John jammed the key into the lock of 221b. He wasn't aware of what he would find on the other side, no. He wasn't thinking of anything but putting the heavy groceries down. He opened the door and trudged up the stairs, calling for Sherlock to help him put the food away. The flat was eerily quiet.
"Sherlock!" he yelled, only to be greeted by a man who definitely not Sherlock.
"You will not here find boy" said the heavy foreign accent behind a black mask and clothes. He had a small, long barreled gun in his left hand, and John could see the safety was not on.
"Where is he then? Where is Sherlock?" John was nervous, but not scared. He was scared yes, for his friend and Zephyr, but he would not show fear to the man who was attempting to take his life.
"You will not find him. He dead." the man had backed John to the edge of the staircase, by then. Thrusting the gun in between John's eyes so they crossed, the man advanced even more, nearly making John lose his balance.
"And you will be to." the man took a hand of hid gun to make a slit throat gesture, and that is when John took his advantage. Kicking the man in the knees, he stepped several paces forward to get away from the edge of the stairs. He kicked the man again in the head and took the gun from his hands.
"What have you done to him?" John raised the gun to the man's head, pushing him to the stairs just as he had done to him.
"I know not where the boy is." the man said quietly. "if you let me leave with my life you will be re-payed in an honorable fashion." John looked grimly at the man's cheating face before pulling the trigger, the force of the gun knocking him clear off his feet.
"Yeah, sure." he said to the man who was slumped, dead, against the door.
"Sherlock! Are you here?" he called, feeling foolish talking to an empty house. Running to Sherlock room he burst open the door, only to step on his phone.
"What?" he puffed at the adrenaline pulsed through his veins. He picked up the phone and read the last text that had been revived. It was from Zephyr.
.Bait
"Oh god." he breathed, he had no way of knowing where Sherlock was, of if he was even alive. He went back to the lounge and sat a moment, then his phone rang.
"Hello?" he said tiredly
"John, you need to come to the hospital..."
"We need a parent or guardian's consent to admit him, sir" three doctors were standing in front of Sherlock, who had his arms crossed in aggravation.
"Well, can you at least stabilize him first? You bloody idiots, he's dieing!" one of the nurses handed him a corded phone.
"Here, call someone, and then we can admit him and start immediate treatment." Sherlock snatched the phone from the woman's hands and dialed the numbers quickly. He put the phone up to his ear impatiently.
"Hello?" came a familiar, tired voice from the other end of the line.
"" John, you need to come to the hospital." Sherlock said quickly into the reviver.
"What why? What happened?" Johns words were rushed as he stepped around the dead man at the door.
"Moriarty tried to kill zephyr to get to me, I got there nearly in time, they wont check him in unless I talk to you." Sherlock glared at the Doctors who were finally starting to lift Zephyr onto a stretcher.
"Ill get there soon, Sherlock. Don't tell anybody how to do their job while I'm not there. People don't like that." Sherlock scoffed.
"Am I really that predictable John?"
"No, you are in no way predictable, I just know that is the kind of thing you like to do, now ill talk to you in a moment." Sherlock sighed.
"Fine, I'll be here waiting."
"There is some brain damage, parts of his brain were shutting down due to lack of oxygen. There are things he's going to need to relearn, like taking. We don't' know enough about the drug he was effected with to have any reliable results to test if he will have issues with memory and motor skills, but we are trying everything we can." It had been nearly three day's since Sherlock had met John in the lobby of the hospital, jumpy and anxious from the lack of nicotine. He was older, yes much older.
"I just can't believe it." John said one morning, stiffly holding his neck after spending the night in a hospital recliner. "How can you go from sixteen to twenty four in only three days? Its unhealthy." Sherlock was back to his mostly normal self again. Mood swings and an inferior attitude.
"I have explained this to you countless times John, and I am not about to do it again." He sat in the recliner on the opposite end of the room. He obviously hadn't slept at all.
"well," John said, standing and stretching out his back, digging in his pocket for some loose change.
"I'm going to get some coffee, want any?" Sherlock didn't answer for a moment and just stared at the ceiling.
"Please, thank you" he rubbed his eyes and waked over the Zephyr. John saw Sherlock check if he was in the room, so he quickly stepped around the corner to listen in.
"I know that when in a comatose state, the victim can still hear and understand word spoken to them." Sherlock began, sighing and sitting on the side of the bed. "I know what the drug was intended to do. I was meant to cause spasms in the cerebrum, causing you to lose your memory." John wondered why Sherlock hadn't told the doctors this yet, but figured there was a reason. "so, oh do understand that I have never been very successful about communication my emotions, but I just wan you to try. Try to remember me. I know you probably won't and it might be easier if you don't, but try. Let me be a selfish fool, just once." Sherlock sighed and backed away from the bedside. He sat back down in the recliner and his head fell into his hands. He wasn't crying. He was frustrated, angry and he wished he had killed Moriarty. John walked down and got the coffee and reentered the room. Sherlock had composed himself so well, it didn't even look as if anything had happened.
"here." john said passing Sherlock a steaming paper cup. He took it and set it down on the small table next to him.
"John." Sherlock looked up at John in a way he had learned to fear since Baskerville. This was his 'experiment face'.
"What?" He eyed Sherlock carefully and set his coffee down. You can never be too careful.
"Would you have thought me a murder if I had killed Moriarty? Just ended this whole stupid and pointless game then and there, I could have done it. I could have ended it..." He trailed off into his own thoughts.
"Well, no I could never think you a murder, really, B but you did the right thing. My dad used to say "A true man never takes another man's weakness to his advantage"" John nearly smiled at Sherlcok's skeptical look.
"Okay fine, it was on a fortune cookie, but still..you understand the point I'm trying to make." Sherlock nodded and closed his eyes, wondering back into the dense jungle of tangled vines that were his thoughts.
John couldn't remember when he had dozed off, but he was woken from a nap bay an alarming sound coming from one of the machines next to zephyrs bed. John got up and read the brain monitor. It was registering conscious. He turned to see dazed green eyes.
"hello, how are you feeling Zephyr?" the boy opened his mouth but nothing came out. John took the small, moist sponge form the bed side table and laid swiped the child's mouth and lips.
"I feel sore." he said in a horse rattly voice. Sherlock walked in mid sentence and stopped dead in his tracks.
"Hello, Zephyr. It's nice to see you conscious." the boy looked at the two of them, seemingly confused.
"Are you nurses?" Sherlock's face took on a look of hurt, then it was gone. There was no emotion.
"no, we...we were just here to check up. Well be going now. Ill ring your doctor." Sherlock hurried out of the room, John on his heels.
"Your not staying with him" John felt stupid for pointing out the obvious.
"No, it's not needed." Sherlock felt this was a good explanation. He pulled on his coat and walked quickly out of the double doors. Secretly wishing he could be the one who has forgotten.
Afterward
Zephyr sat on the steps of his house, his hands sticky with the juice of the Popsicle he was eating. The sun warmed hi hands as the cold liquid dripped and dripped from the end of the stick. He moved in with the Ponds soon after he had gotten out of the hospital, though he didn't remember much of his stay or what life was like before it, he was happy.
" He bud," his dad opened the door and sat next to him. He was wearing his hospital scrubs. His dad was the one who helped him with physical therapy. They had a great time together, joking and talking. When Rory found out he was a foster child, he was immediately interested in adopting him.
" Hey dad!" He said finishing off his Popsicle and wiping his hands on his pants.
" Enjoy that?" his dad said pointing to the empty wrapper in his hands. Zephyr nodded and grinned.
" Listen, I was wondering if you have had any more dream lately." Zephyr's grin dropped and was replaced by a look of utter seriousness. He had had some awfully strange dreams. Some were nightmares about a small box, and some were wonderful. He remember only bits, like a red fluffy car, and sitting in a tree looking out ton a playground, a dark curly hared boy next to him handing him a juice box.
"yes, but only the good ones." she smiled sweetly at his dad and went inside to wash up/
"If only you knew I haven't forgotten" he said sadly under his breath, "if only you knew."
Hey guys! Well, that's the end! Hope you enjoyed my little story, but don't be sad I have another story that I will soon be posting! Thanks for all the reviews and support!