I've got a nice long chapter for you today ^-^ I hope you like it! I think there will only be two chapters after this one. It's time to wrap this thing up. It's been fun guys :)
Enjoy!
Grin smiled viciously. "Hello there Sylvia, I see you took a fancy to Dr. Watson here and decided that you might like to help him make his valiant and daring escape. Not your smartest move."
Sylvia saw John give her a questioning glance out of the corner of her eye. Her only response was a huge blush that set her cheeks on fire and her ears burning. She saw Grin's smile widen as he observed her embarrassment.
"I thought so," he said gleefully. "Take them away."
The guards surrounding the pair of them pushed them forward and down the hall. John gave Sylvia a sympathetic glance and she returned it with another, even brighter, blush. He honestly did feel sorry for her, if someone had just blurted out about his feeling for Sherlock he would have been devastated too. Although he has made very sure that no one found out about them, not even Sherlock.
The guards pushed them both into a large spacious room that was barren except for benches along one wall and a few scattered wooden crates. Still held at gunpoint the men directed John and Sylvia to the benches.
"Take a seat," said Grin.
The two obliged and sat on one of the many hard concrete benches, side by side.
Sylvia spoke quickly, "He didn't have anything to do with this, it was all my-"
"Shut up," Grin spat at her.
"It was worth a try, thanks any way." John whispered to her appreciatively.
"Both of you be quiet! Unless you want a bullet through your friend's heads!" Grin snapped back.
John's head snapped up just as Sherlock and Lestrade were marched in at gunpoint by two more of Grin's vicious henchmen. John let out a groan, they had caught them too. Now there was absolutely no chance of rescue, great.
Grin smiled again has he heard John groan, obviously enjoying how much pain it was causing him. "Good, now that we're all together let's begin. How-"
"You said that if I came here you would let John go, so let him go." Sherlock interrupted. He looked over at John; there was hopelessness and fear in his eyes. All Sherlock wanted to do was run up to him and tell him it was going to be alright, that everything was going to be ok and that he was going to get them out of this. The only problem was that he knew it wasn't true, nothing was going to be ok and if he didn't do something soon things could get very bad, very quickly. He needed to think.
"You didn't actually think I was going to keep a promise like that did you? Mr. Holmes you really are much stupider than I thought." Grin said, turning his attention to him.
Good, at least he's not focused on John anymore, he thought, I'd better keep it that way. He raised his eyebrows at the threatening man and regarded him with a smug expression. "Oh no of course I knew you wouldn't keep that promise, which is precisely why I had Mycroft surround this building with police before me and Lestrade here penetrated your insignificantly defended base." He said pompously, "Didn't you find it the least bit suspicious that Lestrade and I didn't have any kind of back up when we barged in here? Honestly you are much stupider than I thought."
John chanced a shocked glance at Sherlock and caught his eye. As soon as he made eye contact, however, Sherlock quickly looked away and returned his full attention to Grin who was slowly advancing on him with his fists clenched. John felt his heart drop, he knew Sherlock well enough by now to know when he was making a bluff, even if he tried to hide it. He looked away from the detective and glanced up at the guard in front of Sylvia and him, he was completely focused on the interaction between Sherlock and Grin. Understanding that Sherlock was trying to divert attention away from him and buy some time he inched closer to Sylvia and explained the plan in hushed whispers.
"I don't believe you," Grin said to Sherlock sternly; however Sherlock was able to see that he was clearly on edge. His fists were clenching and unclenching, he tilted his chin up just a little too high, and he was licking his lips once too often, all things that suggested uneasiness that only a trained eye like his would have been able to pick out. He had him just where he wanted him.
Sherlock smiled in the most convincing and smug way he could muster, "Do you want me to call them in? My brother has this entire room bugged, they can see and hear everything that's going on. I instructed them to advance only if we were in immediate danger but I have a signal I could give them that would work just as well."
Grin growled at him and turned to his henchmen, "Check the whole room. Look for any bugs."
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Sherlock said trying to divert their attention back to him so they wouldn't notice Sylvia and John slowly inching their way down the benches towards the exit. "One more move and I'll give the signal."
Grin turned to face him once more "How will you give the signal if you're dead?" He asked in a mocking voice and the gunman behind him moved closer and pressed the barrel into the small of his back.
"Now I do believe that would qualify as 'immediate danger' don't you think Lestrade?" He asked the dazed looking inspector. He had taken a nasty blow to the head on the way in and he needed to keep him conscious if they were going to make it out of here. Dragging a body behind them would slow down their escape considerably.
"Sherlock wh- what are you talking about?" He asked sluggishly as his head lolled on his shoulders, "What- what back up?"
"Oh wonderful, nicely done Lestrade," Sherlock said sarcastically as he saw Grin smile," One of the greatest mysteries of life is how you ever got the job of Detective Inspector. NOW JOHN!"
Grin spun around and John sprang into action and, with the help of Sylvia, quickly took down the guard closest them and picked up his weapon. Shots rang out and echoed in the barren room as John, Sylvia, and the guards fired at each other.
While Grin's back was turned Sherlock spun around and delivered an uppercut to the gunman's chin. Before he could recuperate he knocked the gun out his hand and kicked him hard in the stomach. The guard doubled over and Sherlock almost fell to the ground from the pain in his leg. In all the excitement and thrill of finding John he had completely forgotten that he had broken it just three days prior. Gritting his teeth he disarmed and knocked the guard supporting Lestrade unconscious. He managed to catch the inspector before he hit the ground and he sucked in a breath as his leg flared in pain again.
"What's going on Sherlock?" Lestrade asked groggily as he went limp in his arms. Great, now they had someone to carry out. Sherlock limped his way as quickly as he could to cover and set Lestrade down behind a crate. Gun shots were still going off all around him, he needed to find John and his new friend and make their way out of here before any more guards came.
Grasping the pistol he took off of one of the guards he disposed of, he came out from behind the crate and looked for John as he fired at a few of the guards that had their backs to him. One bullet hit home and the unsuspecting guard dropped to the floor screaming and clutching his shoulder while the other bullets missed their intended targets and struck the wall.
More gunshots, more screaming; Sherlock had never been in a fight like this before. He dived from cover to cover, dodging bullets and firing his gun until he ran out of ammunition. But soon he would find another fully loaded gun to replace his empty one and he would continue shooting again. Occasionally he would catch a glimpse of John and his lady friend fighting together, back to back, but every time he would try to make his way over to them they would slip back into the growing crowd of enemies and he would lose them again. More and more guards were streaming into the large room and it seemed that for every man he killed there were two more to take his place. They weren't going to last much longer like this, he needed to find a way to get out or close the doors. Of course, closing the doors would mean there would be no escaping but at least it would stop the flow of guards for a time being. Sherlock fought his way to one of the exits and looked for a lock or button to close the door. Yet another guard came rushing from the hallway and charged at Sherlock. Sherlock held his ground and just as the man was about to reach him he turned away and pressed his back against the wall, letting the guard rush straight past him. As the guard ran by he casually shot him in the back and continued to search for a lock.
Finally he managed to find a small green button next to the door and when he pressed it the metal door slammed shut and a large steel bar shifted into place behind it. Likewise the other remaining exits around the room closed and bolted shut with a bang that could be heard over the continuous gun shots. That should stop them for a while at least, he thought hopefully. He continued to fight his way around the room on the lookout for John.
After what felt like an eternity they had killed or incapacitated most of the remaining guards and only after Sherlock went over to the crate he had placed Lestrade behind and made sure he was alive and unharmed did he finally make his way over to where John was standing.
"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked him with concern.
"Yeah, yeah I'm alright. Just a few scrapes and bruises." John panted, "But my leg-" He stumbled and fell as his leg gave out from under him and Sherlock rushed over and managed to catch him before he hit the ground. John's breath caught and he stared up at Sherlock, saying nothing, as Sherlock held him gently in his arms. For a moment neither of them moved, spoke, or blinked. John gazed into Sherlock's sea green eyes; he had come for him, even when he knew there was little to no chance of escape he had still come.
"Thanks," he managed to say after a moment. Thanks for everything. "I never thought I'd say this again but I could really use my old cane right about now."
Sherlock laughed at that. John smiled and chuckled along with him, he had missed that deep baritone laugh.
"I think I could use one too." Sherlock said as he helped him to his feet and guided him to a bench.
"Oh God that's right, I had forgotten about your leg." John said with concern as he and Sherlock sat down. "I suppose we're both crippled now huh?"
"It would seem so," Sherlock smiled, it felt good just to sit down with John and talk, even if where they were talking from was a locked room with half a dozen guards waiting outside the doors to kill them. "Who's she?" He asked, pointing at Sylvia who was going from guard to guard making sure that they were either dead or unconscious.
"That's Sylvia, she was the one who helped me escape and made this for me," John responded, motioning to the makeshift splint on his leg. "She used to work for these guys but turned against them for me."
"Hmph," Sherlock grunted as he watched her movements carefully. As much as he hated to admit it he was slightly jealous of her. "Are you sure we can trust her?"
John nodded, "Yes, I'm sure. She has helped me quite a bit these last few days."
Sherlock nodded curtly, respecting John's judgment. If John trusted her then he could trust her too. They sat in silence as they slowly recovered from the fight.
"How do you suppose-" John began when he was interrupted by a blood curdling scream from Sylvia. She was pressing both hands over her stomach and there was blood seeping through her fingers. John and Sherlock jumped to their feet and rushed to her side, injured legs forgotten, as her knees hit the floor and she let out another scream of pain. John ran straight to her as Sherlock rushed to the grinning guard with the bloody knife in his hand lying on the ground next to her. After a moment Sherlock recognized him as Grin. He stomped on Grin's hand that held the knife and he let go of it with a yelp. John pulled Sylvia off to the side to tend to her wound.
"Sylvia what happened?" John asked with worry as he moved her hands away from the wound in her stomach.
"I was checking them, to-to see if there was anyone still awake." She moaned as John ripped away the fabric over the cut so he could get a better look. It was bleeding profusely and was deep. Very deep. Shit.
"Yes I saw," he said as he inspected the gash further. "What happened then?"
"I thought I saw him move," she whimpered, tears streaming down her face, "so I went over to check."
She screamed again as John accidentally brushed a particularly sensitive spot. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I have to try to clean it as much as I can. What happened then?" He needed to keep her talking; if she was talking then she was alive.
"When- when I went over he whispered to me. He said 'Sylvia didn't you ever wonder why we were chasing your parents, all those years ago?' I was too curious, I leaned down and he-" she sobbed, "he stabbed me. It hurts John, it hurts so much. Please make it stop."
"I'm trying Sylvia I'm trying. Just hang on you're going to be ok." He pressed the torn fabric to her stomach in an attempt to stop the bleeding. She screamed again and gripped his arm as fresh tears streamed down her bloodied face. "Just hold on, be strong, you are going to be fine." But she wasn't, and he knew it. The wound was too deep and she had lost too much blood already. She knew it too.
"John, John look at me,"
He turned his head away, not able to look into the dying girl's eyes. She was so young, she would have had so many things to look forward to in her life, and now she would never be able to do any of it. All because he had gotten her wrapped up in this huge mess.
"John, look. At. Me."
He did, she was slumped against the wall, one hand over her still bleeding stomach and the other still gripping his arm. "I'm going to die, aren't I?"
"No of course not," the lie didn't even sound convincing to himself.
"John, tell me the truth. Am I going to die?" There was a slight tremble in her voice.
John reached out and cupped her cheek, wiping a tear from her face. "Yes."
She let out a sad sigh, closed her eyes, and leaned against his hand on her cheek. John glanced over his shoulder at Sherlock who had the knife up against Grin's neck and was watching him and Sylvia. He raised his eyebrows questioningly at John and he shook his head at him slightly. Sherlock nodded curtly and gave Sylvia sympathetic glance before returning his attention to Grin.
"John," Sylvia said hesitantly and John refocused his attention on her. "I want to know what he was going to say. I want to know why." Her voice was getting weaker and she was getting more and more pale. John choked back tears and nodded, he motioned for Sherlock to bring Grin over.
John heard Sherlock drag the injured man over and he set him down next to him, still holding the knife to his throat.
"What-" Sylvia started weakly, "what were you going to say? Why were you chasing my parents? Why did they have to die?"
Sherlock glanced at John questioningly. Do you know about any of this? He seemed to ask. John shook his head no, this was all news to him as well.
Grin seemed to know exactly what she was talking about however, and his sick smile widened even further. "They were one of us," he said venomously.
Sylvia flinched and looked as though she had been slapped, the little color that was left in her cheeks drained away, and she began to tremble. "No, no that's not true. It can't be true."
"Oh but it is," he said with glee, he was obviously enjoying how much pain this was causing her. "They killed people, many people. In fact they were the worst of us, particularly your father. Did you ever wonder why we never told you who our leader is? Why we never told anyone? We were ashamed, to be honest, because our leader turned away from us. Our leader was your dad."
"No! No he wasn't! You're lying! My father would never help anyone like you!" She wailed at him.
Grin laughed, "He was, and he was a great leader too. He was clever, very clever, and brutal too. He always managed to come up with the most creative ways to get uncooperative prisoners to talk."
Sylvia was sobbing again, "It's not true, it's not."
"Alright that's enough Grin," John intervened. "Sherlock can you take him away and find something to tie him up with?"
Sherlock nodded and moved away with their captive while John refocused on Sylvia. "Are you ok?"
She nodded weakly and squeezed his arm a little tighter. "John," she whispered as she motioned for him to lean in. He did and Sylvia used the last of her remaining strength to sit up and brush her lips against his. "Sherlock is a very lucky man," she whispered and John jumped back in surprise, "You love him very much, and he loves you. I see how much you care for each other and how much you mean to him. I believe he would have fought his way right around the world to save you. Live a long and happy life together, please, for me." She stared into his eyes and waited for an answer.
John blinked at her, "I, I mean we, will. Thank you Sylvia, thank you for everything." He planted a soft kiss on her forehead and she smiled sadly. She took one more quiet breath and her faced relaxed and her hand that had been gripping John's arm went slack and it hit the ground with a soft thud. John sighed and he gently brushed his fingertips over her eyes, closing them forever. He stared at the ground and let a single tear run down his face, the drop hit the cement by his feet and he stared at it, unable to make himself look up at the lifeless face of his young friend. He felt Sherlock's slim hand on his shoulder and he placed his hand on top of his, giving it a slight squeeze. Sherlock squeezed his shoulder in kind and they both stood still, silently grieving the loss of a true friend.