CHAPTER 11. THE PECULIARITIES OF SENTIMENT
"Sir we have lost the signal sir." Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache starting to form, he turned away from the communications officer the kid stood nervously at attention.
"I want last known location." Mycroft replied forcing his voice to be calm.
He checked his texts, nothing from his brother the pain in the-well Sherlock had predictably taken the battery out and long since dismantled the tracking device. The tracking device, Mycroft had a tech place covertly in his brothers mobile, it lasted three hours.
Most likely because his infuriating little brother wanted him to know the general area of his destination but not the exact point. Mycroft hated unknown variables, and still no word from the independent contractor he'd hired. Too much time, too much time had passed, all so irritating.
Mickey had been driving at breakneck speed, he wanted to get out of the mountain area. These back roads the professional freelance agent mapped out ahead of time, expecting a different kind of scenario as the reason why he'd be taking this road. Mickey hadn't factored in the idea that his mark was going to demand they skip the rendezvous point and start on a different rescue mission.
Well as soon as the Doctor made the call to Mr. Holmes they'd be back on schedule. No one told the Iceman no, or even deviated from the plan. Mickey almost felt bad for the Doctor, he'd been through the ringer that's for sure. Even in a dead sleep the man was restless, Mickey heard pieces of what sounded like an interesting dream something about a solar system.
Could he be a pilot or something? Well they'd made it out of the forested area and a town was coming into view maybe it was time to wake the Doctor.
"Alright Doc wake up, we've cleared the mountains" Mickey nudged the Doctor the other man had been sleeping like the dead, reminded of an army buddy he once knew, he could take a nap just about anywhere. When is hand fell on the Doctor's shoulder the Doctor startled awake,
"I had bad days" he growled sitting up looking around wildly, holding the 9mm in a strangely steady hand.
"Doctor?" Mickey frowned, both hands on the steering wheel, trying not to make any sudden moves and not crash the truck. "You alright?" John rubbed sleep from his eyes, the dream already fading into a faint memory he couldn't even recall it, other than he was shouting at Sherlock.
"Yeah, sorry. Fine." He murmured, clearing his throat.
"I say we ditch the truck for something a little less obvious. You make that call to the boss. There's a small village coming up we can get a car and then we'll go from there."
"I'll give Suzy a call, then she'll connect us with Mr. Holmes so-" Mickey didn't get to finish the Doctor took one of the stolen mobile's, dialing a number. Who could he be calling? Suzy changed her number every four hours, only those needing to contact her regularly were given the number so the Doctor had to know the number was changed. So who else would he-
"Mycroft how. in. the hell. did he get passed you!?" Mickey thought he'd heard wrong. Who was this man? He couldn't be calling Mr. Holmes directly let alone by his first name.
"Hello John, glad to hear you're alive. And well." Mycroft kept his own voice even.
"You do know it's a trap."
"Unequivocally. As does Sherlock, somehow it has yet to sink in."
"You don't know where he is do you? Took the battery out of the phone didn't he?"
"It seems so." John could hear the irritation in the British Governments voice but he didn't care.
"You know how he is Mycroft you're his dammed brother, you should of anticipated-I'm going to kill him when I see him. Of all the reckless-"John couldn't concentrate on any words his head was pounding, and his shoulder ached, dammed cold weather.
"John. Mr. Jones will bring you to a safe house, I've arranged for you to-"
"Sit this one out? Not going to happen Mycroft."
"Dr. Watson do be reasonable-." Mycroft was cut off again.
"Reasonable? Reassssonable," John hissed giving a tight laugh "No! Oh, no. You Holmes brothers always sooo sure-we'll hey guess what that case we were on wasn't a simple kidnapping. Turns out it was all orchestrated and when the mad genius of ours followed the clues realizing, just a tick too late, that it had all been just too easy, it's lights out."
"John-" Mycroft was ignored again as the Doctor continued on.
"Now, I've been drugged, beaten, drugged again, stabbed, beaten some more, used as a punching bag I'm sure for your viewing pleasure, half starved, and oh yeah did I mention some insane German Doctor decided to practice his scalpel technique on me and he was a shit doctor let alone surgeon…Now you're going to listen Mycroft Holmes. I don't know the particulars of what your brothers done now. But I do know this, he's walking straight into a trap and I'm not going to let some mad arms dealer with a pension for knives and cutting people up for kicks, take Sherlock, skin him alive and maybe. I don't know, wear him as a coat! You'll excuse me if I am not your idea of reasonable because your idea. Lets- lets see, reasonable. Is. Formulating a plan and going lone wolf, playing at government agent and then someone jumps off a damned building and I'm left to watch, wondering for the next three years after, if there was some damned way for me to stop it! Well not again. NOT AGAIN." John was yelling, he didn't know why he was yelling and the words streamed out, he halted now, taking a deep painful breath (broken ribs great)
" I'm sure your triangulating the mobile, good on you mate, I'd expect no less. I'll save you the trouble and text you the address to where we are going, we aren't far from Zurich we'll meet your people there. " John managed to sound somewhat calmer, his adrenaline taking a dive.
"John what is your plan? Since you seem to have everything worked out." Mycroft kept his eyes on the computer screen in front of him, the map of Switzerland highlighted, several dots representing mobile towers lit up as the signal was being located via satellite.
"Doesn't feel so good being cut out? Well you've only lived hours of this, I put three years in. " John didn't understand his own sudden outburst, his frustration and just as abruptly a string of curses were released in quick succession.
There was silence on the other end of the phone and John Watson took a deep breath. "I'll text you the address, my plan is to not get shot, and to make sure my flatmate isn't shot either. And then I'm going to go home take a hot shower, put my own clothes on have a hot plate of ravioli take away and joyfully fall into a comfortable coma in my own room. That's the plan." John ended the call and forwarded the address via text.
Mickey's phone shortly after rang he answered it knowing damn well who was on the other line. As did John from the way he now held the 9mm pointed directly at Mickey. The freelancer had thought of disarming the Doctor while he slept but quickly refused to run with the idea seeing how the Doctor held it locked under his body close, ready to use it. Someone would get shot, no, he thought Mr. Holmes would be able to talk the man into compliance.
"Hallo?"
"Mickey. Let's put the pleasantries aside. I know you know who I am."
"Yes sir." Mickey swallowed, the voice on the other end distinctive although he'd only talked to the man once and preferred it that way.
"Seeing how my friend no doubt has a gun pointed directly at you, I have decided to up your fee of course and personally request you accompany the good Doctor until further help can arrive."
"Yes, Mr. Holmes."
"Mickey, I'd make some kind of threat but I'm sure your situation is quiet clear if that man there falls into the enemies hands or is further injured while in your company- "
"I understand sir." Mickey tried to sound confidant unafraid but the chill of the Iceman's voice made his own slightly shake.
"I'll be in touch." And the line went dead, Mickey put the phone in his pocket, he studied the doctor's irritated face as he swore at his own phone. Who was this man, if the way he spoke to Mr. Mycroft Holmes was any indication than he was some high ranking government official. Higher than Mr. Holmes even. And he was going to kill the brother of Mr. Holmes? What an odd assignment this was turning out to be.
"Well Doctor looks like we are off to Zurich."
~0~
Sherlock started for the warehouse just a block down from the alley, from the blood loss and fatigue, not to mention that tap to the head, Sherlock didn't have to worry about the prisoner waking up anytime soon, most likely he'd be unconscious for a few hours. Just in case the consulting detective locked the dumpster with the padlock he'd found earlier.
Sherlock's mind started to wonder as he checked the area quietly, deciding to climb the fire escape to the warehouse's connecting building, this gave him the advantage of high ground. From the roof he'd jump across to his destination, when the Butcher arrived he'd have no choice but to turn his phone back on till then, Sherlock would keep watching the street below.
"I-I cant come down so we'll just have to do it like this."
"Whats going on?"
"An apology-"
Sherlock pulled away from that memory he wouldn't think about birds or angels, or the roof of a hospital. He had to keep a clear mind, damn these emotions this nagging sentiment and guilt.
Guilt , he'd identified this emotion some time ago and filed it away but it refused to stay locked in the cellar of his mind palace. Whenever he came upon the room labeled John this blasted feeling surfaced darkening the usually warm fire lit place. Sherlock couldn't understand why this feeling couldn't be pushed away forgotten or at least deleted, no it resurfaced and threatened to drown him. Always at the most inopportune moments.
~0~
"Doc those cuts look pretty bad." Mickey winced seeing the Doctor remove the hoodie.
"Just keep driving, I'm gonna change some of the bandages. Glad you had a first aid kit."
"You sure you know what your-"
"Don't worry, I 'm a doctor." John winced placing a large clean plaster over one of the more severe incisions just above his right shoulder.
"Are you really? If you don't mind me asking sir what is it that you do?" Mickey could see the many bruises and he had been right to think the other man had fractured ribs, looking at him now more likely broken. But above the bruising and bloody rectangular plasters the Doc had reinforced with surgical tape, was the worst wound of all and Mickey recognized that kind of marking. Made by a military assault rifle, high caliber, that bullet hit him from a distance, the shooter would have been aiming at the Doctor's back.
"Yes. I'm a Doctor, just an ordinary Doctor working at a surgery center in London."
"And-"
"What?" John pulled the black hoodie back over his head glad to have another layer against his aching body.
"Alright, alright keep your secret, just curious is all, a little professional courtesy. Sometimes a bloke likes to know who he's working with."
"I just told you. I'm a Doctor."
"Come on now. You called Mycroft Holmes directly."
"Yeah I know."
"You called the British Government directly." Mickey repeated himself stressing the last words.
"Yes, well he is a bit of a drama queen isn't he." John took out the stolen mobile and texted, swearing when no answer came. "Damn you Sherlock."
"And your trying to get a hold of the younger brother? No, you aren't just a Doctor."
"What?" John felt confused.
"No one talks to Iceman like that and lives. The younger Holmes I've heard stories about as well."
"Oh I could tell you some stories. " John chuckled "stories that will turn your stomach and freeze your blood." Mickey's curiosity got the better of him.
"Well go on then."
"Have you ever had a flatmate?" Mickey shook his head.
"Before I went into the army, yeah back in uni."
"Then you'll understand some of my pain. Especially when I tell you about the body parts in the fridge-" John took another bite of a protein bar, at least his jaw wasn't fractured.
~0~
Mycroft enjoyed the much needed silence as the sleek black car rolled towards Zurich, he'd taken a helicopter from the base and now the team was assembling he'd reach the address knowing full well that John would have been there far longer maybe beating them by an hour. Damn, and Sherlock would have gone ahead for the advantage of finding high ground. The board was set and Mycroft hoped he wasn't too late to keep the odds in his favor.
"I haven't mentioned a figure."
"Don't bother."
"You're very loyal very quickly"
"No I'm not. I'm just not interested."
The memories of a past conversation came floating to the surface, and Mycroft tried to push them away. Remembering the way the doctor had looked him in the eye, straightened his shoulders and then walked away. Loyalty, Mycroft had yet to see it up close, the kind of loyalty that one didn't have to pay for. He doubted the Doctor all those years ago, only seeing a broken man leaning on a cane, nothing more.
"Look at them, they all care so much. Do you ever wonder if there is something wrong with us?"
"All lives end, all hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage Sherlock."
