He has an ambivalent relationship with the Tube. The invention is genius, of course, but sometimes there are too many people who can’t seem to comprehend how to behave. Especially when embarking or disembarking the carriages. Grown ups suddenly seem to have left their common sense behind on the platform or inside the train.
“Mind the gap,” the familiar voice tells them all.
At least, this announcement seems to register in everyone. To this day, Sherlock has never encountered anyone who has seriously miscalculated entering or leaving the train. He knows it occurs obviously; people are idiots after all.
What he has experienced in abundance, however, are morons trying to get on the train while others are trying to get off. Simultaneously. It’s evident than neither of these human beings have any clue about logistics. Or physics for that matter.
Because of this, he avoids the Tube like the plague in the rush hours, not to mention in the summer when hordes of dim-witted tourists are invading the city.
Sherlock is aware that not every place on the planet have underground transportation systems like London has, which the forementioned tourists prove on an hourly basis, but surely one should expect people to do their research before travelling to a large city. They don’t even know how to place themselves on the escalators, for goodness’ sake! There are signs which inform them to stand on the right so that people like Sherlock, who’s always in a hurry, can leap up the moving device on the left side. Sometimes, he wonders if they’re all illiterate.
***
“Watch your step!”
“Are you talking to me?”
Sherlock is genuinely puzzled. Nobody ever tells him to mind where he’s going. He never stands still long enough.
“Yes, you moron!”
And then, Sherlock finds himself manhandled to the side by a strong but small man with blue eyes, blond hair, tanned skin, and an abandoned cane that lies some feet away on the platform.
“You were about to step right into – “
“Afghanistan or Iraq?”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
***
“Oil spill. Watch…”
Sherlock’s arms flail in an attempt to regain his balance when his shoe slips on the spilled oil, but just before he falls, strong arms catch him.
“I’ve got you,” John murmurs close to Sherlock’s ear.
His face flushes as if he’s suddenly been exposed to a roaring fire. Before he’s able to catalogue how his body responds to being held by John, his equilibrium is restored, and John retreats.
“Thank you,” Sherlock mutters.
He’s mortified to find himself in such an undignified situation, witnessed by his capable flatmate who more often than not, praises Sherlock’s agility. This calamity will certainly put a stop to that.
“Are you alright?” John asks quietly.
“Of course,” Sherlock says with false self-confidence.
***
“Fucking idiot!”
“Indeed.”
“Did he just try to walk straight through me?”
“So it seems.”
“I fear for humanity, Sherlock. Truly.”
Sherlock hums in agreement and relishes the fact that they are pressed tightly together in a packed carriage. The man who moments earlier tried to disembark the train, clearly needed glasses. Granted, John isn’t as tall as Sherlock, but he isn’t small as a child either. John had tried to prevent the collision from happening, but the train was simply too crowded to move more than an inch. Sherlock on his part, had been too preoccupied with his phone to stop the stupid man. However, he quite enjoys having John plastered to his side after the incident, so there’s that.
A jolt makes a woman lose her balance, and to steady herself, she takes a small step toward John. Her high heel lands heavily on John’s foot, who cries out in pain.
“Watch your step!” Sherlock scolds the unlucky woman, who apologises with pink cheeks and a nervous laughter.
“It’s fine, Sherlock,” John mumbles, though his grimace tells another story.
“Are you hurt?”
“It’ll probably bruise, but nothing’s broken,” John assures him.
Sherlock looks sceptically down at him and manhandles John to stand closer to the side of the door where no one can reach him.
“Oi! I’m not a puppet you can just – “
“Shut up, John. I need my blogger and doctor unscathed.”
John starts to giggle once he’s finished rolling his eyes. This always leads to one thing – Sherlock joins him. It is impossible to stay imperious and aloof when he hears John’s laughter, which is extremely contagious.
“You madman,” John grins once he’s composed himself.
“You call me such lovely things, John.” Sherlock says softly, quietly.
John inhales sharply and meets Sherlock’s gaze. The silent conversation that takes place, is impossible for the other passengers to decipher, but the sparks that fly like fireworks through the train, does indeed register. Not on the Richter scale, but close.
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[#FFF361 Watch Your Step ]
Where are your characters going? What are they watching out for? Are they avoiding people in a crowd? Carefully traversing a dangerous path? Or simply trying to not get wet from all the puddles? And if they do misstep...how bad are the consequences? It's time for you to go write and let us know! Let your ideas flow!!
Meelo vaulted across the dining hall to slam into her for a hug. It took all of her combat training to keep from falling backwards and breaking her back over the duffle bag slung over her shoulder.
“Meelo, we’ve talked about this. I’m getting too old to catch you like that.”
Rather than reply, Meelo went running off down the hall toward his father’s study.
She greeted Pema and the girls, even getting a red bean bun fresh from the steamer. Pema’s side-eye wasn’t even really very aggravated.
She was beginning to turn around when Pema warned, “Watch your step, Meelo! Don’t crowd up behind people like that.”
Kya looked behind herself to see her nephew managing to keep his grumbling almost under control.
He looked up at her. “Dad says he’s in the middle of something. Can you go find Lin down the hidden stairs? He says to bring her back up here for dinner.”
Kya shrugged. “I can do that. I haven been down that way in a long time.”
Meelo snapped his fingers. “Oh yeah. Dad said you should watch your step. He said those stairs got broken a while back and he never got them fixed.”
She looked up to see Pema’s face fall from a smile into sadness. When their eyes met, Kya knew just when those stairs got ‘broken.’
With a calming breath, she patted Meelo on the shoulder, nodded to Pema, and went off to find Lin.
Outside, the late afternoon was beautiful. The breeze was light, and the scudding clouds overhead gave a dappled quality to the sunlight. She looked around and made sure none of the children or acolytes were paying any attention when she hopped over a fence and oriented herself to find the stairs Bumi and Izumi had originally laid out so many years before.
Once Lin had started bending, she had worked over the years to shore up the stairs and make them sturdier and safer. Su had contributed some decorative motifs when she was small, but by the time Kya left to travel, Su was already not coming to the Island very often.
And then, she gathered, it had been how Lin and Tenzin had escaped from their duties or other unwanted attention.
But when she reached the first stair, it looked fresh and clean.
In fact, there was a yellow lily that had clearly been recently cut laying there.
Kya picked it up. There was no note, nothing to indicate why the flower was there. She argued with herself, but decided to hold on to it. She glanced further along the winding stone stairs, and thought she spotted another.
By the time she got to the bottom of the stairs, she was holding more flowers than she could count. Pink, blue, yellow, red… she didn’t even know the names of several of them.
But they smelled wonderful, and she was having a nice time rearranging them the more she gathered on the walk down.
Once she reached the bottom of the staircase near the shoreline, the line of flowers meandered away past a rocky outcropping.
And at the top, Lin sat with one knee bent in front of herself, her arms wrapped around her leg. She was gazing away to the horizon, apparently oblivious to Kya’s approach.
It took her breath away, looking up at her. Lin’s hair was looser than usual, and longer than Kya typically got to see it (out in public anyway). The yellowing rays of the sun illuminated her left side, nearly making her glow against a bank of storm clouds far off to the east.
Kya walked a little further toward the water, hoping to cross Lin’s line of sight, even if it meant leaving some of the flowers on the ground a little longer.
The smile on Lin’s face was so soft, yet so distinct. Kya felt her heart race when Lin turned her face to meet her eyes.
“You’re early.”
Kya chuckled.
“Only by a few hours. You look awfully prepared to me. Were all these,” she lifted the spontaneous bouquet in her arms, “all for me?”
Lin inclined her head, still smiling. She shifted to her right, opening some space. She waved her left hand over that face of the rock, spilling a set of stairs down to the sand.
“Care to join me? Just leave the flowers and watch your step.”
Kya leaned in to take another lungful of the flowers’ perfume before finding a spot where they weren’t likely to get swept away if the tide came in. She kept her right hand on the rock’s face as she toed her way up to meet Lin.
When she was at eye level, Lin leaned over for a kiss.
The relief of it swayed her until Lin reached over and grabbed her left elbow, helping her edge closer and take a seat. Once Kya was settled, they linked their hands and turned back to watch the waves in the distance.
“You fixed the stairs,” Kya ventured.
Lin squeezed her hand.
“I should have a long time ago.” Her thumb rubbed against Kya’s hand. “They never complained, never asked. They just let the trees grow, and these kids never found them.” She blew an amused scoff.
Kya leaned over to steal another kiss. “Meelo might start asking questions about the ‘hidden stairs,’ after tonight.”
Lin’s smile turned a little sharp.
“Who do you think helped me set out all those flowers?”
Kya blinked. “Really?”
Lin dropped her hand long enough to lean over to the other side of the rock. When she straightened, there was a small red box in her hand. She twisted it until a latch was visible.
She extended it to Kya, her face a mix of relaxed and intense. She extended the box, clearly inviting Kya to open it. Inside was a pair of silver earrings with red jewels.
“A bit off your usual blues, I know. But I made them from some red jade Poppy left for me.”
Kya reached out and swapped them for the ones she had been wearing.
The change in Lin’s expression told her how they looked.
“Watch your step, Beifong, or I’ll be expecting gifts like this all the time.”
Lin’s smile brightened further. She reached around the box and lifted a tab, revealing a ring.
You felt strong fingers grip your bicep, firm but not hard enough to bruise. The hand pulled you to the side, fast enough that you nearly tripped over your own feet.
“What the hell, Dean?”
The hunter said nothing, just tipped his chin towards where you’d been walking, where you’d just been about to step.
There, in the dirt path, was a pile of steaming–
“Horse shit,” Dean said concisely, a scowl on his face. He looked around, making sure no more piles were in the vicinity. “This place is disgusting.”
“It’s authentic,” you said, trying to keep a straight face.
“Authentic? That guy over there’s on a cell phone. That woman in the candle tent is paying for her fifteen new candles with a credit card!” The crease in his brow deepened. “And who the hell buys fifteen candles at one time? There’s something suspicious about her…”
“Dean,” Sam hissed from the other side of his brother, watching as Dean’s other hand inched toward his belt, toward the gun. “Do not pull your gun on that woman.”
“Lighten up, Dean,” you said. “Try to enjoy yourself.”
“Enjoy myself?” Dean repeated. “We’re out here, baking in the sun, almost stepping in shit, watching people flounce around in medieval clothing, acting as if that time period was really better than what we have today. I mean, come on, half these people would’ve bit it during the Black Plague, and they know it!”
Sam gave a pained smile to an aghast family that passed by, the mother covering her young child’s ears with her hands. “Dean, tone it down.”
“No, Sammy, I will not. I’m tired of being strung along by you two to these ridiculous places all in the name of ‘fun’. This isn’t ‘fun’-- this is a history lesson in the middle of nowhere. And–” Dean’s eyes widened, his rant halting. He sniffed once, twice. “Is that…” He turned, his eyes landing on the source of the smell. “Oh, hell yeah. Now that’s what I’m talking about!”
You and Sam watched as Dean trotted over to the stall selling smoked turkey legs.
“Remind me why we brought him with us?” Sam said quietly to you.
“Because you and I both know he’s secretly a nerd.”
“And a glutton,” Sam added, grimacing slightly at the two oversized turkey legs in his brother’s hands. “Is that… bacon-wrapped?”
Dean nodded as he took a huge bite from one. “You know it.” He took another bite before even swallowing the first. “Guy said there’s a jousting tournament in five minutes. Come on!”
He turned and headed to the left at a quick pace.
“Weaponry and meat,” you said with a small shake of your head. “And Dean thought this wouldn’t be up his alley.”
You and Sam followed the elder hunter. Your eyes noticed the mess just a split-second before disaster. “Dean, look–!”
The two of you heard the squish, even from a few feet away. Dean froze in place, looking down at his boot, fully pressed into a smelly brown heap. “Son of a bitch!”
Written (late) for @flashfictionfridayofficial
FFF361: Watch Your Step
Fandom: Arcane
Ship: Marvika (Pre-canon Margot X Sevika)
Word Count: 728
CW: Recreational drug use (mentioned), sex work (implied)
Summary: Sevika picks Margot up from work, even though they've been fighting. (They're around 21 here)
Though some would claim otherwise, Margot hated topside as much as the next undercity resident. Probably more on nights when hands wandered and tips ran low. But the fact was that a solid one-night gig dancing in Lower Piltover could cover her rent for a month. Three if she smuggled some of Renni’s powder over the bridge and let the factory foremen and mine supervisors snort bumps off the divets above her collarbones.
And a job like the one old man Chross set up tonight—a gentleman’s club way up in the Academy District, the type littered with doctors and judges with wandering eyes and full pockets—could be enough to get her and Sevika a place of their own out in Bilgewater. Away from the mines and the grey and the enforcers. Away from the self-styled revolutionaries who hardly knew their asses from their elbows, much less how to run a fully autonomous city-state.
She and Sevika got into it every time Margot found work topside—just like they did whenever Sev pulled a risky job for Vander and Silco and didn’t charge for it—but tonight’s argument had felt more dramatic than usual. Maybe permanent. But at least bad enough that Margot stormed out of their shitty apartment in her costume, all tight leather and stiletto heels, completely forgetting the bag with her clothes to change into after.
Margot sighed as she stepped out onto the quiet Piltie cobblestones a few hours before dawn. The walk home at this hour was unpleasant at the best of times, but now—half-naked and largely unarmed, carrying more cash than most fissure folk touched in half a year—it was sure to become a full-fledged safety hazard.
She had just turned onto the main road, wondering if her nails were sharp enough to dig an eye out if she were pressed, when one of her heels caught on the cobbles and threw her off balance. She would have landed face first if not for a familiar arm grabbing her around the waist.
“Watch your step,” Sevika said, the hand moving away once Margot regained her balance.
“What the hell are you doing here, Sev?” Margot asked, her voice coming out more tired than acidic.
Her girlfriend—ex-girlfriend?—shrugged.
“You left your shit.” Without another word, Sevika handed over the bag Margot had forgotten by their bedroom door. “Figured you wouldn’t wanna walk home in those stilts.”
“What’s it to you now, anyway?” Margot crossed her hands over her chest, pouting despite herself. “I’m just some sellout who’d do anything for a quick buck, right?”
Sevika sighed. “I never said that.”
Margot rolled her eyes. “Sev, I was your first,” she said. “I can make you squirt rivers for me without even touching you. Since when have you ever had to say a word for me to know what you’re thinking, what you want?”
Sevika let her gaze trail languidly over Margot’s entire body, sending a rush of wanting through her that had been absent while she danced all night. “What am I thinking now, doll, since you know everything?”
Margot grinned despite herself. “That I’m too good a lay to walk away from, even if I’m never gonna be one of your protest broads.”
“Close enough,” Sev said, and kissed her, all smoke and bottom shelf whiskey, and something faintly sweet. Margot melted into it, her head tilting back as Sevika licked the length of her neck and then nibbled on her collarbone. “You’re perfect for me, doll.”
“We’re in the middle of the street,” Margot warned when her girlfriend’s hand found its way between her thighs. “I’m not trying to spend another night in Stillwater for indecent exposure.”
One more kiss and Sevika released her. “Change your shoes and let me take you home.”
Margot used Sev’s forearm for balance as she stepped out of her heels and into a pair of well worn black boots. She hissed a little as the heel brushed against a fresh blister, and Sev’s eyes clouded over with concern.
“Need me to carry you, doll?”
“Need is a strong word,” Margot told her. “But if you insist…”
She’d be lying if she ever said she got tired of it, the way Sev scooped her up one-handed and carried her back to the Lanes. She feared she’d completely be fucked over this woman until the day she finally kicked it.
