Dr. Simon Phillips glances over at his patient, John Watson. John is still awake, just the same as he has been for hours.
This isn't particularly surprising to Dr. Phillips. John is under a lot of stress, and he obviously doesn't want to miss anything, even if it means costing him his own health. Phillips is quite impressed by this. He isn't extremely familiar with Sherlock course, he has heard of him. Practically everyone in London knows something about Sherlock Holmes, with all of the high profile cases he solved in the past few years.
Although Phillips doesn't know much about Sherlock Holmes himself, it is clear that John Watson is extremely worried for Sherlock's safety.
As much as he admires John's strength, however, Phillips still wishes that John would rest for a while. He needs it.
Dr. Phillips walks over to John once again to try to convince him to rest. As soon as Phillips gets to his side, John shakes his head, knowing exactly what Phillips is about to say.
"No," he says.
Phillips sighs. "John, you must understand. You need to rest. You're still recovering. You're a doctor too. You know everything I'm telling you, so why aren't you listening to me?" Phillips knows that this arguing is useless. John is not going to listen to him, regardless of what he says.
John doesn't answer. He just stares off into the distance, once again caught up in worry. Simon knows that he won't be able to change John's mind.
He walks out of the room and over to a middle-aged nurse who is standing in the hallway just outside the room; she's busy writing something down in John's file. The nurse notices him and looks up from the papers.
Dr. Phillips greets her. "Good afternoon, Rosie."
The nurse smiles and replies in a thick Scottish accent, "Good afternoon, Dr. Phillips. No luck with Dr. Watson, I suppose?"
The doctor shakes his head. "No. I doubt he'll sleep at all until he gets news back from Inspector Lestrade, if even then. I don't think I'll be able to change his mind at all on that matter."
Rosie suddenly frowns. "Doctor, have you gone home at all since Watson came in last night? You haven't, have you?"
Phillips shrugs. "Well, I haven't, but I'm fine, really…"
The nurse shakes her head. "No, Doctor, you aren't fine. You must be exhausted! You really must take a break."
"Rosie, I can't. Doctor Watson… He still needs..." His voice trails off.
Rosie laughs. "Oh, come on. You and I both know that you're not going to be able to convince him to rest. There's nothing more that you can do. I'll watch him. Take your own advice. Go home and rest."
Dr. Phillips smiles gratefully. "Thanks, Rosie."
He grabs his coat and bag and walks down the hospital hallway and out the door. The sun is shining brightly through a gap in the clouds, and he's enjoying the little bit of sunshine after such a long day of work.
As Phillips walks down the street, he suddenly feels a hand on his arm.
"I'm so sorry to bother you, Doctor, but this is quite urgent."
He whirls around to face the source of the voice.
It's a petite young woman, probably in her mid-twenties. She has blond hair and bright green eyes. She is quite attractive, but looks distraught.
Dr. Phillips quickly responds, "Oh, don't worry, it's no problem. What's wrong?"
The woman doesn't appear to be injured, but her bottom lip is quivering. She seems to be fighting back tears. "It's… it's my brother. He's hurt. He's been… he's been shot."
Phillips' eyes widen. "Where is he? What happened?"
"Williams Avenue," the woman quickly responds.
"How did you get here? By taxi?"
She nods. "It's still waiting right here," she says, pointing to a car on the side of the road.
"Let's go, then!" Phillips exclaims. The two of them get inside the taxi and the woman tells the driver the address.
Once they are moving, Dr. Phillips begins to speak. "What happened? How was he shot?"
The woman takes a deep breath, trying not to cry, and answers him.
"We were just walking down the street back to his flat, when we saw something strange. There was a man in the back of a taxi, banging on the window. He looked familiar, and I wasn't sure why. But then I realized that it looked the man I saw in the paper a few days ago.
You know, that detective that hung himself."
Phillips stares intensely at the woman. Could it really Sherlock Holmes in the back of the taxi?
"I know it doesn't really make sense, because he killed himself, but the man in the car just looked so much like him.
My brother saw the man too. He pointed at the car, and the driver must have noticed him then. He opened the door and stepped out, holding a gun.
Then he… he shot my brother. He tried to shoot me too, but I ran. When I looked back, the taxi was gone. I went back to my brother to try stop the bleeding. The bullet only hit his arm. He was still conscious. I tied a handkerchief tightly around the wound and brought him inside his flat, and that's when I left to get you."
After the woman finishes talking, there is total silence. Dr. Phillips doesn't want to bother the already traumatized woman any more. After a while, the taxi stops and the driver announces their arrival. "148 Williams Avenue."
The woman hurriedly pays him and gets out with Dr. Phillips.
"Oh, I forgot to ask. What is your name?" he asks.
The woman forces a quick smile. "I'm Caroline Redding. And my brother's name is Carter."
Dr. Phillips nods. "Okay, Caroline. Let's go."
Caroline opens the door to the flat and hurries in, with Dr. Phillips at her side.
"Carter!" she calls out. "Carter, the doctor is here now. Don't worry; you're going to be okay."
She sounds nervous, as if she doesn't believe what she's saying.
Simon can now see the woman's brother lying on the floor of the flat. His left arm is wrapped in a red-stained handkerchief. He stirs slightly and groans as he hears Caroline's voice. Caroline shuts the door and hurries over to Carter's side with Dr. Phillips.
"Carter, can you hear me?" Phillips inquires.
"Yes… I can," the man groans.
"Okay, I'm going to clean out the wound and try to see if I can stop the bleeding. Caroline, can you grab a cloth bandage out of my bag?"
She nods and hands him the bandage.
"I'm going to take off the handkerchief now." The doctor carefully unties the knot of the handkerchief and removes it.
He suddenly stops, frowning and confused.
There is no bullet wound on the man's arm.
He quickly looks back at Caroline for some explanation.
Suddenly, Dr. Phillips hears a click behind him. He looks in the direction of the noise.
As he does, the 'injured' man springs to his feet, pointing a gun at Simon's head. Wincing, Phillips slowly turns his head back to Caroline.
She sighs. "Oh, Phillips. You really are so gullible," Caroline teases slyly.
"What is going on?" Phillips questions cautiously.
Caroline smiles coldly at him, her eyes narrowed.
"Oh, don't worry. As long as you tell me what I want to know, you just might make it out of here alive."
Hello again! Sorry that it's been so long since I updated, I've been away for a while. I hope you liked this chapter!
Lightening Sparks and Esbee, thank you for your kind reviews!
Thanks for reading and I'd appreciate any reviews, suggestions, or questions!