Day 9:
Three days. Three days and all John had was an address and an informant no older than ten. He had Mary's money, which he stopped accepting, and the gift that the mysterious woman had given him. So, all in all, he had nothing. The days seemed shorter, and his heartbeat seemed faster. He wanted to understand what it meant, but he was no Sherlock Holmes.
The man rolled out of his bed and fumbled for his cane. He grabbed his phone next. On it was a message, a voicemail from Thomas. John blinked a few times, wondering why the man had even bothered to call. That was something he hadn't done before- he usually said that the police were tapping the lines and listening. John clicked on his voicemail box and put his phone to his ear.
"John… John… They're here." Thomas' breathing was ragged, and he was speaking at a hurried whisper. "They're gonna find me. So you need to know, I found him, Sherlock. He was last spotted in the drugs district, not too far from where you're staying, and he's been-" There was a gasp, the sound of a gun with a silencer being fired, and the phone falling to the ground. John squeezed his eyes shut and balled his hands into fists.
"Oh, Johnny-boy, you're getting close. No more help for you." James Moriarty sounded just as John remembered he did. If the man's manner did not betray his insanity, his crazed tones and quickly changing temper did.
With that, the message ended. John opened his eyes and threw the phone into the mattress. A good friend was dead, and he truly had no one left that he could rely on.
John stood up slowly, for he was shaking both with anger and exhaustion. He couldn't remember why he had taken on this mission, or why he even cared any more. He could always have crawled back to Harry as he had done several times before. But this deal he had made, his deal with the devil, had trapped him. John knew that even Mycroft could not pull him out of the pit he was stuck in.
The doctor walked out of the hotel, too shell-shocked to feel hunger or the pain that normally resonated in his leg. The people around him didn't notice him, no one ever did; he was just another man, an ordinary man. John would not find Sherlock. He would die.
There was one kernel of hope left for John, though. He knew where Sherlock had been last seen, and Thomas had confirmed that Sherlock was indeed nearby. All John had to do was hope and search. He had started a network, and if he could extend it in the next few days, there was a good chance that he could still live. He could go back to London and back to his office and back to his comforts. John sighed at the thought, his resolve strengthening by the minute. He had to find the other man. His life was at stake.
Luca sat the other children in front of him and showed them the money he had gotten. He explained to them in his mother-tongue how he had gotten it. He told them that there was more money in it for them if they found the man 'Sherluck Holmes' and told the limp-man about him. Luca explained that the limp-man was kind and had helped him. He described the man they were looking for and told them where he had last seen him.
"Twenty American dollars?" The amount was huge. It could take care of a small family for a while. The smaller children's eyes gleamed at the prospect of not begging for a week. The younger ones scrambled off into their respective begging-territories to find the man. The older children seemed more reserved.
"Luca, if you are lying, I will take Jennay and skin her." Luca knew the boy that had spoken well; he was older and had violent tendencies. He was called 'the Dog' by all of the other kids on the streets.
"He offered to buy me a hotel room."
"Probably to rape you," the Dog pointed out. Luca knew he had a point, but the limp-man was different from the other tourists. He was vigilant and determined. Luca had seen that in his eyes.
"He will still give you money if you find the Holmes-man." The Dog pondered the thought for a moment before turning around.
"Siinan, you take the upper-drugs market. Takal, you get the lower-drugs." The older boy looked back at Luca and held a hand out.
"If I find the Holmes-man, you will bring me to the limp-man?" Luca nodded and shook the Dog's hand.
"I will."
"I find more," Luca informed John. The two were sitting down in seats outside of a small cantina. John was jumpier than normal, Luca noted, and was vigilantly watching out for whatever the older man was afraid of. "More kid to find Sherluck."
"Thank you." A hint of a smile played on John's face. "But I hope you're not expecting me to give them all as much as I gave you. I don't have that much left."
"No. They get money if they find man. If not…" The boy shrugged. "They beg extra hard next days to earn back monies." John nodded to himself, simply because he did not know what else to do. Earlier, John had ordered a small meal for the boy, and the child had eaten it like he had never eaten in his life. John felt bad, but didn't know what else he could do, not with a budget as thinly strung as his own.
"Luca, who is Jennay?" The child almost choked on his last bite of food when John mentioned the name. There was a panic in his eyes. The boy swallowed hard.
"Jennay is g… gone…"
"Gone?"
"Gone from family."
"You mean lost?" John leaned back, watching the child carefully. He had heard that there was a child-trafficking business in the region, but he wasn't sure exactly what that would have to do with either Luca or Jennay.
"Jennay taken many year ago from tourist family. They not search for her, and she not able to go home. I beg for her money to buy ticket on fly." The whole situation was beyond odd.
"She was kidnapped? How did you find her?" Luca took a moment to understand what was being said. Confusedly, he responded,
"She scream too loud. Men kick her out of car because she give loud ideas to other kids taken from other tourists."
"Luca, can you take me to see Jennay?"
The child seemed distrusting, but after a few minutes of silence, he nodded. Maybe a tourist would know other tourists and could bring the girl back to her home.
Luca led John through the seediest part of town and into an abandoned building. Old women stared at the boy and John, and spoke in harshly uttered tones in a language that John did not know. They were watching, but the people around them did nothing. The building was obviously not truly abandoned. Just because the manufacturers decided that it wasn't usable did not mean that the homeless locals did not. There was coughing and the sounds of young babies crying. John looked at sickly babes and old men. In London, they would have had proper care and the child with obvious dysentery would have been fine. The old man with the rattling cough, possibly pneumonia, would have been treated as soon as possible, if he had gone to one of the charity clinics…
Finally, Luca stopped in front of a curtain behind machinery that had once been used for packaging, it seemed. He pulled it aside, speaking quickly in his own language. A girl with bright blue eyes looked at John, her mouth hanging open in shock.
"Hello, I'm John Watson, are you Jennay?" She stood up and swallowed hard. Her gaze was piercing, bright, and engaging.
"I'm Jenny Kaftan. Can you take me home?"
John had to leave. It was night, and he needed to get back to the hotel before the truly seedy nightlife came out. The girl, Jenny, was from Goldsboro, North Carolina. Her parents perhaps had looked for her, but the kidnappers made it look like she had been killed, so perhaps they did not even know that she was still alive. When he got back to his room, John phoned Mary, whom he knew was only a few rooms over. She at his door in under a minute.
"What?" she asked. She seemed hurt that John hadn't talked to her in days.
"There's a girl. Jenny Kaftan. She was kidnapped and escaped and I want to get her home." John looked the woman square in the eyes. "I don't care if you're working for Moriarty or not. I don't want to know. But please, if I really do only have two days left after tonight, see to it that she gets back home."
Something changed in Mary's behaviour. She straightened up. "I am a woman with a heart. I will see what I can do." John scribbled down where Jenny had been living and what information he had gotten from her.
"I'm trusting you."
"This is one thing that you can trust me on," the woman promised. She kissed his cheek and walked out of the room, her high-heels clacking loudly behind her, a herald of her exit. When the door closed, John sat heavily on his bed. He was tired. He was so tired. He wrestled his shoes off and glanced at his phone. There was a text waiting for him.
So close. -JM
AN: Sorry for the shitty chapter. The story's drawing to a close, and I can't wait to write the ending. *maniacal laughing*
