Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, I really appreciate it. I love to know what you think!
For those of you who were missing him, John's back in play (in bold italics)!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Sherlock characters (Still wish John was mine though!) – Thanks to all the actors, writers, etc etc that make the original series so worth writing about!
John could hear voices. He struggled to remember if he knew the owners of those voices. One mentioned him by name. "…I won't believe it, not until John admits it to me himself!" Admits what? Why couldn't he remember? Why couldn't he open his eyes and just see who was speaking, then maybe….. He sighed internally, it hurt too much now, maybe he should just give up!
Sherlock's attention was caught by the heart monitor. John's heart rate had increased, not by much, but at the same time his eyes moved as if in REM sleep – was he dreaming? Sherlock leaned over to speak in his friend's ear. "John? John can you hear me?" No response. "Come on, John, wake up" there was an edge of desperation to Sherlocks voice.
Another nurse this time came into the room moved quietly around the bed clipboard in hand, checking John's stats and making notes from the readings on the machines. Sherlock could read everything about her life in her face and the way she moved, but was frustrated to find he could read nothing from her reactions that would tell him how John was doing. He watched as she double checked the readings, laid a gentle hand on John's forehead as if to confirm his temperature, then moved to replace the charts at the bottom of the bed.
"Well?"
"Dr Watson is stable, otherwise not much change."
Sherlock flung himself into the chair at John's bedside and steepled his fingers against his lips. He waited until the nurse left the room before speaking again.
"Mycroft, Alexia Katerinochkin was in the country while we were pulling the UK arm of her empire apart. Why didn't your people know? Why didn't they alert you?"
Mycroft raised one expressive eyebrow. The thought was not a pretty one, but he had already started to wonder the same thing. "A spy in my own camp…" it was not a statement, not a question, more a thought that escaped him verbally.
Katerinochkin…..Katerin….Kal….Kallie….. The names were linked…why couldn't he remember? He was so thirsty, but he still couldn't open his eyes, couldn't get the attention of the voices. Why did he feel so helpless?
"We were careful, very careful Mycroft, you know that. We made sure no-one was taken until we could take them all, so how did she know if not from an insider?"
"Yes, yes, I hear you Sherlock" Mycroft was tetchy now – his security should have been watertight. He caught Anthea's eye and nodded briefly, she rapidly fired off a message on her blackberry.
"Hang on – what are you saying here?" Greg suddenly seemed to catch up with the conversation.
"Oh, are you still here?"
"Yes Sherlock – I'm still here! So anytime you want to tell me what the hell is going on….?"
"They shouldn't have known we were on to them. All their people – all their known people were caught or…"
"Yes okay, let's not go there Sherlock, I'd rather not know."
Sherlock nodded, understanding the older man's reluctance. "Hmm, right, so if we had eliminated all the known operatives, how did they get to John and me?"
"So you think Mycroft has a spy… God help us!"
"There are still questions though Sherlock." Mycroft turned the subject neatly, "such as how they managed to subdue you without leaving a mark? I cannot believe you sat there meekly waiting for them to shoot you…"
"No of course I didn't….!"
"But he's right" Greg interrupted him "when we arrived there was no sign that anyone other than you and John had been in the room, and certainly no sign that you'd been held captive in any way."
"Look, the Russians have some ingenious ways with…." Sherlocks voice faded to silence as he looked down at his arms as they lay along the armrests of his chair. His eyes narrowed. Then he hastily pushed the sleeves of his shirt up above his elbows and stared at the skin of his forearms, examining them closely.
"What?" Greg asked. "What have you remembered?"
Sherlock looked up with a frown. "I was tied to the chair beside my desk…"
"You couldn't have been!" Mycroft exclaimed. "There are no bruises, no marks on you at all!"
John listened to the voices. "Of course there were no marks, they used….."
"…..they used a wide length of fabric, wrapped around me in such a way as to hold me firmly but leave no sign of my having been restrained." Sherlocks eyes took on a faraway look as he continued more to himself than to his companions "I wonder how many times they used that technique and got away with it?"
"They wanted to hurt you – they wanted to kill you – they wanted me to do it…" He felt as if he was wading chest deep in treacle, struggling towards the answers to his questions, seeing pictures as if in a gallery as he passed by. Who was it he was trying to reach? He couldn't see his face…..
The heart monitor registered a rise again, this time quite significant and coupled with an increased respiratory rate. Lestrade stepped across to the door, leaned out and caught the eye of the nurse at the desk. She hurried into the room and rapidly checked John's stats. Heart rate, blood pressure, respiration, they were all rising, not dangerously so, more returning to normal.
"I'll call the doctor," the nurse spoke to the room in general. "It's most likely just the effect of the tranquilizer wearing off, but better to be safe than sorry!"
As she walked back to the desk to make the call, Anthea handed her phone to Mycroft and he glanced down at the message on the screen. With a small nod he handed the phone back. "I'm going to my office Sherlock. There's nothing I can do here."
"What have you learned?" Sherlock was up on his feet in a second, the sudden movement conspiring with the injuries and lack of food to make him sway dizzily for a moment, and his hand shot out to grasp his brother's arm. "Tell me!"
After a moment's hesitation Mycroft complied. "We have found some…shall we call them irregularities in protocol. I want to have some more checks made, I can do that better from the office." For a moment his face softened. "Try to get some rest Sherlock."
Sherlock's hand dropped back to his side and Mycroft turned to leave the room, nodding an acknowledgement to the doctor as they passed on the threshold.
The doctor introduced himself as Peter Rachmann, ICU specialist. "Now, let's see what's happening here. You gentlemen are relatives of Mr Watson?" as he spoke he walked towards the bed and picked up John's charts.
"No," Greg spoke up before the scathing remark he could read on Sherlock's face could pass his lips. "My name's Lestrade, Detective Inspector New Scotland Yard, and this is Sherlock Holmes. He's Doctor Watson's friend."
The correction went unnoticed; Rachmann busied himself with John, muttering as he checked the machine readings against the manual readings he took himself. Sherlock was almost beside himself with impatience, willing the man to give him some information. At last the man turned away from the bed.
"Well, the nurse was correct; all indications are that the change in your friend is due to the dissipation of the tranquiliser in his bloodstream. I've re-set the alarms on the heart monitor – we need to watch now for his heart rate rising above the normal range, until we are sure he's no longer affected by the original drug antagonist." He smiled vaguely at the two men. "I think we can see light at the end of this particular tunnel."
"What are the chances of permanent damage?" Sherlock's voice was so low it was almost inaudible.
"Can't tell at this stage I'm afraid" the doctor was sympathetic, "until he wakes. Physically he should be fine, but how the drug has affected his mind…"
"Thank you Doctor." Lestrade shook hands with the man and turned to the consulting detective. "Don't say anything, Sherlock, just… it's not his fault. You'll have to be patient."
Sherlock huffed in frustration. "John shouldn't be here, not like this…."
He could see him now, that person he was so desperate to reach. He had his back turned and he was talking…. "John shouldn't be here…." Why? Where should he be? He struggled harder to reach the man standing in front of him. Suddenly the man turned around and he was aware of the familiar look in his eyes, the half-smile, the curling dark hair. "I know you! You're…"
"Sherlock!"