First of all I want to thank all those who are subscribing and adding alerts for this. I can't tell you how appreciative I am. I also want to thank IamDoctorWholocked, Nos, and chaoticmom for their reviews. They are helpful and keep the motivation up.
Spoilers for "The Adventure of the Illustrious Client" canon still holds but my own brainstorm will start to happen in this chapter. I hope you continue to enjoy. If not, please let me know why.
As always, I do not own anything pertaining to Sherlock Holmes nor the BBC's updated rendition, Sherlock.
John was scheduled to work the next day and it was a bit hectic. A minor traffic accident with cuts and contusions came early in the day. A couple of skateboarders got carried away hotdogging and ended up with a badly twisted knee and multiple abrasions. Thank god they had been wearing the proper equipment. By the time his shift was over he was more then ready to head home for a hot cuppa and a leisurely soak. He had just gotten out of cab, paid up and was turning towards his front door when it was flung open by a scruffy teen who jumped the step and bolted down the sidewalk.
"I do hope that was one of the Irregulars"
"It was."
"And Baron Gruner?"
"He was expecting me, "sooner or later", in his words. It seems he knew that Miss de Merville's family would seek to keep this union from happening."
"I suppose he didn't back down."
"Oh, most decidedly not. I have been warned off."
John looked at him sharply. "Warned off, how?'
"The ruin of my reputation, at the least. Bodily harm if I prove persistent."
"He would do it too, wouldn't he."
"No question. A french agent was crippled permanently for investigating him."
"How did you find that out?"
"The Baron told me. He is not above boastfulness, but he is a man who would say less then he means."
John racked a hand through his hair and cast a long glance towards his flatmate."I don't have to tell you how dangerous this all sounds."
"Oh, yes, most dangerous indeed."
John didn't miss the brief widening of those clear hazel eyes, and the tight feral smile that touched Sherlock's lips. He was in his element. The rich baritone was close to a purr.
"And Miss de Merville?"
"I will need some concrete proof to lay before this young lady that is why I have put the Irregulars on his scent. He trifles with affections and brings them to ruin. The Baron has been in England for some time. I have every confidence that they can find an unfortunate victim brave and willing enough to speak out against him. They will be protected, of course."
"God, I would hope so. I suppose it would do no good to alert Lestrade?"
"None."
"Right."
000
The next day, John came home to an empty flat. He wasn't surprised. Sherlock was on the hunt. John knew that it might be awhile before the consulting detective made an appearance. He took a hot shower and made a light supper of tea and Mrs. Hudson's scones, then settled into his chair to indulge himself in some mindless crap tele.
He was awakened from a light doze by the brash sound of the doorbell. Giving an annoyed huff, he went down stairs.
"Who is it?"
"It's Greg."
John opened the door and stepped back. "Come in"
"Thank you, John, I know it's a bit late."
John waved the would be apology aside. "It's alright, I'm not tired."
"Sherlock in?"
The two made their way back up the the flat. Lestrade taking a seat while John moved towards the lab/kitchen. "Get you something?"
"I'm off duty, so a beer, if you have any."
"He's working on a case for a private client." John handed Lestrade a cold bottle and took his own chair.
"Ah. Thank you." He took the bottle and sipped.
"I have a case with a few points that I would like to run by him, just to make sure I've got them in the right context..."
221B was suddenly filled with the persistent ringing of the bell and what sounded like a full out assault on the door itself.
"What the bloody hell."
John was out of his chair and charging down the stairs, :Lestrade close on his heels. John flung the door open to find a knot of people gathered on the step.
"I do hope you are a doctor. This man refused an ambulance..."
"Up stairs, now! Lestrade, show them where the bathroom is!"
John ordered sharply as he spun on his heel and bolted up to his room, grabbing up his medical bag and fully charged kit. He had caught the glimpse of a bowed head, dark hair glistening wetly. In no way were those bright red highlights water. He came back down to find the setting room the scene of a small whirlwind. The eye being the injured party.
"Just...stop! Every one...just do, shut up!"
The voice was pain filled and broken but it brought a stunned silence to the chaos. Lestrade and John recovered quickly and moved to flank him.
"Sherlock, we've got to get you into the bathroom."
"I think, I would rather lie down."
"No. not yet. By the looks you have a rather nasty head wound. Your bleeding profusely. I have to take a look. You have to be setting up where I can get at it. Are you injured anywhere else."
"Ribs, shoulders.."
"How many where there."
"Do try not to be dull, Lestrade."
"Assailants. How many."
"Two, that I saw. A possible third."
As they conversed, Sherlock was maneuvered into the bathroom. Once seated and braced up by two of the witnesses, John went to work finding the head wound. He discovered two deep lacerations. He grabbed a barber's razor and a roll of gauze to clear the area and get the bleeding under control in preparation of suturing the wounds closed. While John was in full medical mode, Lestrade became all business as well. It would also help distract Sherlock while John tended to his torn scalp.
"Do you know who is responsible for this?"
"I know who sent them...yes."
"Who."
"I'm working on it. I need use of a phone."
"Can't it wait."
"No...it cannot."
Lestrade took stock of Sherlock's breathing pattern and it wasn't good. The man was drawing breath from the base of his throat that indicated the inability or reluctance to draw deep breaths. John noticed as well.
"If you would, strip him to the waist. I'll check his ribs as soon as I'm done here."
As gently as he could, Lestrade worked on the waistcoat and dress shirt easing each open and back off the injured man's shoulders.
"Oh, dear... God. This was murderous."
John clamped down on the desire to look. One thing at a time, one thing...at a time. He repeated the mantra over and over focusing on making the sutures neat and clean. Forcing his hands to take their time. This couldn't be rushed. The man under his hands was wounded but alive. Still breathing. Awake and lucid.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Phone. Now! GOD!"
That cost him and his world slipped a little bit sideways but it got the desired results.
Lestrade dug his phone out. "What do you need."
A number was given and the text dictated. Sherlock was getting peeved. It took far longer and taxed him beyond what his patients and current physical condition could tolerate gladly. All he wanted to do was curl up in a dark, quite corner and be left alone.
"You found someone willing to talk to Miss de Merville?"
"The Irregulars did, yes."
"Sherlock, we need to wash your hair it's all over blood. You need to be cleaned up. The sutures are finished but I want all this blood cleared away before I apply the antiseptic and bandages."
Pain thrummed deep in his throat, but he gathered himself for this new onslaught of torture.
"Get on with it, then."
"Towels and clean sheets. There's a basin under the kitchen sink. Sheets and towels are in a cupboard outside my room."
Lestrade nodded and went to fulfill the request. When he got back with the basin and linen Sherlock's ruined vest and shirt were discarded in a corner. John was running water. Then Lestrades own breath caught, the bundle in his arms all but forgotten. Welts and bruises covered the porcelain flesh of Sherlock's back.
Lestrade swallowed. "You sure you don't want to go to hospital?"
"I made you a promise."
"And you have kept it for three years."
"Wrong, Detective Inspector, you are still, wrong."
"What did I miss that day, Sherlock?"
"The truth."