaneous conversations filled her ears, the rumble of a passing route-master nearly drowning out his voice. "I need you to keep moving."

The lights changed colour. Julia felt as if she were glued to where she was standing, as if the icy temperatures had froze her feet to the tarmac beneath her, until she felt Sherlock's grip upon her elbow as he hastily urged her on. "By who?" she whispered.

"Just keep your nerve, Julie..." How was she supposed to keep her nerve in a situation like this? She looked over her shoulder, staring into the faces of multiple strangers, unaware of any pursuers at the time. Taking a deep breath, she slid her folded elbow free and grabbed hold of Sherlock's pinkie finger, refusing to let go until the two were upon the other side of the street. The chill seeping through her jeans was beginning to cause her legs to burn, the whirlwind of snow suddenly tossing her hair around in a dust-bowl of carnelian. Snippets of speech stuck out to her as she attempted to focus on anything but her own growing fear. Christmas cake, fish and chips, brandy, flat tire, dying sister, cheating girlfriends, church every Sunday...

They made an abrupt diagonal path toward the little outlets in the middle of the street, following after a stray string of people as they were hoping to make it before the lights had changed. Sherlock looked over his shoulder, then back up at the amber ball above their heads. Unable to keep her attention ahead of herself, Julia swallowed and gave in to her nagging thoughts. Perhaps Sherlock was merely playing some sort of ill-natured trick? Her gaze fastened itself to at least three men dressed in dark clothing, their eyes as lethal and dark as pits of mercury. As the wind stirred their coats, Julia caught sight of something metallic hidden away within the confines of his coat, the other speaking through an earpiece to somebody in a mumbling, nonsensical tongue.

"Sherlock," she whispered, her heart up within her nose. Sheer terror overwhelmed her and before the light had turned, the detective latched onto her hand and the two burst out into the traffic. People cried out for them to stop, suddenly frightened by their leap of faith; horns blared and the sudden clamour of feet alerted the two to their fast approach. The soared up onto the sidewalk and charged through the sightseers and shoppers, hair and scarves flying like flags in the hurricane of alabaster. Colours bled into the night like a trembling snapshot upon a Kodak, faces coming and going in faint blips as they barrelled along the streets. They rounded into the nearest alley, approaching a dead-end and a stone fence. Sherlock swiftly scaled it with the agility of a cat, landing with a huff and then quickly turning on his heels. Julia began to climb, the oncoming clatter of shoes against snow and pavement goading her further.

The rosette grunted as she made it to the top and she carefully balanced up on rail, hopping down into Sherlock's open arms.

"Nice catch," she breathed, and then returned to their winded silence, racing for some sort of means of escape. Her cardiovascular system hadn't been worked this hard in a while, which evidently left her with a stitch in her side, although the pain wasn't her main concern at the moment, seeing as her life was in danger. They scrambled between two tightly neighbouring buildings and then came out the other side, stumbling out into the street and just narrowly being missed by a screaming motorcycle.

At first they appeared to be in the clear, until Sherlock's head whipped left, then right, and then he snatched up her vagrant hand. "This way!" Julia put her complete trust in him, not only because he knew London's street like the back of his hand, but because the man was more brilliant than all of the residents combined.

Darting further out into the busy road, they aimlessly disregarded the signs and lights, finding their own means of escape. A steel archway marked the nearest entrance to the nearest underground, the pair racing for the stairs and rushing down their exterior. The walls echoed with the thunder of rushing footsteps, quickly trying to shake the group that —as Julia noted as she shot a frightened peek over her shoulder— was still hot on their trail.

"Our passes—"

"Forget the damn passes!" Sherlock hissed, shoving her ahead of himself.

Julia was panting heavily, lungs heaving for air. "We'll never get away from them if we can't get through the turnstiles!" she shouted, raising her voice in order to communicate with him above the colossal bevy. "Do you really want to get shot and die down here?!"

They careened around the corner and barrelled through the cramped numbers. Approaching the turnstiles, the pair came to a screaming halt, sweating and covered in snow that melted and pooled near their feet. It was packed, the crowds beginning to either arrive for late dinners, or heading home for a quiet evening of tea. Sherlock's hand clamped down around her slim extremity and he tossed a fleeting gander at the men that searched the copious amount of innocent bystanders.

"Keep looking ahead of yourself and don't you dare break away from me," the svelte man muttered, drawing her close so he could be heard. His breath was hot against her numb ears. Julia nodded her head. Taking a deep breath, she followed after Sherlock Holmes, keeping her hand upon his chilly fingers, only breaking away in order to brush past a few pedestrians in her way. How had she gotten herself into this mess?

By stepping into 221B, of course, she thought, defeated. As her heart hammered in her throat, she witnessed Sherlock stumble into the man in front of him and apologise with the falsest simper she had ever seen. His hand promptly found the man's boarding pass and he quickly passed it through the turnstile before sending him off with a swift goodbye. One of Sherlock's arms snaked behind his back and Julia instinctively grabbed what she was offered, passing it through the system once more without any guilt.

They were quickly through, leaving the enemy behind and quickly hopping on their designated train. Sherlock spotted one car in particular and strode toward it, hastily hopping on with Julia in tow. Once they were on, the doors shut and they were left with only their pounding hearts and the jubilant tune of Baby It's Cold Outside filling the luminous subway car. Her wide beryl eyes slowly moved to meet Sherlock's after he had finished expertly explaining to their victim that he had 'dropped' his pass on his way through. Sherlock was quietly thanked and justice was restored, the two standing and facing the windows, the cement walls flying by as they sped in the direction of... wait, where were they heading?

Julia's hands pried from the bar to her left. "Is this what life is like for you everyday?" she murmured softly, glancing up at the svelte sleuth. He leered down at her and smirked, earning an exasperated laugh and an eye-roll from the rosette. The case had reemerged out of the woodwork and Sherlock was positively ecstatic. Leaning her weary head against the bar to her left, she sighed heavily.

"I'd be best to flee back to Glasgow, then..."