PLEASE read and review. It makes me happy on my horrid night shifts .
ALERT- Evil cliff hanger again I'm afraid. I just can't stop.
JX
Chapter 4
I sit and play with the plastic case of the disk, turning it restlessly in my hands. This can't be good. After leaving Sherlock I had walked the rest of the house and gardens; mapping its layout as I imagine Sherlock had done himself when he arrived. If it was true, if someone was coming for this disk or for Sherlock I had to be ready.
The house was a vast myriad of beautiful rooms and hallways and I had to take care not to stray too far from Sherlock's room in case he reappeared. There were no telephones to be found, but I instead came across a WW2 Morse coder, amongst other things in a well-stocked ops room in the cellar. Close by lay a few transcribed communications from Mycroft as well as some names I did not recognise. I made a mental note to congratulate him on the government's simplistic intelligence. If it ain't broke, don't fix it.
Walking around the grounds I had caught glimpses of Gabriel checking the perimeters in the undergrowth along with a stern-looking Luis; the rifleman. They had watched me briefly then continued on their way; the older man firing orders to the eager foot-soldier trailing intently behind him. I could tell I was not trusted as yet, despite credentials notifying them of my imminent arrival from Mycroft in the cellar.
I leave them to it and commence my own investigation of the greenery around the gardens, finding a concealment of heat and movement detection devises, as well as trip wire; tools of a solider I recognise. Feeling my past life merge together, tangling with Sherlock's only adds to my anxiety. In any other situation I believe this would have pleased me.
That was a few hours ago and now the sun is setting low into the endless expanse of sea as I walk to the end of the large marble balcony that looks out across the small golden beach far below. I had not heard the thunderous sound when I had first arrived, but now that the light was fading and the birds and insects had hushed, I was left with the malevolent crash of black waves against the rocks below.
The sound of tumbling water had always perturbed me a little more than I had ever admitted to myself, never having identified the reason for it. Maybe I was to succumb to it one day. Maybe it was a warning of a danger to come.
As the sun finally dips into the black heat below and the warm breeze caresses my skin, I start to feel fatigue seeping in; its tendrils clawing at my bones and brain. Twenty-four hours ago no one could have convinced me that I would find myself here; chasing a man I had only met a few months ago. But then I was learning that one should never count on anything where Sherlock was concerned.
Sherlock.
I put my guard on hold just for a little while as my brain slips back to the bedroom and how he had held on to me with burning hands. Could he really have meant what he'd said earlier, that he was in some way needing to protect me, or was it a fever-induced paranoia; I had seen it many times before. Now that my programmed responses as a man of medicine were done with, it utterly escaped me how I'd kept my nerve. I cannot remember anyone ever having the effect on me that he appears to have; no past girlfriends nor the few men I had experimented with at university and in the darkened army dormitories late at night. None of it compared to him and it scared me.
My skin prickles with the recall of what could have been two hours ago, where I should be now. That glorious skin, you deserve a medal John. I check myself before my nerves implode feeling the need to try and separate my feelings for this man and what danger may lie before us. I have to stop thinking about him in this way, just for the while at least until we can sort out this unimaginable mess, until I can protect myself.
Sherlock doesn't get attached to people John. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?
I suddenly hear the sound of bare feet upon marble and before I can wake the sleeping soldier inside of me, I am hit from behind with the force of him; arms snaked around my waist. He holds my back tight against his chest, burying his face in my neck. I daren't move in case I disturb this dream of the fatigued. What a dream.
"Come to bed"- he says with a breathless whisper, warm words adding to the heat around me as intoxicating to my body as he was three weeks ago.
"You've changed your tune. I thought I was supposed to be half way back to London by now"- I say trying to hold out a little longer just in case nothing about this is real and I'm dreaming this place, the breeze, him saying these words. He presses into me further, lips teasing my neck, knowing full well the effect this would have on me. "Come to bed" he says again, this time pulling me back with a quiet desperation I never believed I would hear in him.
I hang my head making my mind up to be strong, not to be distracted in this way. Turning in his grasp so that my back is against the cool stone balcony, I look up into the dark brooding pools where his eyes should be. He looks drunk with want and tries to kiss me. But before he can, I turn slightly so that his flushed skin touches my cheek instead. God this is hard. I press the disk into his chest.
"Are you going to tell me what this is doing here? It seems Mycroft is going to great lengths to have a useless disk decoded."
His eyes don't leave mine; instead opting to continue his intensions; hands seeking what they want from me and making it clear what he wants me to do in turn. I swallow hard.
"John, shut up and come to bed with me please."
His touches are drowning. "Sherlock stop." This visibly hurts him and he drops his arms leaving my chest cold. I push myself on; our lives possibly depending upon it. "Someone got to you didn't they? What's so important that would you come out here? Have you made a counter arrangement for this disk, because that's all I can think of Sherlock; that you're bringing this disk out here to be picked up by the very individuals it was being held from." I choose my next words carefully as I know the importance of what I'm about to say, even if I don't believe it. I know him. "Did you make a deal with the Russians Sherlock?
"Oh yes of course"-he says; flamboyant sarcasm taking the place of the man before me. "Come on John! You can achieve anything in a country where 'rule of law' is frequently absent and the government agents are like whispers, surely you of all people know that?"
"Russia."
"Oh please. Who said anything about Russia? I'm talking about the British government and all its….'infestations'"- he shouts sounding tired. "I didn't realise that the game was back on until it was too late John. I should have been able to stop it before it got this far, before he…" He gives up and goes to leave, looking angry with himself for saying too much.
"Moriarty"- I say in surprise, grabbing his arm.
"You must go John, please."
"Stop saying that." -I shout in frustration. He looks at me the way he did that night during the drugs raid back at Baker Street, where he manages to say everything he needs without words, his eyes drawing me in every time.
"It was for me wasn't it?"
The words don't sound as ridiculous out loud as they did in my head and he does not need to confirm it for me. We stare at each other, neither one wanting to break the silence. After a few seconds I draw him towards me, immediately overwhelmed by his sudden vulnerability. I take his face in my hands wanting to quell this unrest of panic so alien to him in my eyes. He lets me and in turn rests his forehead upon mine, feeling like surrender.
"He'll be coming John. He'll know you are here. He'll just be biding his time"- panic rising in his voice once more. "He promised me you'd be hurt if I didn't leave. It was never entirely about the disk, I worked that bit out immediately. Once it was in my possession, that is when he made his presence felt. He sent me photos of us John; god knows how he managed to get through all of Mycroft's intelligence, He'll be most put out with that. Moriarty knows I wouldn't risk you. You're too…. useful to me John. The game is that you are only safe when you are no longer in my company."
"Useful?"-I say childishly, wanting to know what more of me would drip from his mouth.
"Later. Not the time John! Don't you see that this was the most logical course of action for me, eliminating the factor with the highest possibility of risk? You John. He promised that if I were to continue with you in that 'fashion', you would be at risk indefinitely. He knew I would choose this option; leaving you to protect you. But now I can't keep you safe anymore, neither of us can."
"Neither of us?"
"Mycroft. He'd been most accommodating in arranging protection for you, despite me not allowing him my reasons. He no doubt would have wanted to charge in and we know that a battle is not what Moriarty wants. He wants a game John. A dangerous game that maims instead of killing."
"Alright, enough of this. I am here now and that's not going to change anytime soon, got it?"
"Moriarty does not make mistakes John."
"Sherlock, neither do you. You just needed me to remind you. We don't divide no matter what."
I pull him from the edge of the balcony, taking his hands in mine. "We'll talk about the rest of this tomorrow, it's late and you still look awful."
"I don't need rescuing John"- his head down low.
"Says the man I found this morning wearing no shoes, demolishing a library and rambling about his Doctor."
Silence.
He kisses me from where we left off, suddenly forgetting the coldness of the discussion moments before. Heat returns to my soul and I let him leave my grasp to take me from behind as before, crushing my back into his chest. This time there are no reserves left within me and my arms reach up and around him. He takes a rough grip round my hips and feels his way to what he wants, all the time with lips pressed to my ear breathing hard into my soul.
I drag him back quite vigorously out of the exposure of the balcony and slam his back against the wall behind us; half out of relief for the increased contact and partly out of an anger I had not yet addressed in myself. The noise he makes tells me that that he greatly approves of my strength and I pivot, pinning him against the wall feeling him against my waist. I have to make myself clear. I suddenly grab his collar and shove him against the wall to get his attention. He wakes slightly from his arousal, eyes expectant.
"You ever pull a stunt like that again and I'll kill you myself do you hear?"
The man lies on his belly in the black undergrowth and tries his view through the night vision binoculars. A perfect position. His face is expressionless as he stubs out his cigarette upon the ground and picks up the large AK-47, assembling its last steely black tube. He brings it up to his eye, aligning it to his target. This is going to be easier than expected.