Sorry for the long break guys, but I had exams. :P and now School's out for the summer!
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Excuse me. :P
CHAPTER 33
Police HQ
St Kilda
Melbourne
VIC, Australia
Sherlock let his head drop against the table, left alone in the conference room.
The other agents had all gone to get something to eat, but he had not replied when Lestrade asked him whether or not he was hungry nor when Sally said they'd bring something back for him.
He didn't want to eat.
He wanted John.
Unfortunately, and he had to learn this the hard way, at the age of four, you do not get what you want merely by wishing for it.
So he was thinking. Thinking how they were going to get to John, very probably sitting in the Sofitel Hotel.
Both Mitch and Lestrade thought that John would be in the basement, and their best move would be to enter through the new sewers being laid underneath the city, and do a scan, but Sherlock knew that it wasn't Moriarty's style. John was hurt badly, and keeping him in a cellar of any sort might allow infection to build and spread – which would mean that John was in one of the rooms.
He would need medical attention, even though he was a doctor, as the nails had been driven through his hands, meaning he could hardly sew himself up.
Sherlock got to his feet and walked to the window, his eyes roaming the landscape that was presented to him, but not seeing it, his dark, soft shirt and pants reflected in the tinted windows.
However, a doctor coming and going would raise attention – at least a little – from any security team, and it was known that Howell was usually in the security room. So he would know and wonder too.
Jim knew Howell and would probably have told the man. So where did that leave them? Somewhere close to Howell, probably, either in the Penthouse or the one below that.
Sherlock turned as the agents got back,
'I know where John is," Sherlock said,
'Brilliant," Lestrade replied "but I can assure you that he will murder you if he knows you haven't eaten," the DI sat down and motioned for Sherlock to do so as well. He stared at the DI a moment more and forced his anger away.
Lestrade was not just being flippant – they couldn't move until the warrant came through and even though he usually paid very little regard to the law, doing this properly, if Moriarty were there and he was accidentally caught in cross-fire because they believed he had a gun in his hand, no one was going to investigate too deeply.
"Fine," Sherlock said, "how long do we have to wait?" he asked and Sally checked her watch,
'We're moving at six tonight," she said, "that leaves us with four hours between then and now,"
Sherlock walked over to the table and pulled the pizza box towards him, "I'm going straight for John," he said taking a bite and Lestrade put a hand on his shoulder,
'And no one is going to stop you," he said and Sherlock turned his head slightly, his heart thundering at the thought that he could have John back.
Sofitel Hotel
Melbourne
VIC
Australia, 3168
"John!" The doctor's head spun around to face the source of the voice,
"Yeah?" he asked, wondering why Sophie was calling him,
"Lunch is here," she appeared in the doorway, in a different set of clothes all together and John wondered when she changed into the light green dress
"Brilliant," he said. He got to his feet and walked over to the door from which Sophie had disappeared.
The bedroom he had been sitting in was joined to the dining room and the smells that assaulted him almost made him stop in his tracks. Sophie was sitting in a chair at the other end of the table where all the food was.
John walked over, trying not to show his eagerness, but knowing he was failing quite spectacularly, judging by the look on Sophie's face. She was chewing on a piece of bread that looked incredibly soft and her light green eyes were watching John's as he took a seat across from her.
"This looks spectacular," John said, and Sophie nodded,
"Start with the bread." She handed him a perfectly cut piece and John bit into it. The bread was still warm and melted in his mouth. He had to stop himself from actually making a sound,
"Good, isn't it?" Sophie asked and John nodded, quickly deciding that he was very hungry.
They ate in an amiable silence for the next couple of minutes while John pondered his situation not for the first time.
It was he who broke the silence, "So…are you going anywhere tonight?" he asked, looking at Sophie,
'Why? Looking for a date, doctor?" she said, and he involuntarily flushed,
"N-no,' he said, cursing that he just had to blush, "I would just really like to get out of here," he said,
"Well, yes, I am going out, but you're not," she said, 'you're not allowed to leave this room, Doctor," he nodded. John hadn't actually expected a 'yes, come with me,' but he always thought it was good to dream.
Lunch finished quickly after that and John was the first to get up. He walked into the lounge room and turned the TV on, sighing, as a movie that looked like it was for children came on. He jumped as Sophie spoke up from behind him.
'Aladdin," she said and John realised that it was indeed the classic tale and found himself smiling. He had not watched since he was ten. He motioned for Sophie to go to the couch first and she smiled, walking forward,
"I haven't watched this in years," John said, sitting on the other end of the Sofa,
"I would be a little worried if you had seen it recently," she said, watching the characters on screen. John laughed.
Silence fell on the two of them. John turned slightly so that he could see Sophie a little clearer. Her eyes were fixed on the screen and John watched her as she laughed. Finally, the beautiful woman caught onto the fact that he was staring at her.
"What?" she asked, putting a lock of hair behind her ear,
"Erm, nothing," John said, 'just," he stopped, not quite sure what he even intended to say in the first place. They looked at each other a moment more before Sophie cocked her head to the side, 'Are you this smooth with all women you talk to?" she asked and John chuckled, going slightly red,
"In truth…" he glanced back up, "I don't really talk to women much anymore,' he said and Sophie stared at him for a moment before she finally comprehended,
"Sorry, you're gay?" she asked, and John nodded, waiting for an adverse reaction. Instead, he received a relieved laugh,
'You're gay?" she asked again, the smile evident on her face, and in her voice,
"Erm, yeah," he said, reaching behind his head. Sophie looked at him one more time,
"Brilliant," she said, laughing, "just…brilliant," she smiled. John looked bemused,
"What's so brilliant?" he asked,
'I thought – I thought that you were – that you," she stuttered out and John laughed, catching on,
'You thought that I?" John shook his head and found himself laughing with Sophie, the thought that he had been hitting on her, funny enough to make him forget that he was here against his will. He had almost forgotten what it was to like women, Sherlock had so completely and utterly taken over his entire being.
They laughed for a full five minutes before John managed to compose himself. A comfortable silence fell on the room, and Sophie put a hand on his arm.
"Seeing as you are gay," she said, "Why don't you help me with my wardrobe?" and she dragged him to his feet, and walked to the bedroom. "Sit here," she said, placing him on seat next to the door. Before he could say much else, she walked into the room and shut the door behind her. John stared at the space where she had stood and rested her head on his hand. How do I always manage to end up in the most awkward situations? He looked up at the TV, Instead of trying to escape, I'm dressing my captor's wife up.
John allowed a moment for the need to laugh hysterically to pass before he sighed. He could do this. He could wait until tonight, before escaping. I mean, I'm only twenty-two stories up and I think the door has a bio-metric security system on it. How hard can it be?
"You have spent too much time around Sherlock," he muttered to himself and shook his head.
Police HQ
St Kilda , Melbourne
VIC
Australia, 3168
Sherlock glared at the clock as if it would somehow go faster if he ordered it to. The second hand, however, did not speed up. "Sherlock, are you going to put the Kevlar vest on or not?" Lestrade asked, standing in the doorway feeling very much like Sherlock's carer as he held the vest out for the fourth time. Sherlock turned the glare onto him,
"No,' he said,
"Why not?" Lestrade huffed, at his patience's end, "how the fuck do you intend to get John out of there alive?" The DI walked into the room and slammed the door behind him, locking the agents who were about to join them out. Sherlock turned his back to the detective and continued to stare outside.
"Sherlock," Lestrade said, 'Bloody hell," he spun the detective around in his chair, "at least look at me,"
"What for, Lestrade?" Sherlock asked, his grey eyes looking at the DI, "I've failed," the detective turned back to face the window, "I promised myself," Sherlock glanced back up at the DI, who's anger had disappeared as quickly as it had flared up,
"I promised Moriarty would not harm a hair on John's head. That I would never let him take John"
"Sherlock, no one's perfect,"
'John is," Sherlock took the jacket from Lestrade and slipped it over his head, standing up so that he could tighten the side restraint. Lestrade didn't move. He stared at the man who just opened his heart and lay it bare for him to see and didn't not have the slightest inkling as to what he should do.
"Sherlock," the DI was whispering and he wasn't sure why, 'Sherlock there is nothing, nothing in this world that John would not give to see you happy. Do not let Moriarty take that happiness away from you," Lestrade waited until the slate grey filled his vision, this close, seeming to shift and change like a black hole that sucked everything around it in.
"Make me a promise," he continued, "promise me that no matter what happens, no matter how we find John," Sherlock stopped breathing, as the thought registered, 'you will not stop what you are doing. You will continue your work, and you will seek happiness,"
Sherlock stared at the DI, "Not for me," the detective inspector rubbed a hand across his forehead, "But for John,"
"I-"
"Promise me, Sherlock," the DI grabbed his shoulders, desperate to know that if John should not survive, if something would happen, they would not lose Sherlock, the real Sherlock that hid under a mask of coldness.
"Promise me," The DI said again. It seemed forever before Sherlock answered,
"Yes,"
As he said the word, alarms rang out and the moment was broken. Sherlock and Lestrade turned to face the windows to see a smoke filled office and people running.
"Damn," Lestrade muttered, "We need to get out of here," he grabbed Sherlock's arm and dragged him to the door.
Three stories below, a man exited the HQ and climbed into a waiting cab,
'They will be sufficiently delayed," he said, looking at the man sitting in the passenger seat,
"Excellent," the soft Irish lilt sent the hairs on the back of the arsonists neck standing on end.
Probably a bad time to end it there, but what can I say? Well John's confused, Sherlock's sad and Lestrade's frustrated. What an interesting end.
To the chapter. Not the story. There's more coming.
Hope you enjoyed it. :D
Aza
xoxo