Author's Note : Here it is, the next installement of this story. Thank you to everyone who has left such wondeful reviews! They really have been of great encouragement !!! And now on with the story.....
Chapter Eight
The cab stopped outside the front gates of Scotland Yard and Holmes leapt out to pay the coachman. He turned to see Watson struggling to get himself out and he offered a supporting arm which Watson gratefully accepted. Holmes saw how drawn Watson looked, pale and tired. He was still not fully recovered from his injuries. He held onto Watson protectively refusing to let him walk unaided, and to Holmes's concern, Watson offered no resistance. An indication of how weak Watson was really feeling. They were met by Inspector Lestrade whose small inky black eyes and small frame was familiar to them both. Holmes greeted Lestrade and put aside their differences for once, this was not a meeting about a case, this time it was more personal and they both knew it.
"Ahh Mr Holmes, Dr Watson, good to see you both, please come this way and follow me to the identification room" said Lestrade jovially.
Holmes and Watson followed Lestrade down the long dimly lit corridor and into a large room which had white washed walls and wooden flooring. A single red line was marked along the floor. Holmes and Watson waited patiently as Lestrade ordered a constable to bring the identification parade into the room. Watson had found a chair and sat down in it kneading his forehead wishing the concussion would go away. Holmes looked on with concern. Had I been wrong to bring Watson here today? Mused Holmes. Watson looked up to meet grey slate eyes staring at him. Watson smiled answering the unanswered question.
"I'm alright Holmes, just a bit of a headache; I do wish Lestrade would hurry up, what's taking him so long? "Said Watson shakily.
Holmes placed a hand on Watson's shoulder in a silent display of support for his injured friend. Before he could reply, a door creaked opened and a constable entered the room followed by a procession of several men who were guided by the constable to stand behind the red marker line and face the window. Holmes observed them as they came in one by one. The men were of scruffy appearance, one was tall, with shaggy dark brown hair, another had several days' worth of stubble on his face and his face was etched with wrinkles, no doubt weathered by years of being at sea, thought Holmes silently. Holmes heard an audible gasp as two more men entered the room and stood behind the red line. He turned to see Watson standing somewhat unsteadily as he recognised the faces of his two attackers. Another constable and Lestrade were the final people to enter the room and the door closed behind them.
"Right you lot, stand to and face the witnesses present in this room. No talking, no jeering and no stepping over the red line. You will do exactly what I say, do I make myself clear? Yes, good! Then let us proceed!" Lestrade commanded.
He motioned for Watson to come forward and inspect the line of men. Holmes walked with Watson reluctant to let him make the identification alone. Slowly Watson looked at the faces of each of the men lined up and had to turn away when he smelt the foul stench coming from one of the men. Holmes shot a look at Lestrade accusingly, and for his part Lestrade shrugged his shoulders and looked back apologetically. Scotland Yard prison cells were generally of a good standard, but there was still room for improvement. Watson continued down the line and then stopped when he came face to face with the first of his two attackers. It was Mikey. Watson felt the knot in his stomach tighten as he looked straight into the eyes of the man who had kicked and shot him. He had seen allot of violence and death in Afghanistan, but what he saw in the eyes of his attacker was utter coldness and contempt. Mikey gave a chilling half smile, his thin lips never parted, his face as hard as stone. Watson shivered and turned to Lestrade, pointing at Mikey
"This is the man who broke into Baker Street Inspector, and so did he" said Watson who pointed out the other attacker.
Mikey started forward lunging for Watson, and grabbed his arm, and then landing a hard punch to Watson's left side. Watson clutched his side trying to step back but could not free himself of the thief's grip. Holmes rushed forward and struck out with his top heavy silver tipped walking stick. Mikey let out a howl of pain as the stick struck his arm hard and he fell to his knees clutching his arm in pain. Watson stood unable to move watching Mikey fall and he felt the room slowly begin to spin. He heard Holmes call out his name, but it seemed so far away. Watson put a hand to his head groaning before falling forward and the last thing he remembered before succumbing to the darkness was a pair of strong hands supporting him breaking his fall.
Holmes caught Watson as he watched him losing his balance, calling out his name. He caught his friend with both arms and held Watson, supporting his whole frame. He craned his neck round to face Lestrade and angrily ordered Lestrade to get the prisoners out of the room. Lestrade had already started to do so, and a constable took hold of Mikey, putting on the derbies. Mikey protested most vocally, shouting and Lestrade pulled Mikey towards him so that his face met his.
"You will regret doing that Mikey that man is a personal friend of mine and that attack is going to be added to your charge sheet. You see that other man there? The tall one? That is Sherlock Holmes, and you can be sure he will be in court personally to testify against you. The man you hit is also his friend and he does not take kindly to his friend being attacked like you did". Lestrade said angrily.
He pushed Mikey back into the line of prisoners being ushered out of the room, and turned back to see Holmes gently lifting Watson into his arms and carrying him over to the chair and sat him in it. Holmes proceeded to undo his collar and brought out a small silver flask from his pocket and unscrewed the cap and poured a few drops past Watson's lips. To Holmes's relief Watson came to a few moments later and spoke quietly to Watson, kneeling beside him.
"Watson, it's alright, it's all over now, they have gone, can you hear me old fellow?"
Watson opened his eyes and focused unsteadily at a white washed wall before turning to see Holmes slowly come into focus. Watson smiled and sought to reassure his worried friend and colleague.
"I'm alright Holmes, I just got caught out by that punch, I'm not getting any younger these days!" joked Watson.
Holmes did not need his deductive reasoning to know that Watson was far from alright. But he would concede to his stalwart, brave Boswell for now. Watson had his pride and he would not do anything to hurt Watson further. He stretched out his hand toward Watson smiling. Watson gratefully accepted it, gripping it and pulling himself upwards. With Holmes at Watson's side Lestrade met them and began to apologise profoundly. With a majestic wave of his hand Holmes stopped Lestrade in his tracks before his engine of apologies had got into full flow.
"It's alright Inspector, Watson and I have dealt in criminal circles long enough to know and expect this sort of thing to happen. Come let us give our statements for the trial. I will of course be there in person as will Watson. The small party walked out of the parade room and down the corridor to another more welcoming room of mahogany wooden panels. They were offered tea which Watson accepted and it was over an hour before the statements were complete. With all official business completed, Lestrade shook the hands of both Holmes and Watson, promising to wire them the official trial date when it set.
"You know it will be hanging outcome gentlemen" said Lestrade as he aired his professional opinion on the likely verdict of the trial as they walked to the entrance of Scotland Yard
Both Holmes and Watson nodded in agreement and they said their farewells at the gates of Scotland Yard and Holmes flagged a cab which pulled up at the Yard entrance. Lestrade waved and then turned back and entered the Scotland Yard buildings and to his mountain of paperwork. As the cab sped off, Watson sank back into his seat, clearly exhausted and he closed his eyes. Holmes watched him worriedly.
"Are you alright Watson?" asked Holmes simply.
Watson reopened into his eyes and looked at Holmes
"I'm alright Holmes. Just tired. I am glad that monster will be hanged. He does not deserve to live". Said Watson glacially who then stared out of the window staring at the passing streets that were whisking by.
Holmes looked at his friend in shock. He had never heard such words from the doctor before and he became concerned. Time would see Watson heal physically, but what damage had this affair done to his state of mind? As the cab disappeared into the sprawling streets of London, unresolved questions lingered in the air. Would time heal the pain of the champions of justice or would the darkness of bitterness consume them?
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH! Poor Watson !! He really is not having a good time is he? I promise to look after him in the next chapter !!! Hopefully i shall have the next chapter done in the next day or so. As always all reviews and comments welcomed!! :)
