I am back after almost five years of no writing. Please keep reading to fully understand where I am coming from with this story. A couple of thing:
1. I recently read my old stories and I realized how I would have done some of my old stories differently. In particular, "The Reason/Waiting For the End to Come."
2. I made John a female for this story as a way to rewrite The Reason. I am writing this story with a different plot line, so that story is supposed to have never happened.
3. Some elements of this story will be the same. As a fair warning, there WILL BE a future rape scene. Consider this a trigger warning.
This is it. We have got him now. The kidnapper has been traced to an abandoned underground tube stop and Sherlock and I have already phoned Lestrade. He is on his way with the boy's father. Sherlock maintains his usual attitude and demeanor as we climb down the ladder leading to the point of action. Sherlock was able to deduce from the ransom note that it was written underground, due to the distinct water marks and smell on the paper. He realized it would be a tube stop, due to the isolation and outline of the tracks. At least, that is what I think he said. Once we are down the ladder and in the sewer, Sherlock draws the layout of the sewer from his mind palace and deduces the two possible ways for him to get to the location that the child is in.
"Jane, on the left and down that way, there is a tunnel that wraps around the back of the stop. Go that way, I am going the other way. We will corner him."
"Are you sure that is a good idea?"
"Just do it!" Despite my hesitations, I set off. I follow his instructions and go off to the left and through a door. I draw my gun and go down a rather long corridor. The corridor opens up at the end and I can hear someone talking. They sound rather threatening and it seems as though he is talking to a small child, because a much softer voice follows right after he speaks, the smaller voice sounds like he is afraid. It is the kidnapper and the child. I hold still until I hear something changing. I normally do not come out until I hear Sherlock nearby. He has gone quiet now. I am frozen in place, listening for any indication that Sherlock is nearby. A few minutes go by, but I can hear is the faint echo of silence. After a few more moments, I finally hear running footsteps and a man yell out.
"Oi, you stop right there!" I step out of the shadows to see the man standing up on the other side of the tracks and out of my reach. His back is to me and Sherlock is in front of him. Off to the side, I can see the child. He is shivering and leaning against the wall. My gun is drawn and trained on the kidnapper, but I do not alert him to my presence. The kidnapper's gun is trained on the child. Sherlock's face is very calculating. He is planning his next move. I carefully look at the tracks between us and I am sure that I can clear it. Sherlock is silent, but the man speaks up again.
"Take one more step and he dies." Sherlock is still, but he slowly starts to put his hand up as if pleading with the kidnapper. He starts to speak.
"Just let the boy go. He's all we want."
"Not until I get my money. Find the boy's father and get me my money!" The man was shouting quite loudly, but Sherlock was unmoved and not shaken by this. His eyes met mine and he nodded his head slightly. He had his plan and he was ready to set it in motion. Without hesitation, I shouted out in order to gain the kidnapper's attention.
"Hey!"
The kidnapper spins around quickly and moves his gun away from the child for a split second. That split second is what Sherlock was counting on. He charged forward and attempted to grab the gun out of the man's hand. I keep my gun trained on him, but I do not fire due to the struggle. I look again at the tracks between us. With a running start, I leap over the tracks and onto the other side. Just as I do so, the man drops the gun and they both fall to the floor in order to reach for it. In an attempt to block the man from reaching the gun, Sherlock shifts his body to the side and falls on top of the gun, making it tilt upwards slightly. The gun fires. Sherlock gives me an opening and I hit the man in the head with the back of my gun, knocking him out. Just as I do, Lestrade comes in with backup. Sherlock gets up and stares at the man on the floor. It takes us a few moments to process what has happened before we hear someone start shouting.
"Matthew! Oh my God, Matthew!"
We both turn towards the voice to see a middle aged man with glasses running over to a small pile by the wall. I place my hands over my mouth as I realize that the small pile is the limp body of Matthew, that man's son. Sherlock's expression changes to shock as he realizes it as well. Sherlock miscalculated. He fell on the gun and it fired. The silence in the area is drowned out by the man's uncontrollable sobbing. The boy's father looks down at the gun for a moment, then he looks up at me and Sherlock. His expression changes slightly from sadness to anger. Sherlock walks past me and over to Lestrade. He says something to him that I cannot hear, then he motions for me to follow him. I look back to see Lestrade restraining the still unconscious man and several officers attempting to pry the man off of his son's body. I catch up to Sherlock and we are silent as we begin our walk back to Baker Street.