Chapter Thirty-Nine

In the Cane

Of course, after the situation in the morgue Sherlock was admitted to the hospital, luck of us Smith didn't feel the need to press charges. Sherlock had asked John to bring him his old walking cane. John had gone to get it while I stayed with Sherlock in the hospital room. Before long after John arrived back, we were told that we weren't allowed to stay in the room overnight, so I decided to go back to the flat and John ops to come with me if for no more then to help me clean. Molly had gone to John's flat and had taken over for the babysitter. She had texted me and said that she had already planned to stay all night and to just take care of Sherlock. When we get back to the flat, we are met with the pleasant surprise of Mycroft and a few agents looking through the flat and even cleaning it up a bit.

"Mycroft to what do we owe the pleasure."

"Madison, I half expected to hear you had left my brother after this little stunt of his."

"Never Mycroft. While I may not agree with his decisions, I still love him."

Mycroft shrugs his shoulders.

"Anyway, you didn't answer my question, Mycroft."

"Have you noticed the kitchen? It's practically a meth lab. I'm trying to establish exactly what drove Sherlock off the rails. Any ideas."

I give Mycroft a stern look, as John does into the kitchen and turns back to Mycroft and me.

"Are these spooks? Uh, are you using spooks now to look after your family? Hang on – are they tidying?"

"Sherlock is a security concern. The fact that I'm his brother changes nothing."

John walks past us and into the sitting room.

"Yeah, you said that before."

"Why fixate on Culverton Smith? He's had his obsessions before, of course, but this goes a bit further than setting a mantrap for Father Christmas. Spending all night talking to a woman who wasn't even there."

I glance over to Mycroft and back over to John, but something behind Mycroft catches my eye for a moment. I could have sworn I just saw a woman with short blonde hair standing behind Mycroft. But when I look back there is nothing there. I must be losing my mind. John folds his arms in front of him.

"Mycroft, last time when we were on the phone …"

"No-no-no-no, stop. I detest conversation in the past tense."

"You said the fact that you were his brother made no difference."

"It doesn't."

"You said it didn't the last time and it wouldn't with Sherlock, so who was it the last time? Who were you talking about?"

I nod and step beside John.

"I've heard you say that too, on a number of occasions."

"Nobody. I ... misspoke."

As Mycroft says this I hear a woman's voice.

"He's lying."

As I glance around it's clear that is was in my head, but it would appear that John had heard it too.

"You're lying."

"I assure you I'm not."

"Sherlock's not your only brother. There's another one, isn't there?"

"No."

I scoff.

"You bastard. What is your other brother locked away somewhere."

Mycroft raises his head and looks down his nose at John. I step forward and in between the two of them.

"Mycroft Holmes, if you don't wish to talk to us about this you can tell me what all are these dreadful people doing in my house?"

"I apologize for the interruption. As you know, my brother has embarked on a programme of self-destruction remarkable even by his standards, and I am endeavoring to find out what triggered it."

"And that's what you're all looking for?"

"Quite so."

"What's on his mind? And you've had all this time?"

"Time being something of which we don't have an infinite supply… so if we could be about our business?"

I laugh softly as Mycroft looks at me confused.

"He thinks you're clever. Poor Sherlock; always going on about you. but he has no idea what an idiot you are!"

"Is this merely stream-of-consciousness abuse, or are you attempting to make a point?"

"You want to know what's bothering Sherlock? Easiest thing in the world; anyone can do it."

"I know his thought processes better than any other human being, so please try to understand …"

"He's not about thinking, not Sherlock."

"Of course he is."

"No, no. He's more ... emotional, isn't he?"

At this point, I heard Mrs. Hudson come in behind us.

"She's right you know. Unsolved case: shoot the wall. Unmade breakfast: karate the fridge! Unanswered question … Well, what does he do with anything he can't answer, every time?"

"He stabs the mantelpiece."

"Anything he can't find the answer for: … bang!"

While Mrs. Hudson and I speaking, John has focused in on the knife stabbed into the white padded envelope. John pulls the knife from the padded envelope and turns around and reaches in for the contents while Mrs. Hudson continues.

"It's up there. I keep telling him: if he was any good as a detective, I wouldn't need a new mantel."

John pulls out the white DVD with its handwritten MISS ME? message on it, that Sherlock and I had watched earlier. His eyes widen and he looks up, startled, at Mycroft and then looks across to Mrs. Hudson and I. John puts the discs into the television in the corner of the room near the kitchen. All the spooks have stopped their work and stand to watch the screen. Mycroft stands in the middle of the room with his hand raised to the side of his face, looking intrigued as he watches the TV. Mrs. Hudson is sitting on the edge of John's chair, I am standing beside Sherlock's chair, and John himself stands between the two of us, a look of devastation on his face as Mary's voice comes from the speakers.

"If you're watching this, I'm ... probably dead."

John straightens up and backs away from the TV, holding out one hand.

"Okay, no. S-stop that now, please."

I pause the video, as he turns away, biting his lip and slowly walks across the room. Mrs. Hudson and I glance at each other before moving to get everyone out of the flat.

"Everybody out, now!"

Mrs. Hudson takes a deep breath.

"This is my house … this is my friend ... and that's his departed wife. Anyone who stays here a minute longer is admitting to me personally they do not have a single spark of human decency."

John has turned around as she spoke. After a brief hesitation, and with nobody looking towards Mycroft for confirmation or permission, everybody else turns and quietly starts to leave the room. Mycroft remains where he is, his arms folded in front of him as he faces the TV. Mrs. Hudson looks at him, then walks across to stand close to him. She leans even closer.

"Get out of my house, you reptile."

He stares at her, startled. Not breaking eye contact, she gestures towards the door with the remote control. After a moment, looking as if he can't believe that he's doing what he's told, he unfolds his arms and turns towards Sherlock's chair to collect his umbrella. Once he is gone I place a hand on John's shoulder and he nods for us to continue the video. John sits in front of the TV and stares at it with tears in his eyes.

"I'm giving you two a case. Might be the hardest case of your career. When I'm ... gone – if I'm gone – I need you to do something for me. Save John Watson. Save him, Sherlock, Madison. Save him. Don't think anyone else is going to save him, because there isn't anyone. It's up to you two. Save him. But I do think you're gonna need a little bit of help with that because you two are not exactly good with people, so here are a few things you need to know about the man we all love – and more importantly what you're going to need to do to save him. John Watson never accepts help, not from anyone. Not ever. But here's the thing: he never refuses it. So, here's what you are going to do. You can't save John because he won't let you. He won't allow himself to be saved. The only way to save John ... is to make him save you. Sherlock, I know you'll never let Madison put herself in a dangerous situation, so it's up to you. So, go to Hell, Sherlock. Go right into Hell, and make it look like you mean it. Go and pick a fight with a bad guy. Put yourself in harm's way. If he thinks you need him, I swear… he will be there."

Once the video is finished, John hurries out into the street looking down at his phone. He hasn't even stopped to put on his jacket. As he walks to the curb and looks down the room, trying to find a taxi, Mrs. Hudson and I hurry out as well, but Mrs. Hudson stops on the doorstep.

"John! Madison! My car."

He holds up a hand in acknowledgment and heads briskly down the road, looking down at his phone. Raising it to his ear, he breaks into a run, I do the same, running after him. Once we are in the car we speed away, John on the phone with Greg.

"Greg. Is Sherlock alright? Can you make sure? Please, I don't think he's safe. I don't know! Something! Mary left a message."

It doesn't take long for John and me to get to the hospital and we both dive out of the car. Running into the building, not stopping once we get inside. John runs out ahead of me, running down the hall to the room that Sherlock should be in, it's not hard to find since there is an officer outside of it. When we get there, there is a nurse and an officer trying to force the door open.

"It's jammed."

"It's what?"

John moves and tries to open the door. Throwing himself against the door a few times before getting a fire extinguisher to get the door open, ramming his way into the room, breaking the door lock in the process. When the door opens we see Smith is standing over Sherlock, he turns to us, straightening up and releasing Sherlock, who noisily hauls in a long painful breath. As the heart monitor starts to blip again, John drops the fire extinguisher as storms into the room, and I follow behind him. John surges across the room and wraps his arm around Smith's neck, bundling him away from the bed, as I rush over to Sherlock.

"Oh, Sherlock."

I hear John behind me.

"What were you doing to him?"

Smith whimpers plaintively. Sherlock moves weakly on the bed, I take Sherlock's hand, as John shouts.

"What were you doing?!"

"He's in distress! I-I'm helping him!"

I turn as John hurls Smith into the confused Officer's hands.

"Restrain him, now. Do it!"

The officer takes hold of Smith's arms from behind. Smith gestures towards the bed.

"I was trying to help him!"

I turn back to Sherlock.

"Sherlock, what was he doing to you."

Sherlock tries to take a deep breath but is still weak.

"Suffocating me, overdosing me."

He points walk towards the drug stand. I hear John take a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

"On What?"

"Saline."

"Saline?"

"Yeah, Saline."

Sherlock props himself up onto his right elbow, still breathing hard. With his left hand, he reaches to the panel at the side of the bed and holds down the button which begins to raise the head of the bed. Sherlock groans and breathes out shakily. Smith looks worriedly towards John's back, as he looks over the drip bag.

"Obviously I got Nurse Cornish to switch the bags. She's a big fan, you know? Loves my blog."

John nods.

"Are you okay?"

I shake my head and look over to Sherlock and scoff softly.

"Of course not. He's malnourished, probably has double kidney failure,"

Sherlock nods.

"And frankly I've been off my tits for weeks. What kind of a doctor are you? I got my confession, though, didn't I?"

John and I turn towards Smith, who pulls himself free of the officer.

"Huh! I don't recall making any confession. What would I be confessing to?"

"You can listen to it later."

"But there is no confession to listen to! Oh, Mr. Holmes. I-I don't know if this is relevant, but we found three potential recording devices in the pockets of your coat. Um, all your possessions were searched. Sorry."

I look to Sherlock over my shoulder, leaning against the side of the bed, crossing my arms.

"Must be something comforting about the number three. People always give up after three."

Sherlock and I both turn our gaze to Smith, who stares back at us in horror. John looks over at us.

"What? What is it? What?"

Sherlock and I stay silent, a slight smile forming on our faces as we wait. After a moment John sighs in exasperation.

"You two… you two belong together, you know that? You too are complete and utter cocks."

"Heard you say that before."

I nod.

"Both of them actually."

John shakes his head stepping across to the chair by the door and picking up his old walking cane.

"So how does it open?"

"Screw the top."

John takes hold of the handle and starts to turn it, while Smith watches with a grim expression on his face. John pulls the handle off the cane, revealing a small device inside the stick which is glowing bright red. John pulls the recording device out and the bulb goes out. He looks across to Sherlock and me.

"Two weeks ago?"

Sherlock and I chuckle, looking at each other before answering.

"Three."

"I'm that predictable?"

"No. His just a cock."