Chapter 9: Into Action

"Steady, Sherlock." Mycroft says, supporting my weight and gently pushing me back onto my bed.

"No, I have to help John."

"We're already mobilising people to get him, Sherlock." Mycroft says confidently.

"No. I'm coming too." I repeat. How I hate repeating myself...

"Sherlock-"

"I'm coming." I repeat yet again.

"You'll have to stand up first." Mycroft says, finally giving in. He runs a hand through his thinning hair. He hates being defeated.

With this, I more carefully sit up, slowly swinging my feet over the side of the bed and placing them on the cold tiles of the hospital floor. I have to wait for a few seconds as the blood rushes to my head, causing a moment of dizziness.

"I'll bring you some clothes then." My brother says reluctantly before leaving the room.

Once alone, I slowly push myself up off the bed, placing my hands on the side and forcing myself upwards. At first, I wobble and my knees begin to buckle; I haven't walked in over a week. I know I have to be there to ensure John gets out. I can't let him be taken from me yet again. I just hope it's not too late...

After a few minutes of walking around the room cautiously, I gain confidence and stride around, almost as normal. When Mycroft returns with my clothes, he makes no comment on my state, but simply dumps the clothing on the bed and leaves.

I dress quickly, making sure my white shirt is straight under my black blazer. People misunderstand me when I wear pretty much the same thing all the time. I'm not dressing up for fun, this is my uniform. It gets me respect and what I want, but also allows me to go about my normal life at ease.

Once I am ready, I take a deep breath and leave the room I've been living in for over a week. Who knows what'll happen to me in the next few hours.

The corridor is quiet. It is long and narrow, with the same whitewashed walls and antiseptic smell of my room. How I hate it. Before I get a chance to do anything else, Mycroft strolls down the corridor towards me.

"Finally emerged, brother dear?"

"Where are they?" I say, referring to the police I shall join in finding John, and ignoring my brother's remark.

"This way." He says, turning and walking away from me down the corridor, his umbrella gently pointing in the direction of his travel. I hastily follow my brother, wondering as I go why he feels the need to carry an umbrella around with him all the time, even indoors. To me, it's ridiculous. But then, almost everything Mycroft does seems ridiculous to me and clearly our feelings are mutual.

Mycroft swings open the double exit doors of the hospital and I take into a huge gasp of fresh air. Clean, cool, crisp night air that I haven't felt in days, probably weeks.

Before me are two police vans filled with armed response officers. Lestrade waves me over to his police car and I hop in, Mycroft quickly following suit.

"You look much better just being out of that place, Sherlock." The officer remarks, looking at me.

"Yes, whatever, let's just go." I say, impatiently tapping my foot on the floor of the vehicle.

Sensing my clear urgency, Lestrade leans out of the car window and calls "Everyone ready? Follow the car." And with this, he starts the engine.

The journey is quiet but filled with trepidation. In a way, I want it to last forever, images of John lying dead on the floor flashing through my mind. But that can't happen, John has to be alive, for me. Moriarty wouldn't kill him anyway, he's far too cruel to offer that much mercy.

After what feels like eternity, we finally arrive at 221B. My home, where John has been residing all this time.

I leap out of the car before it has fully stropped, ignoring my brother's cries for me to wait. I've waited long enough already; I'm not waiting any longer.

I fly up the steps to the door and peer through the letterbox. At first, there is darkness, nothing, but as my eyes adjust, I see a glimmer of light coming from under the door to 221c.

Mycroft and Lestrade are behind me as I silently unlock the door and push it open. I walk into the hallway, treading carefully so as not to cause a creak from the floorboards. Mycroft has the sense to follow my footsteps exactly, knowing I'm avoiding noisy floorboards. Lestrade also follows suit, signalling for the men behind us to do the same.

I head towards the door to 221c, realising that I'm shaking a little. My heart is racing, pumping blood and adrenaline through my veins. I stop at the door, placing my ear to the wood carefully. Light slips under the door and at the edges, even it cannot fully escape the grasps of Moriarty.

Through the door, I can hear muffled sounds. At first, they are inaudible, but as my ears tune-in to the lower volume, I am able to make out what is being said, just about.

"Don't worry John, the rescue team is on their way to get you." Comes the gentle coo that is far too familiar. So, John's still alive then, and Moriarty seems unaware of our presence, sort of. I continue to listen.

"Oh no no no, John, don't try to talk. That's it, close your eyes, go on." The tormentor coaxes. His voice calm and gentle.

John must be in a bad way, that's certain. The way Moriarty is speaking and the lack of noise shows John's defeat. Seems like we got here just in time...

Since Carl Powers' trainers were left into 221c during the bomber mystery, I haven't been down to the flat below my own. Ugh, returning to the scene of a previous crime, tut tut Moriarty, I think to myself.

However, despite this, I cannot remember whether the door makes a sound when opened or not. Damn me for deleting it. I guess I'll just have to open it and see, no point delaying the moment any longer...

I turn around, seeing Mycroft and Lestrade right behind me, with about 20 or so police officers armed with batons behind them. I reach out and take a baton from the nearest officer, just in case. I look back at Mycroft, he simply raises his eyebrows at me. Lestrade nods slightly and braces himself.

I turn back to the door and place my hand on the handle. I tense and grip it firmly, feeling the cold metal against my hot skin.

I push down the handle and thrust the door open, it squeaks on it's hinges as it swings open and I cringe at the cruel sound. Light floods the corridor as it is let loose.

From somewhere below me in 221c, I hear a cheery call of "Hello!" as the lights suddenly go out. The world turns pitch black as panic breaks out.


Thanks for reading this far!

To the guest reviewer (Sue) : thanks for reading and reviewing my writing. I'm sorry that the chapters are short, I might fill them out one day... And yes, you're right, I do like cliffhanger endings, as you've just seen... :)