[Better than a king's secrets? He's about to question her sincerity when the attack from behind comes, and too quickly for him to react. Sherlock had entertained the idea of an ambush, but usually Irene kept their battles as private affairs. He shouts as his arms are crushed into his sides, but is silenced quickly enough, still managing to glare at that woman as everything fades out.
When he wakes, bolting upright and coughing, he can immediately tell he's on board a ship; the swaying is unmistakable. He curses, twice when he realizes his hands are tied behind his back. The lavish bed he's been placed on could be no other's than Irene's, his head formerly resting on a collection of finely embroidered pillows, and curtains drawn back around the four posts. Moonlight shines out from the window behind the head board-- he hasn't been out long. He struggles up to his knees to look out, only to see the lights of the port, and his own ship, fading in the distance.
no subject
When he wakes, bolting upright and coughing, he can immediately tell he's on board a ship; the swaying is unmistakable. He curses, twice when he realizes his hands are tied behind his back. The lavish bed he's been placed on could be no other's than Irene's, his head formerly resting on a collection of finely embroidered pillows, and curtains drawn back around the four posts. Moonlight shines out from the window behind the head board-- he hasn't been out long. He struggles up to his knees to look out, only to see the lights of the port, and his own ship, fading in the distance.
A bit not good.]