Chapter 9

Two weeks passed without the slightest trace. The CCTV material really didn't produce anything relevant. It was watched so many times, but Moran was clever enough to use a number of similar vans to blur his tracks and at some point all of these vans vanished into one of the few areas of London without all-encompassing CCTV surveillance.

They were all sitting in the conference room, having decided to go over the current knowledge they had when a young agent came in.

"I have a new clue." He proclaimed with a grievous voice. "We have caught someone who was part of Moriarty's old network. He claims he knows where Moran holds Holmes captive. He wants a deal."

"Very good." Mycroft said, sounding relieved. "Where is it? We need to call the extraction team." He got up, gesturing at Anthea.

"Well, he doesn't exactly know the location, as Moran will only reveal it to those who have an appointment, shortly before said appointment. And there is something like a waiting list." The agent interjected.

"A waiting list? Appointments?" John asked confused.

"He said, Moran contacted a number of Moriarty's old acquaintances as well as people Holmes had gotten imprisoned in the past or whose businesses he had marred." The agent stopped for a moment watching Mycroft looking at him expectantly. "He offered them revenge, told them they can do anything to Holmes as long as it doesn't kill him. You have to make an appointment with Moran and there seemed to be a lot of people who want revenge so there is a waiting list."

Mycroft's face turned blank, John started to shiver. Lestrade gaped and Donovan put a hand to her open mouth. They all knew the implication of those words. Sherlock was being tortured while they were speaking.

"Did this guy say anything if Sherlock is still alive?" Lestrade asked.

"He is sure that Holmes is still alive." The agent paused. "He himself got an appointment, but it is two weeks from now."

Mycroft regained his composure. "We have to find someone else, someone with an earlier appointment. We can't wait two weeks."


They had to wait two weeks as all the power of the MI6 and the MI5 and the Scotland Yard couldn't help them. They caught three other criminals connected to Sherlock, but while two of them had heard of Moran's offer but were not interested, the other one had an appointment even later than the one already willing to make a deal.

Those two weeks were the most horrible ones in John's live. After all he had experienced in Afghanistan, after Sherlock's suicide, fake suicide that is, and after Sherlock's return and the days sitting in that hospital nearly watching him die, knowing that it would have been his fault, he never thought that anything even worse than that could happen. But here he was, his wife a liar and killer, who just married him to take vengeance for Moriarty's death. And she helped to capture Sherlock and over the last four weeks she surely helped torturing him. Today John would see her, he was somehow sure of that. He didn't know how he would react to that and that frightened him.

When they entered the old factory building on the outskirts of London, John felt the damp air and he couldn't stop shivering. The extraction team was up in the front, entering the main hall. Shots already rang out when John, Lestrade, Donovan and Mycroft followed them. John could just see how his wife felt to the ground, a bullet had hit her in the chest. There was an impulse to ran up to her, even to help, but then he saw Sherlock, chained to a table, electric cables attached to his body. He was pale except for dozens of bruises all over his body, his breathing was laborious and he seemed to sweat even in the cold air of the hall. John stopped, frozen by what he saw.

Moran was crouched behind the table, knowing that nobody would fire into his direction as a stray bullet could hit Sherlock. But he obviously couldn't resist torturing Sherlock further as he leant over to the left side to grab what looked like a switch. Three bullets hit him just about the same time, but with his final breath he was still able to turn the switch, sending another electric current through Sherlock's body, which convulsed fiercely and a painful scream escaped Sherlock's mouth. One agent from the extraction team jumped up to the table, grabbing the switch from Moran's dead hands and turned it off.

Mycroft ran up to his brother, John followed him. They both tried immediately to free him from his chains. Dr. Nicholls and two paramedics who had just entered the hall as well were at the table at once when they heard the very weak and raspy voice of Sherlock.

"Don't touch me." Sherlock whispered, his voice and body shaking. He looked pleadingly at Mycroft, hoping his brother would deduce the meaning of those words.

Mycroft stared at him for a moment, but then he grasped what was going on. "Stop it. Everybody, stop it, don't touch him."

John and the paramedics started to protest, but Mycroft shushed them with a single movement of his hand.

"The allodynia is back?" Mycroft asked softly. Sherlock was just able to nodded before he closed his eyes.

Dr. Nicholls realized instantly what that meant and instructed the paramedics before she moved closer to Sherlock. "We will inject morphine and we will sedate you. I can't promise it will be enough, but we will do our best to make it bearable." She said in a soothing voice. Sherlock nodded again before he tried to talk.

"Over there." His head indicated to the small table at the right. "They used that."

Mycroft walked around taking the small bottle and showed it to Dr. Nicholls who just nodded.

"Don't worry, we know what to do." She tried to reassure him.

It took the medical team quite some time sedate Sherlock who winced in pain at every even so slightest touch. When he was finally unconscious they carefully freed him from the chains and lifted him from the table to the gurney.

While the extraction team took care of the criminals John tried his best not to watch over at his wounded wife. Instead he looked at Sherlock, who was painfully thin, covered not only with bruises but also with dozens of small cuts. Nothing looked two serious, but overall he was in an awful state. And John who just heard the word allodynia shuttered by the implications of that word. He had only seen a few patients with that diagnosis in his medial career, but all of them suffered profoundly by even the lightest touch. He didn't want to image what kind of pain the hits and cuts would have caused Sherlock.

"Allodynia?" John asked Mycroft as they both followed the paramedics as the carried Sherlock to the waiting ambulance. Mycroft just nodded, his worried eyes never leaving Sherlock's lifeless, pale body.

"How did you know?" John asked.

Mycroft still focused with his eyes on his brother answered. "He has experienced it before."

Sherlock was heaved into the ambulance and Mycroft and Dr. Nicholls followed. Mycroft turned around to address John. "We will be at the same hospital. You know where it is."