thearena | closed; sherlock's death

The crevasse seemed to stretch on forever. They had been walking for some time, now, stopping once or twice to rest and to eat what meager supplies they had left, but there was still no way to climb up, that they could find. Even with Danny's axe.

Sherlock did not bother to mention the fact that two of his fingers on his right hand and at least three of his toes were well into the symptoms of frostbite. He'd complained about it once, when it was still half a joke, but as there was nothing either of them could do about it, continued complaints were pointless. He kept his failing body to himself.

The hunger was too obvious to mention.

Sherlock had never eaten much, especially while on a case - but he had never been in a situation where he had actually wanted to eat and it was completely unavailable to him. It was frustrating on an entirely new level.

He came to an abrupt halt as suddenly the crevasse ended - the further path too narrow for either of them to fit, and Sherlock cursed under his breath.

"Nothing," he said, happy to point out the obvious. "No way up here, either."

[ooc: tagging order: i was thinking sherlock, then danny, then lindsey, and then tony can jump into the thread whenever feels appropriate? y/y?]

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"Jury's out," Tony only half huffs out an answer to Danny as he slides himself to a stop. He doesn't even take the time to open the blade of his knife - time is too precious - Tony smashes the hilt of the knife into center of the sigil in the ice, striking at an angle to damage as much of the marking as he could in a single swing. In theory, at least.

"And yeah. Run. That's the plan," and that is actually the truth. It was as far as he'd gotten in this stupid ass whatever this is... Do we call it a rescue attempt, yet? He sees only enough of what Lindsey is up to oh-so-not-far-enough-away, to kind of panic-mumble-shout at his Damsel in Distress, "Agh! Down! Shit!"

It was just something that was ingrained in him as cop, when someone yells down, duck, hide or any variation thereof...he just did it. No thought, no wondering why. That particular skill had saved his life more than once.

That skill saved it this time as well. He went down to his stomach without even thinking as something flew overhead. In the process of flopping down like some sort of demented fish, he realized that he'd flung his limbs beyond the barrier. Whatever the damn thing was...it was gone. He could get the fuck out of here.

He hauled himself up, reaching over to his new companion and catching him under one shoulder. Danny hauled the new guy up in a less than gentle fashion and dragged him along as he fled. Adrenaline does amazing things doesn't it?

Lindsey was this close to getting both of them. Yet the man had to have the good instincts to duck, and the rest was, as they say, history.

The harpoon missed its target and the guy shot off the ice like a bat out of hell. Moving like vampires were on his tracks, his would-be prey had dragged Tony along and ran in the opposite direction.

Too bad, Lindsey would really have liked to get two more kills under his pouch. They had left so fast they even left the harpoon behind. Too bad for them.

closed; sherlock's death

Yeah, Danny! Jeeze!

Well! Fine! Be that way! :)

It's for your own good!