Hey! Another Chapter up. I hope you guys like this. And please review! Many thanks to Keyblade User for reviewing! Another probably (but hopefully not) boring chapter where nothing happens.
At ten in the morning, Lestrade marched into the hospital, towing a women. Harriet Watson. He had found her easily enough, and she had been partially drunk when he called. Telling her about John, had however, sobered her up. And now, she fully understood what had happened.
"I just can't believe John would get himself into a situation like that, he's always been so careful." she murmured unhappily.
"Well, Sherlock does that to people." commented Lestrade.
Harry frowned. Cogs obviously clicking together in her brain.
"His flatmate! Wait till I get my hands on him, I'll throttle him." she muttered darkly, following Lestrade through the doors.
Despite searching, he had found nothing about Sherlock's relations. Either he had none, or they were not on any sort of speaking terms. But, as he walked through the doors, and was crossing towards the desk, a man stepped forward, and umbrella in his hand.
"Detective inspector Lestrade?" he asked cordially.
"Yes?"
"My name is Mycroft Holmes, I believe my brother was caught up in an explosion?"
"Brother...? Oh, yes he was." said Lestrade, frowning.
This Mycroft looked nothing like Sherlock, and he had searched for any relations, and found none.
"Harriet. So nice to see you. I'm so sorry about John."
Harry frowned, then shook Mycroft's proffered hand.
"Did John know you?"
"We have met, but were not on intimate terms." said Mycroft carefully.
"Right." said Harry.
"So, have you any news?" asked Mycroft, as they made their way to the desk.
"None yet. We don't know why they were there, or what caused the explosion."
"I was actually thinking about my brother's condition. It seems fairly obvious who was responsible for the explosion."
"Oh. Erm, I think it's stable, though I'm not sure."
Mycroft strode ahead, and was talking quickly to the receptionist when Lestrade and Harry caught up.
"...Of course, sir. Second ward." said the receptionist.
Mycroft turned to Lestrade.
"It appears you were right, Sherlock is fine, and should be waking soon. John, however, in in a worse way." he said.
Harry grimaced.
"Can we see him?
"Yes, family and police only, so we all fit the bill."
Mycroft smiled genially, and strode down the corridor, Harry and Lestrade on his heels.
"Sherlock never mentioned you." said Lestrade carefully as he trotted along.
"No, I shouldn't think he would. My brother considers me as more of an enemy than a friend." Mycroft sighed, but did not elaborate.
Soon they were standing outside the room Sherlock was in. A policeman was standing outside. By Lestrades orders. When he saw Lestrade, he nodded. It was Johnson. After getting to the office, Lestrade had called him and asked him to set guards outside Sherlock's and John's rooms at the hospital.
"Inspector. Nobody except yourself, doctors and family allowed, by your own orders." he said, looking pointedly at Mycroft and Harry.
"I know, Johnson. But their with me. This is Sherlock's room?"
"Yes, sir."
"And John?"
"In a life support room. Upstairs. The doctor's need a family member soon, there are some tricky decisions to make."
"Very well, I'll take you up in a minute, Harriet. I just want to have a look at Sherlock."
Harry nodded, and drew back, while Mycroft and Lestrade entered the room.
Harry had been at home, half out, when she had gotten the call. It had been this detective inspector Lestrade. He had gently informed her that John had been caught up in a pool explosion. Even now, it seemed hard to believe. John had survived Afghanistan because of being cautious. And when he arrived back in London, she had been sure he would be safe. Then he met up with Sherlock Holmes. She had read his blog, and was amazed he put up with the man. He was a freak, and a idiot. And now, they had both gotten themselves blown. She would be having serious words with this Holmes. Her fists clenched. And what the two of them had even been doing at a swimming pool, at midnight. She could only guess. She sighed, and leaned against the wall, patting down her ruffled blonde hair.
Lestrade allowed Mycroft to lead the way, and followed him into the room. It was a typical hospital room. White, smelling strongly of disinfectant. In the centre was a bed, surrounded by machines, and a small chair. Mycroft strode hurriedly over, hiding any emotions he may, or may not, have had. Sherlock didn't look to worse for ware. He had been cleaned up, and his face wasn't to much whiter than normal. His curly black hair was singed in places, and his face was bruised. Mycroft watched him sadly, his lips pursed. Lestrade looked carefully round the rest of the room. Bleeping machines, and stark white walls. That was his first impression. A large window looked down onto the street, but a quick look told him that it was bullet proof.
He looked back to Sherlock. The heart monitor was beeping steadily, and the slight rising and falling of his chest showed that Sherlock was close to waking up. Mycroft pulled a phone from his pocket, and quickly send three texts in succession. Despite claiming to be Sherlock's brother, Lestrade had no idea who Mycroft really was, and was slightly suspicious.
"What were you doing?" he asked, trying not to sound hostile.
"Sending a message to my assistant. Sending a message to our mother, and another to my colleague, telling him I'll be late." said Mycroft cooly.
"Right."
"Can I ask that you have two more guards posted outside, and another in here?" he asked, not looking away from Sherlock.
"Why?"
"Because as soon as my brother wakes up, he will try to escape. A habit of his."
"...Of course."
Mycroft nodded, and seated himself on the chair. Lestrade hastily left, telling Johnson on the way out to post more guards.
He then walked over the Harry, who was leaning against the wall. Her face cold.
"Before we go, I need to ask you some questions." she almost snarled.
"Uhm, of course." said Lestrade, indicating that they should find a more private place.
Soon they were walking slowly up a corridor, towards the third floor staircase.
"Firstly, what was my brother doing at a swimming pool at midnight, with his crazy flatmate?"
"Well. We're not totally sure. As I said before, Sherlock's like that. We wouldn't think twice about why he would be there, might have been some kind of experiment that went wrong. But, John. He's not unpredictable, and despite what you think, Sherlock wouldn't put him in danger unless it was absolutely necessary, or out of his control. So why they were both there, poses a serious question."
"Get to the point." snarled Harry, refraining from being polite.
"Recently, there have been a number of explosions. Somebody has been playing a sort of game with Sherlock. Setting him a puzzle, and blowing up somebody if he fails to solve it in time. John was, of course, caught up in this, as he always helps Sherlock these days."
Harry nodded.
"We believe John and Sherlock were set another test, and were told to go to the pool. Sherlock wouldn't even hesitate, and John is strangely loyal to him. They went, and then this mystery bomber probably tried to blow them up."
"I see. But why was this person setting challenges for Holmes?"
"Well... Sherlock believes that it was for attention, but also," Lestarde winced. "Because he got board."
"What. Somebody killed other people, because they were board?" exclaimed Harry, stumbling slightly.
"Yes."
They walked in silence.
"I swear I'll kill him."
"The bomber, or Sherlock?"
"Both."
Another silence stretched on until they reached the room John was in. Another guard was stationed outside, and two doctor's were talking quickly together in a corner. Lestrade hurried over, and introduced Harry. They led her into an adjacent room, leaving Lestrade in the hallway.
There we go. I hope it was good (= Thanks for reading, and look forward to the next chapter soon. I can promise that Sherlock will wake up, and introduce a bit of excitement. But it's impossible for him not to. As always, please review! It means so much to me when you do.