There was no pain. Just a loud bang. Sherlock opened his eyes and stared at the dead body in front of him. It was the Russian; he was lying at the floor with a hole in his head. Blood covered the grey floor. Sherlock already knew what had happened. He could hear the footsteps and the whispering voices.
"Sir how do you feel?" a dark colored man asked Sherlock. He held a gun in his left hand and had gunfire residue on the same hand. He had shot the Russian.
"How did Mycroft find me this time?" Sherlock asked Agent Julen. Agent Julen was one of Mycroft's men and Sherlock had seen him quite often. Six agents were in the room; three holding down the German and the other more muscular one, one was untying Sherlock, another one stood in the doorframe talking into his earpiece and Agent Julen stood in front of him. "He said he would tell you later and that I should bring you to hospital." Sherlock knew that Agent Julen already gave up all hope in getting Sherlock into the Hospital. Sherlock snorted and quickly pulled his hands away from the back of the chair as soon as they were free of the rope. He quickly exchanged a look with Agent Julen Sherlocks saying clearly 'I won't go to hospital, especially if my brother wants it' and his saying 'I know you don't want to go, but I have orders'.
"Can we not-"
"No." Sherlock cut him off. "I am fine. They didn't hurt me, they were pretty stupid actually. Look, I even walk out of here by myself." Sherlock stood up and the fell. Nobody catched him and he hit the floor with a Thump. He was confused. Nothing was hurting him. Well his head was hurting, but why couldn't he walk? He looked up to Agent Julen, who had a smile on his face. Sherlock did like Agent Julen he wasn't stupid and didn't really care what Sherlock said about him. He was quite nice and had often helped Sherlock in the past.
"Mister Holmes do you know how long you have been missing" Agent Julen asked and helped him up. Sherlock only shook his head. He would have said only a few hours, but the way Julen had asked suggests that that clearly wasn't the answer.
"Four days." Julen answered. Sherlock looked at him with disbelieve. Four days? That couldn't be. How could he be out for four days?
"Drugs." Sherlock noticed and sat down again.
"We believe so. That is why you can't walk, there is still too much in your system." Suddenly a paramedic team came in. They were walking towards Sherlock with a stretcher. Sherlock shook his head and tried standing up again. He didn't fell, but still felt wobbly. The paramedics tried to put him onto the stretcher but Sherlock pushed them away and started to walk away.
"Sir!" Julen called from behind. Sherlock dismissed him with a wink and kept walking. There was no way that he would get carried out, not when he could walk. He could hear Julen talking to the paramedics and then noticed that the paramedics followed him, but didn't persuade him onto the stretcher. Agent Julen walked next to him typing to someone, probably Mycroft. Julens phone rang and he quickly took it and walked away. Only seconds later he returned and gave the phone Sherlock. Sherlock knew who it was and sighed.
Dear God…
"Mycroft."
"You are going to hospital."
"There is nothing wrong with me."
"There is nothing you can do, Sherlock. We WILL talk later." Mycroft ended the phone call. Sherlock knew that Mycroft was probably right. He felt weak and his head was killing him, but it was only transport. He still couldn't believe that four days had passed. How much had he missed in that time? Moriarty had probably written. He led out a sigh.
Sherlock stopped in front of the ambulance deciding if he should go with them or run of. John would say that he should go with the ambulance. Sherlock thought about it really quick and decided it would be best just to go with them. Less drama. So that's what he did.
The door swung open with a loud bang, when it hit the wall. John stormed in. It was 3.30 in the morning and he looked liked Dracula or something like that. Mycroft had called him 20 minutes ago, telling him that they found Sherlock, alive and unwounded. He, of course, had gotten up immediately, got dressed and stormed out of the apartment leaving behind a confused Mary. He remembered how she had asked what was going on and he had only answered something like 'Hospital, Sherlock, Stupid git…". He grabbed the first taxi not caring that someone already was inside and drove to the London Bridge Hospital in which Sherlock stayed. He had been quite rude to the nurses, but well he was angry. Angry at Sherlock for getting himself captured.
"John." Mycroft greeted him, when he stormed into the small hospital room. Sherlock was sitting on a chair, a doctor looking at his head. Mycroft was standing in front of his brother, his umbrella resting next to an empty chair. John calmed himself down, closed the door and looked at Sherlock. He had a night gown on, that belonged to the hospital. He looked a bit pale, but that was it.
"Mycroft I have to know!" Sherlock said with a strong voice. Mycroft started to pace and looked at his brother with annoyance. "I told you I don't know." John was shocked that Mycroft admitted that he didn't know something. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at his brother's comment and wanted to stand up, but the doctor pushed him down again.
"You know everything!" Sherlock hissed. "I almost got shot. I have a right to know."
"Wait, what's going on?" John asked. His anger had settled and he felt guilt. He felt guilty that he had been angry with Sherlock; it wasn't exactly his fault that he had been captured. He sighed. He could understand why Sherlock and Mycroft locked away those feelings, they could really confuse you.
"Nothing of importance." Mycroft answered John and then turned back to Sherlock. "Sherlock I know a lot of codes. I know the password of a lot of important men, I know the code for secret places, I know the code to the European bank. I could go on all day. But I don't know which code these people meant."
"They said you know."
"Well I don't." The doctor, who was a women John noticed walked out of the room, giving Mycroft a paper while she walked.
"I don't get it. What code?"John asked again, knowing if he wanted answers he needed to be resistant. There was a minute of silence, where the two brothers looked at each other with their intense gaze. None of them wanted to lose this little battle. Finally Sherlock turned to John and answered his question. "The men that had caught me, worked for Moriarty. I don't understand why Moriarty would even ask such stupid people to kidnap my brother, but you could maybe answer me that question." John ignored the insult at the end, waiting for Sherlock to continue, but that didn't happen. John pinned his bridge nose and then asked. "Your brother?"
"Yes, my brother. Like I said they were pretty stupid and thought that I was Mycroft. Probably because I came out of Mycrofts house and one of the servants called me Mister Holmes."
"And what did they want from you or Mycroft?" John asked. Sherlock gave him the don't-be-stupid-face and the continued. "They wanted a code. And I would like to know which code but my dearest brother wouldn't tell me." Mycroft let out an exaggerated sigh. "Like I said Sherlock, I don't know which code."
"It isn't the code to the Korean Secret Service." Sherlock stated and the smiled. Mycroft looked up from the papers he was just reading and rolled his eyes. "I don't know that code." He simply replied. Sherlock got up from his stool and want toward the bed, where fresh clothes were lying. "Yes you do, you only have to figure out the new one. They change it now quite often, since they noticed some 'changes'" Mycroft ignored his younger brother. Sherlock quickly got dressed and John sat down. He was tired. He hadn't slept, because he had been worrying about Sherlock. John still had to talk about Sherlock and getting his life in danger. Suddenly Sherlock spun around and gave Mycroft some kind of sign that John didn't understand.
"How did you find me?"
"None of your concerns, some secrets have to stay secrets, little brother." Mycroft answered. Sherlock snorted and turned to John. "We're going." John wanted to say something but Sherlock was already out of the room. This was all going a little too fast for John. He had only been here about five minutes. He just wanted to ask Mycroft something, when Mycroft said. "John, could you take Sherlock back to 221b? Talk some sense into him. As you know he doesn't listen to me." John could hear the concern in Mycroft's voice and he again could see how much he actually cared about Sherlock. John nodded and walked out of the room, but before he was completely out he asked "How did you find him?"
John could see Mycroft smirking. " You know that he used to take drugs?" John nodded, already knowing what will come. "Well let's say it like this: Sherlock thinks he knows where all the CCTV cameras are. I was concerned he would start drugs again and I installed some more, especially in alleys where junkies would meet. When I noticed that he was missing I just simply had to look at the CCTV videos. We knew who the people were and the rest was easy." John nodded. Mycroft took his umbrella and also walked to the door. He stopped in front of John piercing him with his cold gaze. "I am correct that Sherlock never finds out about this?" John nodded for the third time and walked away from Mycroft. He waved and then followed Sherlock outside. Sherlock was hailing a cab, John quickly walked over to Sherlock's side and jumped into the cab. They gave the cabbie the address and sat there in weird silence.
"Just spit it out." Sherlock said breaking the silence.
"I was worried and scared about your well-being." John answered simply. Sherlock nodded. "You have to stop getting yourself in dangerous situations. You do realize that there are people that care and worry about you?"
"I did realize that." Sherlock answered. John could see he was nervous. Probably because this talk was sentimental.
"Good now just keep that in mind and call for help before you chase down criminals." Sherlock stayed still. John knew that he shouldn't say more, he would only shut out Sherlock. Sherlock knew what John had meant and John hoped that Sherlock wouldn't forget. Five minutes of total silence later, they arrived at 221 b. John had to pay the cabbie like always and then climbed up the stairs to Sherlock's apartment. He always felt sad when he walked up the 17 stairs. He really loved this apartment. Sometime he wished he could live here again, if everything would have gone different. If Sherlock hadn't left for two years… He sometimes stayed awake at night and asked him that question. He wouldn't have met Mary and he wouldn't get a child, he would never trade those two people for something different, but he still wondered.
John walked into the kitchen planning to make Sherlock a sandwich. He decided to sleep at Sherlock's tonight; he couldn't bring up the energy to get back to Mary.
"Sherlock do you want marmalade or cheese on the sandwich that you will eat?"
No response
"Sherlock?"
Still no response and ghostly silence. John shook his head, it was probably nothing.
"Sherlock, I am speaking to you."
Silence. No sign of live. Not even his friends breath. Now John got concerned. He walked into the living room. He saw Sherlock standing in front of his couch. Not moving the slightest bit. He still had his coat on and it looked like someone had just stopped the time. Just know did John notice the person on the coach. He walked towards the couch. His heart sped up and he breathed faster. He didn't know what to expect. He came to a stop beside Sherlock and looked at the person. His heart stopped. Everything had he expected. Everything, but not this. No not this. He had even expected Jim Moriarty sitting there, but not this.
The person on the couch wasn't a person. It was a body. A dead body.
"Molly." John whispered into the dead silent room.
A.N. A cliffhanger! So sorry… :) I update as fast as I can, probably tomorrow or Friday.
Please let me kno what you think. If you liked it or not.
