Stealth

"Sherlock! In the trees!"

Sherlock whipped toward the left, scanning the forest beside him for the threat.

As the two pellets thundered into his chest, a dark stain spread across his coat. Thrusting his hands out at John, who had sprinted out into the open to tend him, Sherlock gasped at him to, "Go!" After a moment of hesitation, John pursued their attacker deeper into the forest.

Sherlock scrambled up, grumpily brushing the remnants of paintball from his clothes and wrinkling his nose at the purple smears on his hands before clambering into the hide to watch the unfolding action. Molly was sitting, watching the pine martins nesting in the next tree with deep concentration, orange paint in a neat line across her shoulder. Sally, showing remarkable people skills, offered him a coffee from the Thermos in her backpack, hands mostly clean of orange too. Accepting it with a tiny, almost grateful twitch of the lips, Sherlock peered out again over the battleground.

Meanwhile, Greg crept along, alert and wary. Using the thick layer of moss growing at the outer edge of the path as cover for his footsteps, he inched forward through the forest. As a jackdaw shrieked overhead and the wind ghosted through the canopy, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Crossing onto the higher track that led up the hill, he froze as he thought he heard the faintest rustle in the undergrowth.

Pricking up his ears, he cocked his head to the right.

Oh bugger.

Amongst the green, well-camouflaged with paint, two bright blue eyes stared unblinking from the bushes, flicking in the vague direction of the tree trunk to his left. Swivelling, he caught a glimpse in his peripheral vision of grey-green eyes and a lick of pale blonde hair. In a split second, he was assaulted from both sides by a very enthusiastic Mary and a silent (but clearly pleased) John, with orange paint splattered from arms to knees.

"Proud of yourselves, are you?"

Mary looked at him as if butter wouldn't melt.

John just snickered and sauntered off, before yelling as a streak of orange made its way across his backside. By the time they got back to the hide, Mary was still laughing so hard she had to stop at the bottom of the ladder just to breathe.

A/N: I am a terrible person, I know. My first update in nearly a year! It has been a busy one, marked by a complete inability to come up with any ideas for new chapters or concentrate on fiction writing. Hopefully this will kickstart the muse again!