John woke to the sound of shattering glass that morning. He threw his covers off and raced from his bed his mind instantly coming to the conclusion that someone had broken in and taken Sherlock. He stumbled from the room Mary bolting upright as he left the room; she rushed from the room and followed him downstairs. The black mink was neatly folded at the end of the couch and Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. John was about to panic when he realised that no criminal would take the time to fold a mink blanket and place it neatly at the end of a couch before brutally kidnapping someone. He looked around for the source of the shattered glass but couldn't find anything in the lounge, Mary appeared next to him "Maybe it came from the kitchen?" she suggested sheepishly. John nodded and left the lounge, "the kitchen…" he said staring around the entrance way, unsure of where to go. Mary pointed to the door on the right and John followed her into the kitchen. To John's relief Sherlock was in the kitchen but he wasn't busy making tea or breakfast he was leaning on the island in the middle of the kitchen he was staring at a bundle on the table, there was an amber stain dripping down the kitchen wall opposite Sherlock and shards of glass were scattered on the floor and bench. It took a moment for John to register what the bundle Sherlock was staring at was. On the table lay a deep purple scarf like the one Mycroft had handed him and the one John had found in the guest room, it lay innocently on the island counter. There was a blank unreadable expression on Sherlock's face. He didn't look up when John and Mary entered the kitchen.
"Sherlock?" John asked cautiously. The detective slowed unclenched one of his fists and passed over a crumpled piece of paper, avoiding John's eyes. A large diamond was drawn on the paper, as John read the words under the diamond his blood turned to ice, he could feel it flowing through him filling him with cold dread, and his stomach did frightened flip flops.
"Got you, next time don't be so obvious"
"They found us" Sherlock muttered. He reached for the scarf and ran his fingers lightly over the purple material before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. John glanced at the half empty whisky bottle
"How much have you had to drink?" he blurted, the question was meant to be kept to himself but he had said it before he could stop himself because Sherlock very rarely drank alcohol and the amount he had drunk worried him, John had seen him drink once, the night Sherlock had seen the Hound.
"Relax John it's from Mycroft's over indulgence last night" Sherlock stopped staring at the scarf and looked up at John his eyes locking on his with a harsh glare. John stared back and he suddenly felt guilty for asking, he broke eye contact and looked down at his shoes. He could feel Sherlock brush past him and John watched as he made his way from the kitchen raising his phone to his ear, the door closing silently behind him. He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. Worry was forcing its way into his half asleep mind. Mary made a small gasp behind next to him; she had obviously read the note as well. "What are we suppose to do?" she asked in a frightened voice. John just shook his head and said in a defeated tired voice "There's nothing we can do at the moment, I don't even know who's following us until Sherlock decides to explain properly."
The two had just snuggled back into the warm guest bed when his phone lit up and buzzed on the table. He groaned and rolled his eyes, he grabbed his phone and checked the number, private, Mycroft.
"Hello" he sighed
"John you can't let Sherlock out of your sight because they will find him and they will kill him and then they will kill you too" came Mycroft's firm voice. John sat up, alarmed at this statement, Mary sighed in frustration and worry.
"What do you mean?"
"I got it wrong"
"What are you talking about?" John demanded already getting out of bed; he had to get to Sherlock.
"Get in the car now John, don't look back and hurry up"
He was starting to panic now; he hung up and blindly threw his clothes on. Sherlock seemed so far away to John and he couldn't get down the stairs fast enough. He was relieved when he finally reached the lounge. He was afraid for a split second that they would have already taken Sherlock or that he would find Sherlock dead but he was thankful to find him sitting on the couch. His fingers were locked in his hair and he was staring at the floor blankly.
"Sherlock we have to go" John said hurriedly, his phone chimed indicating a text, he read it as he made his way to Sherlock. For a moment he forgot about Mary but suddenly remembered she was in as much danger as the rest of them. His heart seemed to seize up like a rusty chain.
Get him out of the house now John
MH
"Sherlock!" he shouted panicking, causing Sherlock to look up at him as if John had just materialised in the room. Without explaining he grabbed Sherlock's wrist and attempted to drag him from the room. There was a distant smash of glass and Mary grabbed a hold of John's arm attempting to pull him away from Sherlock,
"We have to go please!" John begged.
"John I'm coming let go of me!" Sherlock shouted back and John quickly dropped his wrist. They ran from the room, they entered the entranceway, there was a crack of a gun, the window opposite them shattered and a bullet whizzed past them.
"Get down!" Sherlock exclaimed, he grabbed John and pulled him down, Mary falling with them in the process. Suddenly the whole room was sprayed with bullets, the noise was deafening and John threw his hands over his ears. Plaster, wood and glass, rained down on them and slashed John's cheek, warm blood spilled from the cut. He could feel Sherlock beside him and he crawled closer to him. John could feel the bullets rocketing past him and he could hear every one whistle past and hit various things. John noticed with small relief that the bullets were coming from outside, the men wouldn't be accurate enough to hit any of them on the ground. The room went quite and the gunfire stopped. There was an eerie silence, Images of dead bodies flashed in front of John, images of his friends dead, he could hear the cries of help and the echo of a scream, and suddenly he was back in the battlefield.
"John!" a voice he knew well shouted desperately, hands grabbed at his coat before being wrenched off "John!" the face of a bleeding solider dissolved into Sherlock's face and with a firm shake of his head the battlefield melted back into the entranceway. He looked around him but he couldn't feel Sherlock next to him. Fear kicked in he stood up and ran through the destroyed entranceway. He could see people up ahead; he could hear the struggles, Sherlock. Sherlock was struggling. Sherlock. He had to get to him; two men were holding him against a wall a hand was wrapped around his mouth.
They will find him and they will kill him
No
And then they will kill you too
Mary
He clawed at the arms of the men holding Sherlock but they threw him off easily. John could read the panic on Sherlock's face.
"LET HIM GO!" John shouted in vain
"Not a chance" a gruff familiar voice replied. Sherlock was mumbling something against the man's hand over his mouth and John realized it was his name. "Sherlock" he called back. He stood up again to fight but one of the men holding him forced Sherlock's head against the wall behind him, it connected with a sickening crack. Sherlock collapsed in the men's arms and John almost fainted. He spotted the gun he had stolen from the men at the flat lying on the end table and without a second thought he loaded it. All of a sudden Mary seemed to come from nowhere, she grabbed the back of the man's head and dragged him towards her, he spun around and threw a fist out but Mary dodged it easily, she grabbed hold of the man's fist and twisted it before throwing her leg out and kicking him squarely in the chest. The man sunk to the ground and coughed blood. Mary grabbed the gun and shot the man in the hip. He shrieked, the terrible sound shaking the shock from John; he dragged the other large man away from Sherlock. The man was too scared to move while Mary still held the gun. John pulled his fist back and hit him with a swift uppercut to the jaw. He heard the crack and the man went limp he threw him aside and knelt next to Sherlock. Blood was matted in his dark brown curls and John resisted the urge to be sick. He ran his hands through his hair over his head and Sherlock winced when he applied a small amount of pressure to the back of his head. The front door was thrown open and Anthea stood in the door way. She looked down at the three in shock and then looked over at the two men lying in a heap.
"Tie them up and take them with you" John pointed over to the two unconscious men "I'll carry Sherlock on my own." John gasped trying to catch his breath. Mary nodded; she and Anthea knelt over the two frightened men. John scooped Sherlock in his arms and carried him from the house trusting Anthea to call the police. John hated how limp Sherlock felt in his arms as he carried him from the house to the sleek black car waiting for them. He placed Sherlock gently on the back seat and climbed into the car next to him. John reached into his pocket and dialled Mycroft's cell. He picked up on the second ring.
"John what -" John interrupted Mycroft. He didn't want to hear what he had to say, he didn't care about him at the moment.
"Mycroft, Sherlock's been attacked, he's been knocked unconscious with a nasty gash to the head and he's bleeding badly, I don't care about what you have to say right now I want to get me, Sherlock and Mary to a safe location so I can treat him now!"
"John I understand but you currently have two very dangerous men in the house with my assistant"
"They won't be moving any time soon, Mary shot one in the hip and the other has a broken jaw, their scared out of their minds, now I'm sure you can send another one of your fancy government cars to collect them, I want to get me, Sherlock and Mary to a safe location now! Do you understand?" John thought it felt good to be giving orders to someone like Mycroft for a change. There was a pause on the other end of the line before Mycroft spoke again. "I will send another car and Anthea will be informed of the situation" he said in a flat voice, John hung up before Mycroft could say another word. He looked down at Sherlock
"Wish you could have seen that" he said smiling slightly. He grabbed a hold of Sherlock's hand and gave it a tight squeeze before leaving the car explaining to the man in an expensive suit he would be back and to keep an eye on Sherlock. He marched into the house and grabbed Mary's hand. She looked up for the men on the floor in surprise but didn't protest to leaving Anthea to deal with them. John looked to Anthea
"Sorry Anthea you'll be safe here for a moment until Mycroft sends another car to collect you" John said firmly. He had automatically switched into military mode. Anthea nodded and waved a hand signalling them to leave. John knew she had been in countless situations like this before so he didn't feel so bad about leaving her behind. "We will talk about how you learned to beat the crap out of someone and then shoot them later okay" John said firmly as he tugged Mary into the black car. John sat in the middle between Sherlock and Mary. Sherlock slumped on his shoulder bleeding down his jacket but John hardly noticed. He had a firm grip on Mary's hand as the car once again began to melt in and out of the battlefield as it had done when they drove from 221B. Somehow knowing Sherlock was in immediate life threatening danger blocked out the cries of his dying soldiers and he found it better to concentrate on wrapping Sherlock's scarf around Sherlock's head and a makeshift bandage. Mary leant across John and placed her fingers on Sherlock's wrist trying to find a pulse. John looked up from him to Mary. She nodded slowly without saying a word, John felt only slightly relieved knowing that his pulse didn't indicate to Mary he was in good condition. He felt for it himself and this was confirmed. Slow, sluggish and weak from blood loss.
"Could you maybe choose anyone of the safe places rather quickly and hurry up! There is a man possibly dying" John shouted to the driver. He didn't indicate he had heard but John knew he had heard. He changed direction quickly and the traffic seemed to part like the red sea for him. Was there some kind of switch in government cars that did this? John thought. John realised their new route quickly, he was taking them to the hospital. John didn't know whether to be worried they were no longer going to a safe place or relieved Sherlock would get proper care but he settled on the fact that Sherlock would be safer in a hospital that any safe place the government knew of.