A/N: Ok, let's see how much writing I can get out today!
***Bowmer's House***
It had been a few hours since the sun had risen and frankly Jon was getting quite uncomfortable for many reasons. The coarse rope cutting into his flesh, the leering face of the man in front of him, the reek of tobacco smoke, the gun pointed at his chest...he sighed inwardly, not a good way to start out a morning. The good news about all of this was that he was rather unconcerned about the whole thing. A while ago, he had figured that if Bowmer was really going to kill him, he would have done it along time ago, not to say that the man didn't seem to want to, because he did, really badly actually.
Jon yawned softly and turned to look out the window, but turned back to face forward as he heard the click of a handgun. Bowmer grinned, "Don't even move a muscle, boy, or I'll be sending you into the afterlife..." Jon rolled his eyes, but decided not to take his chances anyway.
A few minutes later, there was a soft rapping on the front door. Bowmer looked at it to Jon, then back at the door again, and finally he stood up, and with his gun still trained on the boy, he walked over to the front door and cracked it open, "What da ya want?"
"I want to talk to your boss..." Jon frowned, although it was hidden by the gag so no one could see it anyway. The voice sounded familiar. Bowmer opened the door a little farther and Jon's eyebrows shot up, it was that Lestrade guy from Scotland Yard! Except, he was in disguise.
Bowmer scowled at the new comer, "For what purpose?"
"Only to ask a few questions 'bout job opportunities..."
Bowmer glanced around back into the house and turned back to Lestrade, "Just a moment..." He shut the door, and walked quickly over to Jon, "If I hear one peep out of you, you won't live long enough to see another sunrise, got it?" Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed Jon by his rope bindings, lifted him up, walked over to the closet, threw him roughly inside, and shut and locked the door. Jon groaned in pain and slipped down to the floor, feeling some warm liquid running down his hands. Blood. He blinked his eyes, shook his head, and inched his way on his side back to the crack in the door again and peered into the room. Bowmer was leading Lestrade and another man who had a hooded cloak on that shadowed his face over to the couch where they both sat down edgily. Jon laughed to himself, despite the dull pounding he was feeling in his back and most of his limbs, not believing how idiotic Bowmer was. He deserved to be put into prison, the fool.
Lestrade glanced around uncomfortably and then turned back to Bowmer, "So...What kind of jobs do you end up doing for your boss anyway?"
"You know, all kinds of things, nothin' I can't handle on my own..."
"What have you done recently, just to get an idea of what my future occupation may be of course."
Jon snorted into his gag doubtfully. There was no way that anyone would ever fall for that trick...Bowmer frowned thoughtfully, "Well, I am presently doing a job for him, to take care of this kid." Jon's jaw dropped slightly, supposing that it was possible for people to be as stupid as a rock.
"What do you mean, 'take care of'...?"
"Well I haven't done nothing yet, but I'm looking forward to removing him from the picture, if you know what I mean..."
"That's just what I wanted to hear..." Lestrade got to his feet and whipped out a pistol before Bowmer even blinked, "You are under arrest for murder and the attempted murder of a child. Slowly stand up with your hands on the back of your head." Bowmer's face lit up with rage, but he did what he was told.
The second man threw off his hood, and Jon almost passed out with surprise...either surprise or blood loss any way...It was Holmes. Sherlock turned to Bowmer who was now looking homicidal and asked, "Where is the boy Bowmer?"
"You think that I would tell you, you...you..." Bowmer stuttered and fell silent, so angry that he was having trouble speaking.
Holmes raised an eyebrow and turned to Lestrade, "Go ahead and take him back to Scotland Yard Lestrade, I will remain here and look for the boy."
The policeman nodded and marched Bowmer out of the house, looking very pleased with his new capture. Jon, trembling with excitement, tried to call out, but his muffled cries were lost in the gag. Desperate, he banged his head against the closet door trying to think and realized that it made a very loud "thump" noise. Jon smiled to himself and continued to knock his head against the door until Holmes walked over and curiously opened the closet up.
Jon spilled out and on to the detective's feet, then looked up at him sheepishly. Holmes sighed, tore off Jon's gag, and bent down to begin to untie Jon's hands, "You are a very lucky person. I hope you know that, Jon Moriarty."
Jon stopped dead and looked up again at Holmes as the man finished unbinding his feet, "You...you know about that?"
"I do." Holmes stood up and gave Jon a stiff hand up. The young man stumbled a bit and was forced to use Holmes's shoulder as a crutch as the blood flowed slowly back into his legs and feet.
"And you still came back for me?"
"For Bowmer actually..." Holmes paused a moment and watched as realization poured into Jon's eyes, "...But you are a slightly welcome addition. Besides, Watson would have skinned me alive if I had not brought you back with me."
A small grin lit Jon's face Holmes led him out the door, "He is safe then?"
"Quite, although I am sure that he is on the edge of a nervous breakdown..."
Jon laughed a little and managed to stand on his own two feet again by the time they reached the pavement, not knowing exactly what to say. Despite the flat, matter-of-fact way in which Holmes had spoken to him, he could not remember hearing such kind and welcomed words in his whole life. The cold realization was replaced with a warm confusion, which Holmes noticed immediately and began to walk briskly down the street back towards the main road, "I have many important matters to attend to today, so the sooner we get back to Baker's Street the better..." Jon nodded and followed the detective out of the alley and back out onto the street.
***
There was a loud knocking on the door of 221B Baker's Street, and Watson let out a cry of surprise as Holmes walked briskly past him, followed by a tottering Jon. Watson rushed forward and caught Jon just as he was tipping over and led him over to one of the chairs. Holmes nodded to Watson, "As you can see, I was able to find Jon after all. He is a little worn, but seems unharmed..." Jon frowned, hating being talked about in the third person, but felt too tired to say anything, "I was also able to apprehend Bowmer but Streicher is still free, so I am going to go try to search out some new information. I will be gone till late tonight." With that, Holmes turned on his heels and walked quickly out of the room.
Watson sighed and turned his attention back to Jon. From his long experience with medicine, it looked as if Jon had gotten into a bit of trouble with Bowmer, "I am glad to see that you are all right. I was truly very worried about you...but what happened to your wrists?"
Jon turned his palms over so that his wrists were showing and grimaced, quickly turning them back over again, "My ropes were a little tight, that's all..."
"It looks more like they were tying a tourniquet than ropes! The entire first layer of the skin has been worn off! And I must say that you have quite a few nasty bruises on your head, and look here are more on your back! What in heavens name were they doing to you..."
"Not much actually, you know, besides tossing me into closets...actually, the head bruises are probably my fault..."
Watson raised his eyebrows but didn't ask any more questions as he began to dress Jon's injuries. When he was done, he stood up, observed his work and nodded, "That should do it..."
Jon looked down at his body. His wrists and the top part of his hands were completely wrapped up, "I feel like a mummy..."
"Well, I must admit that you look a bit like one too, but I insist that you keep all of those on. They will help to keep things from rubbing against your cuts and keep them from becoming infected. I couldn't do much for the bruises I'm afraid, because they heal best if let to themselves for the most part. Try not to move around too much though, or else you may end up hurting yourself again. Your body is exhausted and I think that you had better get some rest."
Jon glanced out the window, "But it's the middle of the day!"
"Not for you it isn't, now go to sleep! I have drugs to help you if you need them..."
Jon leaned back into the soft chair and felt sleep over take him, "I don't think...I'll...be...needing...those..."
Watson nodded, walked over to the windows and drew the curtains shut, then quietly walked into the next room and soon he was able to hear the soft sound of Jon snoring in the other room. He smiled to himself, glad to have his conscious finally clear. They wouldn't need Jon's help for the rest of the case, so they wouldn't have to be risking his life anymore either, which sat very well with the doctor. He settled back into his own chair in the kitchen and happily began to read the daily paper and waited patiently for Holmes to return.
A/N: Hmm...a peaceful moment...*sigh*...We'll see how long that lasts...*evil grin*
***Bowmer's House***
It had been a few hours since the sun had risen and frankly Jon was getting quite uncomfortable for many reasons. The coarse rope cutting into his flesh, the leering face of the man in front of him, the reek of tobacco smoke, the gun pointed at his chest...he sighed inwardly, not a good way to start out a morning. The good news about all of this was that he was rather unconcerned about the whole thing. A while ago, he had figured that if Bowmer was really going to kill him, he would have done it along time ago, not to say that the man didn't seem to want to, because he did, really badly actually.
Jon yawned softly and turned to look out the window, but turned back to face forward as he heard the click of a handgun. Bowmer grinned, "Don't even move a muscle, boy, or I'll be sending you into the afterlife..." Jon rolled his eyes, but decided not to take his chances anyway.
A few minutes later, there was a soft rapping on the front door. Bowmer looked at it to Jon, then back at the door again, and finally he stood up, and with his gun still trained on the boy, he walked over to the front door and cracked it open, "What da ya want?"
"I want to talk to your boss..." Jon frowned, although it was hidden by the gag so no one could see it anyway. The voice sounded familiar. Bowmer opened the door a little farther and Jon's eyebrows shot up, it was that Lestrade guy from Scotland Yard! Except, he was in disguise.
Bowmer scowled at the new comer, "For what purpose?"
"Only to ask a few questions 'bout job opportunities..."
Bowmer glanced around back into the house and turned back to Lestrade, "Just a moment..." He shut the door, and walked quickly over to Jon, "If I hear one peep out of you, you won't live long enough to see another sunrise, got it?" Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed Jon by his rope bindings, lifted him up, walked over to the closet, threw him roughly inside, and shut and locked the door. Jon groaned in pain and slipped down to the floor, feeling some warm liquid running down his hands. Blood. He blinked his eyes, shook his head, and inched his way on his side back to the crack in the door again and peered into the room. Bowmer was leading Lestrade and another man who had a hooded cloak on that shadowed his face over to the couch where they both sat down edgily. Jon laughed to himself, despite the dull pounding he was feeling in his back and most of his limbs, not believing how idiotic Bowmer was. He deserved to be put into prison, the fool.
Lestrade glanced around uncomfortably and then turned back to Bowmer, "So...What kind of jobs do you end up doing for your boss anyway?"
"You know, all kinds of things, nothin' I can't handle on my own..."
"What have you done recently, just to get an idea of what my future occupation may be of course."
Jon snorted into his gag doubtfully. There was no way that anyone would ever fall for that trick...Bowmer frowned thoughtfully, "Well, I am presently doing a job for him, to take care of this kid." Jon's jaw dropped slightly, supposing that it was possible for people to be as stupid as a rock.
"What do you mean, 'take care of'...?"
"Well I haven't done nothing yet, but I'm looking forward to removing him from the picture, if you know what I mean..."
"That's just what I wanted to hear..." Lestrade got to his feet and whipped out a pistol before Bowmer even blinked, "You are under arrest for murder and the attempted murder of a child. Slowly stand up with your hands on the back of your head." Bowmer's face lit up with rage, but he did what he was told.
The second man threw off his hood, and Jon almost passed out with surprise...either surprise or blood loss any way...It was Holmes. Sherlock turned to Bowmer who was now looking homicidal and asked, "Where is the boy Bowmer?"
"You think that I would tell you, you...you..." Bowmer stuttered and fell silent, so angry that he was having trouble speaking.
Holmes raised an eyebrow and turned to Lestrade, "Go ahead and take him back to Scotland Yard Lestrade, I will remain here and look for the boy."
The policeman nodded and marched Bowmer out of the house, looking very pleased with his new capture. Jon, trembling with excitement, tried to call out, but his muffled cries were lost in the gag. Desperate, he banged his head against the closet door trying to think and realized that it made a very loud "thump" noise. Jon smiled to himself and continued to knock his head against the door until Holmes walked over and curiously opened the closet up.
Jon spilled out and on to the detective's feet, then looked up at him sheepishly. Holmes sighed, tore off Jon's gag, and bent down to begin to untie Jon's hands, "You are a very lucky person. I hope you know that, Jon Moriarty."
Jon stopped dead and looked up again at Holmes as the man finished unbinding his feet, "You...you know about that?"
"I do." Holmes stood up and gave Jon a stiff hand up. The young man stumbled a bit and was forced to use Holmes's shoulder as a crutch as the blood flowed slowly back into his legs and feet.
"And you still came back for me?"
"For Bowmer actually..." Holmes paused a moment and watched as realization poured into Jon's eyes, "...But you are a slightly welcome addition. Besides, Watson would have skinned me alive if I had not brought you back with me."
A small grin lit Jon's face Holmes led him out the door, "He is safe then?"
"Quite, although I am sure that he is on the edge of a nervous breakdown..."
Jon laughed a little and managed to stand on his own two feet again by the time they reached the pavement, not knowing exactly what to say. Despite the flat, matter-of-fact way in which Holmes had spoken to him, he could not remember hearing such kind and welcomed words in his whole life. The cold realization was replaced with a warm confusion, which Holmes noticed immediately and began to walk briskly down the street back towards the main road, "I have many important matters to attend to today, so the sooner we get back to Baker's Street the better..." Jon nodded and followed the detective out of the alley and back out onto the street.
***
There was a loud knocking on the door of 221B Baker's Street, and Watson let out a cry of surprise as Holmes walked briskly past him, followed by a tottering Jon. Watson rushed forward and caught Jon just as he was tipping over and led him over to one of the chairs. Holmes nodded to Watson, "As you can see, I was able to find Jon after all. He is a little worn, but seems unharmed..." Jon frowned, hating being talked about in the third person, but felt too tired to say anything, "I was also able to apprehend Bowmer but Streicher is still free, so I am going to go try to search out some new information. I will be gone till late tonight." With that, Holmes turned on his heels and walked quickly out of the room.
Watson sighed and turned his attention back to Jon. From his long experience with medicine, it looked as if Jon had gotten into a bit of trouble with Bowmer, "I am glad to see that you are all right. I was truly very worried about you...but what happened to your wrists?"
Jon turned his palms over so that his wrists were showing and grimaced, quickly turning them back over again, "My ropes were a little tight, that's all..."
"It looks more like they were tying a tourniquet than ropes! The entire first layer of the skin has been worn off! And I must say that you have quite a few nasty bruises on your head, and look here are more on your back! What in heavens name were they doing to you..."
"Not much actually, you know, besides tossing me into closets...actually, the head bruises are probably my fault..."
Watson raised his eyebrows but didn't ask any more questions as he began to dress Jon's injuries. When he was done, he stood up, observed his work and nodded, "That should do it..."
Jon looked down at his body. His wrists and the top part of his hands were completely wrapped up, "I feel like a mummy..."
"Well, I must admit that you look a bit like one too, but I insist that you keep all of those on. They will help to keep things from rubbing against your cuts and keep them from becoming infected. I couldn't do much for the bruises I'm afraid, because they heal best if let to themselves for the most part. Try not to move around too much though, or else you may end up hurting yourself again. Your body is exhausted and I think that you had better get some rest."
Jon glanced out the window, "But it's the middle of the day!"
"Not for you it isn't, now go to sleep! I have drugs to help you if you need them..."
Jon leaned back into the soft chair and felt sleep over take him, "I don't think...I'll...be...needing...those..."
Watson nodded, walked over to the windows and drew the curtains shut, then quietly walked into the next room and soon he was able to hear the soft sound of Jon snoring in the other room. He smiled to himself, glad to have his conscious finally clear. They wouldn't need Jon's help for the rest of the case, so they wouldn't have to be risking his life anymore either, which sat very well with the doctor. He settled back into his own chair in the kitchen and happily began to read the daily paper and waited patiently for Holmes to return.
A/N: Hmm...a peaceful moment...*sigh*...We'll see how long that lasts...*evil grin*