Umm….hi…..WHAT COLOUR DOES A SMURF GO WHEN WE CHOKE IT?! Well, there's my message in italics, hope you enjoy the next chapter!
"Ok, let me get this straight…."
They were in Greg's office. Irene had come back to 221B after going shopping, and after John explained the situation, they took a taxi to the yard. It had taken about half an hour, giving them another hour and a half to make their gallant rescue. The adults were at the desk, talking seriously, and Mackenzie sat in silence sipping her water.
"You trusted the word of a girl from the streets, because she mentioned Sherlock?"
"She's telling the truth! How come we got a call from him, saying he had let his 'rabbit' loose?" Said John
"Look, we just can't be sure she's the right one."
"Please, Mr Lestrade!" Cried Mackenzie. John and Irene were surprised. "Please, we don't have long, you have to trust me!"
"Ok, look, alright, we'll have a look. It's about twenty minutes, giving us forty minutes to look."
"Ok, let's get moving. As Mackenzie said, we don't have long, and god knows what's going on down there." Said Irene.
"All right, I'll get some security; we can be there with time to spare."
Sherlock was pacing his cell. They didn't know about the time that Moriarty had taken, would they be too late? No, he mustn't think about that. If he died, John would live and that was the important thing. He wondered momentarily how Moriarty planned for him to die. Whatever it was would be slow, painful, and cruel. He looked at the timer. It had been fifteen minutes since he had changed the time, giving him fifteen more.
John sat in the cab, begging for time to go faster. It was about five minutes away, but he was still nervous. What kind of a state would his dear friend be in? His voice had been full of pain, clearly taking effort to speak. He would need medical attention. He got a text on his phone, and he picked it up, not wanting to see. To his surprise, it was Mycroft.
Sending in some colleges to help. Moriarty is a dangerous man, Watson. Be careful.
MH
John texted back a thank you, and sat back a little less worried. They needed all the help they could get. They soon arrived in Brixton, and they went to the nearest manhole. He noticed she was a bit worried at the prospect of going back down. He put a hand on her shoulder and she nodded as if to say I'll be alright, don't worry.
Sherlock was pacing when he was interrupted by the sound of a bell. He looked at the timer. His time was up. Almost immediately, Sebastian came in, followed by a smug Jim Moriarty.
"Well Sherlock, the final dance. Though I must say, this has been satisfyingly fan. I shall miss it. Wont you?" Said Jim. Sherlock growled.
"Time to say goodbye." He finished. Sebastian chained up Sherlock just by the fake fireplace with his hands above his head, and then came out of the room and returned with two gasoline tanks. They were going to burn him alive.
They started to pour the contents all over the fake 221B, and some of the remains on Sherlock face, which got in his eyes and stung horribly. He looked up at Jim, his eyes pleading, praying that somewhere in this man there was any sympathy at all. He wished he wouldn't raise his hopes so.
"Goodbye, Mr Holmes." He said. He pulled out a couple of cigarettes, and handed one of then to Sebastian. He lit them, and as they left, threw the still burning match into the room. Flames soon engulfed the room. Sherlock curled up as best he could, not letting the flames near him. It was hard, with his arms of no use to him. He was sweating, and his breathing was fast, He was panicking. Dear god, please help me, he thought.
Mackenzie was running now. She knew where she was now there was not time to lose. John was still getting used to the stench, but was keeping close behind, along with the men Mycroft had sent and D.I. Lestrade. Then she stopped. She smelt smoke, in the sewer?!
"There's a fire. Sherlock !" She shrieked. John, Greg and the men ran ahead, they knew where they could find their way now. They saw the red blaze ahead. Lestrade turned to the leader of the squad of SAS agents.
"Get a fire brigade, quickly. And an ambulance, we may need one."
Sherlock watched the flames leap and soar. He couldn't keep them away forever, they were getting closer and closer, and the flames soon snagged his leg. He screamed as it burned his flesh. John, who was not far away now, heard these screams of pain and fear.
"Sherlock!" He cried and ran. There was a door, made of titanium metal that led to where the source of heat was, and where the distressed cries could be heard.
"Get the men to get the door down!" He said. Greg nodded and looked at the men, nodding to the door. They went up to it and, in very precise unison, rammed at the door with their shoulders. It took a few goes but they were in. Smoke billowed out of the entrance as the door fell with a clatter to the ground.
John looked in and saw a horrifying sight, 221B Baker Street, up in flames. He looked round and saw a cell where the kitchen should be, Stained with blood and stinking of human discomfort. And there in the corner, chained up, a screaming, burning, starving, beaten Sherlock Holmes. He went limp for a moment, before shaking it off.
"Sh-Sherlock!" He managed. Sherlock looked in the direction of the voice. Tears of shock were forming in the detectives eyes as his mouth went square and he sobbed his friend's name. The flames were leaping high and John had to jump back before he was engulfed.
"No, J-john. Don't g-go." He croaked.
"Im here Sherlock don't worry. The fire brigade are on their way."
"They'll be t-too late." He said before John saw his eyelids droop.
"No, please stay awake!"
As he said this, four men with buckets of water pushed past him and threw it into the burning 221B, the rest could be smothered with fire blankets. John immediately ran too his friend. He had blacked out, but he was still alive. His ribs were broken, he had lost a lot of blood, and he generally looked awful. He was slightly malnourished and his legs were badly burnt. His fists balled in anger. How could any human be treated this way?
The ambulance pushed past him and started to get the chains off with Lestrade's skeleton key. They got him on a stretcher that they had pushed into the charred room, and quickly pushed him off. John ran with them. Sherlock was beginning to wake up again. They loaded him into the ambulance.
"John….a-and.…Mackenzie" He muttered. They went in the ambulance with him, John knowing how much he hated hospitals. Greg and the others were chasing away the crowd, and watching from the back, umbrella protecting him from the rain, was Mycroft.
"I said I would always protect you, brother."
Wow, I had chills writing some of this! Hope you enjoyed! J