Thank you for all your great patience everyone! Working so many hours, I tried to get as much writing between resting on day offs and time before and after work. And it doesn't help when I don't have the mood set. Recently a dog got hit by a car before my and my little sister's eyes so we had to recover from that endeavor. Wasn't any of our dogs! It was a neighbor's dog, he's alright thankfully. Shockingly got out unscathed, but I think I'll see animals hurt or killed in movies/shows differently now.
"Helena!"
"Helena! Answer us!"
The four men kept calling out to her missing female companion, they lost track of her in the run. Then that blast occurred and… they hoped we wasn't too close to catching Franklin.
Sherlock blood pumped and heart pound against his chest, shooting his torch everywhere to find a hint of her body shape or shadow somewhere. So many things buzzed into and around his mind; was she possibly too close to that explosion? Was she stuck in the minefield unconscious? Possibly still in the woods lost somewhere? The number kept going up, and the more it did, the more Sherlock's anxiety went with it. The one thought he kept at bay the most, was she could be dead.
"Helena!"
In movies, it always seem to exaggerate about explosions; blurred vision, high pitched hearing- but all she felt as rising heat, pelted by dirt and smell of smoke that clouded above her. Arms tightly over head and body curled up in attempt to protect herself. Bob Franklin died, and to Helena he got away from his crime. Coughing at the smoke scented air, she slowly rose up, still tangled in the wire unable to get free from the explosion. Thank God she wasn't within fatel distance. Her dark eyes watched the smoke clouds lift up into the night sky, she doubted any remains were possible from that powerful blast.
Her eyes shifted down at herself to make sure she was still intact, no real scratches or damage on her but the cuts on her hands trying to get the wire off her foot. She would've gotten up to try and untangle again but who knows where another mine was. Her best bet was help.
"Hello!" She called out, looking over her shoulder to the woods where she last say the guys. "Sherlock! John!" She called out loud as she could. It seemed to work, Helena spotted flashing lights coming her way.
"Helena!" A voice called back, she knew it was Greg!
"Greg? Over here!" Helena shot her arms up waving about, the lights off his torch finally reached her blinding her momentarily.
"Sherlock!" Greg called behind him running to her. "I found her!"
Lestrade reached her and instantly got down to see the damaged of how tangled she was in the barbed wire. "Are you hurt at all?" He asked out of breath, scanning her body over with the light.
"I'm fine, just get me out of this." She told glaring her foot.
The three other men soon joined seeing she was indeed closer than they initially thought. "Oh, thank God…" John sighed with a hand over his heart, seeing her in one piece. Henry was exhausted enough but was glad to find her alive and well.
Sherlock sped right past them and knelt down to her, helping Greg free her of the wire. Sherlock was faster thanks to the protection of his gloves, compared to Lestrade's bare hands. As soon as she was free, Helena expected help getting up and to walk better over the fencing. Instead, Sherlock got back up to his feet, stepped over, and scooped her right up carrying her to the safe side of the fence. Helena wrapped her arms tightly around his neck keeping close not wanting to fall. The three watched Sherlock hold her just as close, his paced breathing into her auburn hair trying to even out as the color returned to his pale face. No one said anything, Sherlock lead them back. Carrying Helena the whole way, she never complained once.
John gave Henry some leverage to walk as Lestrade followed behind. Helena leaned her head against his shoulder, she could feel his heart beating hard against his chest. In turn, her own heart started to beat hiding her warm face into his coat.
The next morning, John and Helena sat outside to eat their breakfast before they were to make their leave back home to London. He was currently looking over her hands from the barbed wire scratches along with the wound that drug induced dog gave her.
"Nothing too bad," He assured, looking at the palms. "Will heal within the week."
Helena chuckled flexing her hands. "How is it I always get hurt the most out of these cases." She asked now showing him her dog scratch.
John smirked, tilting her hand for better angles. "Well, you do like to jump ahead and go straight into the danger. Just as bad as Sherlock." He let her hand go with a pat over the healing wound. "Yup, that's a scar alright. Just be sure to not scratch it as it heals."
"Yes, Doctor." She smiled as Billy came by with two plates of their breakfast.
John's smiled at food he ordered. "Mmm. Thanks, Billy." With no meat, the two would have to do. Helena was a big meat eater, so one of the things she missed was some nice sausages or eggs even.
As Billy walked back inside, Sherlock emerged with their three drinks. He places down two in front of them and sips his own standing by John. "So they didn't put it down then- the dog."
Helena mumbled a thanks sipping her coffee. "Suppose they just couldn't bring themselves to do it." John concluded.
"I see."
Helena swallowed and looked up to him. "No you don't."
"...No, I don't" He turned looking down at them "Sentiment?"
"Sentiment!" John confirmed.
"Oh." Sherlock rolled his eyes and sat down next to John.
He looked to him still eating his breakfast. "Listen, what happened to me in the lab?"
Helena looked up, glancing between the two. "Lab? You mean Baskerville?"
Sherlock was silent, almost thinking over what to say. He felt the two eyes on him, he looked to John's plate and turned away getting the container of sauce packets. "Want some sauce with that?" He offered avoiding the subject.
Helena dropped her utensils and kept her focus on Sherlock, knowing how he could be when avoiding a topic of discussion-or just guilt. "Sherlock." She called as if a child ready to be scolded.
"I mean, I hadn't been to the Hollow, so how come I heard those things in there? Fear and stimulus, you said." John added, putting Sherlock deeper under the bus.
Said man was pilfering through the packets as if trying to find one, only in reality he was keeping eye contact off. "You must have been dosed with it elsewhere, when you went to the lab, maybe. You saw those pipes; pretty ancient, leaky as a sieve and they were carrying the gas so…" He saw Helena's hand extend out, he picked up two packets offering it to her. "Ketchup, was it, or brown-"
She snatched the whole setup from him with a knowing grin. "Come on, Sherlock." She urged onto him.
"You thought it was in the sugar." John explained, only to earn a stare from Sherlock trying to keep his expression the same. "You were convinced it was in the sugar."
He glanced to Helena for help, all she did was give a innocent smile not wanting to even lift a finger to help him. "I'd love to hear this explanation."
Sherlock was helpless. Last resort; he turned away and looked to his watch. "Better get going, actually. There's a train that leaves within half an hour," John turned away finally realizing what had actually happened in the lab. "So if you want-"
"Oh God. It was you."
Helena's frowned. "What?"
He pointed a thumb toward the man, "Sherlock; he locked me in that bloody lab."
Helena looked confused, glancing between the two. "Sherlock?"
"I had to." He defended. "It was an experiment."
"An experiment!?"
Sherlock's eyes gazed at near by s, lowly shushing him. Just the same as John was trying to quiet him down the other night.
He kept his voice low but anger was still in his tone. "I was terrified, Sherlock. I was scared to death."
"What, did he lock you up with a dog or something?" Helena asked trying to figure it all out.
Sherlock looked to her. "I thought that the drug was in the sugar, so I put the sugar in his coffee." John sighed as Sherlock gave an apologetic look to him. "Then I arranged everything with Major Barrymore. It was all totally scientific, laboratory conditions- well, literally."
"Can I just get an explanation of what exactly happened?" Helena said looking between the two.
Sherlock sighed turning to her. "The lab where the animals were kept?" She nodded. "I had the doors sealed locking John inside. Shot some bright lights, loud alarm sounds. John soon got himself in a cage, as I played sounds of a dog snarling into the microphone for him to hear, thinking it was there with him."
Helena nodded chewing her lip in thought as John rubbed his forehead mixed with anger and disbelief- well, mostly anger.
"You do realize if you had done that to me, I'd have to knock all your teeth out, right?" Helena raised a challenging brow.
Sherlock grinned, "Exactly why I purposed you stay with Henry."
She perked at that, but looked down at her plate avoiding his caring gaze. He turned back to John, "Well, I knew what effect it had had on a superior mind, so I needed to try it on average one."
John's head went up at those words, Sherlock sighed. "You know what I mean." He assured, letting him return to his meal.
"But it wasn't in the sugar." He said, Helena glanced up.
"No, well, I wasn't to know you'd already been exposed to the gas." He tried to excuse taking his cup for a sip.
"So you got it wrong."
"No."
She looked between the men; one gloating about the other being wrong, and said wrong man denying of it. She put her fork down and knotted her fingers under her chin- she enjoyed the spats between them.
"Mmm. You were wrong. It wasn't in the sugar. You got it wrong." Clearly John was making a valid point here to Sherlock- never use John as an experiment again.
"A bit." He half admitted. "Won't happen again." He sipped his coffee. Content with the argument resolved, Helena returned to her food.
"Any long-term effects?" John asked pausing his breakfast once more.
He shook his head. "None at all. You'll be fine once you've excreted it. We all will." Sherlock informed reassuringly.
"Think I might have taken care of that already." John jokes, Sherlock snorted a laughter and Helena let out a chuckle shaking her head.
Sherlock looks across the way, spotting Gary writing out two customer's orders. He gives an apologetic nod toward him. Sherlock got to his feet, getting John's attention. "Where're you going?" He asked, Helena glanced up.
"Won't be a minute. Gotta see a man about a dog." He smiled and walked off to have a talk to Gary. No doubt about an actual dog though.
John took another bite and glanced to Helena, whose eyes were locked onto the detective. "So," He starts clearing his throat. He tilted it about almost to scramble his brain to figure out what to say. "..Will you be alright on the train this time?"
Helena's eyes shifted toward him, then to her food. She instantly shoved it away, "Good point." She muttered looking around at the scenery for possibly the final time.
"I still got supplements to help, you can always sleep on the way there. That usually keeps the sickness at bay." He told taking his mug to drink his coffee.
"Hmm.." Her eyes went back to Sherlock now and then, who spoke with Gary.
"Do you plan to tell him?" He asked watching her.
She shrugged in response. "He clearly plans to cut me off on cases, yet he claims to love me?" She shook her head, looking to John. "What sense in telling him anything if so?"
John put his drink down, "He won't force you off cases. He can barely manage without you, should've seen him at the lab."
She perked at this, questionably. "What do you mean?"
"When it was proven the sugar had no drug traces, he was texting you repeatedly for help or answers. But you never replied to him. Driving him crazy, had to force me and Dr. Stapleton to leave to enter his Mind Palace." He explained thinking back on the memory.
Helena hummed in thought, looking away as she propped her chin in her palm and elbow on the table surface. "I was asleep, was still dead tired from the other night. Henry was having a panic attack when I left the inn, so I stayed up talking with him." She was silent for a moment, then dug into her pocket checking her texts on her phone.
John bit back a smile as she looked over the spammed messages he had sent over time, all during when she was asleep to when Henry had his freak out. "What would I say?" She asked in a whisper.
John himself didn't know the answer, or if she should even say anything. "Well, maybe you don't have to address anything to him."
Her hand fell to the table with a thud, her features show she was aggravated by that answer. "Clearly I have to, John. You know how Sherlock can be about feelings, let alone being honest."
John nodded, she was right. "Well, how do you feel?"
"Huh?"
"About Sherlock; do you fancy- I mean, love him back?" he asked, putting his fork down. His main focus left his half empty plate and now to the struggling tramp.
"Well- I mean- I don't know." She groaned, moving her plate to lay her head onto the bench.
John frowned, "Don't know?"
She scratched at the wood, and shrugged. "...Do I feel the same for him? I'm probably worse with feelings than Sherlock himself."
John snorted at that, picking his fork back up. "I don't think that's possible."
She sat up, "Anything is possible. That includes Sherlock dealing with emotions better than I do."
"Ohh, he'll be angry for sure I know it.." Sweat produced above his brow, he quickly wiped it away to hide any sign of worry or alarm.
Currently waiting for the return of Mr. Moriarty, Trevor paced about. It seemed that Mr. Moriarty was being held in a cell thanks to the elder brother of that bastard detective, Mycroft Holmes. Free for a moment from the hell this man gave him, Trevor tried to stop his trembling nerves to and think of good things.
Hard to do so though- his mind couldn't keep track of anything but expecting pain or an ear full. He rubbed his arms, feeling the scars hidden under his sleeves. He crouched down, and sat against the wall of the small room he stayed in thanks to Moriarty. One would find it a kind gesture giving a homeless man a place to stay.
Trevor shuddered out a sigh, "If only they knew the truth… If only she knew." He instantly shook his head, gripping his thin dark locks. "No, no, no.. No!" Trevor buried his face into his knees, huddling them close to his chest.
"I'm dead."
"Home sweet home!" Cheered Helena as she ran out of the train station. Her smile beamed at what some would call a gloomy city, but to Helena, it was more of a sight to behold than she did in the countryside.
John and Sherlock followed after her at a slower walking pace, with suitcases they had to carry. Unlike her who traveled light. John smiled at her as Sherlock waved for a cab, he himself wanting to get back into the flat.
"Hope all was fine while we were gone." John pondered out loud waiting for a cab to stop for them.
"Please, John." Sherlock rolled his eyes at him. "England wouldn't fall for us being gone for a day or two."
John could've argued, but he wasn't wrong. He was sure Mrs. Hudson was fine on her own, Lestrade kept London safe, and Helena's brother was as safe as when they left. No texts or emails were made, and the city was standing the same as before. John looked from Sherlock to Helena… who was suddenly gone.
"Where-"
"Off to run across roofs and jump over buildings." Sherlock assured, finally able to get a cab as it pulled right in front of them. "She lasted longer than expected before darting off like that."
"She could at least leave a memo." John muttered putting the suitcases into the cab and climbing in after Sherlock.
Small young eyes watched the front door of 221b of Baker Street. She looked down to her little red ladybird with purple spots slap on wrist watch seeing the time read quarter past one. She kissed the little treasured watch looking up at the door again, as she hid herself dark in a tiny thin alley across the road. Suddenly, a cab approached the curb in front of the building and two men emerged from it. One was super tall, at least to the little girl; he had curly bouncy dark hair and wore a long dark coat with a blue scarf around his neck. She found the scarf to be a pretty color. The other man was shorter, well groomed blond hair in a jacket and casual dress shirt and jeans. The blond paid the cab as the tall man went to the door of 221b and walked ahead inside. The other man quickly turned and joined him inside shutting the door behind him.
In the flat, John instantly collapsed into his chair, while Sherlock got to unpacking his suitcase in his room. Mrs. Hudson was heard coming up the stairs, and entering with a smile and her usual 'Yoo, hoo!' added to a knock on the open door.
"Oh, I thought I heard you boys!" She beamed seeing the top of John's head against the chair, she came around with handful of envelops.
John tiredly smiled back, but it disappeared seeing the mail that piled up during their leave. "Missed you during our leave, Mrs. H." He stood taking the mail, and kissing her on the cheek sweetly.
"Oh, I can tell Sherlock is in his room, but where's Helena?" She asked, looking around the room. "She came back with you boys, right?"
"Oh yea," He nodded filing through the pile making out what was important and what wasn't. "She just needed a bit of city air after taking all that clear air." Which wasn't a lie, she probably needed to think over the sided ordeal with her and Sherlock.
He found bill after bills, and some spam letters and other trash. One caught caught his attention; the envelop was the smallest of the others, and the address was written with crayon in a surprisingly neat manner. 'To: Sherlock Homes'. Obviously written by a child, now Sherlock had gotten emails from children and come straight to the door over small stuff. But a letter, that was a bit new.
"Oh, that letter arrived just this morning." Said Mrs. Hudson.
John looked all over the front, then flipped to the back. "No return address?"
Mrs. H looked over from fixing up the pillows on the couch, clearly she fixed up the mess Sherlock made before they left when he searched for the cigarettes. "Not at all, didn't come with the rest of the mail. Was by itself wedged in the letter box."
Curious, John put the other letters down and got to opening this one.
Helena had her fill of seeing her beloved London from the rooftops, and was currently making her way back to Baker Street to visit Sher- Mrs. Hudson!
…
For sure, it was to see how Mrs. Hudson was doing during their leave. Not… not see Sherlock at all. He's probably shooting the wall to bits or burning body parts in complete utter boredom. Driving John insane over the fact he can't just relax after a case for a day or two.
Stopping a top of the apartment buildings across the flat, she scanned to see any sign of Sherlock and John already at the flat. But her sights went from the windows toward the front door. Helena frowned, was she seeing what she thought was seeing!?
"Don't bother opening it John." He looked up seeing Sherlock wander through the kitchen toward John taking the letter from him.
"Wha- Sherlock, what if it's a possible case?" John asked reaching for it, only for Sherlock to turn away blocking him from taking it.
"If anything it's just an orphan wanting to have her parents found. Same ones, every time." Sherlock waved off, physically waving the said letter about.
"Orphan?" John was astounded. "How the bloody hell can you even tell?"
"Ohh, the poor dear." Cooed the landlady.
Sherlock turned away toward the fireplace amused and annoyed at the same time. "Oh, don't try to pity the child, Mrs. Hudson."
John was getting aggravated, crossing his arms glaring at the back of his flatmate's head. "Why shouldn't she? The child is probably scared just wanting to know something about his or her parents. Wouldn't any child?"
All Sherlock really heard was 'wouldn't any child waste his time?' Answer; yes. John kept forgetting Sherlock had no sentiment toward these things, he didn't like children and preferred they stay away from him as far as possible.
"Give me one solid good reason why she shouldn't open that letter, Sherlock." John demanded, as he turned to give the answer.
"Because she can tell us what she needs, in person."
Three heads turned toward the opened doorway, Helena stood there gripping the collar of the coat worn by a guilty looking little girl who kept her eyes on the floor boards below. Her wavy, thin, dark brown hair hung around her around face, dark blue eyes glanced up at the adults.
Thank you supergirlpixie, I'm nobody-suspicious, P. Bruiser, prettylittlehead22, Liz10s, Dark Conspiracy, Goddess of Leo, oicheanam, northstar1970, northstar1970, for the follow and favorites!
bored411- Thanks so much! Yes, using as much free time between breaks and days off to write these up.
The Wolf and The Rose- Wow! Thanks so much I am so super honored reading that! Kept grinning during work! Haha!
Prettylittlehead22- Ahh, let's see if I can keep up for this month! Had to really brain storm wanted this out soon as possible! Thanks for your patience!
Goddess of Leo- Right? I feel Helena (or Lena, cute name X3) is probably my best and favorite OC ever made. My number one baby!