Chapter 26: Reliving The Nightmare

John stared at his friend, not really believing what he just heard. "Smith? Are you serious?"

"Eurus was in contact with Smith and Moriarty, so I am sure John. I am really sure."

The blogger stood up from his chair and started pacing around, "Please god no. Not again. I thought it was over."

The detective sighed, "Me, too."

For a moment both men stood in silence, then Sherlock clapped his hands, "They won't break us John, you hear me? Never!"

"I am not so sure about that," the blogger whispered to himself and hoped, his friend didn't hear it.

If Sherlock had heard it, he didn't react. Instead, he was preparing himself for the new lead.

"We need to hurry. Hailey is still out there and alive, so we have to keep on that," he said and ran outside the security room. For a moment, John was standing there irritated, then he started to run after the detective.

Fifteen minutes later, the two friends were standing in front of St. Mary's Hospital. A shiver ran down John's spine, when he thought of Smith again.

"Remember John, he is dead. He can't harm us again."

"I know," the blogger replied quiet.

"You want to know a secret?" Sherlock tried to get his friend's attention.

"You're gay and now it's my time to start laughing?" the blogger replied dryly.

"God hell no! That's not what I wanted to tell you. If it calms you a little bit, I am scared, too."

John started to laugh and a smile appeared on the detective's face.

"I think I have a déjà vu right now. We had this scene a few months before, if I remember right."

"Maybe you are. Come on, let's visit Smith's office."

The two men stepped in and asked the receptionist for permission to enter Smith's office. The man behind the desk grabbed the phone and dialled a number. A few seconds later Sherlock had the keys and both men walked to the elevator.

"I can't wait to see what it is I missed in his office," the detective said curious.

"Are you enjoying this right now?" the doctor asked kind of shocked.

"Why not? It's a case which needs all of my skills and frightens me as well."

"Sometimes I really think you need help, Sherlock," John whispered and the two men stepped into the elevator. Both men stood there in silence, mentally preparing for the room, which ended their nightmare.

When they were finally released, John at first wasn't able to move. The events of that one day getting to him once more.

"Come on John. We have a case to solve," Sherlock called at him.

The doctor followed the detective very slowly. He wasn't really interested to see Smith's office again. The detective took the key and opened the door. Since Smith was dead, the room was kept locked. When Sherlock opened the room, he instantly knew, something was different. He stopped in his tracks and sniffed.

"Something wrong?" the blogger asked irritated.

"Someone was here. I can smell it," the detective whispered.

"Well, I don't. What is it you smell?" John asked while sniffing for himself.

"That scent. I know exactly who uses this one." Sherlock stepped into the room and looked around.

He couldn't find something suspicious, so he walked around and observed the room. Nothing had changed since the last time, except for the blood, which was no longer on the floor. The detective tried to make out where the smell was coming from. He sniffed a few more times, slowly reaching the office desk of Smith. When he looked in front of him, his face lost a little colour.

"Sherlock, is everything alright?" John was getting worried. He knew Sherlock and his face told him, that something wasn't right. He positioned himself next to the detective and his eyes grew wide. There on the table were a lot of pictures from an operation.

"Jesus Sherlock, this is…"

"I know. Just give me a minute to cope," the detective excused and stepped away from the desk.

John was just standing there, looking shocked at the pictures in front of him. The photos were documenting an operation on a wounded heart, other photos were showing the aftermath of a bullet, which ripped through the heart and lungs.

"Why is someone taking photos of such an operation?" John mumbled.

"Normally, pictures are taken when a case or injury is very rare. In this case I think someone wanted to be kept updated," Sherlock replied.

The blogger shook his head, "This is just insane. Why confront you with those pictures of your failing body?"

"To show me my weakness and of course to warn me, that someone knows everything about me." The detective explained and grabbed his sternum.

"Is everything alright?" John was at his friend's side in less than five seconds.

"I am fine. Sometimes, when I get stressed too much, my heart skips a beat."

The doctor looked up, "Are you serious? This isn't something to ignore. If this isn't getting better soon you should think of an internal defibrillator."

Sherlock pushed the doctor aside and returned to the table. "I am fine John. Let's focus on the case again."

John once more positioned himself next to his friend and looked at the pictures, "What exactly are we looking for Sherlock?" he asked while staring once more at the pictures.

The detective started to look at every single picture but nothing caught his eye. The blogger sighed and decided it was better to let his friend work alone. Feeling the exhaustion in every bone, he leaned on the bookshelf and suddenly the secret door, which Sherlock had discovered the last time, opened. When he turned around and looked at the white hall, he couldn't find his voice. "Sh…Sher…"

"Not now John, I am busy."

The doctor was so stunned about the floor in front of him, that he couldn't resist to entering it. The walls which Culverton Smith had decorated with his victims earlier, were now covered with the same poster. It showed a red apple with the letters 'I' 'O' 'U' on it. John was walking very slowly, not sure what was awaiting him further down the road. Suddenly an all too familiar door came in sight and John froze. He was back at Smith's favourite room. "Please not again," the blogger prayed and opened the door. The room was full of dust, testifying it was no longer in use. John started to cough and entered. The silence was scary. Looking around, John couldn't find anything suspicious. He walked to the gurney, which was still a reminder of the tragic events and removed the dust. His hands came back completely grey and he rubbed them clean on his blue trousers. When his eyes once more looked at the gurney, he saw a little arrow pointing at one of the compartments. He followed the direction and without thinking opened it. As soon as the door opened, a gun shot at him and he fell to the ground. To his surprise it was just a toy and so he rose from the ground and decided to check it out. Out of the plastic gun barrel hung a cloth and he grabbed it. On one side the words 'Miss Me' were printed and when John turned it over, he gulped. There was a message but this time not for Sherlock, but for him…

'Hello Dr. Watson. Always watch your friend.'

John stared at the cloth for a minute and tried to calm himself. This wasn't a hint, it was a warning. While trying to stay calm, he heard footsteps.

"Finally, you have decided to join me?" the blogger asked, not turning around. He wasn't aware of the fact that the detective was still upstairs, looking through the pictures. When Dr. Watson finally turned around, a cloth was pressed in front of his mouth and nose. Before he went limp, a voice whispered, "I told you to keep an eye on your friend."

Sherlock was still totally lost in his thoughts, when he was disturbed by the noise coming from the secret floor.

"Be quiet John, I need to focus here," he screamed. When there was no reply, the detective looked up. "John?" He looked around but his friend wasn't in the room anymore. A cold breeze hit him and he turned around to discover the secret door was open. "John? Are you upstairs?" he tried once more and for the first time looked at the walls of the secret floor. He entered the floor and stared at the posters. "Moriarty…" the detective whispered and slowly made his way downstairs. Like his friend, Sherlock found himself standing in front of the big doors, which were hiding the secret room of Culverton Smith. Carefully he opened them and stepped in. The room was empty and Sherlock stepped closer to examine the gurney like John did before. When he found the arrow on the gurney, he instantly looked at the compartment and saw the plastic gun. There was nothing suspicious, so he positioned himself next to the gun and observed the room. On the floor lay the cloth, which the doctor had found. The detective knelt down and grabbed it. When he read the text, his gut clenched. In front of him he could see footprints on the dust-stained ground. There were three different kinds of shoesizes visible, so Sherlock knew that a third person had been in this room. In front of the gurney the detective saw that one person was standing behind the other person and that the second person must have been dragged out of the room. From where the second person was standing, two marks were forming between the footsteps of the first person. Panic rose in the detective and he prayed that he was wrong, but when he bent down to check the shoesize he gulped. It was 7.5 – John's Shoesize. "No," the detective whispered while following the lead. "Please don't let it be John."

The intruder had been waiting in one of the other corridors. Culverton Smith had built a hospital with a lot of secret rooms and floors, that no one was aware of. With the help of Mary at the time, Sherlock was able to get Culverton's attention, which nearly killed him and his best friend, too. After John Watson saved his life by shooting Smith, not only the doctor was left with a trauma. Sherlock was facing a trauma, too. Not only mentally but physically as well. He was still remembering everything, like it was yesterday. After the death of his wife Mary, John had blamed him for the tragedy and shut him out completely. When both men met in the morgue of Smith's hospital again, it didn't end up very well. John had beaten him so badly, that he had sustained some broken ribs and a concussion. After he left the hospital, he recognized something was wrong with his breathing but continued to walk on, totally dazed and irritated. The only thing he could remember was that he suspected a punctured lung, while not getting enough oxygen and falling down the hills before Kew's bridge. This caused more damage to his already injured body than he thought possible. No one knew, that he did all of this to save his friendship between himself and the blogger. He nearly died on the OR table but thanks to Dr. Steven Strange, he miraculously survived and finally was able to show that Smith was a serial killer, hiding behind hospital doors. Although he was able to survive all of this, he sustained some irreparable damage to his heart. That's also the reason why John Watson always checked him over. When he was told by Steven, that he would never be one hundred percent healthy again, John was standing next to him. The three men decided not to tell anyone about that, so it was kept not only from Lestrade or Molly but also from Mycroft.

Sherlock sighed and followed the footsteps of John's attacker until the dust had rubbed off the shoe soles and he wasn't able to track them anymore. The desperation grew inside the detective and he started to tremble. Moriarty was alive and now he had his best friend, too. He knew that time was running out for Hailey and John. He decided to go back to Smith's office, trying to find the message, which he was sure Moriarty has left for him. When he was walking back, one of the posters had peeled a little and the breeze was whirling it from the wall. Sherlock stepped closer and pulled the poster aside pausing for a moment. Behind the poster, hidden from view were the words 'east wind'. The detective read them and his head began to spin. He ran to the first poster and ripped it from the wall. The second poster followed, revealing more words. After fifteen minutes he had ripped all the posters from the wall. He hadn't slept much for the last few days, he didn't eat much and he was exhausted to the core. When he finally made it back to the entrance, he had already saved all the other words from the wall in his mind palace. He could feel his heart beating way too fast and before he was able to do anything else, he blacked out and slipped to the ground...

"I that am lost, oh who will find me? Deep down below the old beech tree. Help succour me now the east winds blow. Sixteen by six, brother, and under we go! Be not afraid to walk in the shade. Save one, save all, come try! My steps - five by seven. Life is closer to Heaven. Look down, with dark gaze, from on high. Without your love, he'll be gone before. Save pity for strangers, show love the door. My soul seeks the shade of my willow's bloom. Inside, brother mine - Let Death make a room. Before he was gone - right back over my hill. Who now will find him? Why, nobody will. Doom shall I bring to him, I that am queen. Lost forever, nine by nineteen." He awoke to the sound of a woman singing. When Sherlock opened his eyes, he recognized that he was in his mind palace. Looking around he saw his sister sitting only a few metres away from him on a stone. Her hair was blowing in the wind and she was staring at the sky.

"Isn't this a beautiful place to be?" she said, still not looking at him.

Sherlock slowly walked up to his sister and stopped. She sighed and continued, "Long time no see Sherlock. Never thought you would visit me here."

"Here?"

"This place. It's for the lost and the desperate," his sister replied.

The detective looked around, but everything was blurred. "I can't see very clearly. It's too blurred."

Eurus started to laugh, "It's because you haven't found out yet."

"Found out what?"

"The answer to your next question." His sister was giggling.

"What is my question?" the detective asked calm.

"Well, weren't you looking for Redbeard?"

"Redbeard? Redbeard was Victor Travor. I already found out."

His sister looked at him, her blue and cold eyes staring at him. "Did you?"

"Yes. When I found Redbeard dead in the water, he turned into Victor."

Eurus didn't seem impressed.

"What is it? What am I missing again?" Sherlock wanted to know.

For a moment, Eurus said nothing. Then she stood up and whistled.

The detective looked around and waited. When he thought, his sister was trying to fool him again, he suddenly froze. There was a dog barking in the distance. "It can't be…" The barking was getting louder and when Sherlock looked in the direction, he could see a brown spot nearing them. It got bigger and bigger and finally Redbeard appeared in front of him. Tears were running down Sherlock's face now.

"Redbeard…" he bent down to stroke his friend, hoping the dog would disappear. Nothing happened and Sherlock asked himself what that meant. He looked at Eurus, who seemed satisfied.

"That's more how I like my brother. Totally stunned and not as clever as he pretends to be."

Sherlock looked at Redbeard. Something was different. The red bandana was missing. Triumphantly he smiled and replied, "This is not Redbeard. It's a copy of him, but it's not Redbeard."

To his surprise, his sister stayed calm and whispered, "Now what is that telling you?"

Sherlock, stunned by this question, looked at the dog in front of him. "What do you mean?"

"Oh Sherlock, are you really that dumb? You said, there is another Redbeard, so what is that telling you?"

It took a moment for the detective to finally realize what his sister was trying to tell him. When he understood what Eurus was trying to tell him, he looked at the dog and then at his sister and froze.

"Now you got it," she said motionless.

Before Sherlock was able to react, Redbeard started to run away and the detective tried to follow the dog but failed. "Where did he go?" he asked desperately.

His sister continued to grin, "That's the thing you have to find out, Sherlock. I am just in your head. I can't help you, so it's your turn to find the answer."

"Detective Holmes?" a blurred voice reached his ears. "I think he's coming round. Increase the glucose flow."

Sherlock was still dazed and didn't understand where he was nor who was talking to him. When he tried to open his eyes, everything was spinning. Someone was lightly slapping his face, trying to get his attention. The spinning got better and finally he was able to see clearer. A pair of green eyes stared at him and Sherlock could feel a soft pillow under his head.

"Where am I? What happened?" he asked, still confused.

"You are in the hospital Mr. Holmes. You were searching Culverton Smith's office and when you didn't return after three hours, we were asked to check if everything was alright. Turned out it wasn't. We found you leaning unconscious at the wall, so we brought you here in one of the treatment rooms. You had very low blood sugar levels and your heartrate was also worrisome, but now everything seems to have to normalized," one of the two doctors informed.

The detective looked at his hand, where an IV needle was sticking out of it. "Can I go now? I have a case which I need to solve."

The doctors looked at each other in total disbelief. Now the second doctor bent over him, "We would keep you overnight to make sure, everything is okay now."

"No way," Sherlock instantly said.

"Please Mr. Holmes. It's for your own safety."

The detective smiled unimpressed, "I am sorry, but this can't wait."

Both doctors knew, they had no chance, so the IV was removed and the detective slowly tried to get up from the bed. When he was standing upright again, the whole room was spinning and before he knew, he was lying on the cold floor again…