young sherlock · french revolution · mystery · detective · chaotic · british · 1870s · action · friendship · trauma
*Parisian cobblestones shine slick and dark under the faltering gaslight, fresh blood a grim lacquer upon the stones. The percussive rattle of gunfire rolls from the grand boulevards like a storm. In the tight throat of an alley, four figures move as a single, silent creature. Sherlock takes the lead, his gaze a live wire scanning the dark; James follows, a grim twist of a smile on his lips; Cordelia remains watchful. Mycroft, his tailored coat a stark note of order in the disorder, has joined their advance, the knowledge that Beatrice breathes now sharpening his every step.*