Subject: The Science of Suedom, part 6
Author:
Posted on: 2012-10-01 01:00:00 UTC
Chapter Six
His heart pounding wildly in his chest, John rushes on through the woods in pursuit of Sherlock. The leaves in this part of the forest certainly look treaded-on, so he follows their paths, hoping against hope that Sherlock has caught, charged, and killed the Sue already.
Just as he stops to take a quick breath, he hears voices through the trees.
“How did you guess that?” a female voice asks, clearly amused. There’s a pause, and then Sherlock responds in kind.
“The message.”
“Ah, so your partner was right.”
“I was right, too. You did want revenge, in some way.”
“But it was also part of my name. Rachewen, maiden of the West.” The woman’s voice has a distinctive lilt. “It’s certainly nice to see you again.”
Sherlock either says something far too quiet, or nothing at all. John’s not sure what; he strains to hear them without being seen himself; he can barely make out their forms in the clearing ahead.
“Have you been enjoying the puzzle I set out for you?” Rachewen asks, and John can almost see the grin on her face. “Of course, I’d have kept myself the way I was, but he insisted.”
“He?” echoes Sherlock.
“Theimprobableone,” replies Rachewen, obviously attempting to sound mysterious.
“The consulting Suethor,” agrees Sherlock, his voice resigned. “He has far too much time on his hands, doesn’t he?”
John strains even more to hear the conversation; slowly he creeps forward, towards their clearing. He notches an arrow to the bowstring, breath baited with anticipation. Within the clearing sits Sherlock and Rachewen the Sue; a stone separates them, and on the stone sits two goblets, obviously elvish-wrought with inlays of alabaster and mother-of-pearl.
“Ah, I see,” Sherlock says, the boredom still evident in his words. “That would explain why I couldn’t remember your name or your appearance, and why your friend Celeste couldn’t do the same, either.”
“Just so. Are you ready to play?” asks the Sue.
“Two goblets of wine. Explain.”
“One of them is poisoned.”
“No, both of them are, but you have a natural immunity to the poison used,” retorts Sherlock.
“I swear that I don’t.”
“You’re Vala. How do I trust that?”
“The ring. I concentrated all of my immorality, all of my power into that ring.” John peers into the clearing, sees the Sue staring longingly at the ring that Sherlock is twiddling. “Without that ring, I am as mortal as you.”
“Ah, a deus ex machina. Of course.” Sherlock laughs harshly, putting the ring away and looking ready to stand up.
“Don’t chicken out on me,” sneers the Sue. Sherlock raises an eyebrow. “Play the game, or are you too scared to lose?”
“I don’t have to play. You aren’t obliging me in any way.”
“You know, theimprobableone told me so many things about my kind. Said we had this special… aura… that we could use to coerce people into doing our will. Neat, isn’t it?”
“The Aura of Smooth. Yes. I’m aware of that – that’s how you character-replaced those canons.”
“You wouldn’t like it very much if I used it on you, no?”
“Obviously not, but you won’t use it.”
Rachewen raises an eyebrow. “No?”
“No, because then it wouldn’t be fair, and you wouldn’t derive any sort of satisfaction from beating me.”
“Mary Sues never play fair.”
“Excellent point, but now that you’ve been made aware of your situation, you –”
At that moment, the Sue pounces across the rock, latching herself onto the surprised younger Agent, her hands at his throat and her lips on his. Sherlock falls back, flailing wildly, and John’s heart nearly leaps into his throat.
“SHERLOCK!” he shouts, and the rest is a blur of red in his eyes. It’s only after the arrow has sailed through the air and lodged firmly in the back of the Mary Sue that John even realises that she’d been shot.
Sherlock clambers to his feet, leaves tangled in his hair and eyes wide with shock. John walks closer to his new partner, noticing the bruises from the Sue’s fingertips around his neck, bruises from the Sue’s kiss on his lips.
“Are you all right?” he asks Sherlock, who turns back and looks at the whimpering, dying Sue, an eyebrow raised.
“You just killed her,” he says.
John feels like laughing. “Well, you know, I’m an Assassin. That’s kinda what I do.”
“Nice shot.”
“Thank you.”
“You found the canons?”
“I let them out of the plothole, yes. They should be back at the Council. Not sure if they did anything to their impostors, though.” John purses his lips. “We ought to charge Rachewen and dispose of her before we take care of that, though.”
“Fair enough.” Sherlock nods, and John walks over to the Sue, kicking her over so that she is facing them. She winces, horror quite literally etched all over her face. It looks rather painful.
“Rachewen, you are hereby charged with: being a Mary Sue, replacing the characters of Legolas Thranduillion and Frodo Baggins, aiding and abetting subordinate Sues, screwing with the appearance of Rivendell, being the daughter of Manwë and Varda, using an deus ex machina Extra Ring of Power, screwing with numerology, creating mini-Balrogs Bruien, Elrod, and Aragon, and screwing with your own fic in order to hide from justice. For that, you are sentenced to death. Any last words?”
“He’s after you, Agent Holmes. He won’t stop!” cries Rachewen as John shoots another arrow into her heart.
Sherlock only raises an eyebrow, taking a step back and observing her corpse with distaste.
