"Professor!" a voice echoes loudly down the hallway.
"Professor, they're coming! They know… they know we're here!"
The source of the voice, a short, somewhat chubby man, pauses as he reaches a tall door near the middle of the hallway. He wipes the beads of sweat from his forehead, breathing heavily. After a few moments, the man cautiously turns the door handle and opens the door. He steps carefully into the room.
His sudden arrival is met with a scowl from the man sitting in a chair in the middle of the room.
"Didn't I tell you to always know before you enter, Jenson?" The annoyance in his voice is obvious, and he speaks as though he's correcting a child.
The panting man, clearly embarrassed, stares apologetically at the ground.
"I… I'm very sorry, Professor Moriarty," he mumbles.
Moriarty shakes his head impatiently.
"Yes, fine." He sighs. "Now, what were you saying before? What is going on?"
The man, whose breathing has just now returned to normal, nods quickly.
"Sir, the "Reddings" just contacted me. They got Doctor Phillips to talk."
Moriarty raises an eyebrow. "Yes, and what did Phillips tell them?"
Jenson nods again. "Sir, they- Scotland Yard, I mean- have figured out somehow where we are, where we've been keeping Holmes. There's actually… there's a team from Scotland Yard headed here right now."
This news seems to surprise Moriarty, but only lets it show momentarily. He soon regains his icy calm.
"Well, I am certainly impressed. I had though that it would take them longer than this. But how exactly did they figure it out?"
The man shrugs weakly. "Phillips wasn't completely sure, but he did say that Dr. Watson identified some dirt that was stuck in a shoe."
Clearly annoyed, Moriarty slams a fist down on the arm of his chair. "It's that idiot Wilson! He's become more of a hindrance than a help. I thought I'd hired a clever man. But he just had to get himself shot, didn't he?"
Jenson unconsciously takes a step back, startled by the sudden outburst from his usually calm employer. Moriarty notices his movement.
"Well, never mind that." He suddenly realizes something.
"Jenson, I was told that John Watson had been hurt by Wilson. Isn't he injured in the hospital? But you just told me that he was the one who Phillips said had figured out our location?"
Jenson shrugs. "He is in the hospital. Lestrade brought some of the evidence to him because John wanted to help."
Moriarty shakes his head. "He really won't give up, will he? It's admirable, I suppose, but incredibly annoying."
After a momentary pause, Moriarty rises from his chair. "I'll deal with him later. Right now, we need to get out of the building. I trust a distraction has already been made for the Scotland Yard team that is coming here?"
The man quickly nods. "Yes, sir. I believe they're at the scene of a "shooting" that happened along the way."
Moriarty smiles coldly. "Excellent. Now, hurry up. Get everyone out. Now, don't just stand there. Go!"
Jenson, startled, hurries out of the room, and down the hall.
John Watson stares blankly at the ceiling of his hospital room. He knows that he shouldn't try to stay awake, but he can't help it. His mind is consumed with worry and fear. He's in a considerable amount of pain because of his injuries, but he fights through it. He won't let himself harbor any self-pity. To do so would make him feel guilty.
After all, he is likely not the one that is suffering the most.
If what Wilson told him was true, Sherlock is probably suffering a lot more.
He still retains a small amount of hope, especially since finding out a possible place that Sherlock is being held. But his hope is quickly overcome by uncertainly.
A sudden cry snaps John out of his daze. He hears voices outside his room. John can't contain his curiosity.
He struggles to his feet and slowly makes his way to the door. He opens it and walks outside into the hallway.
He's immediately met by a wave of voices coming from the other end. He follows the sound, ending up at the entrance to the hospital.
Nobody notices John's arrival, and for good reason.
Collapsed on the floor near the door is Dr. Simon Phillips, covered in blood and bruises.
John hurries to the Doctor. "What happened? Is he okay?" he asks one of the nurses.
"He'll live, but he's badly hurt. We're not sure what happened. He hasn't said much. He just came in and sort of… well, just collapsed. He keeps repeating the name 'John', though, for some reason."
John's eyes widen. "That's me. I'm John."
He doesn't wait for a response, but quickly kneels down at Phillips' side.
"Simon, it's John. What happened to you?"
"John…" With difficulty, he pulls himself to a sitting position against the wall. "They beat me when I wouldn't tell them what they wanted to know."
John furrows his brow. "Who? Who did this?"
Simon shakes his head slowly. "I don't… I don't know who they are. It was a… a girl. She said her name was Caroline Redding. And then a man. Carter Redding, I think. The girl said her brother had been shot and asked me to help, but when I went to help him, she locked the door and pointed a gun at me. I'm sorry, John. I had to tell them."
"Tell them what?"
"That you found out where your friend is being kept. I'm sorry, John. I'm so sorry."
John shakes his head. "No, it's not your fault."
Suddenly, he realizes something. "They know Lestrade is coming. I have to go warn him."
He quickly gets up, despite the protests of Phillips and the nurses. "I have to go. These men are dangerous. I have to warn Lestrade."
John pushes past and heads out the door.
He ignores the pain that he is feeling. He ignores the logical part of his mind that is telling him that this is a terrible idea.
He's on a mission.
And nothing is going to get in his way.
Hello again! I hope you enjoyed chapter 16!
Thanks, James Birdsong and Lightening Sparks, for your reviews!
I would really appreciate any reviews or suggestions!
Thanks for reading :)