Chapter Thirty-Eight
In the Emergency Room, Molly was causing a bit of a quandary. First of all, there was the question of how the family's treatment would be paid for. They had travel insurance and Molly had the certificate in her hand bag along with their passports but the hospital bursar was insisting on an authorisation code from the insurance providers which required that Molly make a phone call but the medical staff wouldn't allow her to use her mobile in the department and she refused to leave the boys alone long enough to step outside and make the call.
Also, the staff wanted to treat the children in the Paediatrics section and Molly in the Adult section but Molly was having none of it. She flatly refused to be separated from her boys. Every time anyone suggested that she hand William to someone else or even put him down on a treatment couch, he keened pitifully, which set Freddie off howling, 'Willum! Willum! Noooooo!' and trying to bat at the ER staff with his little fists, while huge tears rolled down his round apple cheeks.
Fortuitously, Caro arrived only minutes after the ambulance and was able to broker a deal whereby Molly was triaged in the Paediatrics section but agreed to go to Adults for any treatment that might be required. Caro also went outside and called the insurance company to obtain the treatment code, which placated the hospital administrator. With Caro there to mediate and to act as interpreter, things calmed down considerably in the Emergency Room and the staff were able to get on with their work without risking the wrath of Freddie.
The taking of William's vital signs showed that he was in a near-catatonic state of shock.
'It was the noise,' Molly explained. 'When the gun went off in the stairwell, the noise was unbearable even for me so for William it would have been excruciatingly painful. He is sound sensitive at the best of times.'
The paediatrician suggested they sedate him, just to give his body and mind the opportunity to rest and recuperate from the trauma of the whole experience. Molly could see the sense in that and agreed. Once William had succumbed to the sedative, he could be properly examined for any signs of physical injury. There were none, except a few small scratches on his chest from Freddie's finger nails, which had probably happened when William screamed, right by the toddler's ear.
Freddie's vital signs were all perfectly normal and, once William stopped showing signs of distress, he recovered his good spirits sufficiently to charm the nurses and doctor, who forgave him his earlier attempted assaults.
Molly had no physical injuries either and her vital signs were relatively normal, considering the terrible ordeal she had undergone. It was decided, however, that the family should remain in hospital, overnight at least, under observation in case any delayed reactions should occur, such as shock.
Caro, who was well known to the hospital Bursar as a generous benefactor, persuaded the hospital staff to allow the family to stay together in one room. Once they had been moved there and formally admitted, Molly asked Caro if she knew anything about Sherlock.
'Do you know where he is? What happened to him?'
Caro knew very little but she consulted Esteves, who had stayed outside the treatment room throughout the time the family were in there, had escorted them to their current location and was now on guard outside the door. She asked him what he knew and he gave her an account of the search and the assault on the abandoned racing yard. He explained Sherlock's condition when he was found and that he was being treated in this very hospital, having arrived by Air Ambulance a few minutes before the rest of the family.
Caro passed on the information to Molly. The news was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, she knew he was no longer in the hands of his captors and that he was very near to her but, on the other hand, his condition sounded critical. She asked Caro to speak to the hospital staff and find out whatever she could, including when Molly might be able to see him. Caro agreed to do that but before she left the room, she took Molly's hand and said,
'I phoned Mycroft, on my way here from your hotel. He's catching the first available flight and should be here in the morning.'
That news was the best thing Molly had heard all day. Mycroft would take control of the situation and sort everything out. He would relieve her of that responsibility. He would put it all right. For the first time, since the whole awful business had kicked off, just after lunch, Molly felt a wave of relief wash over her and tears of sheer exhaustion pricked her eyes.
'Oh, thank you, Caro. You always know exactly the right thing to say and to do. You are so wonderful and we're so lucky to have you as a friend!' The two women hugged and sniffed then laughed with embarrassment and Caro went off to find out what was happening with Sherlock.
ooOoo
By the time the Air Ambulance arrived at the deserted racing yard, the federal agent, a trained field medic who had taken on Sherlock's care, had removed the ligatures from his wrists and ankles, so normal blood flow could resume to his extremities. His hands were cold and bloodlessly white but pinked up quickly once the cable ties were cut off.
A cursory examination of his scalp revealed a nasty gash above his right ear, which had bled profusely, soaking his hair, shirt and jacket. This was now dried and turned to a muddy brown. He also had a large swelling and a secondary cut to the back of his head but this had barely bled at all. His pupils were reactive to light, though the left eye not so well as the right. There was a great deal of blood in his right ear but it was difficult to tell if that had come from the scalp laceration or from internal bleeding. That would be for the medics at the hospital to ascertain.
His pulse was slow and a little irregular but that might be normal for him. Again, this was something for the hospital to investigate. The most telling signs were the speckled pattern of bruising to his forehead and the burst blood vessel in his right eye. This inferred a possible swelling of the brain, causing an increase of pressure inside the cranium. The agent found it rather disconcerting how deeply unconscious the subject was, completely unresponsive to all and any stimuli, possibly comatose. Likely causes, such as an epidural haematoma, flashed through the man's mind as he positioned himself to shade the patient from the hot afternoon sun and waited for the Air Ambulance to arrive.
ooOoo
Caro left Molly and the boys in their hospital room and walked through the building to the Emergency Room reception area or 'Chairs' as it was known colloquially. They would be able to tell her where to find Sherlock. She approached the Reception desk and was waiting to speak to the administrator when she saw Henrique striding toward her from the Patient Entrance. She had never been more glad to see him and submitted willingly to his prolonged hug.
'Are you alright, my darling?' he asked, gazing into her eyes with great concern when they eventually drew apart.
'All the better for having you here,' she replied, with heartfelt sincerity.
'How are Molly and the children?'
'Molly and Freddie are OK or as well as can be expected, as they say, but poor little William has had a terrible shock and had to be sedated. Molly asked me to find out what's happened to Sherlock, which is why I'm here and not with the family.'
Just then, the administrator became free and Henrique enquired about the 'Englishman's' whereabouts.
'Are you family?' the woman asked.
'Yes, I'm his aunt,' Caro declared – which was close enough to the truth.
The admin woman tapped in Sherlock's name and studied her PC monitor.
'Ah, the head trauma,' she muttered, insensitively. 'He's currently in Radiology undergoing a CT scan. I can direct you to there. You may be able to speak to the radiographer or to the trauma team treating him.'
Henrique thanked her, politely, and memorised the directions she gave. He and Caro followed them to the letter and arrived a few minutes later in Radiology. Glancing through the door window, Henrique could see the torso and legs of a patient, stretched out on the treatment bed of the CT scanner. It was an unusual angle but the length of leg, size of the feet and narrowness of hip were sufficient clues to convince him that it was, indeed, Sherlock, undergoing the diagnostic procedure.
Henrique guided his wife to the row of seats outside the scanner suite and they sat down to wait for the procedure to be completed. Half an hour later, the automatic double doors opened and Sherlock was wheeled out on a gurney. The couple rose and approached the recumbent man. Henrique explaining to the porter that they were relatives of the patient. He invited them to follow him back to the treatment room where they would be able to speak with the Trauma Team. They followed the gurney back through the hospital corridors.
Caro was shocked by Sherlock's appearance. It was alarming to see him so still. He was usually vibrant and alive, bursting with energy. This was a pale imitation of the Sherlock she knew. The amount of dried blood in his hair and on the right side of his face, neck and shoulder was deeply disturbing but she tried to reassure herself that, if he needed blood, the hospital would be giving it to him, which they were not.
When they reached the Treatment Room, Caro moved to stand beside the gurney and took up Sherlock's hand. It was completely flaccid and felt cool to the touch. She stroked the back of it, watching his face, hoping for a response but none came. The doctor and one of the nurses were looking at the computer screen on the wall as the CT scan result was received from the Radiology Department. They scrutinised the images and read the report, discussing the result between themselves, then came over to speak with Henrique and Caro.
'Are you his parents?' the doctor asked.
'No, I'm his aunt,' fibbed Caro, maintaining the pretence. 'His parents are both deceased. His wife is a patient in the hospital and his brother is on his way here from London so we are the closest thing to next of kin.'
'I am Henrique Maria Chagas de Sousa and this is my wife, Carolina Lyons de Sousa,' said Henrique to the doctor. Using their full names would communicate to the doctor that they were from an old family. Such things were important in Brazilian society.
'Well, Senhor, Senhora de Sousa, the news is both good and not so good. It was our suspicion, based on the nature of the injury and his comatose state, that your nephew had an intracranial epidural haematoma. The CT scan has assured us that he does not. He does have a serious concussion and his lack of consciousness is concerning but, sometimes, in order to give itself the opportunity to recover from a severe trauma, the brain simply shuts down. I suspect this is the case with Sr Holmes.'
Caro could see how that could be a distinct possibility in Sherlock's case. It would be the logical thing to do.
'But we will carry out an EEG to check for any cerebral dysfunction. It is a low tech procedure and only takes around forty minutes but it will put our minds at rest,' the doctor concluded.
'Does he have any other injuries,' Caro asked.
'He has some bruising of the ribs but the x-rays show they are neither cracked nor broken. It will be painful for a while when he wakes up but there is no permanent damage. He will be fitted for the EEG and then taken to the ICU for care and observation. You can sit with him, if you wish.'
'His wife and children are here, under observation, too. His wife would like to see him. Would that be permissible?'
'Is she infectious?'
'No, not at all. She and the children were victims of an attempted abduction. They are traumatised.'
'Well, if her doctor has no objections, I have none either. She might persuade him to wake up.'
'We'll go and give her the good news. Thank you, doctor.'
Caro patted Sherlock's hand and placed it back by his side. He had not moved a muscle throughout the interview.
ooOoo
