Holmes stood in the center of the room seemingly weighing his options. "I was right…" he said quietly.
John pounced on whatever he could. "Yes," he said. "You were right about the trauma."
Holmes walked over with crossed arms. "Which one?"
"Which what?"
"Which trauma."
"Oh," John said not terribly overjoyed at having to relive the moment all over again with another stranger. "The one about an attack on the med center."
"I knew it," he said. "That one seemed more likely."
John nodded. "I can help you," he said, "but not if I'm all tied up."
Holmes crossed in front of him and didn't acknowledge John's mild pleas for release. "You gave Molly a fake name, obviously."
John kept his face neutral as to not give away an more information.
"But why…"
John thought Holmes had long figured out this part of the plan.
"Did you know about the laptop and the answers?"
"The what?"
Holmes brought his hand to his lips and sussed out his reasoning. "They didn't tell you much, did they?"
"Who didn't?"
John had lost him. His words meant nothing to this man and he was still trapped in this room without any help. He had sent the text nearly twenty minutes ago. Where was the backup? Where was the help?
Holmes' phone rang again. There were a series of beeps and then Holmes brought the screen closer to his face. "Thames…" he muttered.
"What?" John asked.
"Nothing." Holmes furiously searched his mobile as John twisted his wrists against the tape that was slowly loosening with each manipulation of his arm. If he had a few more minutes he could get out.
Why weren't they here?
John pulled at the tape and could feel its edges giving way just a little. There was a chance he could get out of this. He could get out.
He didn't feel the explosion right away. John felt the rush of air fly past his head and tip his chair forward.
Then the noise.
It was deafening.
Car sirens wailed in the distance and the former wall sizzled from the quickly extinguished fire.
John was thrown face-first onto the floor and felt his nose break upon impact. He shouted in pain but no one could hear him. He put a hand to his face to feel his injured parts and then realized that he freed of his arm restraints. Carefully he rolled over onto his back and worked on picking apart the tape the that held his feet to the chair. With a few tears he was freed. John got up to get out when he heard groaning from across the room.
The soldier in him said to leave but the doctor in him knew that he had to help.
The entire north wall of the flat had been blown out and bits of glass and wood were scattered across the floor. John gingerly stepped over it all to get to Holmes who lay on the ground against the couch.
"Eh, you alright?"
Holmes was conscious but seemed dazed. "You got out…"
John made a show of his freed wrists. "I guess so. Let me check out your head, alright?"
There was a large gash on the back of his head that bled down his neck and onto the floor. That would need stitches. He noticed Holmes' left arm cocked at a strange angle underneath his body.
"Can you roll over a bit?" John asked.
"Roll…over?" Holmes asked. "Yes…I can."
His speech was slurred. John knew that his head injury could be more than just a cut. He most certainly had a concussion if not something worse. When Holmes didn't move on his own, John moved the man's left side just enough to take a look at his arm. It was broken in at least one place from the way it lay under his body. John pulled out his mobile and dialed for help.
"…yes a man with a serious head injury and broken bones. He needs immediate attention."
The woman on the other end said they were aware of the explosion and were already on their way. While still on the line, John unwrapped Holmes' scarf and pressed it against his head to curtail some of the bleeding. As badly as he wanted to leave he knew that he had a duty to stay with an injured man whether it meant he'd be caught or not.
As the police and ambulance sirens wailed in the distance, John's phone rang.
Jim.
"Hello?" he said.
"You all right?" he asked.
John attempted to bite his tongue but he was too frazzled to contain himself. "I don't know. Maybe. What the hell was that?" he asked.
"Is Holmes alive?"
"Yes," John said, "but he's not doing great. What was the point of that?"
"Don't let them take you to hospital. We'll be there to get you in five minutes. I'd leave now and stay out of sight."
"He's injured," John said. "I can't leave him alone."
"John," Jim snarled, "you listen to me. He means nothing. Let him die. Just get out of there."
He couldn't listen to another word. John hung up the phone and stuck it back in his pocket.
He was staying with his patient.