Sorry for the delay! Thanks for hanging in there. This story isn't over. I've returned from emerald comicon if you want to see pics they're on my tumblr. Please excuse the errors my lovely Beta is on hiatus. Send her prayers, positive vibes and well wishes. Thanks for following! loves! Baby Leach is two and a handful of energy. sigh. Hope all is well with you and yours!
Chapter 8. The Returned..
John groaned, the black bag was thankfully yanked from his head. He squinted against the bright lights of the room he was in. Someone had pushed him into the cold room, swallowing hard to hold back a wave a nausea.
"Thanks for the smack on the head." John's only answer was the heavy metal door slamming shut. "Bastards." John forced his aching body to stand, another wave of nausea, and he clinched his fists as his body was unsteady and bit dizzy. The wave passed leaving him feeling weak. Perhaps the adrenaline was done, no more left in his reserves.
He heard a groan from behind him, thankfully they hadn't tied him up, they only disarmed him. He grinned, stupid bastards, they'd tried to fire the specially made weapon, thinking it jammed, John had watched the man who disarmed him. The accent was definitely Russian, the man had aimed at a yelling James Bond. When the gun didn't go off he thought it jammed neglecting to toss it away like John figured he would instead he placed it in the back of his black canvas trousers. Typical mercenary types wearing all black, speaking very little words just brute force.
John Watson was now standing in a small room with a throbbing head, a fat lip and it seemed company. "Welcome home John." The Doctor sighed to himself, nothing was never just normal, not that he minded.
"Bond?" A small hoarse voice called out from the far corner, "Did you get captured you idiot?"
Doctor Watson made his way quickly over to the young dark haired man his face almost transparent, his left eye swollen shut and nose covered with blood and bruised. Doctor mode quickly came into play and John was rolling up his sleeves. He made quick work of the handcuffs , "I'm insulted! They didn't even search me." John produced a paper clip from his pocket. Soon the cuffs were clattering to the cement floor. The young man's thin wrists were severely bruised and dried blood circled where the zip ties had bit into the delicate skin.
"Q?" John kneeled down, hands touching the fevered skin, red, angry and draining, a tell tale green. Infection had taken hold, what had they cut into the boy for?
A familiar grayish blue eye tried to blink and remain open, its counterpart too swollen to follow suite. John could easily assume the younger man wore glasses a deduction he knew to be accurate by the way the young kid kept squinting and the indents on his nose where the glasses had cut into him after being punched repeatedly.
He almost, almost felt sorry for their captors, "Definitely dead. The lot of them. " John sighed.
"Who?" The boy croaked.
"Ssh, don't talk. Let's get you out of this chair." John pulled the thin body from the chair, the youngerman cried out his legs unable to straighten, having been in the seated position for so long.
"Hurts, my body aches. And it's cold in here." Q panted, his forehead breaking out in a sweat.
John quickly and as gently as possible laid the boy down in the corner, pulling his own jumper over his head so the younger Holmes could rest his head on it like a pillow.
"You have a fever, you need to go to hospital." John glanced down at his watch. "Oh, shame on me. I forgot to introduce myself. Although you probably already know me."
"You should be in Colombia?" Q groaned allowing the doctor to search him for further injury, warm hands touched the bruising on his arms and wrists.
"Well due to the disappearance of a certain family member of my psychotic possibly sociopathic roommate, I thought it best to cut the vacation short. Besides self exile gets boring after a year."
"Is that what it was? Here I thought you were just, ruh-running away from my crazy cousin." Q gasped.
John glanced around the room, it was bare, just a small cell, a cement floor blood stained, the metal chair Q had been sitting in.
The blond got up and kicked at the door "Hey! I need some water! " the boy was burning up..
"No use. You don't want to call their attention Doctor Watson." Q wheezed coughing, groaning at the pain that caused him. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry? Are you sure you're a Holmes. A Holmes never apologizes." John didn't turn to look at the young man that reminded him of Sherlock.
"It may just be the fever." Q sighed curling up in a fetal position, John could see the bruises that lined the young man's back. Several boot marks and fingerprints. "I'm sorry you were dragged into this."
"Not your fault. I seem to gravitate towards trouble. " John kicked the door, someone one pushed the heavy metal door open.
"I need water! And something for his fever."
"I'll give him a bullet." The guard in black cliche military or ex-military attire growled.
John wasn't' impressed he'd faced this scenario way too many times and quite frankly he wasn't having it today.
"Listen, let's cut the shit, right. We won't be here long, it's in your best interest to bring me a blanket, a bottle of water some paracetamol. And I may just accept your surrender, I'll even keep your nose from being broken, maybe even let you keep your fingernails."
The guard stood glaring down at the short doctor, before he threw his head back and laughed.
"I dont see what's so funny. You have approximately three maybe five minutes tops to drop your obnoxiously big rifle there. Really this is England not some foreign battlefield. I think an automatic rifle is a bit over the top. Overcompensating are you?"
Before the guard could say anything else, the lights flickered and the room went black then the backup generator kicked in with a loud distinctive almost haunting hum. The low lights only added to the effect., " Seriously, he's so over dramatic." John rolled his eyes, his headache only mounting. The mercenary was only temporarily distracted before focusing back on the shorter non threatening blond. "Too late. Can't say I tried to help you. Idiot." John sighed crossing his arms over his chest.
The mercenary glared at the blond making to hit the man with the butt of his gun, "Predictable. I must be getting too old. This doesn't seem as fun as it used to be." John sighed after dodging the guns stock. Easily sending a well calculated hit to the aggressor's adam's apple. Another hard hit to the man's abdomen brought the gun down with a clatter, John kneed the taller man in the groin. "I know cheap shot but as I said before. It's been a long day."
The mercenary was laying on his side hands cupping his groin and the short blond held the Automatic rifle.
John shook his head, disarming the weapon and taking it apart tossing the pieces away from the downed man.
"Well Q, if that's your real name. Looks like we wont be needing anything after all. I underestimated your cousin's. We should be out of here in less than two minutes.
The Quartermaster thought perhaps he was dreaming this, the doctor was so calm and everything was said with confidence. As if there were no doubting they were going to be rescued.
"Jesus, Q!" It was James Bond entering the small room ignoring the groaning man in the doorway. Bond went to his friends side.
"You're late. James." The youngman coughed, his body trembling from fever.
"I would have been here sooner had I not be held up by your psychotic cousin."
"Sssherlock? What hee uh do?" Q's teeth chattered, Bond looked over the young man then up at the doctor.
"John!" Sherlock's voice echoed down the long body strewn corridor.
John waved over to him glancing down the crowded hall, then looking over at the blond agent who was removing his leather jacket. Careful as one would an injured bird, the double O agent wrapped it around the shivering and bruised young man. "I've got you Q, I've got you. Just stay with me. We'll get you warm and these bastards will pay. All of them. First you need to get to the informatory."
"It's so cold. " Q rasped his good eye trying to squint and focus on the taller agent.
"Here, I grabbed these from the flat. Figured you might need them." John and Sherlock watched with curiosity as the older man placed the dark frames gently on the Quartermaster's bruised face.
"You look like shit. Did you check in to medical before going off to save me?" Q managed through chattering teeth.
John held a silent conversation with James their eyes meeting, the tall 00 agent gently scooped the dark haired young man back up in his arms.
"People are going to definitely talk." Bond sighed ignoring the question causing his friend to roll his eyes.
"People do little else." Q whispered, still shivering.
"If you would eat more you would have more fat to keep you warm. But no, you're too busy to even snack on a sandwich, who doesn't have time for a glass of whiskey and some thai?"
"Oh, is he one of those, 'Food slows my transport' and by transport, I mean body. It's ridiculous, for geniuses how the hell have they made it this far." John followed James bond, and Sherlock rolled his eyes holding the door open, he pointed down to the conscious mercenary still groaning on the floor.
"Grab that one, keep him alive my brother has questions. And Bond will need a punching bag. He's as good as any." John stepped aside so Mycroft's armed men could enter.
"How did you find me? They said they'd taken my device out and-" Q's voice was a bare whisper but John could hear him, he could see that Bond was worried the man was good at appearing bored. The group made their way down the narrow hall stepping over several unconscious men in black.
"Well the doctor there stole the gun you made especially for me. And these idiots took it right off him, he basically handed it to them. We were able to track it, and here we are. Mr. British Government is sweeping up the rest of the mess. You were right about these ones, they were involved in the Doctor's accident as well as another's. They thought you were talking to Dr. Watson this whole time and feared he would spill to big brother Holmes. If only they knew. It had been too late way before they made their play to nabb you. Sherrinford Holmes is more of a threat than Mycroft. After all Mycroft has rules."
"Sherrinford?" Q's bruised eye remained sealed but his good eye sprang opened.
"Yes, we'll have to talk about that one but after you've healed. Did you really not to trust me enough to tell me you've never lost touch with a wanted fugitive."
"He was framed."
"Ah, of course. You should know I don't really care about that. I'm shocked you don't trust me by now. I can keep a secret."
"It wasn't just mine to tell." Q coughed again.
"Stop interrogating him idiot he needs rest." Sherlock growled.
Bond glared over his shoulder, but John read the worry exchanged between the two.
~0~
John sank down in his chair at 221B, glancing around he could see nothing had changed about the place. He had left Q in bond's hands they had the young quartermaster in medical, John didn't care for the double o's headquarters. It gave him the creeps, besides he wasn't in the mood to drag a curious Sherlock away from the government computers.
Sherrinford Holmes unfortunately had been taken into custody almost immediately, to John's amazement the eldest Holmes didn't struggle.
Sherlock however protested, and demanded to see his older brother. Mycroft as usual was nowhere to be found.
John massaged his temples leaning back in his chair, glancing over at picture of a smiling Mary.
"I know Mary, they can be such idiots. " He smiled back, Sherlock had taken her picture out of the box he had personally packed up to be thrown out. It hurt to see the picture of his beautiful wife. She was forever frozen in time with an eternal smile/grin, eyes sparkling as if she knew so many secrets and would never tell.
"I miss you Mary." He said, "Don't worry we wont ever let Sherlock know the truth. It would devastate him. As much as he pretended to be interested with our becoming a family, he had his heart set on meeting our child. I did too, I wanted to know her, I wonder if she would have had your eyes and smile. She would have been so beautiful. "
John sighed turning away from his wife he leaned back in the old chair even more, his leg elevated, they were aching since his return to England.
"I'm sorry Mary. I'm sorry." He whispered "For running away. If you must know everywhere I ran I kept finding you. I'm a stupid man when it comes to the obvious I guess. Sherlock had warned me running away would only put off the inevitable. He knew that I would have to come back here, to England and to you.
John held his head in his hands, "I'm so sorry Mary."
The exhausted Doctor stood up and made his way into the kitchen, he should start the tea, sherlock would be back with Mycroft soon.
Sherlock entered the room that held his brother, the guards outside had been called away, he moved towards the glass cage that Sherrinford sat in. He had aged some, and the Colombian sun had tanned him, there was more gray to his hair.
"Come to poke the bear. I'm not in the mood brat. Dont you have some drug to do."
Sherlock rolled his eyes, "I've been clean idiot." He pulled back the sleeves of his purple shirt.
"I haven't come to fight."
"Good, cause I'd rather like a nap before I'm interrogated by Mycroft's goons."
"Why."
"Why do I need a nap? Because time does a number on ones bones. I creak worse than that old rocking chair in the attic of our summer home."
"No. Don't be dull. Why did you keep in contact with Alcott? Don't try to lie to me, I'm sober, irritated and impatient. "
"Sober." Sherrinford huffed, not meeting his little brother's face.
"I know now you weren't the one trying to kill Mycroft. I know you murdered the ones that were truly out to kill him. Yet you never tried to clear your name. Why was Alcott keeping tabs on you? Why was he helping you?"
"I did him a favor I guess he felt obligated."
"A favor?"
"Not my business to tell you. It doesn't matter now. So why are you here?"
"You killed his father."
"So. It had to be done. Our father gave me the green light. For whatever that's worth. I guess there was no love lost between brothers. Surprising I know, considering how close we all are as a family."
"You killed his father and he felt obligated to help you when he could. Still why all this time?"
"Same old bratty little brother, everything is a puzzle. Even basic human decency. Perhaps Alcott was alone, even more so after that idiot was found dead. Not all the those in our fucked up family tree are heartless and without emotion. So I kept in contact with the brat."
"The accident? You didn't have anything to do with it yet, you are interested in it. And don't try to sell me on the fact you were worried about his obsession with such a thing. You dont care about me. Yet you were following the investigation. An investigation only Q was working on. No one knew about."
Sherrinford shook his head, "How is it you found a decent friend like Doctor Watson. I feel for the man, he must be a saint for putting up with your annoying ass. I've spent some time with him, he never took advantage of any young girls throwing themselves at him, works hard, hardly speaks about himself, a real listener, and a non drinker. For a man who suffers ptsd and the loss of his dear wife and child you would think he would find some bottle or needle to lose himself in. "
"John is not a Holmes." Sherlock replied moving towards the keypad on the glass. "He is a good man and I trust his judgment. I will always trust his judgment. He is incapable of selfishness or arrogance. He saved my life one too many a time, and he trusts you."
Sherrinford was on his feet Sherlock produced a guards uniform out from behind his back, the eldest Holmes wondered how he had never seen this detail, he must be getting old. Suddenly the glass cell dimmed and the humm of electricity around it dissipated.
"I suggest you disappear and don't try to contact John or Alcott. You put him in danger."
"Sherlock? Did you have this in that ridiculous coat? How?"
"Go! Before the guards wake up from their nap. Just disappear. Know I'm not doing this for you. Revenge is not something I actively seek out anymore. I've lost too much time allowing pride to push me. Perhaps whatever it is you are doing you should rethink your mission. I care not what it is. I only wanted my friend to come home. He spent too much time running from the past. It's best to face it, and let it go."
Sherrinford inwardly winced, "There is something I must do. Something I can't let go. I have a package that will be delivered to you little brother. After talking to John and meeting you, I am confident Mycroft and yourself will be capable in taking care of my last prized possession."
"I dont want your money or whatever it is-"
"It's worth more than money. You'll see. You must be keep it safe. I know you can. I don't know if I will be back to pick it up. "
And like that Sherrinford Holmes was gone and Sherlock was standing there questioning his own actions.