Please Don't
-M
TW: Blood, blades & cussing.
Hey guys. I know it's been a while since I have updated, but I recently got back from a trip to London during the Jubilee, which has helped me regain my inspiration for writing. Feedback is always welcomed. Also, please let me know if I got anything wrong with British Culture as well. I hope you enjoy!
-M
It was 8 am at 221b Baker Street. Sherlock was playing the violin, John was reading the paper of the day, and Mrs. Hudson brewing a kettle of tea. Suddenly, Lestrade came running in. Sherlock without even turning around said, "Another case, I presume."
Lestrade replied with, "A Double homicide. With no clues whatsoever, except 2 things. An address and message in the older victim's blood. I think you should take a look."
When they arrived, Sherlock saw why Lestrade was insistent that he come. The message was, "You can't outrun the inevitable, Sherlock." Place right above the address was Victoria Palace Theater. He took a look around the room, hoping to find something that Lestrade had missed. But nothing, the place pristine. You wouldn't know there was a homicide without the bodies and blood.
The message spooked John, but not Sherlock. Sherlock was supposed to wait for Lestrade before engaging, but couldn't help himself, leaving Sargent Donnavent and Detective Inspector Lestrade worried when Sherlock fled the crime scene at a record-breaking speed.
John protested as they went into Brixton Station, running to catch a Victoria line train to Victoria Station. "You know, Lestrade might be right, we should probably wait for backup."
Sherlock rolled his eyes internally and said, "Waiting's dull and boring." They got on the train in the nick of time. John's phone started exploding with messages from Greg. He knew that if he tried to answer them, Sherlock would quickly dismiss the dangers and carry on.
They ran from the station to the theater. They paused and looked around. Sherlock spotted a man with black trousers and a jacket. His hand was blood-red and immediately ran after him. John was already out of breath, but followed him. The man look over his left shoulder and started running into Victoria Station. I was midday on a Tuesday, the station was completely empty. They jumped over the ticket barrier. Watson nicked his wrist on the doors. A shooting pain went through his arm. There was no time to stop, especially for a sprain. In Sherlock's mind, it all seemed too easy. The address was hidden in plain sight for Sherlock to follow. He kept that in mind as he chased the murderer.
All of a sudden, the murderer turned around. His turn was so unexpected and swift that Sherlock didn't have much time to react. He removed a blade from his pocket and forced it into Sherlock's stomach. The murderer backed up with the knife in hand and then started running toward the rest of the platforms. Sherlock opened his eyes and screamed, "Holy fuck!" Tears starting to form in his eyes from the pain. John hopped onto his knee to tend the wound while whispering, "Shit, shit, shit." Sherlock was still focused on the man and tried to get up to continue the chase.
John was not surprised, "Oh no, you don't." His doctor mode started to kick in. He took off his jacket and commanded, "Keep this on the wound. I am going to go up to get service, but you have to stay here. Okay?" Sherlock tried to respond with a yes, but was in too much pain to do so. Therefore, resorting to a nod. John understood and ran up the stairs. He called Lestrade, praying for him to pick up. After two tones, he picked up.
"Hey, where did you guys take off to, are you guys at Vic-" John interrupted by saying. "There's no time to explain. Sherlock's just got stabbed at Victoria Underground Station. I'll explain the rest when you get there."
"Alright, I'm on my way." John ran upwards to the busy street, clenching his wrist. Awaiting Lestrade's arrival. After a quick 2 minutes, Lestrade and his crew showed up. They ran down only to see Sherlock was nowhere to be found. Right next where he was a note in blood, "You can't outrun the inevitable, even you, John." Lestrade and John looked at each other, then started running down the steps, following the trail of blood left behind. The blood stopped at the edge of the platform. Lestrade said, "They must have gotten on the train, but where would they get off?"
Lestrade, John, and Sally proceeded to ride the Circle line train until they saw the blood drip again. When they arrived at St James Park, they saw it again. Only a few drops, though. John noticed and said, "They must have gotten off here, but then stopped the bleeding and continued on."
The policemen agree and thought about where they could have gone. Lestrade eye widened, "The Churchill tunnels! They are unoccupied, the walls are 6 feet (1.83 m) wide. It's perfect and right next to St. James Park." John asked, "But isn't it a museum now?"
"Yes, but part of is still unoccupied. The only problem, it's tricky to get down there." John proceeded to say, "Well, I guess it's time to call Mycroft. He is the British Govement." He took out his phone and called him. A young lady, probably one of his assistants, picked up. " Sorry, Mr. Holmes is unavailable e at the moment. Can I take a message?" John sighed, "Can you tell him it's important? It's about his brother." The lady realize that Mycroft would want to know and said, "One moment, please." John was placed on a hold. Then quickly heard the voice of Mycroft, "Yes, John. What has my brother done this time?"
John explained the situation, "Oh my." Mycroft replied. " Let me see, it seems like the only entrance to the unoccupied tunnels is through a water ditch near MI6 in Vauxhall. I'll be at the bus station awaiting your arrival." And just like that, he hung up. John, Greg and Donnavon, headed back into the train to Vauxhall Station.
Hi. Thank you so much for reading. Please tell anything I can improve on. The next chapter should come in the next 3-7 days, depending on how busy I am. Stay tuned.
-M