Many thanks to textualdeviance for the input(that's still a beta yo) also thanks to everyone on twitter, lj and here for their encouragements and reviews. I hope you all are enjoying the story and aren't getting bored.

These lovely characters are from the brilliant mind of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle(and those blokes Moffat & Gatiss from Sherlock). I've just had a fiddle with them. (Especially Poor Watson, bless)

Please be warned this chapter is a bit more graphic in nature.

Return to Baskerville

Chapter 10

Mycroft was pleased to discover the next text he received from his little brother was not the death notice he'd been expecting, but rather another development in the HOUND case. Good, he thought. It seemed Sherlock was now focusing on what was important. Perhaps he had come to the same realisation regarding Doctor Watson. Then again, maybe John had been found. It wouldn't be unlike his brother to leave that detail out of the message.

The location of Moriarty would be easy enough to trace from the number Sherlock had given him, it would just be a matter of ringing his man in China. They would collect Moriarty and escort him back to London. Mycroft wanted to have a few words with the man about his globe- trotting exploits and if he timed it just so, he'd have his position back by this time tomorrow. A wry smile slid across Mycroft's face as he opened his mobile to ring the Prime Minister's private number.

xxx

Major Barrymore had always followed orders, beginning with his father's. His father was a military man and strict disciplinarian who didn't suffer fools gladly. There was no room in the Barrymore house for frivolity and everything, and everyone, had their place. Anything that didn't stay in its place was either discarded, like his mum, or punished severely. It didn't take long, or many beatings, for the young lad to fall in line and understand just how 'right' his father was. He soon became his father's son, in every sense of the words.

Barrymore was just fifteen when his father was called into the Falklands conflict. The young man read the newspapers every day and watched telly every night, dreading any word he might hear on his father, who was stationed on the HMS Sheffield. Early in May 1982 the young man received news that the HMS Sheffield had foundered due to fire following a missile strike from an Argentine Attack Squadron. Twenty men had died; among them was Barrymore's father. A few years later, after Barrymore had joined the service, he discovered his father was not even supposed to be on the roster for morning duties, but had to fill in for another officer that called out sick. Further digging, after he'd risen to the rank of Major, and he found that the officer hadn't been ill at all but rather shagging a midshipman in the armory.

When Barrymore received the call from Moriarty just over a year ago, the man had said he would help track down the officer and midshipman that were the cause of his father's untimely death. Moriarty just needed something in return; the use of Baskerville and information on the HOUND formula. Moriarty had said that he'd make sure no one would interfere. Barrymore would be in charge. He would have his place.

Barrymore was quite enraged by the bureaucratic interference from the MOD and hated the fact that Sherlock Holmes and Captain John Watson had usurped his authority during their search at Baskerville. These people did not know their place. What infuriated Barrymore even further was what he'd overheard the detective and Captain say they were going to do when they returned home. It sickened Barrymore to his core. So when he received the message from Moriarty to remove Captain Watson from the picture, he was only too happy to comply with the order.

Barrymore had received another call. Moriarty needed one more thing done and then Barrymore could have the information he'd been searching for. Kill Fletcher. He knew too much and would tell Sherlock everything. Easy enough for Barrymore, he'd had plenty of training and he didn't much care for that little weasel anyway. Watson had been dealt with, well mostly. There wasn't much more the man would be able to take and as soon as Barrymore finished taking care of the business with Fletcher, he would return to finish dealing with Watson, once and for all.

xxx

The authorities had already been on their way when the call came in about the murder at Grimpen village. Detective Inspector Lestrade had insisted they come back with him to help in the search for John Watson. Lestrade made inquiries about John at the station and made calls to the local hospital and morgue. The good news, if one could call it that, was that John had not been found lying injured or dead anywhere. The bad news, and getting worse with every tick of the clock, was that John was still missing.

As the Inspector and the other officers walked up, Lestrade noticed the body lying on the ground with a sheet over it. Looking around he saw a small crowd gathered but they were standing off at a respectful distance with the smaller inn keep watching to make sure none touched the body. However, the one person missing from the scene was Sherlock Holmes, and he was nowhere to be found.

xxx

Sherlock wanted to get a closer look at the signal and where it was coming from. Someone was sending it; maybe they could lead him to John. It wasn't that far to Dartmoor so Sherlock left Billy to watch over Fletcher's body with strict orders not to let anyone touch it.

Sixteen hours, ten minutes and forty-five seconds, Sherlock thought as he looked at his watch. That's how long John had been gone. No, he mustn't think of that. He had to focus on the case. That would be the only way to find John.

Sherlock decided the best vantage point would be from Birch Tor. The view from the rock looked out kilometres in every direction. Sherlock parked the Rover as close as he could, then let out on foot over the rocks watching the ground to make sure he didn't trip. As he looked up to get his bearings, Sherlock's heart nearly broke in two when he saw his dear John lying on the rocky surface ahead. Sherlock ran as fast as he dared, clambering over the rocky terrain until finally he was at his partner's side.

It was much worse up close. Sherlock quickly scanned John to try and determine his injuries. There was just so much blood and Sherlock couldn't tell where it was coming from, just that the majority of it seemed to be around his genital area. John was wearing a straitjacket and nothing else. Sherlock peeled off his large coat and quickly covered John with it.

"No, please John. Please don't be dead. Don't leave me, I need you." Sherlock said as he bent down. With a shaky hand he felt for John's pulse.

It was very faint, but John had a pulse. Sherlock let out the breath he'd been holding and pulled out his mobile to phone Lestrade.

"I've found John, hurry. He's in a bad way. We're on the moor at Birch Tor." Sherlock was on the verge of tears. He couldn't hold back the emotion in his voice as he said, "Greg, please hurry. He might not last much longer." As he rang off he began to sob. He pulled John close to him bundling him up tighter in his coat.

"It's all right now, I'm here. I found you. You're going to be just fine." Sherlock said as he stroked John's hair and gently touched his face. He noticed John's eye was swollen shut and that his hair was singed.

"Oh my sweet man, what have they done to you?" Sherlock couldn't contain his tears clutching John even tighter in his arms.

John made a small groan at the pressure of Sherlock's hug.

"John?" Sherlock looked down and kissed John on the forehead. "John, can you hear me?" He said. Sherlock then lowered his head to John's ear and spoke just above a whisper. "You're safe now."

John's good eye fluttered open to see Sherlock staring down at him. "Sherl…" John tried, but was unable to get the rest out, his throat was just too dry.

That didn't matter to Sherlock. He sniffed back his tears and said, "Yes, my dear man, it's me. I've found you. You're going to be okay." Sherlock leaned down and kissed John again, this time on the cheek as he continued to stroke his hair and face.

Sherlock could hear the sirens approaching. "Do you hear that John? Lestrade is coming. We're going to get you out of here and to the hospital, just hang on. Please." Sherlock squeezed his partner's hand adding, "Don't you dare leave me here without you. I can't do it, I won't."

John looked up into Sherlock's crystal blue eyes. He'd never seen Sherlock so shaken. John wanted to stay, really he did. He wanted to live out the rest of his days adventuring with his love, but he could feel his body slipping away. He gripped Sherlock's hand and brought it to his chest.

"Luh," John said as he swallowed hard.

"Hush now, it's all right. Don't try to talk. We'll have plenty of time for that later." Sherlock saw the ambulance arrive and called out, "Hurry! We're over here!"

Sherlock looked back down to John. "There here. Help is here John. We'll get you all sorted, you'll see." said Sherlock. A bit of panic started to set in as part of him realised what was happening.

"Sher," John whispered.

Sherlock looked down to John's face. "Yes, John," he said. Knowing what was about to happen, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it. Tears began to well up in his eyes.

"Luh…you," John said and his head fell to the side, his grip on Sherlock's hand released.

Sherlock lowered his head to kiss John very gently on the temple and said, "I am yours my dear fellow, always."

End Chapter 10

Okay, I know…you're all yelling at me now. It's okay. Just remember, there's another chapter coming. ^_^ and it's always darkest before the Jawn. (See what I did there? Aren't I clever?)

A couple of author's notes here:

HMS Sheffield was indeed a real ship that foundered after catching fire from a missile attack during the Falkland's war. However, no hanky panky was taking place in the armory, to my knowledge.

Birch Tor is the rock you see Sherlock standing on in Hounds of the Baskerville when he's looking out over the minefield.