Disclaimer: The court says no, but I have desided to appeal so theres still hope!
Thank you to:Susicar, VHunter07 and lew daney for their reviews.
VHunter07: Yes it is possible to make a bomb out of those exact things, but the person who told me this refuses to tell me how. But technically, with the right knowledge, breaking out of jail is easy.
After a five minute journey the hansom pulled up at 221b Baker Street, I got out, and, although slightly to his annoyance, held Holmes arm as we walked to the door to stop him from falling. Mrs Hudson was worried sick, especially when she saw the battered form of my friend, and it took a while for me to reassure her that we were fine. Walking into the living room I immediately collapsed in my armchair by the fire, having only had a hard stone floor to sit on the few days it felt like heaven. Holmes however, chose the stiff-backed chair by the writing desk, and started to sort through the documents he had taken. I sensed that this was one of the many times he wished not to be disturbed, so I sat quietly resting my aching bones. After 15 minutes of impatient mumbling he turned from his work with a scowl. "This is useless Watson! All I appear to have picked up are the prisons documents, lists of convicts, recent security checks and the like, only one appears to have been written by Moriarty himself, and that is of no relevance at all". Before I could reply Mrs Hudson walked in holding two plates of dinner on a tray. "Excellent!" I said thanking her and taking them to the table. "Come have some food Holmes" I said, but he snorted, as usual he was probably not going to eat or sleep until the case was solved. After sending a telegram he sat in his favorite corner of the settee and thought with his eyes closed. I on the other hand was not used to staving for days on end, and I ravished down the dinner with surprising speed. Afterwards I went and changed into some clean clothes, and returned only to hear the door bell ring, opening it myself I was surprised to see inspector Lestrade standing in the doorway, as I escorted him upstairs however, I remembered the telegram Holmes had sent, it must have been to him.
Walking into the living room Inspector Lestrade gave a gasp as his eyes fell upon Holmes. "Why Mr Holmes! What 'appened to you?"
"Never mind that now Lestrade, I have something that we must discuss" said the detective in an impatient tone
"I'm sorry Mr Holmes but it will have to wait, every officer from down the station and Marple's prison has just been called to an urgent meeting. I'm on my way to that deserted prison that's just down the road now"
"What!" both Holmes and I cried.
"Well that's where the meetings being held, look" and he held out a letter which Holmes quickly grabbed'
"Who is guarding Marple's prison then?" I asked whilst Holmes read the note.
"Don't worry 'bout that, we've got a couple of men standing guard outside the door as well as a few inside, and were only gonna be gone for an hour, well I best be off, you can keep that note if it so pleases you Mr Holmes, good day!" and he left. Holmes rushed to his desk and, drawing out his prized magnifying glass started an examination of some of his papers. Only a few minutes past and he leaped out of his chair declaring "I have been such a fool Watson!" only to fall down in a heap on the floor and let out a series of foul language. As I helped him to his feet he grabbed his gun of the desk and pulled me down the stairs and out through the front door.
A few minutes of what Holmes said to be 'precise time' past as he managed to find one of the irregulars and give the boy a hurried instruction before hailing a cab for us both. Getting in he said "Maples prison, and a Guinea if you do it in five minutes".
"Maples prison Holmes?" I asked.
"Yes Watson, it would appear that Moriarty is going to attempt the break out of the century, and right under Scotland yards nose. O what a fool I have been" and with that he fell into silence for the rest of the journey, knowing his temperament I did not disturb him and instead sat contemplating his words.
In a matter of minutes our wild ride in the hansom came to an end, and I got out feeling a little queasy. Holmes quickly paid the driver and ran to the entrance of the jail with surprising sturdiness. I followed, and was surprised to see that were not guards like Lestrade had told us and that anyone was free to walk in and set free some of the most dangerous men in England. Holmes did not seem at all surprised however, and rushed into the lobby with me at his heels. "Wait here" he said passing through a door at the other end of the hall. The hall was a relatively large one, where people would wait to meet with prisoners. I had only waited a few minutes in it when he came back in, a slight smile playing across his face. "He is not here yet, we therefor have the upper hand, go over there a hide yourself" he said it in a way that told me that no explanation was forthcoming. I went and did as he said, managing squeeze myself behind a plant in the corner by the front entrance that was roughly my size. "Now don't come out whatever..." he paused mid sentence. For through the door came running the very man who had kept us locked up the past few days. Moriarty stopped suddenly at the slight of Holmes, his entrance having taken my friend unawares, and Holmes injuries, meant that once again Moriarty was faster to the draw and within a few seconds had shut the front door and was standing in the centre of the room around four metres away from Holmes who was looking entirely crest-fallen and stood with hands in the air, for the second time in the week completely at the mercy of his rival. "Holmes, I should have expected you would be here" said Moriarty with a cool sneer, it was evident however, that he was under pressure as he wiped a bead of sweet from his forehead.
This was it, I could tell, if I didn't do something to stop it this was the moment that my greatest friend was to be murdered. I creeped out from behind the plant, and crept slowly towards Moriarty. His snide remarks towards Holmes were lost to me as my senses, and even my breathing seemed to shut down. Once I was about a meter away from the fiend I heard only one sentence: "Goodbye Mr Holmes". That second seemed to take an eternity, Holmes who had previously kept from looking in my direction now gave my a glance that told me quite clearly that now was the time for me to act. In one swift pounce I leaped upon Moriarty sending him flying. His gun was now no longer in aim. A gunshot. I fell to the floor with him carried by my momentum, he appeared to be unconscious, but it was not for he that I worried, spinning around a horrific sight meet my eyes, the very thing I was fearing came to light as I rushed towards my friend. He was laying on the floor, His before white top now covered with a deep crimson that was rapidly spreading. "Holmes! Holmes! Where are you hurt?" I yelled coming to kneel beside my fallen friend. As I saw his unconscious dead looking figure before me I wanted to drape my arms over him and sob. But my doctors instincts came into play and I ripped off my t-shirt to stem the bleeding, pressing it tightly against the wound in his right shoulder."Holmes!" I cried again "Holmes for the love of God wake up!" His eyes fluttered open and he clutched at my chest in pain, leaving bloody stains on my vest, he opened his mouth to talked but the agony was to much and he slipped back into unconsciousness. I knew that I had to get him back to Baker street so that I could operate. Scooping him up I stood up, his limp figure draping over my arms. I pulled him tightly against my chest in a reassuring way, though more for my own sake then his. Rushing outside I bumped strait into Lestrade and some other police men. "Out of my way quickly!" I said pushing past the bewildered faces, the hansom in which they had come was still there and I gave our address to the driver, telling him to hurry for it was a matter of life and death.
The journey back was even quicker then the journey there, but to me it felt like a life time. Once laying my injured friend down on the seat, I instantly grasped for his wrist, feeling for a pulse. After a few deathly seconds I felt the feeble irregular beat. "Hang in there Holmes, hang in old friend" how many men had I said almost those exact words to in the war, hundreds, but this was the only time I had ever truly meant it, and felt it, this was the only time in which I would have gladly exchanged my life for the dying mans in front of me. The hansom came to a sudden halt out side our residence and I clambered out carrying my friend after me, kicking at the door until our land lady opened it and practically fainted at the sight before her. "Mrs Hudson listen to me, I need a cloth, boiling water and plenty of sheets" I barked at her in a very uncharacteristic way, she seemed to understand however and rushed off to get what I had asked for. Once upstairs I lay my friend upon our sofa. It felt bad to leave him even for a second but I sprinted to my room to get my medical case.
Now for the part which I was dreading, the operation, the part which would decide if my friend would live or die, I can definitely say that I have never felt so under pressure in my life. First I removed my friends top and vest. I then used the sheets Mrs Hudson had brought up to stem the bleeding as much as possible, then I dipped the cloth in the boiling water before cleaning the wound. Whilst doing this I loaded up a needle with tranquilizer and injected it into his already pokadotted arm so as to make sure that he would not wake during the operation. Taking my sterile and sharpened tweezers out the case I began the familiar procedure of dissecting the bullet out from the flesh. It took me around ten minutes to remove it completely and disinfect the wound, all the time I tried not to look at who I was treating and pretended that it was a normal soldier from back in my army days. Once finished I dressed the wound and replaced Holmes blood stained vest. His breathing had now regained a steady pace, as well as his pulse, as long as he was strong, and I knew he would be, there was no reason why he should not live.
I had spent the last five hours by his side, not sleeping or eating, instead spending my time keeping checks on his vital signs. He had been unconscious the whole time, but now he stirred slightly, and I rushed to kneel beside him. "Holmes? Holmes its me Watson, how are you doing old friend?" I said softly. His grey eyes opened and looked towards me, eyes I had feared I would never see again.
"That is for you to tell me Watson" he crocked.
"You'll live old chap, though you might not be so brilliant with the violin for while" He managed a weak smile at my words.
"What happened to Moriarty? Did you get him?" he asked with a sudden desperate look.
O dear, I thought.
Well I was going to keep going to the end but I thought I would post this now a then write a final chapter. What do you think of this one?
Please review and say.