Chapter One
Blood… pain… screaming… my screaming… shouting… hands… even more pain… impact… over.
The world was nothing but a series of never-ending flashes, brief glimpses of reality, and then darkness. Everything was jumping all over the place; time came and went like wisps of smoke. For a minute, I feared that I had gone mad, and I couldn't be entirely certain that I hadn't.
Finally, I managed to open my eyes again, and I was met with a world that had been tinted red. Blood was dropping from the ceiling, smeared across the walls and soaking my clothes. I felt sick to the stomach; it was easily the most blood soaked crime of my career, and yet I seemed to be in the middle of it – involved, instead of the detective. I tried to push myself up, taking note of the fact that my hand exactly matched the bloodied handprints that stained the walls.
I didn't know how any of it had happened, and my confusion only deemed when I realised what surrounded me. Five bodies. They were all brutish men, all at least six feet tall and all butchered. The attack had been both frenzied in its hurry, perhaps as self-defence, and yet clearly the work of someone who had knowledge of this area. The group must have encircled their victim quite closely, enough that I could see the swipe of a blade had felled two of them effortlessly. It was clearly a person who was accustomed to silence; the steadiness of the hand, and not to mention the repeated stabbings long after the fatal cut, indicated someone who had no trouble killing. Perhaps, they even relished it.
The height of the wounds, and the trajectory of their cuts, suggested a person who was reasonably tall and fairly strong, but not excessively. They had enough muscle to fight them off one, perhaps even two, at a time, but the knife was necessary. They had clearly known where to strike for maximum impact.
What had the men been after? Oh, simple; looking more carefully, I found the blood strains across the front of their trousers. There were no cuts to the fabric, so the blood was not their own. The dried semen and undone zips was all the further evidence that I needed. They were rapists.
I removed my gaze from the men and turned it instead to my own predicament. How had I been involved in all of this? Had I helped the victim escape, or stumbled across the crime and tried to intervene? Or, was I on a case. I couldn't remember what had happened last night; I could have been on a case.
I paused. As I had tried to step over one of the bodies, a sharp stab of pain had made its presence known in my side, and I hissed slightly. My fingertips went to the site by instinct and came away web with blood. Realising my oversight, I quickly did an inventory of other injuries. My stomach was on fire, perhaps the men had attacked me before the victim got hold of the knife, my wrists were raw and bloodied, at least two of my ribs were cracked and there was a burning sensation between my legs.
I grimaced at the collective sensation of my injuries, but chose the stab wound to my stomach as my main concern for the moment. If they had pierced the Celiac Artery, I would need immediate medical attention, or risk necrosis to multiple organs. It would only get worse, so I would have to get away whilst I still could.
Looking around, I found the door to my left and struggled towards it, using the wall as a support. Thankfully, it hadn't been locked, and I was able to stumble out into the corridor and towards the entrance, which was open to the night. I tried to move as quickly as I could, but I was tired and aching and confused. It was not a familiar feeling for me.
The night was frosty and unwelcoming, but I struggled onwards for as long as I could. I knew the abandoned office building that I had been in, and I knew there was a train station five minutes away. If I could reach the train station then there would be people, and I would be able to get help.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I berated myself for not thinking to use it. My fingers were numb and clumsy as I pulled it out, quickly bringing it to my ear,
"Lestrade—"
"Sherlock, why the Hell did you run off earlier? We've been looking for you for hours, and you haven't been picking up—" He continued to ramble on, but my attention turned instead to the pain in my stomach. My knees buckled beneath me, sending me tumbling to the ground, and my phone fell a few inches away from me. Lestrade must have heard my pained gasp because he asked, "Sherlock? What's wrong? Are you alright?"
I fumbled blindly for the phone, unable to lift my head, and finally managed to put it to my ear,
"I need John. I need a doctor, or I'm going to bleed to death in the next thirty minutes." Lestrade was silent for a second, before he said,
"Where are you?"
"Trace the call. Same as the study in pink," I said, as I rolled over. I let out a moan of pain, which only seemed to worry him further, "You have my email, and my password is Bombus hypnorum. Quickly."
There was the sound of Lestrade rushing around, but I couldn't tell where he was exactly. He was probably just doing overtime,
"Keep talking to me, Sherlock. Stay awake. What happened?"
"I don't know." That single sentence seemed to worry Lestrade more than anything, and I could hear him begin to move more quickly, "I blacked out."
"Does that happen often?" I shook my head, before realising that he couldn't see me, and said,
"Not since I was young."
"Please, tell me you're not back on drugs." I chuckled slightly, groaning as I felt the first drops of rain against my skin, closing my eyes as the droplets began to crash down upon me,
"You are the last person I would talk to if I was."
"Got it, I'm coming now. Just stay right there?"
"How am I supposed to move?" He chuckled slightly, but it sounded choked,
"You've got me there."
I coughed, spluttering and gasping for air, as the blood filled my lungs. There must have been another injury, masked by the larger stomach wound, which I hadn't taken into account. Lestrade was calling out my name, shouting at me to stay awake, but it was too late. I finally succumbed to the exhaustion weighing down my body.
The rain felt surprisingly nice in that moment.