Though Sherlock's outward demeanor appeared calm, his insides churned. John was in trouble. As the limo sped through the streets of London, Sherlock was handed a blue bio suit. "Put this on just inside the flat."
Sherlock frowned. "And if I don't?"
The man holding a gun on him laughed. "Then you'll be just in time to see your friend choke to death on his own vomit just before I put a bullet in your brain."
Sherlock snatched the blue, suit, booties and hat from the man and fought in vain to keep his hands from shaking. When the limo pulled up in front of Alex's flat Sherlock shivered. The place had Whitehall stamped all over it. From its sterile white washed columns to the camera that moved back and forth like a winged predator searching for its prey.
Sherlock got out of the limo, resisting the urge to give the bird to the camera. Inside the foyer, a man held a gun on him while he changed into the blue, hateful outfit. A machine hummed as it whisked all evidence of their presence away into a bio filter. Sherlock swallowed down the lump in his throat. For this was a massive cover up operation. The man motioned him into a room with two cameras trained on a couple of trunks.
Another man flipped a switched on a computer console and all hell broke loose as Sherlock's world imploded on him.
"Get me out of here. Please I beg of you. What do you want?" A voice screamed out in a long tortuous wine.
The sound made the hairs of the back of Sherlock's neck prickle. It was John's voice. He stepped nearer to the computer attempting to keep his thoughts calm and rational. John's vitals and pupil dilatation showed up in a corner of the screen. His rapid heartbeat was off the charts.
One of the technicians nudged Sherlock in the arm. "You can speak to him through this microphone."
Sherlock stepped forward. "John, it's me, Sherlock."
"SSSSherlock, get me out of here. What do they want? Oh, God, Sherlock I'm running out of time. The air in here is…" John's voice trailed off.
"John, don't talk, breathe deep, count to 10. I'll fix this." Sherlock said in a gentle voice only reserved for the love of his life-John.
"What is this?" Sherlock hissed in rage.
A suited figure approached him. "If John answers correctly he will be set free. If not then, he will meet the fate of his friend."
Sherlock looked at the other screen and for the first time noticed a man in another trunk. It was Alex. Turning around Sherlock observed a woman weeping. She was led through the room as Alex breathed his last. His dying breath a profession of love for Danny.
Sherlock stood rooted to the spot in shock. It was all too much. One of the suited figures brushed him aside and began asking John questions over the micro phone.
"Is your name John Hamish Watson?" The voice asked.
Sherlock winced at the idea of some monovalent stranger speaking John's name. It de-humanized him. John was just a test subject for these monsters. "I will make them pay," Sherlock thought. "Once we get out of here I will make them all pay. I will kill everyone in Whitehall and MI 6 if I have to." The rush of adrenaline from the vengeful thoughts that raced through his mind gave him the strength to not collapse at the video display of John's supine, distorted body within the trunk.
"Yes, I am." John's weak voice brought Sherlock around to the present.
"Do you know anything about the natural of Alex's work?"
"No, for the love of god, no. Sherlock, help me please." John's voice came out in an inhuman wail that tore at Sherlock's soul.
"John Watson, has Danny or anyone else discussed the nature of Alex's work?"
One second drug by and then another and then another. John lay silent in his would be grave. Sherlock ran forward and jerked the microphone out of the technician's hands. "John, hang on."
Strong arms pinned Sherlock from behind. "Mr. Holmes, you will kindly refrain from disobedience. I was not bluffing about my earlier threats regarding your inability to follow simple instructions."
Sherlock wrenched his arms free, while the questions rained upon John's fragile psyche like an enemy World War II airstrike on London. Then the questions stopped. He watched while they analyzed the data from John's vitals. When the leader of the group finally came over to where Sherlock stood, he was seething with rage. The only thing that prevented Sherlock from crushing the man's windpipe was the thought of the second trunk's precious cargo.
"Mr. Holmes, you may take the Doctor home now. However, I need not remind you to tell no one of your time here. Not even your big brother. He will be briefed separately." The figure stood in front of Sherlock for a few moments. "Sherlock Holmes, consider yourself fortunate. This could have gone much worse for you and John Watson. In future, be careful whom you go on double dates with."
Like a patient being discharged from a hospital John's wallet and watch were handed to Sherlock in a plastic bag. "Where's his clothes?"
"They were destroyed just in case." A female mono tone voice answered.
"Just in case of what?" Sherlock countered.
"In case his answers weren't acceptable."
Sherlock shivered realizing how close John came to meeting Alex's fate. John stumbled towards him wrapped in a blanket. He only took a few steps then crumpled to his knees.
"Carry him to the car." A voice ordered.
A hulking figure sighed scooping John up. Sherlock rushed to keep in step with him, just like an impatient child waiting to catch a first glimpse of a newborn sibling. When they finally reached the inside of the car, Sherlock wriggled out of the blue bio suit and took John in his arms. He was filthy covered in blood and his own waste.
Sherlock took a deep breath, not to clear his nostrils of John's stench, but to calm the unruly emotions that threatened to overwhelm his normally placid features.
"John," Sherlock whispered.
John looked up at Sherlock, clutched the lapels of his coat and smiled. Then a stress induced exhaustion forced John to close his eyes.
"John, make note. I will make them pay. I will burn them. I will hold their beating hearts in my hand, laughing while I make them watch me squeeze the life out of them. No one will be safe. For I am the East Wind and I will sweep them away like useless chaff. I will be the reaper and they shall reap the whirl wind."