That was the end of John's coffee. It was now a steaming pile on the ground, he franticly read through the text at least three times to check he had read it correctly, but no matter how many times he read it, it didn't change. A sleek black car pulled up next to him and he jumped inside. Keeping a firm grip on the information he had collected from Shannon Carlton. It was the usual crowd in the car. Anthea, an unidentified man in an expensive black suit driving the car, people turned a blind eye to the ridiculously expensive black car as it drove through the centre of London.
"Hello again" Anthea said, her eyes glued to her phone as usual. John didn't hear her, his mind was trying to keep his thoughts from straying to all the things that could have happened to Sherlock. He stomach twisted uncomfortably with every new thought, he felt sick. The drive to Mycroft's offices seemed to pass so quickly and John couldn't remember how they got here so fast, or had it just seemed fast to him? The man held the car open for him and he almost ran to Mycroft's office. The man himself was waiting in the entranceway for him, umbrella in hand.
"Now John there is no need to panic just yet" Mycroft said casually. John wanted to punch him, it was becoming a frequent feeling.
"What do you mean don't panic, there are men after Sherlock attempting to kill him and he has just gone missing after only just sustaining a serious concussion, of course I'm bloody panicking you should be too!" John fought to keep his voice under control but Mycroft just seemed to let the words wash over him.
"No one knew Sherlock was in that hospital apart from me, you and Mary" John's stomach swooped, Mary. Was it possible they had found her?
"Mary –"
"Was in contact ten minutes ago, she is safe" Mycroft said reassuringly "Whoever took Sherlock found out by lucky chance, it was someone who was already in the hospital. I think it was possibly one of the men that you shot last night, he called his boss and told him all about how lucky he was to see Sherlock carted through the hospital" Mycroft cleared his throat and led them to his office. "There is something I think you should see" Mycroft gestured to the screen on the wall, it was a CCTV monitor, Mycroft hit play and John realised the CCTV cameras were inside the Holmes household as John now called it. The camera was trained on the room John found the safe in. The door creaked open and John's heart jumped. A man and a woman entered, the woman was almost catlike the way she moved, like a black panther, John couldn't see anything he could use to identify her, she was covered head to toe and her face was hidden in shadow. The man however was on full display as if he was on a catwalk. As if he was a lead actor in a performance. He wore a parker jacket and jeans as if he were merely on his way home from work or going for a walk on a cold day. He had hair that reached his shoulders and John could see even on CCTV that it was going grey. John watched in horror as the two revealed the safe and opened it with the small rusty diamond key. Then the man spoke, he turned to face the camera, he had an aged face, he must have been sixty or older, John thought. His face was sunken and he had a long birdlike nose that hooked slightly. His smile was slightly crooked, it made him look unnerving. He pulled the woman in for a kiss, John shuddered, he wasn't sure how old the woman was but he hoped she was the same age as him. The man forced the woman to face the camera and John was strangely relieved to see she was an older woman, he had no idea who she was and his eyes passed over her as he stared at the man.
"Let the show begin, raise the curtains, let the music swell around the room. It's show time and you Sherlock have a front row ticket"
"It's time for London to wake up and smell the roses"
There was a loud click and that was the end of it. He turned to Mycroft; he had been watching John rather than the monitor.
"So this is the man that's out to kill Sherlock and I?" he asked pointing to the screen. Mycroft nodded, he waved a hand at the monitor "All the cameras were knocked out after that, he had something that could turn them off but I don't know what yet. We don't know who the woman is, but that man's face is defiantly familiar, I have seen him several times before."
"We have to find Sherlock" John said, worry was gnawing at his insides, filling his head with ugly thoughts. Mycroft nodded "I can't find him on any CCTV surveillance; I didn't even see them leave the hospital because the camera's were knocked out as well."
John was ready to tear London apart to search for him; he was ready to send out search parties and police officers. Mycroft just stared at him watching him think things over. Finally he seemed to realise how scared John was. As if something had clicked while John watched the security footage.
"Maybe I shouldn't have left him alone in the hospital" John said defeated, waiting for Mycroft to blame him once again and death glare him into a puddle.
"It's not your fault" Mycroft said. John remembered how he had said the exact same thing to Mycroft last night. He wished he could believe him,
"Yes it is" John said.
"Yes that's how Sherlock makes everyone feel, I'm glad you understand some part of me John" he said walking towards John "I have other business today but I will keep you up to date if I hear anything from Sherlock and I hope you will do the same for me" Mycroft showed John the way out and as the door shut behind him John realised he had nowhere to go. Baker Street was probably being watched, The Holmes household wasn't safe without Mycroft's protection on it, he had no idea where Mary was. He felt rather hopeless. It was starting to rain, could it get any worse? John thought bitterly. He wondered where Sherlock was right now; he reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile. He scrolled to Sherlock's contact.
Where are you? Please tell me you are safe, I'm worried
He sent it knowing it would be in vain. He checked the time. It was nearly lunch time, his stomach growled; he had gone all night and all morning on nothing but half a cup of tea and half a cup of coffee. Since he had no place to go, he may as well make his way to the nearest café and grab a bite to eat. He checked his phone. Nothing.
The café was warm and inviting. The smell of fresh bread, coffee and baking welcomed him inside and surrounded him. It was a small comfort in the midst of everything that was going on, it was a break. Time to be normal, he ordered a cream cheese bagel and a bottle of coke and took a seat near a window. He always chose the window seat when his mind was too heavy. He dug into his bagel. It tasted heavenly, he may think straighter with something in his stomach. He stared out the window letting his thoughts swirl around in his mind. He checked his phone at least ten times over the course of his lunch and not a single text; it was beginning to sour the taste of his lunch. He washed it down with his coca cola and left the café. His phone vibrated in his pocket.
*Ding*
John's heart somersaulted
the house
The text was sent from Sherlock's phone but it certainly wasn't Sherlock who sent it. Joh knew Sherlock always added SH at the end of his texts; John knew exactly where Sherlock was and who had him. He hailed a cab, the worry returning, he was starting to get used to it now and it seemed to be an annoying large weight on his shoulders rather than a Tsunami wave.
The house seemed deserted when John arrived. The large wooden doors hung on their hinges, blown to pieces with the force of the gunfire, the large outside windows were nonexistent, shattered into glittering glass on the concrete. The wooden panelling was cracked and splintered; one panel looked about ready to fall off and the stairs ahead of him were littered with bullet holes and burn marks. A couple of the picture frames were smashed on the ground, John couldn't resist taking the picture of young Sherlock from the frame and shoving it in his pocket. The whole house had lost its charm now it had been sprayed with bullets. It made John sad to see such a beautiful house destroyed. Perhaps they could salvage the entranceway yet though John thought as he made his way up the stairs. John rushed through the house, throwing open any door he came across in a desperate attempt to find Sherlock. At last he reached the room the safe was hidden. His eyes fell on Sherlock slumped in a wheelchair. John's heart raced but as he got nearer he realised Sherlock hadn't been harmed.
"Oh God you took your time" a voice drawled behind him. Sherlock's eyes flicked from John to behind him. The way Sherlock was sitting, off balance and slumped over showed the sedatives hadn't worn off completely, he looked drained and fragile. Anger rose in a tide inside him. It burned like a corrosive acid in his veins, he spun around sharply. The man from the security footage stood behind him, sapphire parker and all, he looked bored and uninterested, his greasy gray hair was tied in a rough ponytail, it made his nose look longer and John was reminded of Pinocchio. He stood up reaching instinctively behind him to grab Sherlock's skinny wrist as if that could stop the man in his tracks. The man made his way over to the window and lent on the frame, he gazed through the window as if waiting for John to start the conversation. The room was silent until it seemed the man gave up with the idea of John starting casual conversation.
"Okay so here's the deal. I have the photos right, great, well done me! Thank you," The man turned around to face them, he spoke as if he was playing two characters in a play. He laughed in his own celebration before the smile dropped off his face. He placed his hands behind his back.
"Now shall we begin?"
Psssh, no I didn't take that last line from Star Trek into Darkness what are you talking about. (It's such a brilliant line)
Remeber to give it a review if you liked it, or hated it and you want to give me some advice on how to be a reasonably okay writer.
