Chapter Forty
When Molly arrived back in the hospital room, she found William and Mycroft deep in conversation. She was relieved to find that William seemed himself again. The sedative had done its job well, relaxing his body and freeing his mind to enable him to rationalise the terrifying events of the previous day. No doubt, there would be consequences for all of them. She would definitely be booking a few sessions with Dr Matthews, when she got home, for herself and for William. She would have to wait and see what aftereffects Freddie showed. But, for now at least, her family all seemed safe and fairly sound.
'Mummy!' William cried, as she entered the room, 'Uncle Mycroft is here and he still loves me!'
'Of course, he does, darling! He loves all of us. And we all love him,' Molly replied, giving Mycroft an apologetic smile, imagining how the conversation had probably gone in her absence. William had Sherlock's manner of being very direct. As a child, he was mostly forgiven but she wondered how well this would go down in the world at large as he grew older.
'Good news, Mycroft. His Lordship has awoken and seems to have all his faculties intact. He told me how he sussed out Oliviera. But I'll let him tell you himself. The doctor is with him at the moment, just running a few tests but I told him you were here. I'm sure he'd like to see you,' she concluded.
Mycroft smiled and looked hugely relieved. He had sat by his brother's bedside on far too many occasions, over the years, both before and since their parents' untimely deaths, each time wondering how much of the Sherlock he knew and loved would still be there when his brother awoke. From drug overdoses, through Lyme Disease, injections of neurotoxin, sexual assault and now attempted murder, his brother seemed to have a certain penchant for being incapacitated in the line of duty. It was a miracle he was alive at all! But a miracle for which Mycroft was eternally grateful.
'I'll go and see him,' he told Molly and then, 'I rang Caro from the airport. She wants you and the boys to go and stay with her when you leave here. She's invited me to stay there too. She said to ring when they discharge you and she will send her car to collect you all. She feels responsible for all of this, for some reason, though I have told her that she is nothing of the sort.'
'Absolutely not! She has been so good to us. It'll be nice to go back there, though. I don't know if I could stay in the hotel on my own with the boys, after what happened. I know it's silly but I wouldn't feel safe. And who knows for how long they will want to keep Sherlock in here.'
Mycroft bent to give her a peck on the cheek.
'I'll find out what I can and let you know what's happening,' and with that he left the room.
ooOoo
When Mycroft entered Sherlock's hospital room, he found his brother sitting on the side of the bed, the centre of attention for a semi-circle of medical personnel. They all turned to look at him as he pushed open the door and walked in. He crossed the floor and placed his hand on his sibling's shoulder. Sherlock looked up and read the concern in Mycroft's face.
'I'm fine,' he declared, this being his default response to all enquiries about his health and welfare, for as long as Mycroft could remember.
He raised an eyebrow and turned to the hospital staff for a second opinion. The neurologist extended a hand to the new-comer and introduced himself as Dr Schmidt. Mycroft shook the hand and confirmed his own identity,
'Mycroft Holmes, head of the family and my brother's next of kin,' in deference to the importance placed on family in Brazilian society. 'How is the patient?'
'He is remarkably well, considering he has suffered two very heavy blows to his head,' Dr Schmidt replied, in perfectly enunciated English. 'A severe concussion, which will require rest and may cause poor concentration and difficulties with short-term memory for up to a month but I expect him to make a full recovery. He seems to be quite a resilient young man.'
'Thank you, doctor. And, yes, too resilient for his own good, to be frank.'
'He also has badly bruised ribs, senhor,' put in the senior nurse. 'Painful but not life-threatening.'
'When can I leave here?' Sherlock asked, never keen to prolong his hospital confinements a moment beyond the absolute necessity.
'If you promise to rest, Sr Holmes, you may leave this morning. But, if you do not rest, you may find yourself back here before you know it.' The doctor clearly had the consulting detective's number.
'Worry not, doctor, there are a number of people dedicated to ensuring that my brother does as you advise. We are well practiced in saving him from himself,' Mycroft replied, with a knowing smile. Sherlock scowled but was just grateful that he would be getting out of here sooner rather than later.
The medics departed, leaving the brothers alone.
'What did they do with my clothes?' Sherlock asked, looking around.
Mycroft spotted a large plastic sack on the floor by the bed. He picked it up and put it on the mattress. Sherlock opened it and tipped out the contents. It contained all his clothing from the day before but looking rather the worse for wear. The toes of his shoes were badly scuffed, his trousers were covered in red dust and bits of straw, his jacket and shirt were soaked in dried blood all down the right shoulder, sleeve and front panel.
'You don't have to wear those,' Mycroft suggested. 'I can ask Caro to bring something from your hotel suite.'
'It's alright,' Sherlock replied, 'I can change when I get there.'
'You're not going back to the hotel. You're going to Caro and Henrique's, as are Molly and the boys. You all need looking after for the next few days and I insist that you allow them to do that for you.'
'I still need to go to the hotel to pick up clothing and whatnot,' Sherlock persisted.
'I'll take care of that,' Mycroft was adamant. Sherlock was too weary to argue. The doctor had been right about the difficulty with concentration. His head ached dully and the urge to lie down was strong. He resisted that urge, stuffed the clothing back into the sack, picked it up and stood, wobbling slightly from a sudden attack of dizziness. Mycroft reached out and placed a steadying hand under his elbow.
'Thank you,' he mumbled. 'I'm fine, now' and tottered off to the en suite shower room to change into his own clothes. Mycroft sat in the bedside chair and folded his hands in his lap to wait for his brother to re-emerge.
ooOoo
Before the family could leave the hospital, William had to pass a psych assessment. The psychologist who came to check him over was impressed, not only with his recovery but with his Portuguese. She could hardly believe he had been in the country less than three weeks. She advised Molly, via William, acting as interpreter, what signs to look out for which might indicate a relapse.
William assured her that he would put his memories of the frightening events into his Mind Ship and lock them away where he knew they would not be able to hurt him. The psychologist was familiar with the concept of Mind Mapping but had not yet come across a five-year-old with such a complete grasp of the idea. She was impressed still more.
Mycroft escorted by Sherlock to the family's hospital room, where he was relieved to find that William seemed none the worse for his terrible experience. For his own part, William was more than relieved to be reunited with his father.
'I told Mummy you would be alright,' he confided when Sherlock picked him up to hug him, 'but it was only a hope. I didn't really know.'
'Well, your hope worked, Will. You must be good at hoping,' Sherlock replied.
Hospital protocol insisted that Sherlock and Molly be pushed to the exit in wheelchairs. The consulting detective was unimpressed by the ignominy of it but capitulated in order to hasten their departure. With William sitting in his lap and Freddie sitting in Molly's, they were wheeled by hospital porters to the public entrance and met by Caro's driver. Once they were settled in the vehicle, it drove away, leaving Mycroft to take a cab to the hotel where he had arranged to meet Caro who would know better than he what the family might need for the next few days.
ooOoo
On his arrival at the Palace Hotel, Mycroft found Caro waiting in the coffee lounge. He greeted her with three pecks on the cheek, right, left and right again, just as his mother had taught him. He took the seat opposite her and ordered a strong coffee, much needed to forestall the wilt he was feeling. Caro was glad to know that the family were on their way to her home – had probably arrived already and been reinstalled in their rooms, so recently vacated.
'I do apologise for all the trouble we've put you to, Caro. We Holmeses do impose on your hospitality,' he began.
'Mycroft, don't be ridiculous,' Caro interjected. 'You must know how much I enjoy having you stay, and Sherlock and his family are an absolute delight. I'm only sorry it has to be under such desperate circumstances.'
'Well, I must say there are not many people in the world who would describe my brother as delightful, although you are quite correct about his family. Molly and the boys have been the making of him.'
Caro's face clouded a little and she pursed her lips.
'I think we both know what was the making of him, dear boy, and on that subject, I really do need to speak with you while you are here,' she said, rather enigmatically.
'Please, Caro, speak freely. I'm always grateful for your pearls of wisdom,' he replied.
'No, not here and not now. But soon, and when we are somewhere less public. Our priority now must be to collect the family's belongings.'
Having finished their coffees, they rose and approached the Reception desk to explain their necessity to go up to the penthouse suite. When Mycroft announced who he was, the Receptionist called the Duty Manager, who insisted on speaking to both of them in his rather plush office.
'Sr Holmes, I cannot apologise enough for our failure to protect your brother and his family during their stay in our hotel. The fact that our security system was actually infiltrated by the perpetrators of these terrible crimes is of deep regret and we fully understand that your family no longer wish to stay here. However, if you and they could be so understanding, we would be eternally grateful if the facts of this unfortunate lapse were not made public.'
Mycroft was thoughtful for a moment before speaking.
'Sir, I can assure you, my family has no desire for any of the recent events to become public knowledge. Far from it. And, so far as I am aware, my brother has made no plans to leave this hotel.'
The duty manager's face lit up with delight at those words.
'However,' Mycroft continued, 'that's not to say that he's made plans to stay, either.'
The face fell again.
'But, for the time being at least, the family will be staying with friends whilst they all recover from their terrible ordeal. After that, the decision as to where they stay will be theirs to make, not mine.'
'Please, senhor, pass on our good wishes for a speedy recovery and advise Sr Holmes and the senhora that, should they choose to continue as our guests, there will be no charge for the use of their rooms for the remainder of their stay. It is the very least we can do.'
Mycroft was acutely aware that the last thing on Sherlock's list of priorities would be an offer of free accommodation. He would be far more concerned about exactly how safe Molly and the boys felt in the suite. That would be the deciding factor as to whether or not they returned. But he promised to relay the message as he shook hands with the profusely apologetic man then he and Caro went up to the suite to collect the family's belongings.
ooOoo
