Chapter Ten
Sherlock checked the time on his phone again.
God
Eight minutes had passed since he had jumped into the first available cab, stealing it from a mother and her off spring.
He hadn't the time to fake an apology as John would normally have forced him to.
John…
He estimated another two and a half minutes before he would arrive but the Dennis had kidnapped John three hours ago.
Sherlock hoped his conclusions about Taylor Dennis were accurate. If so, he would most likely hold off on harming John until Sherlock was present.
Slowly the wreckage that was once the infamous West-Wood Rehab Center came into view.
"I'll get out here." Sherlock ordered abruptly, throwing a few bills towards the driver and jumping out before the cab had fully come to a stop.
Sherlock immediately took off running.
He knew that John would be on the roof.
That's where Sherlock had been the first time Taylor Dennis had introduced himself.
Sherlock cut through the alley to the left.
It wouldn't do to be seen just yet.
He would try and climb to the roof from the back of the crumbling building undetected.
If everything worked in his favor, maybe he could get a shot off on Dennis before he saw him coming.
Sherlock ran through the overgrown hedges making his way to an old beat up and rusted gate.
It was locked.
Sherlock hadn't brought his lock-picking set with him and kicking at the worn gate would alert Dennis to his arrival.
He would have to climb over it and hope that it held strong.
Sherlock jumped, gripping the top with both hands and pulled himself over.
The gate had luckily been stronger than it looked.
Quickly Sherlock tread through the debris locating the ladder easily.
It went all the way up to the roof, though some of the steps were missing or damaged.
Sherlock made his way up carefully, slipping once when one of the steps snapped off, falling to the ground.
It hadn't made much noise but Sherlock stilled in his movement for a moment listening just in case.
After forty-five seconds, Sherlock started moving again, making the rest of the trip up, stepping onto the roof in a crouch.
He couldn't see anything from his position where a large water tank sat, but he could hear a voice.
"Very, very good, Dr. Watson." The voice said. "It must feel freeing, confiding in me all your dark secrets. All your sins."
Sherlock moved closer to the tank, straining his ears.
"I wonder what Sherlock would think of you, huh? What do you think?" The voice spat out. "I think he wouldn't care either way. You are garbage after all."
"Go t- go to hell." A voice sputtered out weakly before devolving into a coughing fit.
John
Sherlock made his way to the side of the tank and froze.
He could see John now.
His wrists were bound behind his back and attached to a large metal pipe. He was slumped over, breathing erratically.
Sherlock's eyes roamed over him cataloging every injury.
Bruising and swelling over his right eye, his cheek and his jaw.
His hair, matted with both old and fresh blood from the cuts he could make out at his hairline.
The way John was breathing suggested that one or more ribs may be broken.
A trail of dried blood made a line from the corner of his mouth, all the way down his chin, though his lip was not split.
Possible internal injuries, then.
Sherlock felt a shock of pure rage so strong his whole body had begun to tremble.
How dare this useless specimen of a human being lay his hands on John!
Sherlock reached into his coat, roughly pulling out the gun he had borrowed from John earlier that day.
Slowly making his way further around, Sherlock could now see Taylor Dennis standing a few feet away from John and he lifted the gun, willing his shaking hands to steady.
"I know I said I wouldn't punish you anymore until Sherlock arrived, but you're making it difficult to keep my word." Dennis said through clenched teeth.
Sherlock took a few deep breaths. He needed to focus.
He needed to feel nothing.
Sherlock leaned forward against a couple of crates stacked by the tank and his footing slipped.
Panicked, Sherlock shot out a hand to steady himself, but the crates gave under his weight, toppling to the ground as he stumbled noisily out into the open.
Both heads had turned towards him as he picked himself up quickly, pointing his gun straight at John's kidnapper.
He immediately met John's eyes, seeing shock and then immense relief flood through his gaze.
"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked trying to get a read of his injuries now that he was closer to him.
"Sh-Sherlock-" John called weakly, his voice still carrying a bit of a frenzied quality, before nodding his head slightly in answer.
"You've got yourself into quite the mess again." Sherlock commented giving John a reassuring smile.
"And y-you're late…..again" John answered through labored breaths, but he was grinning now.
"You came." Dennis said almost reverently causing Sherlock to focus on him now, griping the gun tighter.
"You left me little choice in the matter." Sherlock answered stiffly.
Taylor smiled.
"Yes. I had to do it this way so you would see." Taylor said dazedly, taking a step towards John.
"You'd be wise to step back." Sherlock ordered.
Taylor gave another smile and paused in his steps.
"You want to take it all in before we begin. I understand, Sherlock." He said, looking over to John in derision. "Look at him. Look how weak he is. How pathetic." He says before turning to look at Sherlock again.
"But I've broken him for you. Not all the way of course. Not yet. Not without you." Dennis adds with a manic smile. "Aren't you pleased with me?" He asks, desperation in his eyes.
Sherlock narrows his sharp eyes at Taylor.
"Pleased? No. I wouldn't say that. Quite the opposite, actually." Sherlock says coldly. "In fact, at this very moment I'm contemplating whether or not I should kill you quickly or make you suffer before John's harrowing rescue. Honestly, I don't think John will mind the latter." Sherlock said giving Taylor a dead stare.
"Not a-at all." John sputters out in answer.
Taylor stands shocked for a moment, before giving a small chuckle and a shake of his head.
"You're still confused. It's okay." Taylor says sadly. "He's tricked you. When I kill him, you'll see. His hold over you will be gone then. We'll finally be together, just like it should be."
"Be together?" Sherlock scoffs. "How very humorous."
"Humorous?" Taylor asks confused. "We are soul mates, Sherlock! You must feel it as well! I know you do!" He yells, looking at Sherlock in desperation.
"Soul mates?" Sherlock asks incredulously. "Well, that presents quite a problem since all I feel is repulsed by the very fact that you are in existence."
"But….…but I saved you." Taylor explains, his face anguished. "I put you back together. I…...Everything. All the killings, getting rid of that trash over there-" Taylor says, raising his voice as he jabbs a finger in John's direction. "All of it was for you! I love you!"
Sherlock looks at him in revulsion.
"You seem to be suffering from a lack of understanding, so let me make this perfectly clear. There is no way that you could possibly mean less to me than you already do. You are nothing to me. Insignificant. After today, if you're thought of at all, it will be when John and I are laughing over how utterly pathetic you were."
Taylor stumbles back, his face the very picture of a broken man.
"But you're supposed to love me!" He says, tears running down his face. "You-" He starts, before a realization hits him and he whips a gun out from the waist of his trousers.
"I thought that I could save you in time." He says, pointing the gun straight at John's head. "But it's too late." He whispers, his finger shaking against the trigger. "He's diseased you! Ruined you! You're nothing now, just like him!"
Sherlock shoots his eyes to John worriedly. John is looking back at him weakly, but resigned.
How could he not have noticed the gun?
Damn!
"Taylor, do not make this any worse on yourself." Sherlock says, trying to keep his breathing level. "I'm the one you want, not him."
Taylor gives Sherlock an anguished look.
"I do want you, but now I see that it was impossible from the start." He says trembling, gun pointed directly at John's head.
Sherlock needed to buy some time.
He needed to keep John safe until his brother's men and the police arrived.
"It's not." Sherlock says. "It's not impossible, Taylor."
This makes Taylor halt in his slow walk towards John.
So far so good.
"W-What do you mean?" Taylor asks, a spark of hope in his eyes.
"I mean, you can have me." Sherlock replies, lowering the gun.
"Sherlock, no!" John yells out hoarsely.
Sherlock doesn't turn to look at him.
He can't.
"Let John go and you can have me, Taylor." Sherlock says.
Taylor looks torn between John and then Sherlock.
"How can I trust you? How-"
"Look. I'm putting my gun down." Sherlock interrupts placing his gun to the ground. "Free him and I'm yours. Isn't that what you want?" Sherlock asks, giving Taylor his most sincere look. "You still want us to be together, don't you?"
"Y-Yes!" Taylor answers through tears. "God, yes!" He says, bending down and un-cuffing John quickly, before standing again.
Sherlock breaths out a sigh of relief.
Taylor has not moved away from John though.
He would need to remedy that.
Slowly he opens his arms and plasters a smile on his face.
"Come here, Taylor. You did very good." He says, and Taylor comes crashing into him, holding him tightly, sobbing into his coat.
And great, now it would have to go to the cleaners.
Sherlock lifted his arms, placing one around the back of Taylor's neck and one close to the gun.
He would need to time it just right, but if he could just get the gun away from him, he could incapacitate Dennis while they waited for help.
"I love you so much!" Taylor says lifting his head towards Sherlock's, and there was no way in hell he was kissing this man.
Swiftly Sherlock grabs hold of the gun with his left hand, while his right roughly grips Taylor's hair.
Taylor lets out an enraged howl and pulls his knee up to land a hard blow into Sherlock's stomach.
Sherlock looses his grip on Taylor and the gun as his breath is knocked out of him.
He can hear John shouting in the background as he clutches at his stomach and tries to take in breaths.
"You! I knew it!" Taylor yells, his gun aimed for Sherlock's head now. "I knew it was to late! You'll die just like him now!" Taylor spits out before squeezing the trigger.
Sherlock closed his eyes as a heavy weight barreled into him, knocking him to the ground.
Sherlock opened his eyes and saw John slumped over top of him. He looked as if he was heaving but Sherlock could hear only short rapid breaths.
Quickly Sherlock turned him over.
No
No...John
"John." Sherlock called out shakily looking at the bullet wound in John's chest. John was panicked, his lungs trying desperately to take in a deep breath as he coughed and sputtered blood.
The bullet had most probably punctured John's lung and without immediate help his chance of survival was-
No.
The police siren's could already be heard coming down the street.
No. Worrying was a waste of time. Or course John would be rescued. He would be-
A weak hand griped Sherlock's coat sleeve and he looked down to see John looking at him. He was barely taking in air now but he was no longer panicked.
He was looking at Sherlock through half lidded eyes, forcing his shaking pale lips to smile.
Sherlock realized immediately that John was trying to say goodbye.
"John! Stay with me, John!" Sherlock shouted before John's grip on his sleeve loosened.
Sherlock continued yelling John's name as his hand fell to the ground.
He couldn't stop even as he saw the light leave his eyes.
No
Taylor was speaking now, though Sherlock could not understand a word of it.
John
John was….
No
The cold metal of a gun pressed against his head as he watched blood ooze out of his lifeless friends body and he suddenly went wild.
Grabbing Taylor's wrist, Sherlock twisted until he dropped the gun with a yelp and then he kept twisting until he heard a snap.
John
Grabbing hold of Taylor's jacket, Sherlock threw him to the ground before kicking him.
His legs, his broken wrist, his ribs.
John
Taylor was screaming now but Sherlock didn't stop.
He couldn't stop.
He could hear the sound of the police making their way through the gate.
Sherlock lept onto Taylor, swinging his fist into his face a few times before he griped him around the throat.
"I'm going to kill you. I'm going to watch the life leave your eyes." Sherlock grits out, his fingers tightening around Taylor's neck.
"Sherlock!" Came the familiar voice. Was it Lestrade?
Sherlock didn't know.
He didn't care.
"Sherlock, let him go!" The voice ordered again. "Don't make me fire!"
"Then fire!" Sherlock howled out, tightening even further. He could see Taylor's eyes start to roll, blood vessels bursting one by one.
"John needs you, Sherlock! Don't do this!"
Sherlock startled at that.
He could do nothing for John now except get revenge on the man who killed him.
"John is….he's-"
"He's alive, Sherlock. Rescue got his heart started."
Sherlock turned shocked towards Lestrade, his arms falling shakily to his sides.
"John's alive….he's-"
Lestrade grabs onto Sherlock's arm, pulling him up and off of Taylor, motioning a few officers to handle what was left of him.
"C'mon. I'll take you to the hospital." Lestrade offers.
Sherlock nods shakily as he is dropped into the passinger's seat.
John was alive.