I'm loving writing this! Thanks so much for all the reviews, alerts and favourites. 3
However, two people have kept me writing, Alerix Slynn and Mini Reyes, both fantastic people and authors. :D Thank you so much! This chapter is for you.
Chapter 12:
The rain was still pounding down when Sherlock regained his senses, how long have I been out of it? Was the first thing that entered his mind. He remembered climbing into the raft, followed by Moriarty – Sherlock suddenly sat up, sending the puppy sliding off his abdomen and onto the raft. "Oh, sorry," Sherlock mumbled, and he could have sworn the dog raised an eyebrow…it doesn't have a eyebrow, I think I've spent way too long out here. Next to him, Moriarty stirred. It would seem they both passed out.
Sherlock assessed their surroundings. They weren't in the centre of London anymore, and the river was flowing faster, but was a little calmer than before. The puppy walked back over to Sherlock, and buried its nose underneath his arm. Sherlock pulled it closer and looked around. They were, indeed, somewhere in the suburbs and even as he felt it, the river was calming, the currents still strong, but maybe, if he tried, he could get them closer to the banks. He grabbed the remaining paddle and stuck it out in the water. Moriarty opened his eyes as Sherlock used the paddle as a rudder, to steer them in the right direction. Moriarty crawled over, the raft tipping dangerously. He grabbed the top of the paddle and helped Sherlock to turn it. Slowly, it began to change its course.
Sherlock barely blinked at the fact that Moriarty was helping him – both their lives were at stake. They didn't know when the river's conditions would change. Even the puppy came out from under Sherlock's arm and nudged the paddle with its snout. The sheer force of the water meant that the pressure that Sherlock and Moriarty had to put on the paddle was equivalent to the amount needed to move it through drying cement. But they were making progress, if not rather a slow one.
Thunder still rumbled overhead, Sherlock's side burned, and the river fought to take control of their craft, but they fought back. Sherlock felt relief spreading through his body as the actual riverbanks came into view. The paths around the river were flooded, covered in water, but that didn't matter. Sherlock and Moriarty kept it up, and the puppy acted like a figurehead, standing at the front, it's small body tense. Sherlock focused on the small animal and found he was glad he brought it on board. It was a beautiful animal. It's brown and black fur was sleek, it's bones were well defined – obviously a purebred, and it was so friendly, nicer than most humans he had ever met.
Finally, Sherlock could see the bottom of the river, and this gave both him and Moriarty more energy. Together, Sherlock grabbing the puppy, they jumped out of the raft and scrambled up the banks and onto solid ground. Sherlock had never been happier to feel the solidity underneath his feet, and both he and Moriarty collapsed on the ground, looking like, to any passers by (not that there would be any in this whether) like they had just survived a long stretch at sea.
Sherlock felt the cold, rough ground under his cheek and loved every bit of it. He loved the fact, that he was sure a rock cut his face, and not something unmatchable, in the dark recesses of the Thames, whose sound was still rushing in his ears, along with the others sounds of the storm that was raging around him, and his thumping heart, which he was pretty sure was going to explode if he kept putting in under this much stress. The puppy, however, refused to just let him be. It first nudged his hand and nipped at the tips of the fingers, before climbing onto his back. Sherlock felt the corner of his mouth turn up as the light weight on his back, shifted weight from one leg to another. Finally, the puppy, wanting attention, padded off his back and onto the cement, waking around so that it was facing him, it's huge, dark eyes, looking into Sherlock's and Sherlock chuckled, "Stupid," he muttered, raising one bruised arm to ruffle it's fur. Sherlock sat up and found Moriarty doing the same.
There was silence for a minute, "Now what?" asked Moriarty, "I can't kill you, there's nothing to do it with,"
"You're going to prison, you bastard," Sherlock said, somehow unable to get any venom into his voice. He was too tired,
"What, you're not going to kill me here?" Moriarty mocked,
"No. You're going to get a fair trial," Sherlock turned so he was facing Moriarty and the puppy climbed onto his lap, once again trying to get away from the rain. Sherlock's mouth was set in a straight line, 'you'll get a fair trial and will rot away in prison, before being strapped to the chair," Moriarty frowned and was about to reply when something caught his eye, behind Sherlock,
'We might have bigger problems than that, Sherlock," he said and the detective smirked,
'You think I'm falling for that?" Sherlock made to get up but felt something at the back of his neck and froze. "Again?" he asked and Moriarty managed a smile as a cloaked figure – no doubt dressed the same as the man behind Sherlock, put a gun to the back of his head too, his face hidden in the cowl of his cloak. Sherlock was dragged to his feet and the puppy fell to the floor, looking up at the man who saved her life. Sherlock stared into its eyes, 'the docks," he said but that was all he had time for. He was dragged away alongside Moriarty and glanced back. The puppy was still staring at him, "Docks" he repeated again, his voice overpowering the thunder up high, which earned him a knock to the back of his head as the world around him blurred and faded, due to the needle that had been stuck in his arm.
The wind howled with a fury that John had felt only once in his life as Lestrade helped him out of the car. The explosion happened a full two and a half hours ago, but John had not been let out of the hospital until now and he found himself counting the seconds since he had last seen Sherlock. John swallowed as he stepped onto the docks, leaning heavily on both his cane and Lestrade, "Maybe we should've listened to the doctor," Lestrade said, watching as every move hurt John. The ex-army medic only shook his head, "No," was all he managed as they made their slow way down to the docks.
Finally, John let go of Lestrade as they walked onto the scene, and leant against the police car that Sherlock had put him in. The view that Greeted John was a complete fiasco, being tidied up by the police forensics teams. The boards had been washed clean by the rain, which had now turned into a light drizzle, but there were still obvious signs where the blood from the policemen's bodies had been. The bodies were sitting in body bags, ready to go to the morgue and John stared at the last place he had seen Sherlock disappear. John controlled his breathing as he approached the edge of the docks where the boat, called lucky fortune, had been anchored, "He'd be right here," said John, remembering what he had seen through the windscreen of the car.
The rain had been coming down, and blurred images more than his own eyes did. Sherlock had hoisted himself up onto the boat and then disappeared from sight, only to reappear, being throttled by someone. It had all been so hazy...why couldn't he remember?
John thumped his cane down in frustration as Lestrade ran a hand through his damp hair and stared out at the water, his mind someplace else - probably his poor wife, who he constantly left at home. The DI was about to look away from the Thames when something caught his attention, "What's that?" he yelled, his voice so loud in the whispered confines of the crime scene, John almost fell into the harbour – again. "Where?" asked John, his voice rising in hope,
'There," Lestrade pointed towards the middle of the Thames, now its usual calm self, where something was moving towards the shore.
Two divers jumped into the water and swam out; reaching who ever was out there and bringing it back. John felt his heart drop as the light from the powerful torches fell on the bundle of fur that was, in fact, a puppy. John took the little creature as the divers held it up and looked at it. It was shaking like a leaf, and it was so cold. Instinctively, John brought it towards his chest, using the side that didn't have the broken ribs to support the little creature. It wriggled before settling,
"Too bad," said Lestrade, eyeing the puppy with some apprehension. He'd had a German shepherd when he was younger. It had been run over by a truck, and he's stayed away from dogs since then.
'We'll find him, Greg," The DI looked at John, his eyes full of sadness and John looked away at the water…and then suddenly, he wasn't looking at water at all. He was staring at the wall of a part of the Thames…and the puppy was there, so was Moriarty and…his heart jumped, 'Sherlock," he spoke the word aloud and suddenly he was staring at the docks again, with the gently moving ships, boats and yachts, bobbing in the currents.
'What?" Lestrade raised an eyebrow, and put a hand on John's shoulder as he suddenly stumbled, forgetting he couldn't put his weight on his bad leg.
The doctor stared down at the puppy, who looked back at him, "We have to go," he said suddenly, and took off, faster than he thought possible. He grimaced as the leg burned in response to the sudden take off. Lestrade caught him up and fell into step,
'Where are we going John?" he asked, a hint of worry entering his voice. Last time John had an idea, he ended up all over the news,
"I…I don't know," John looked up at Lestrade and Lestrade suddenly felt like he had been slapped. There was something in the doctor's eyes, something that ripped the DI's heart to ribbons. There was pain in there, but there was also something else…love? No, well yes, some love, but also, there was fear. Fear of losing the only person that that kept him sane since his return from Afghanistan, despite his outbursts that Sherlock was going to be the death of him.
Lestrade swallowed, 'Alright, let's go," He helped John up the slope and into the car again. Before climbing into the car himself, he ran to the ambulance and grabbed a shock blanket, before hurrying back to the car. Giving the blanket to John to wrap around the puppy, Lestrade started the engine.
Soon they were driving through London's streets, keeping close to the Thames as John stared out the window, watching the water. Lestrade stayed silent, because he didn't need to talk. Neither was ready to say that Sherlock was dead. Over the last few months, Lestrade had actually grown to like Sherlock, whether or not it had been because of the influence of John, he wasn't sure, but he really did like Sherlock, like a little brother he wished he had.
Suddenly John let out an exclamation, and Lestrade braked so hard, the puppy was thrown onto the dashboard. It made a small sound of protest, and as an apology, Lestrade stroked it before hurrying out of the car, leaving the door open. The rain had all but stopped, but the grounds were very slippery. John was up ahead, making his way down the side of the Thames, to the very edge where the land met the water and then Lestrade saw it. An orange lifeboat that might have been big enough to carry three people. John couldn't bend down, so he waited for Lestrade to reach him and drag the craft onto the shore. It was still in one piece, and Lestrade looked up at John with amazement, 'How'd you know?" he asked and John flushed,
'It was just like with the assassin…I don't know how I knew, I just…did," Lestrade turned as the puppy tumbled down the bank, its fur sticking up at odd angles, and walked over to the craft. It nosed it and flopped down next to it, "Sherlock had the puppy," said John, suddenly realising how he figured it out,
"He sent it to you?" Lestrade asked and for the first time in three hours, John smiled,
"Sherlock's alive," he said and Lestrade smiled with him,
'Now all we got to do is find him," Lestrade said, and John nodded, stumbling a little as the wind buffeted him.
Suddenly, he froze as a man, dressed in a cloak appeared where the road was. Lestrade noticed the change in body language and followed John's gaze. Neither John nor Lestrade had heard his approach, but both now registered that there was an engine running,
'You shouldn't have come here," The voice was deep, and John sighed, as the man, followed by another two walked down to join him, Lestrade and the puppy, who wrapped itself around John's leg, refusing to be left behind this time.
From its position on the ground, the puppy stared up as the men who had warmed it just a minute ago were handcuffed. John swore as the cloaked men elbowed him in the ribs, "can I pick the pup up?" he asked, his breath sharp and jagged. He was sure his bloody ribs were cracked. Again.
They paused to allow him to cradle the pup before hoisting him to his feet and dragging him along with Lestrade. On the road, they were piled into the back of the car, a light turning on, causing John's already thumping headache to turn into a marching band all on its own. As his eyes adjusted he took in his surroundings. Lestrade was next to him, and the puppy was on his lap. They were in a tiny compartment, but it seemed that the divider in front of them could be opened up, judging by the cracks running from the floor to the ceiling. Even as he thought it, there was a metallic click and the section folded itself way to reveal a sight that made John and Lestrade feel both happy and panicked. Shackled to each other, the limousine, and now, as the cloaked man climbed in, John and Lestrade, was Sherlock and Moriarty,
'John," Sherlock smiled widely, unafraid to show how glad he was to see John, whole and in one piece, 'So glad you could join us," the detective finished, but John couldn't reply. It was like someone had flicked a switch and he was happy again. It didn't matter where they were going, as long as it was with Sherlock.
"We didn't have a choice," said Lestrade as the engine started up and they pulled away from the Thames - saved from nature, but now at the mercy of men.
Who are the mystery men, eh?
I chose Greg as Lestrade's first name, because majority seemed to want it. I'm actually feeling a little sorry for those four men and that puppy. XD
Oh, and I'm seeking medical help for my cliffhanger problem, but can't get an appointment until next year. :)
Aza
