"I should have you three thrown in the cooler and then throw away the key!"
John, Sherlock, and Leslie stood in front of Klink's desk, just brought in from escaping, as the Kommandant ranted at them. Schultz stood behind them, ready to carry out their sentencing. Hogan was also there, positioned slightly between Klink and the three prisoners. From his location, he could be placed as standing with either side.
"But," Klink continued, "fortunately for you, Hogan persuaded me to be merciful. Sergeant Watson and Corporal Holmes, since you are new here and this is your first offense, you two will go unpunished, as long as it doesn't happen again. However, Private Leslie, as the instigator, you will be put into the cooler until I can arrange your transfer to another Stalag. That will be all. Dismissed!"
John frowned. The punishments were wildly different. He and Sherlock weren't being punished at all, while Leslie was taking the full brunt. How could Klink have known that it was Leslie's idea?
"Schultz, take Leslie to the cooler!"
"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant."
As Schultz hustled the fuming private away. Klink turned to the remaining men.
"Watson and Holmes, go back to Barracks 4. Hogan, you are dismissed as well."
They walked out of the Kommandantur and Hogan, with a brilliant smile and nod, bade them a good night, before walking off to his barracks. John started for Barracks 4 but had only gone a few steps when he realized Sherlock hadn't moved but was still standing in front of the Kommandantur, staring at the part of the ground illuminated by the building's light.
"Sherlock!" He whispered. "What are you doing?"
Almost to himself, Sherlock spoke, "He had a smudge of grease on his face."
"What? Who did?"
"Hogan."
"So?"
Sherlock knelt down, still staring at the ground. "The man who helped me wore all black and his face was covered in dark grease."
"But Hogan couldn't have-"
Sherlock interrupted. "The man who rescued me was also dragging ris right leg slightly."
He pointed to a line of footprints. The right prints had a slight drag to them. "And so is Hogan."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"I agree. Which is why we need to investigate."
Creeping in the dark, they made their way to Barracks 2, avoiding Schultz, who sat placidly off to the side, eating chocolate out of a wrapper labeled in English.
They had just situated themselves behind the corner when a man eased out of the barracks, closing the door softly behind him. Sherlock recognized him as Carter. He sprinted noiselessly to another cabin and tapped a rhythm into the door. A few moments later, a man opened the door and stepped out, joining Carter. Together, they sprinted back over to Barracks 2.
As they neared, Sherlock took in the new man's medical bag and the jacket the American sergeant stripes pulled on top of pajamas. He was Sgt. Wilson, the camp medic.
"Who?" Wilson whispered as they reached the door.
"Colonel." Carter opened the door and hurried the medic inside.
A few seconds went by then a voice barked out a question that stopped abruptly. The door opened and a tall figure walked out, then stood near the shadow where they crouched. He paused for a second, then in seemingly one fluid motion seized them and pulled them into the barracks, closing the door behind them.
A moment later, lights snapped on. Sherlock and John found themselves lying on a dirty, wooden floor, with several men either standing near, staring at them, or sitting up in bunks, staring. Oddly enough, no one looked like they'd just been woken up.
"Hello, Holmes and Watson. Nice of you to join us."
Col. Hogan smirked, clearly threatening them. More of the men emerged from their bunks, readiness in their stances. If Hogan deemed them threats, his men would give them no chance for escape.
Sherlock pushed himself to his feet and dragged John up with him. Squaring his shoulders, he set his face and met Hogan's gaze. The colonel didn't flinch, his battle-hardened eyes looking into those of the intimidating genius, not intimidated at all.
John decided to get straight to the point. "Colonel Hogan, if you don't mind, we'd like to know what is going on here."
"Of course," Hogan said, his face losing color rapidly. A bead of sweat appeared.
"Mon colonel." LeBeau took a step towards his CO right as the colonel swayed and hit the ground.
Wilson was on the ground next to him with the inhuman speed of a military medic. "Idiot! He should've come to me as soon as possible. I swear, Hogan, if you didn't have men to take care of you…"
A big man pulled the others semi-around him. "Schultz could come in once the chocolate runs out, to make sure the lights are off. Wilson, we're going to move you and the colonel into the tunnel. Holmes and Watson, you two go with him, so you don't get caught here."
Newkirk hit the side of a bunk and the bottom lifted up, revealing a ladder into the ground. He then helped Wilson pick up Hogan and lower him down the ladder. He and the other men seemed perfectly calm, simply transferring their obedience from their incapacitated CO to his XO. But Sherlock could see the fidgets, the glances at the limp colonel. They didn't just think of him as their superior officer.
Once down the ladder, John and Sherlock stared with wide eyes. The tunnel they were in didn't quite fit the name; it was more of a cavern, really. Lights illuminated the tunnel, showing off the well-equipped radio table and the multiple tunnels branching away. Wilson and Newkirk headed with Hogan down a tunnel, motioning for them to follow.
The new room was big, though nothing near the size of the one they'd originally entered. Boxes with Red Cross labels lined the walls, and a medical table was set up in the middle.
Newkirk lowered his CO onto the table, then backed off, joining Sherlock and John as Wilson prepared his tools.
"Colonel 'Ogan didn't get a chance to fully explain what it is we do around here. We're a travelers' aid society for downed fliers and other folks escaping from the Jerries. We also do a bit of espionage and spying on the side. We can get away with a lot 'cause Klink's an idiot. We keep him in charge here with the no-escape record."
"Colonel Hogan's in charge?" Sherlock asked.
"'E's the brains behind all this. The Guv'nor planned out the tunnels and everything."
"This place is amazing," John said, sounding slightly in awe.
"Yeah." Newkirk looked fond. "'Course, you 'aven't seen most of it."
"Are you kidding me?"
"You came down into the main room, where we 'ave the radio, the projector, and several maps. You're in our makeshift 'ospital now. This is Wilson's domain. Only place in the whole camp where the Guv'nor' sword ain't law.
"We've also got the bomb room, Carter's workshop. When 'e came, Guv'nor added more jobs to our list of available services. Avoid 'is room unless you absolutely 'ave to.
"Then there's the dressin' room. LeBeau and I, as the gentlemen's tailors, operate in 'ere a lot. We got civilian clothes but I've recently developed a talent for Nazi uniforms. Any ranks.
"Beyond that's the printin' room. All our counterfeit stuff happens there. I'm an associate of that group. I bring 'em anything they need to copy, then slip it back before it's missed. Sorry 'bout your wallet, by the way, Watson. But the Guv'nor said you needed to be screened. I put it back into your footlocker."
John spluttered incoherently but Newkirk continued unperturbed, obviously well-versed in the art of ignoring.
"All the other rooms are storage for guest rooms, 'cept the machine room. It's empty at the moment, but that's where we keep any machine parts that come in or we send out to the folks in London. We 'ad a plane once. Then there's the tunnels to the other buildings, of course.
"Well, I think I've covered everything. Any questions?"
"The Guv'nor asked London 'bout you guys, and they said you checked out. 'Parently you guys and your head agent the Doctor 'ave pretty 'igh clearance, 'igh 'nuff to know 'bout us."
There was a slight questioning tone to his voice. It wasn't just curiosity; suspicion, threat, and strangely enough, protection, merged equally in it. On the surface, though, it was perfectly innocent.
"The Doctor's pretty high up," Sherlock said noncommittally. "Why didn't you tell us before? We ended up jeopardizing the no-escape record which could've been avoided had we been told."
"Guv'nor said not to."
"Why?"
"Doesn't really matter to me, but I think 'e prefers to tell as few people as possible. Safer that way."
"But-" John paused, thinking. "The Doctor's clearance and authority is high, and applied to us as well."
Newkirk smirked, then turned to face the bed where Wilson was finishing surgery on Hogan. "We do what the Guv'nor says, regardless of agents with 'igh clearance or the folks in London. Leastways, that's 'ow I feel."
At that moment, a man entered the room. Sgt. Kinchloe, Hogan's XO. After a quiet word with Wilson, he walked over to them.
"Colonel'll be alright, Newkirk. He's out from exhaustion, mainly."
Newkirk nodded, his eyes fixed on the table. "Get rid of ol' Schultzie?"
"Carter donated his chocolate supply. He also dropped a hint that we were up to something, so Schultz should stay far away."
John and Sherlock watched the two talk, discussing operations while staring at their CO. John wondered what Hogan did that inspired such loyalty and affection in his men.
Kinchloe sighed. "I've got some new codes to send out. Does London need to know about the Colonel?"
"Nah. They'll just send a temporary replacement."
"I didn't plan on letting them know but I wanted your opinion. Glad to know we agree. I'll drop a request for spare medical supplies, though."
"You sound like the Guv'nor, Kinch."
"I try."
As Kicnh left, Newkirk turned, motioning for Sherlock and John to follow. "Roll call's in an hour. I'll run you back to Barracks 4."
He headed for the ladder.
"Is there no tunnel to Barracks 4?" John asked.
"Nope. Why do you think the Guv'nor 'ad you put there?"
