John jerked up and found that he was back in the room with the mattress. He blinked a couple times to gather his senses. He to a sitting position. John began to wiggle his arms underneath his legs and eventually got his hands from behind his back. He never felt so thankful he hadn't had long legs until now. A plate of food was left by the door. He made an attempt to open the door but it was locked. He scanned the room for another exit. There were no windows or vents to be used. He went to the wall and began tapping it. He found a spot where the wallpaper was warped. John looked for something to use to peel it back. He eyed the plate and noticed there was a plastic knife. Grabbing the knife, John peeled back the wallpaper to reveal a golf size hole that had been covered up. John tore at the wall, making the hole bigger. He used his elbow to smash through old boards.
Voices from the hall began growing louder as he heard foot steps. The hole wasn't nearly big enough for him. He stepped back, and with a violent kick the boards broke, giving him a hole barely big enough for him to squeeze through. The broken ends of the boards gave him tiny splinters he couldn't see as he fell into a dimly lit room. He landed on his shoulder and it felt dislocated but he couldn't relocate with his hands still bound. He gave a groan and his breathing became to quicken. He got to his feet and turned the handle to the door. It opened. He heard voices yelling, "He's escaped. Find him!"
John ran down the hall and the stairs, nearly falling down when a stair gave way and broke. He made his way to the ground level and onto the street. He heard the sound of thundering footsteps behind him. He signaled a passing cab and hopped in, telling the driver to go.
-oOo-
Molly Hopper was working the early shift at the morgue when Sherlock came in. She hid her smile by turning away. Sherlock walked passed her to the body found at Brixton. He scanned the body before pulling out his magnifying glass to examine the knife wound closer. There wasn't much to go on. There were bruises around the neck, a sign of being held there just before he was killed. He then looked at the clothes that the man had been wearing. He had worn a gray work shirt and dark gray pants. He went back to the body and examined the hands. They had hints of grime, possibly oil. The victim tried to wipe it off but with a dirty towel. Sherlock slipped on a plastic glove and ran his fingers over the victim's and brought his hand to his nose. It was from cars. The man had been a mechanic and was at work prior to his demise. He checked his phone for car shops in Brixton within walking distance to the crime scene. Three came up. He had to narrow it down. He went back to the clothes. Sherlock searched for ones that had workers who wore gray uniforms. He gave a smile and headed towards the door. Molly addressed him, "Have you told him, why you faked your death and didn't tell him."
Sherlock had forgotten Molly was there and he made a mental note to do something to thank her for helping fake his death. He had said thank you before, but John always said that giving a gift also helps. The question Molly asked hadn't really occurred to him that John might be upset for not knowing why.
"He doesn't need to know what doesn't hurt him." Sherlock then left before Molly could reply.
"But it did hurt him, Sherlock."