Character(s): Holmes, Watson
Summary: Holmes makes like an earthworm.
Author's Notes: BBC Sherlock-verse. Fill for July 28th prompt: "Enclosed spaces."
Word Count: 221B
Sherlock’s backside wriggled as he tried to shove himself further into the crevice in the house’s foundation. A flailing kick hit John’s shin, and unintelligible mutters drifted back. John considered interpreting them as an apology, but he knew that they were far more likely to be a demand for the torch that the detective had not thought to bring with him in his annelidical escapades. He considered telling Sherlock to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine, but then considered the probable response: “Well, of course. That’s exactly what I want to do with it.” He lifted his foot, looked down at the visible portion of Sherlock that wagged so temptingly in the air, and then sighed and shoved the torch past Sherlock’s hip. A grunt was the only audible acknowledgment, but the torch disappeared quickly.
Shortly thereafter, the foot scrabblings increased dramatically, and Sherlock’s lower half moved forward much more quickly than it had been doing hitherto. In fact, John mused, it did not look as if he was moving under his own power, but before the significance of that thought reached him, the detective’s feet had vanished. John looked into the crevice, but even the glow of the torch was gone. He stretched his hand forward blindly. All that met his reaching fingers was the wall of the basement.