Torture
From our hiding place we saw the kidnapper as they pushed Holmes face in a pool with icy water again and again. Again they asked him about information; about the brotherhood, the members, about anything. But Holmes remained silent. He would never give it up. But what would happen when their patience snapped? What would they do to him?
All this went about for an hour yet and I wasn´t sure how long Holmes could stand it. I looked over to Lestrade but he shook his head. The time had not yet come. We had to wait for amplification.
At this moment they ducked Holmes head in the water again, far longer than earlier. As they pulled him back his eyes had an empty and forlorn look. He didn´t move anymore. One of the men cried he wouldn´t breath. Another approached Holmes and punched him in the face. Holmes gasped and began coughing. I could not wait any longer. It was enough now. I wanted to stand up but Lestrade held me back. Suddenly there were loud voices. The leader got angry. He thrust in one corner and began to kick him. Holmes didn´t move.
This was enough. I jumped up, ignored Lestrade and run into the room. Immediately the men turned around and pulled out their weapons. All, except the leader. He turned very slowly, using Holmes as a shield in front of him.
"Ah, Dr. Watson! We have been awaiting you. Surely you want us to release your dear friend, don´t you?" Lestrade and his men appeared behind me. We would have a fair chance now. But I didn´t think about this. My eyes were fixed upon Holmes. There was a big bruise over his right eye, his gaze was rigid, and his lids half down. There was only one thing I wanted to do: to secure him and take him home as fast as possible. But it was still a long way to this. Harrison, the leaded, drew a knife and held it on Holmes´s throat. "Only one step closer and the great detective won´t come out of this alive." he said scornfully. For one moment everything was silent. Everyone seemed to think about the best thing to do.
Then everything happened at once. My revolver fired at Harrison, who fell back, leaving a cut on Holmes wrist. Suddenly all one could hear were shots and cries floating through the room. It was like a war.
After a few minutes it was over. There were victims on both sites, cries and murmurs of the wounded. But this all passed my mind.
I ran over to Holmes, kneeling beside him. With every heartbeat the blood splashed from his wrist. As fast as I could I tied my scarf around it to stop the bleeding. He still didn´t move. After I had finished my provisionally bandage I carefully set him up against the wall and supported his head with my hands. "Holmes, can you hear me?" I said. "Look at me! Holmes, please. Please, look at me!" panic rose inside of me. The loss of the blood and the punishment had been very hard. If he became unconscious his chances would be very bad. "Holmes, look at me", I cried again. Slowly his half closed eyes turned in my direction till they met mine. But his gaze was full of pain, sadness and emptiness. It hurt me so much to see him like this and I wished I would never had let him go alone. I placed my hand on his cheek. "You have to stay awake. Do you hear me? Stay awake!" I pulled my flask out of my pocket and gave him sip. I had to bring him out of here and examine him as far as possible.
"Come on! You have to stay awake!" I shook him by the shoulders. He closed his eyes for a moment just to open them again abruptly like he woke up from a dream. He took a deep breath and I put him on this feet. Lestrade and his men had gone leaving Harrisons body behind. I lead Holmes out of the building into the next cab.
I didn´t even tried to bring him to hospital. I knew he wouldn´t let me. As the cab drove on I started to examine his wounds, starting on his head. He had sunk back into the cushions and watched me with tired eyes. "Good shot", he said silently. I smiled because of this unimportant observation.
Reaching Baker Street I looked Holmes over carefully and put on a fresh bandage. He had lost a lot of blood. But thanks to my fast action it wasn´t alarming. In addition to this he had many bruises, two broken rips and a slight concussion. He was lucky. I injected morphium and he slowly fell asleep.
And as I sat down in my old armchair in front of the fire, watching Holmes white shape on the couch, I was overwhelmed by a feeling of deep and sincere gratitude. I was grateful for everything; for our lodgings with all the chemicals and papers, the strong smell of tobacco, for all his moods and vibes, the successes and failures, the dangers and joys, for our friendship and all the Things we shared.
I´m so grateful for it all.