Chapter 17: Empty chairs and empty tables
Doctor John Watson was lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep. Something inside him screamed. Something was not right, but he couldn't find out what it was. Maybe they had full moon again. Wouldn't surprise him, because on full moon he always had difficulty to sleep. Rosie was lying next to him, snoring peacefully. Molly had offered to stay with the two, just in case John felt lonely or needed help. John rose from his bed and started pacing around. He was kind of nervous, but couldn't explain it. He walked downstairs to the kitchen. From the living room he could hear voices. Molly was watching TV. He tried to listen to the sounds and smiled. She was watching Grey's Anatomy – Mary's favourite series. While making himself a cup of tea, he sighed. Life had become boring. He missed her so much. A tear was running down his face. Too many memories everywhere he looked. The cup was from Mary. She had bought it for his birthday. 'Doctor Soldier' she called him often and the cup was a reminder of that. "Hard night again?" He turned around. Molly was standing there, looking at him with worried eyes. John stared at his tea. "Seems so." She patted his shoulder. "You can always talk to me, if you need to." "Thanks. It's just at the moment I can't. Don't know why. It just feels…not right," the blogger replied.
"So, where are we exactly going? I'm getting tired." "You know, where we are going Mr. Holmes. Don't fool me," Smith whispered unimpressed. "Your favourite room. You mentioned it a few times." The detective was getting upset. He was sure: No one would find him here. They had reached the ground of the building. In front of them a door came in sight. He remembered this place. He had been here before. As they entered, he looked at the big, black letters above: 'Mortuary'. So here it all ends, Sherlock thought tired. His favourite room and the final place to take my last breath…
As the two men entered the cold room, the detective started to freeze immediately. Around them were the tables, some of them occupied by corpses. Smith pulled away one of the blankets. "See? This is Greta Kimmel. She was a nice old lady. Very kind and always so friendly." "Why her?", Sherlock wanted to know. "Her eyes. They were just so beautiful. Deep blue like the ocean. I couldn't resist. I needed them." "So, what makes you kill those people?" Sherlock wanted to find out. "It's not hate or something like that", Smith answered. He walked to the next table, revealing the corpse of a young man. "See? This one was a very young man. 23 years old. His hands were so soft, so slender. They attracted me, so I decided to have them." All of a sudden Sherlock understood, what Culverton Smith was doing. "You are a collector", the detective said in surprise. Smith positioned himself in front of Sherlock. "Exactly that's what I am doing here. Collecting trophies. Those people you see in the movies. God. Just actors pretending to be dead. But they are not and you can see it. I prefer the real dead people. I like turning the living to dead ones. It satisfies me. And you are my masterpiece Mr. Holmes." And all of a sudden, without warning, Culverton grabbed him. Sherlock tried to free himself, but to no avail. The syringe was forced into is arm and he went out cold immediately…
Doctor Steven Strange was studying the last results of his special patient, worrying even more as he did the last days. He was sitting in his office, looking at the x-Rays, which were taken at morning. The lung was healing very good and he was sure, there would be no permanent damage. He was more worried about another organ. Compared to the pictures, which were taken two weeks before, the detective's heart seemed to get weaker. It was slightly enlarged and Steven didn't like it. It could be from the injuries, but the doctor suggested it was getting weaker because of the malnutrition. Strange felt helpless. He needed to do something. He had fought so hard to save the detective and wasn't ready to give up. Not yet. The doctor decided, it was time to have a word with the stubborn man. As he walked through the corridors of Smith's Hospital, all was quiet. He felt himself like he was playing some kind of computer game and he was the main character. Finally, he reached the detective's room and knocked. No one answered him, so he entered without permission. It was urgent, so he had the right to enter. He froze, as he saw the empty bed. The infusion was disconnected and the leads of the heart monitor hang loosely at the bedside. This was absolutely not good and he had the feeling, that something bad has happened. Strange walked to the nurses, asking if anybody had seen the detective, but they didn't. The doctor hurried into the doctor's lounge. Morgan was watching an episode of Grey's Anatomy. "O, you stupid idiot. You can't say the patient is in asystole, when in the background you can see an ECG with a v-fib." "Simon, have you heard or seen our special one?" Steven interrupted. Simon looked up. "What? No. He was supposed to be in his room. Why? Did something happen?" "He's gone!" Strange screamed. "Just gone like the wind." Morgan laughed. "Are you drunk or something?" Steven got angry. "Simon, I don't have the time for jokes. He is missing and I really do hope he is here in the building somewhere, then on the roof of this hospital." Now he had his colleague. "The last time I saw him, he was in his room. If you need help with your search, I am your man", Morgan offered. "Thanks. Let's hurry. We have to find him. Something bad is going to happen. I just can feel it," Strange said excited. Both doctors were running around, searching, asking and hoping to find the patient, before it was too late. They weren't successful. "What are we doing now?" Simon asked, out of breath. "Best shot we have is his doctor friend. I try to call him. Something is not right Simon," Strange replied and took his mobile phone. He just hoped the doctor would not be asleep already.
Molly and John were sitting on the sofa, watching another episode of Grey's Anatomy, when the doctor's phone started ringing. "It's the hospital", he said surprised and answered. "This is John Watson?" "Doctor Watson, it's Doctor Steven Strange. Sorry to bother you at this time." John instantly knew, that something was very wrong. "What is it?" he asked scared. "He is missing. We looked everywhere, but he is gone. We thought, maybe he is with you." Strange explained. "No. I am afraid he is not. Did you check the entrance?" the blogger asked. "Yes, we did. He never left the hospital, so my guess is, he must be somewhere in the building. We really need your help. Something is not right. I just can feel it." John stood up, grabbing his jacket with his free hand. "I'm on my way. Meet you in his room," he told Strange and ended the call. Molly was alarmed, too. "Something happened to Sherlock?" "He is missing. Room empty, but he never left the building. Please: Can you look after Rosie? This is Sherlock. This can't wait." She just nodded and John ran out of the house. While sitting in the cab, the blogger called Lestrade. He knew the inspector would unlikely be asleep, so this was his best shot. "If you call me this late, it has to be urgent", Lestrade answered his phone. "Yes, it is indeed. Sherlock is missing. He never left the building", John informed. "Are they sure he didn't leave? I mean, he is Sherlock Holmes…" The blogger got nervous. "Look, they checked the cameras on every entrance and he did not leave the building. I have the feeling, something very bad is going on here," John tried again. He could hear the inspector sighing. "What do you know?" "A few weeks ago, I was in Sherlock's flat. I found a letter in his pillow case. It seemed like the letter was a silent goodbye to me. But something was strange. In this letter Sherlock was talking about a new case. His hardest case, he ever had. He didn't write much about it, but there was something he had to finish. I have the feeling, that this case leads to Smith's hospital," the blogger informed. "I guess we are on the same side here, John. Sherlock also left a letter for me in his flat." The doctor was speechless "What?" Greg sighed. "His letter to me was very clear and I already knew, what he was up to. I guess you already found out, who Sherlock is hunting, do you?" And all of a sudden it all made sense to John. "Culverton Smith", he whispered. "Exactly. I think Sherlock might be in danger, so we need to be prepared. We need to catch Smith, before he hurts Sherlock," the inspector replied. The blogger was all ears. "So tell me, what is the plan?" "I will call some people of my staff and in the meantime, you will meet with Strange and Morgan. They know the hospital best, so tell them, where you want to go. Make sure you come to Scotland Yard first. I will give you a GPS tracker, so we can see, where Smith is hiding. We need to be careful: if Smith finds out, we are after him, then there is the possibility he's killing Sherlock." Lestrade knew, he didn't tell the doctor the whole truth. He knew, that Smith was after John, but he thought it would be safer to hide this information. He needed a clear John Watson now and therefore, he had to lie to him. Greg also knew, that he was sacrificing the blogger, but he needed to risk it. He would never forgive himself, if he wasn't able to save both of them. Silently he prayed, that he didn't make the wrong decision…
John met Greg in front of the building. The inspector seemed kind of nervous. "What is it you are not telling me?" the doctor asked. "Not now. We need to focus on Sherlock first and after he is safe, we do the talking." Lestrade tried to calm the blogger. "Why do I have the feeling, that everyone around me knows, what's going on here and it's just me who is the dumb one?" John cried out. "Would you please, please concentrate now on the things, that are important? You could help me find a place for the GPS tracker instead. If Smith finds out we are after him, then we are in a lot of trouble." John knew, that Greg was right. "Take my wedding ring. I have the feeling it's the right place for a tracker. Is this working in a hospital? I mean is the signal strong enough?" the blogger needed to know. "Don't worry. Those are special devices, made only for the police," the inspector assured him.
Meanwhile, Sherlock was drifting back to the world of the living. Everything was foggy and he tried to focus. Where was he? And how long was he out? He tried to move and found out, that he couldn't. He looked around. This wasn't the mortuary anymore, he recognized instantly. It took him a moment to regain all of his senses, before he started to check his situation. He found himself lying on a gurney. Movement was impossible. Smith had fixated him, just great. Sherlock had a full plan of the hospital in his mind palace, but this room was not in the plans, so it must be some kind of secret room, no one was aware of. The problem now was, that the chance of finding him, was now levelled to zero. How would anyone be able to find him, when no one knew about this room? "I see you are finally awake. That's more I like it. Sleeping people are just too boring," Smith said in a calm voice. "Where am I?" the detective asked slurred. "You are in my secret room. A room, which was built only by me. No one knows, it exists." "I am lucky", Sherlock stated. "O, of course you are Mr. Holmes. Being the first in this room to die makes you something special." "I thought, that you are more interested in my friend", the detective whispered. "Not as interested, as you might think. Yes of course he has been the man of Mary Watson, but my real interest was you." "But…I thought John Watson was a thread for you. I don't understand", Sherlock replied confused. "The fact, that you and John Watson were friends, was just bad luck. All I wanted all the years, was you Mr. Holmes. It took me a long time to get your attention. It's true, I was watching John Watson, but I lost interest on him, when you showed up five years ago. And here comes my surprise for you: You are the reason, that I am now trying to get both of you on my table here." Culverton laughed. Sherlock was in shock. Culverton Smith wanted him, John Watson was just the candy on a big cake. "All of this…Was my fault? O god John, what have I done?" Sherlock asked shocked. "You are the reason, your doctor friend will soon follow his wife." Smith now laughed even louder and Sherlock was staring blankly at the ceiling. If John Watson dies, then he knew, who was to blame…