Chapter 2

"Never, will I help you, if he dies. If you do not him the medication, you will never get your precious information. Give him the anecdote, and I will help you, but not before then will one helpful hint escape my mouth." He spat the words, which were dripping with hatred. For one long second, I thought he was going to attack her.

"Finally! Mr. Holmes, you have seen sense. I never really wanted to hurt your little friend, but I would have if I had had to." She grinned like a school girl and snapped her fingers. One of the guards came to her and gave an enormous needle. She sashayed forward slowly, taking her time to lengthen the moment. When she reached me, she pushed Mary away and Sherlock helped her to stand. By then, I couldn't feel my arms.

The woman leaned down and shook the needle slowly in front of my face. "I will give you this, but if your friend Sherlock here does not behave, then I will shoot you in that pretty face of yours." She pulled out her gun and pointed it at my forehead. "Or somewhere else." She lowered the gun slowly down my chest, pressing it into my body as she went. She drug out the last word, but not for me, for Sherlock. The world was getting pretty blurry now, and I felt that if she didn't give me the antidote soon, I would not last.

She jabbed the needle into my neck, and I shuddered in pain as now twice within ten minutes, a needle had entered my bones. Had it been only ten minutes? It had felt like an eternity. After a couple of seconds, the pain started to wash away. I wasn't in agony anymore, but my body still ached. It was like lying on a bed of ice that was pulsing endlessly. I had never felt so wonderfully pain free in my entire life.

Some men grabbed Sherlock and Mary, leading them toward a door on the other end of the warehouse.

The woman stepped back, holding the now empty needle, and I felt my hands being untied from behind the chair. The guards pulled me up, and I collapsed onto the floor. They yanked me up, more forcefully this time. I stumbled, and they practically dragged me towards the door that Mary and Sherlock had already been led through. When they opened the door, I was blinded by the outside light, and I stumbled again before the men hauled me up into a car of some kind.

Once I got I could see again, I saw that Sherlock was sitting across from me, with Mary draped across his shoulder. She was looking at me, her eyes now red from crying. She must have not been able to hold it together once she had been out of my sight.

"Oh John." Her voice cracked. "John." She cleared her throat. "John. John." She shook her head, like she was trying to erase the memory of all that had just happened. She tried to speak again, but no words escaped her lips. Sherlock stepped in.

"John… we are both… extremely worried about you. We…cannot express… how much… love… that we both have for you." He picked his words carefully, as if it was one of the last things he would ever say to me. "Mary,.. as your wife,.. and me,.. as your… brother. We…" Sherlock was never speechless. How was he now?

"Look, John. Sherlock is going to make this right. You will not suffer again. We will not allow it. You are everything to us, and, knowing I speak for the both of us here, hurt to see you like that." Mary gave me a knowing look, which meant that the discussion was closed, and I was alright with that, seeing as that was the most emotion I had ever seen from either of them.

They almost looked good together, like they should have been together, not Mary and me. Mary's head fit like a puzzle piece in his shoulder, and his head laid slightly on hers as if they had done it forever. I dismissed it, though, for the thoughts must have been from whatever those monsters had given me.

"So… how are we going to do this?" I said slowly. "Is there a plan? A course-of-action? I don't want to go into this blindly, you know." I strained to sit up straighter, and Sherlock sat taller as well.

"Not yet."

"Not yet?" I scoffed. "Not yet? Just when, would you be so kind to tell me, is the ingenious plan going to come about? It's not just going to appear out of thin air. And I'm sorry, but I am not going to offer my life up again just so that womancan play around with me." My voice dripped with sarcasm. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that." I shook my head, trying to clear it. All I knew was that moments ago, I had been in total agony, and I did not want to be again.

Mary slowly slid away from Sherlock came to my side. She draped her arm around me, and hugged me.

"Look, love," she said, pulling away to face me," I don't want to talk about what just happened. I'm just, I'm just glad that you are ok. Now, Sherlock is going to figure this out. I have full faith." She directed her words at Sherlock, almost like she was threatening him.

Sherlock bent forward and rubbed his temples. The car lurched forward, and we began to move away from the warehouse. The buildings started to blur together as we picked up speed, and Sherlock took out his phone; starting to type a message. The phone buzzed in his hands, and he typed furiously.

"Aaaahhh." He threw up his hands in disgust, his phone falling onto the floor. I picked it up and looked at it.

Lestrade:

Need to see the journal I gave to you.

Can't. It is already turned into evidence.

Lestrade. Now.

Can't. Sorry.

I started typing:

Emergency.

What is it?

Investigation gone bad. John's life on the life. Need that book.

Sherlock…

Please.

Sherlock tried to swipe the phone from my hand, but I swatted his hand away. We needed help, and he knew it just as well as I did.

Where are you guys?

On the way to the station.

We need help.

Work something out.

How long?

5 minutes.

We will be waiting for you.

I relented to Sherlock's insistent hands, and he snatched the phone away from me. He read it attentively, and when he was done, he sighed stubbornly and looked up at me.

"I could have done that."