I didn't sleep that night. My mind was at war. Holmes couldn't be dead, that was for sure. But what happens when I find him? What if I never did? What if I was too late? I often was second away from falling asleep, but instead fell into a fitful doze where I had horrifying visions concerning my friend Holmes being taken away, Holmes critically injured, Holmes dead... I woke up from one of these to find it was morning. Getting ready for my trip was a blur. I packed a small bag, ate a quick muffin thanks to Mrs. Hudson, and started out the door. Mrs. Hudson ended up seeing me out. She gave me the various instructions Lestrade left me, and I bid her farewell.
"Doctor, wait," I turned back around. She handed me my medical bag. "I believe you are going to need it. When you find Holmes- not if, but when- I suspect that he will be injured, knowing him." I thanked her and turned around.
"Dr. Watson, one more thing," she called as I started to find a hansom. Mrs. Hudson rushed towards me. "I will not ever forgive you- or Holmes- if you die. It won't be the same without your schoolboy antics." At that she hugged me, and I set off. Lestrade had instructed me to take a boat across the Thames to the other side of London. A captain James knew the whole situation, and would meet me at the shore. Afterwards, I was to find an inn- the White Rose- and check in. The location I was to travel was a warehouse close to the inn. I was to send a telegram regularly- or they would assume Von Sagewood had gotten me, too. Lestrade told me to be prepared for the worst- the suspect, Von Sagewood, was a very dangerous man. I inferred what he really meant. As soon as I had gotten to the inn, it was getting dark, and I was exhausted. As soon as I reached my room, I fell into a blissful, dreamless sleep.
The next morning I inquired the innkeeper about the alleged warehouse.
"You walk two blocks north of here, and then one more east," he spoke, with a thick Cockney accent. "You know, another man kinda like you asked me 'bout the same warehouse few days ago. Haven' heard from him since. Hope nothing bad happened to him." I turned away, a bit overcome with emotion. At the door, I briefly wondered if I should bring my medical bag, but decided against it; IT would be a strange site indeed to see a stranger bringing a dark lantern and a medical bag into an old warehouse. I walked to the warehouse. It was bigger than I had pictured it to be. I stepped in, shutting the door behind me. It was loftly, cold, and there was absolutely no light or windows, from what I could tell. I was at that moment very glad I decided to bring my dark lantern. I looked around. Scattered about were chairs, sofas, and tables (even a few pianos) all covered with white cloths. One in the center of the room caught my attention- the sheet was disfigured in such a way that it looked like something was hidden under it. I was moving to pull it off when the warehouse door opened. In a mad dash I quickly turned out the lantern and dove under the settee (Thank the Lord it was high enough) as the person moved towards the very place I was hiding. They pulled the sheet back a little, took something out of a bag, thought better of it, put it back, replaced the sheet, and left. As soon as they left, I shot up from under the settee and pulled the sheet off. There was Sherlock Holmes, unconscious, bruised, and bleeding.
I would like to thank the anonymous reviewer dayja for pointing out a very schtupid mistake I made ^^; I really need to re-read my stories after I go on hiatus, no? Sorry about the mix-up!
I really want to re-write this, but a naughty Mr. Hyde has decided to invade my mind. Blargh, Small manic scarecrow…
R&R!