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The early morning dew clung to his hair and mixed with his own sweat. The sun was well hidden behind the clouds, casting everything in a gloomy light; the weather seemed to match the occasion.
The horse he sat on shook its head and rocked, making the noose that had been wrapped around his neck tighten slightly. A few mumbles from the crowd seemed to continue to taunt him.
The mayor of the corrupt town stepped forward and started his speech. Everything he was accused of was all a lie, made up to justify getting rid of him. Even if he had the strength to argue, the gag shoved into his mouth made it impossible to defend himself. John Waston didn't even bother listening anymore, as the man continued to ramble on as if he simply enjoyed the sound of his own voice.
John never imagined this was how his life would end.
As the mayor finished his speech, a priest stepped forward and began to read a passage from the bible he held. This only made the doctor roll his eyes, of course a man of the cloth would be just as corrupt as the rest.
His shoulder started to ache from his hand being tied tightly behind his back, and he honestly considered just kicking the horse himself so he could just die already.
The priest turned to him as he closed his Bible. "May God have mercy on your soul, John Watson."
Taking a deep death John closed his eyes and waited.
A loud boom in the distance broke through the silence. As the crowd turned their attention away, a cloaked figure ran out and jumped onto the back of the horse. Cutting the rope of the noose, they held on tightly to John's waist and urged the horse to run.
Several members of the town attempted to intervene, but stopped in their tracks when there was yet another explosion. This one caused a small fire to break out.
Having no idea what was going on, John panicked and attempted to at least get a look at the figure's face. This, of course, only managed to almost knock them both off the horse.
"Stop it," came a female voice, as they removed their hood. Words could not describe the amount of relief John felt when he saw Enola's face smiling back at him.
Pulling on the reins of the horse, she brought it to a complete stop. "We have to wait here," she explained, pulling the gag out of John's mouth.
"Cutting it close? Where's..." he was interrupted by yet another explosion, followed by the pounding footsteps of another horse.
"There." She said bluntly while freeing his hands.
Sherlock grinned as rode up next to them. "Hey! You ok?"
At that moment, John just lost it, every emotion he had suppressed all spilling out at the same time. All he could do was burst into laughter as tears streamed down his face. "You! Are! Late!" He yelled.
Sherlock frowned. "I'm sorry John, truly I am. I'll never cut it that close again."
"For the record, Dr. Watson, it was my fault. He was helping me." Enola interjected, feeling really guilty that they almost hadn't made it.
"Speaking of which, we have got to go." Sherlock added as he reached out for John to take his arm. "Hop on over," he offered. John was slightly hesitant, but accepted Sherlock's help as he climbed over onto the back of his horse.
John then practically buried his face into the back of Sherlock’s neck as he clung to his waist. His body was shaking from the adrenaline and relief that he was now safe.
"I blew up a town for you. Remember that next time you get mad at me." Sherlock teased, trying to lighten the mood. Turning back to his sister, "Thank you for your help, Enola. I own you big time."
Enola smiled. "Always a pleasure."