Summary: Tragic news and a mystery to unfold. No warnings.
Author Notes: Well, fancy seeing you guys again. Please don't kill me for not uploading. I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Chapter 12: If it seems too good to be true
John drifted into consciousness. Memories of free fall puddled into his mind. He remembered the plane, the turned pilot. It crashed, he could remember that much. John struggled through his paralysis to move. His body flamed and bit harshly in places he couldn't reach. Flaming pain licked its way over his sides and legs. He applied more pressure to the back of his leg. His calf muscles hurt the most and if he could use the pain, he'd wake up.
Over the burning feeling of his body, he could feel something cool and wet run over his face. His hand wanted to reach to grab the object touching him but he still couldn't move it.
Taking a deep breath, he put as much weight as he could on the sorest part of his leg. The pain jolted him and his arm finally moved. John's eyes snapped open.
Blinking, he stared at the face of a surprised older woman. The black cloth in her hand dripping water. "Good morning." she said, a Scottish accent kicking at the back of her teeth. John relaxed, looking around.
"Where am I?" he asked quickly taking in the room. They were in a bedroom, probably the guest room seeing as there were no personal touches to the furniture or walls. The woman smiled warmly at him gently prying his fingers from her wrist before rubbing it.
John stared at her pale wrist. "Sorry."
She smiled. "It's fine."
John tried to sit up. Jabs of pain pierced through his body. He fell back just as the second shock wave of agony hit him. The woman reached over to the night stand beside him. "Here." she said. John eyed the little white pill in her hand warily. She laughed to herself. "It's aspirin."
Nodding, he took the pill and leaned his head back. "Where am I?" he said after a few swigs of water.
The old woman rung out her towel and dabbed his face. "Scotland. Benderloch to be exact." She said.
"Where are my friends?" John said. He tried to sit up again but she stopped him. He looked at her.
She didn't meet his eyes. "I'm sorry," she began. John's body went numb. He could barely register her speaking as she continued. "We tried. My boys pulled most of your friends from the ocean after the plane went down but…" she jumped as John quickly sat up despite the pain. The nightstand rocked at the bed frame hit the wall. The bucket of water fell off the table with a loud splash.
John didn't even notice it. "What happened to them?"
"Three of them turned when we got there." she spoke in a low voice as she raised form her seat to walk to the closet. Reaching inside, she grabbed a mop and began cleaning. The silence between them was deafening. She finally finished in a soft voice. "We...stopped them from hurting anyone."
John said nothing as he stared at the nearest wall. He couldn't even imagine anyone dying. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he asked the one question he feared the most, "Who survived?"
The woman looked away. "They said their names were Molly, Philip, Sally, and Greg."
John's mouth went dry. "Sherlock is dead." the words didn't fit right in his mouth. They fell from his tongue the way a suicidal person falls off a building. The bitter taste they felt behind wrinkled his nose. Laying back down, he turned away from the woman.
Soft heeled shoes clicked against the wooden floorboards and a gentle hand found his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry."
John didn't have the voice to answer her. His best friend was gone. Mycroft was gone. Anthea was gone. They'd all turned into monsters. He fought back the tears burning down his throat. He curled in further on himself, his injuries be damned.
The old woman took a step away and set the mop against the wall. "I'll wake you in a few hours to stretch your legs." she said before giving him one last smile, though his back was to her, and left him to his thoughts.
(-)
A gentle hand shook John awake a few hours later. "John?" a voice said. "John, wake up." Opening his eyes slowly, the closely shaven face of Greg Lestrade shifted into view.
"Greg?" John sat up quickly. He grunted when pain hit him.
Lestrade chuckled, helping him sit up comfortably. "Easy, you gave us all a scare back there."
John's head hung. "Did you see them?" he said in a low voice.
"By the time I came to…" he sighed. "I'm sorry."
John's face blackened. "I'm getting up." he said pushing off the covers. Tossing his legs over the edge, he walked to the door (with some help from Lestrade) and into the hall. Sucking in a breathe he took the stairs one at a time. "How are the others?" he bit out.
"Scrapes and bruises." Lestrade answered, watching the steps. "They landed just above the water."
John nodded. At least the others were okay. "What exactly happened?"
Lestrade shrugged. He adjusted John's weight on his shoulder. "It all happened so quickly. I woke up on the beach a ways away. By the time I found you they were already there loading you all into the back of the truck."
They reached the final step and John sighed in relief. The house was very homely when he actually looked at it. Aging pictures of little boys hung from every wall and little trinkets stood proudly on every table. Nothing too out of the ordinary for a family. Toward the back door a little table sat next to a wide hanging rug with the families face's embodied on the front. The table held several books and a little trophy won by someone in the house probably. John peaked into the closest room. Molly sat at the table in the kitchen reading an old book next to a young fair haired man.
Her face brightened when she saw him. Lestrade helped him sit and she reached across the table taking his hands. "I'm so glad you're okay. I was just going to come check on you." She squeezed his hands. "Greg told me not to worry but I couldn't help it. After everything that's happened…" She trailed off picking up the book again and fiddling with the page. "It's just nice to see you again."
HE understood where she was coming form. They all cared about the others in one way or another. Before he could speak, the back door swung open and sally came in, all smiles. "Up already are you?" she handed the young man at the table a basket of fruit she'd been carrying.
He smiled at her. "Thanks Sally." he said. She nodded smiling back before sitting next to Molly. The young man turned to John shifting the basket out of the way and offered his hand. "Jacob." John took the hand. Jacob smiled. "You probably have some questions."
John nodded. That was an understatement.
Jacob got up and pulled a peeler from the utensil drawer as he talked. "Well, I'll explain the basics, feel free to ask a question when you have one. First things first, you're in Benderloch, Scotland. This is an orchard my parents own." John nodded along, his tunnel vision now focused on him. Jacob continued. "I live here with them and my two older brothers, Patrick and Hans."
The front door opened and a much older man with dark brown hair stepped into the room. He looked a lot like Jacob. "Where's Hans?" he asked. Jacob pointed to the back door. "Philip and Patrick are with him." he called after the man as he left.
"That's my pop. His name is Terence. Mum's name is Ablean."
"You can call me Able." came a voice form the hall. John looked at the older woman coming into the room. She was the same woman who he'd woken up to. Able patted her son's head as she passed and he smiled. Jacob began peeling an apple and tossing the peels into a pail by his feet.
Able took some of the tables from the basket and chopped them by the counter. "It's nice to see you back on your feet." she said, her back turned to them.
John nodded with a smile. "You have a lovely home." Even if his heart was breaking, he might as well be polite.
Able smiled with him. "Thank you. It's hard to keep clean." she said.
Jacob looked down at his feet. Most of the peels hadn't landed in the bucket and now were over the floor. He put them in the bucket. He turned to see her back still to them. "I'll never understand how you do that?" he said. Able laughed at him.
She turned to them and kissed her son's forehead. Her eyes landed on John. "As much as I'm glad to see you up and about, you really should rest." she said. Lestrade took the cue and helped John up.
After the long hike up the stairs, Lestrade set him into the bed. "I'll come get you for supper." he said.
John was already asleep.
(-)
John looked over the table. He'd barely eaten a thing, no matter how much he'd wanted to. He felt so out of place in the happy environment. Everyone sat around the large kitchen table passing meats and greens and fruits. It was almost as if nothing had happened in the world.
Across the table, Sally stabbed into her foot. "This is delicious."
Able grinned. "Thank you for helping me make it."
Through a mouth of potatoes, Anderson said, "Hand me the vegetables."
John stared at the scene from his place at the table. Everyone was wrapped around the table like a big happy family. Like there weren't people eating each other just outside their doors. They'd all assimilated so quickly. It reminded him of his own family dinners when he was a kid. Back when things were normal and not batshit crazy. It even reminded him of his dinners with Sherlock. He remembered the last time they'd eaten in their kitchen. He'd accidentally mistaken the congealed blood for jam and well, everything went sour form there. Dinners got even worse when Mycroft and Anthea decided to stay. He'd had to break up a fight or two before. The thought brought a sad smile to his face. He missed them.
The table quieted quickly. John looked around. He noticed the crestfallen looks over everyone's faces.
Lestrade patted his shoulder. "We miss them too."
John hung his head. He didn't know he'd said it aloud.
Lestrade looked over to Jacob. "Did you even find them? Were they alive? Did they say anything before they turned?"
Jacob looked away. "I'm sorry, we tried. They died on the beach and the ocean took them before we could do anything."
Lestrade nodded, satisfied with the information. John's brow furrowed. Hadn't Able said they'd turned before they'd gotten there? John played along. "At least they're not in pain anymore." he said. In his peripheral vision, he saw Able physically relax.
The meal continued on in silence form there. John noticed a new tension he hadn't felt before. He looked over to Lestrade to find him already staring at him. He tilted his head toward the door. John nodded pinching his leg. Pain burst through it and he grunted.
Able looked up. "Are you alright?" she asked.
John nodded. He grunted again. Lestrade sighed. "You're still in pain. You should be resting." he gingerly helped him up. "I'll take him upstairs." he said and led the other to the door.
Once upstairs, John relaxed on the bed. Lestrade looked out into the hallway for anyone before closing the door. "What's up?"
"Something's off." John said looking under the bed. His leg screamed in pain as he bent it but he ignored the pain as best he could. "I don't know what it is but something's not right."
Lestrade's hands slipped into his pockets. "What do you have?" his old detective ways slipped easily back into place. He began looked around as well.
"Did you notice at dinner?" John said. "It was really tense."
Lestrade opened the door again, looking for eavesdroppers. "We are strangers in their home."
"Okay, you're right. But it's too tense. I got really tense when you started asking questions and the stories don't add up."
Lestrade sat on the bed and listened closely. "How?"
"When I was up here with Ablean she told me that the others had already turned into sick before they got there but Jacob said they died on the shore and washed out to sea."
Lestrade nodded. He listened again for any movement outside the door. "I believe you" he whispered. "But if they're lying, we need to find out what really happened and be quiet about it." He said.
"We need to look for clues. Find out what happened."
Lestrade nodded. "I'll see what I can find downstairs. You stay here."
John nodded closing his eyes. He didn't actually feel like sleeping but he had to make it convincing. What he wanted was answers and he wanted them now.