Author's Note:
So, this is where I sit back and laugh evilly for the next several chapters. You can pretty much expect cliffhangers at the end, practically every time for awhile now. Also, loving all the reviews! Thank you so much! They mean a lot to me!
Mycroft glanced between Sherlock and the tunnel leading to the plane before jogging after his brother. "Sherlock!" He caught up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Alright," he took a deep breath and glanced around, shooting his brother a scolding look as several other passengers watched them curiously. "There was another collapse in the tunnel, alright? John is fine, completely fine. He's conscious and talking. He can escape. The problem is that only he can escape and the soldier he is with is stable. John won't leave him," he swallowed hard, raising a brow and pressing his lips together. "So, effectively, John is stuck because he won't leave the other soldier behind."
"You were going to let me leave, knowing that? Just fly back to London, like nothing happened!" Sherlock shoved Mycroft away and began running. He had to do something to help John. He couldn't just leave. Not now. Maybe if he could talk to John. Talk some sense into the army doctor. So stubborn!
Mycroft stumbled back several steps before moving after Sherlock. "You don't even know where the Hell he is!" He shouted after his younger brother. "You still need me, Sherlock! I've got the car you need!" He reached forward and snatched Sherlock's wrist, giving it a small tug as he struggled to catch his breath. "You'll need a ride there, you git," he shoved his brother forward gently as his car pulled up. "You aren't going to convince him to leave that tunnel until both of them can come out. Period. This is worthless."
Sherlock almost tumbled on his face from the sudden halt of his forward progress. He spun to face Mycroft. "Just because you were willing to walk away from Lestrade, doesn't mean I'm going to walk away from John! I'm not leaving until he gets out of the tunnel." He yanked his wrist from his brother's grasp. "If you want to help fine, but I am not going anywhere."
"Get in the car, then," Mycroft stated as calmly as possible. He opened his own door and slid in, giving the coordinates of John's location to the driver. "He's fine, so don't worry about that. The worry, obviously, is getting them out before another collapse. They are working to find a way to get them both out. John's bravery and loyalty are to be admired, though," he stated tersely. It was understandable that Sherlock was worried and wanted to get John out but Mycroft had a feeling it would be tougher than his younger brother thought.
Sherlock got in the car and slammed the door shut. Why did this all have to happen at once? Everything was spinning out of control and he couldn't do anything to stop it. It was all out his hands. Maybe if he told John he was going to be a father it would change his mind. It wasn't how he wanted to tell his fiancé but he was feeling desperate. He knew John was just doing what he thought was right. He closed his eyes, trying to focus. "Tell me everything you know about the tunnels."
"They are used to smuggle drugs and weapons. They knew the risk going in." Mycroft pulled his phone out and opened something. "This one was particularly sturdy so they figured they would be alright. The first collapse crushed this soldier's leg. John went in and stabilized him when the second collapse happened. John did get a cut on his head but he is fine. We are waiting to see if they can both be reached." His eyes darted to Sherlock. "That is it."
"Have maps ready for me when they get there and an expert on the tunnels. Preferably a native." If John couldn't be talked down, then he would have to go to the army doctor. He was already in the process of formulating a plan. Well, several actually. Each plan was contingent on what information he would be able to glean once on the scene.
Mycroft had almost agreed until he realized what Sherlock was saying. "You aren't going into the tunnel," he stated with a shake of his head. "I'm not risking it. That is far too dangerous." His eyes darted to his brother with a serious gaze. That wasn't an option at all. John knew what he was doing when he went into the tunnel. It was his job. Sherlock didn't need to do anything. "We will get him out without you being an idiot and risking your life."
"My risk. Not yours. I either go in with a guide and map or I go in blind. I already heard where, so even if you turned around I would just ditch you at the airport. And then you would just be wasting time. Time that John doesn't have." Sherlock replied with a steady voice and gaze.
There should be an argument here, something to keep his younger brother safe. Except it was hard to determine if it would even be worth it. Sherlock was going no matter what Mycroft said. "Mummy is going to be so extremely upset with me," he muttered as he sent out a text with Sherlock's requests. "It can be arranged but if John refuses to leave without this other soldier then you will come out of this tunnel." The car slid to a stop and Mycroft gave a pointed glare at his brother.
Sherlock smirked. "Then don't tell her." He wasn't going to try to talk John out. He had planned on finding an alternate route to lead them out. It would be quicker than arguing. Well, hopefully quicker. There was always a possibility that something could happen to him. That didn't matter. Getting out John did.
"I won't have a choice if the tunnel collapses and you get trapped in there, Sherlock. I'm sure that conversation will be wonderful. 'Oh, Mummy, I just let him saunter off into that tunnel. He said he was coming back.' Because, really that would work," Mycroft shouted before slamming the door and glancing around. All of John's company was there, standing with amused smirks.
"That's him, isn't it? Tall? Hooked nose?" Shouted a voice from a small hole in the ground.
"Yup, Doc. Except... no umbrella," one young man replied as he peaked down into the hole.
"Well it isn't exactly raining here, Hollman, so he doesn't bloody need it. Christ you're an idiot," the voice replied with laughter.
"Doc's down there. He is good, bit of blood but nothing he hasn't taken care of before." The young man stepped forward and inspected Mycroft. "Mike Hollman, I work with Doc. He said you two would be arguing. Except... where's the tall one?"
"Me? I'm right here." Sherlock replied as he stepped out of the car. God it was hot out here. Of course he was wearing a suit. He threw his jacket onto the back of the car, undid a few buttons on his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. "A pleasure, I'm sure boys but if I could be directed to the maps and the local with knowledge of the tunnels that would be splendid." No time for small talk, only business.
Hollman let out a wolf-whistle, looking back at the small hole in the ground. "Hot damn, Doc. You never said your fiancé was this good looking." Laughter echoed across the group of young men, a loud laugh even managed to escape from the tunnel. The young soldier stepped forward with a sure smile on his face. "We couldn't get any local knowledge but I know these tunnels like the back of my hand. I've got the maps over here on the table. We'll tell you the best way to go in and direct you from there the best we can. Doc's said the you aren't coming down, though, so you'll have to take that up with him before we even start looking at the maps." He smiled and motioned his head toward the hole in the ground. "You can sorta see him, y'know, if you squint."
Idiots. He was surrounded by bloody idiots. Sherlock ignored the man who had spoken and peered down the hole. "John, I'm coming down whether you like it or not. If you don't you will have to come up here to stop me. Otherwise, shut it. We don't have time to argue." He was agitated, and it was clear with every word he spoke.
John looked up, his eyes squinting against the harsh sunlight. He could barely make out Sherlock's face. "I've got men up there that are mapping it out right now and know this better than you. Let them, it will be safer." He shifted slightly, a sign he was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. A small groan echoed through the tunnel and John looked away from Sherlock. "Hey, Blackford, you've gotta stay with me, alright?" Another groan before John looked up again, the sunlight catching the blood running from the hairline on the left side of his face. "Let them, I don't want to risk it."
"No! You would do the same thing. No more arguing!" Sherlock shouted. He wanted to say that John needed to come back safe. That it just wasn't for him anymore. That he had a daughter to worry about. He doesn't want to tell John like this, but if the arguing continued it would force his hand.
John hesitated before speaking again. "Sherlock, I would do the same thing for you, yeah, but I... I can't lose you. There is a risk here, alright? And if you-" he moved, shuffled, and then stuck his hand out of the hole. "Hollman, water," he state simply, wrapping his hand around the small water bottle before it disappeared. "If they can't find a safe route in, Sherlock, leave it to them. If they find one that is secure enough then you can come. That's it. End of discussion." His hand reappeared and Hollman took the water bottle with a bit of a smirk in Sherlock's direction.
"John, I'm coming in no matter what! You don't understand...I...I have to get you out..." Sherlock trailed off for a moment and then went on, hesitantly at first but his voice grew momentum with each passing word. "John, I have to get you out safe. You are going to be a father. Sarah is pregnant. What am I supposed to tell your daughter if I just stood by and did nothing? 'Sorry, daddy didn't make it because he is a stubborn git and I decided to just stand around and twiddle my thumbs.'"
John half listened to Sherlock, expecting nothing more than the usual 'I love you' and 'You would do it for me' argument. And then he listened, really listened, and suddenly he felt like he couldn't breathe. Too much dust. Too much dirt. "What?" His face appeared a few feet from the hole, looking up at Sherlock in pure shock. "I-I think I misheard you," his voice was shaky, struggling to get past the lump in his throat. "Daughter?" He tilted his head slightly to the side, his lips pressed together. "Sarah's pregnant?" The tears in his eyes were unavoidable and he quickly ran his dust shirt sleeve over his eyes. "Sherlock, I swear to fucking God if you are making this up..."
"Yes, pregnant. Five months along. Do you want to see her? I have the sonogram in the car..." Sherlock trailed off and looked to Mycroft expectantly. No words needed to be exchanged and he turned his attention back to John. "It just isn't me you have to come back to now. I'm helping. Maybe you don't want to think of her but I am." He hadn't even realized it until now, but he had already become attached to the tiny baby girl in the picture and it wasn't even his. It was John's. The daughter of the man he loved. He knew in that instant, he would do anything for that little girl because her being hurt would hurt John and that's just something he couldn't bear. Christ, when had he become so sentimental?
Mycroft had turned to the car and pulled the sonogram from Sherlock's seat, moving toward the other man as he held the picture into the hole and it was quickly snatched.
John moved around slightly before finding his torch and flipping it on, looking at the picture and instantly letting out a small noise. "Oh, God." He took a shaky breath and looked up at Sherlock, a watery smile on his face. Baby. His baby. A little girl. He turned the torch off and held the picture against his armor, closing his eyes for a long moment. It was too much to think about, too much to process, and fuck he was suddenly nervous. "Fine. But I swear, Sherlock, if we don't get Blackford out then I'm not leaving." He shoved the sonogram through the opening and watched Mycroft grab it roughly. "Careful, don't bend it," he snapped instantly. That was the only picture he had of his little girl.
Sherlock smirked a bit. He played to win and he played for keeps. "I'll find a way in John. You know how relentless I am my dear doctor." He smirked again and then looked to whoever had spoken to him before. "Now, how about those maps...hm?"
Hollman stepped forward with a warm smile on his face, motioning his head toward a table near an Army vehicle. "We're pretty sure we've found the safest way in about half a mile to the southwest. The section that feeds into this tunnel hasn't collapsed yet so once you get in it should be a straight shoot to Doc and Blackford. The problem is getting Blackford out. His leg is trapped under some rubble so you will have to help Doc move it. I assume you will carry his backpack and he will carry Blackford the same way out. If there is another collapse you are probably trapped for good so be careful. Don't bump walls." He was shoving armor against Sherlock's chest, placing a helmet haphazardly on his head. "Don't touch anything, really." He placed a torch in Sherlock's hand. "And don't kill the batteries or you're fucked." After a long pause, his gaze locked on the only connection they had to John and the other soldier, he met Sherlock's gaze. "And take care of Doc."
Sherlock blinked at the armor in his hands. Did he really have to wear this? He supposed he was in a war zone. He strapped it on; it was a bit small on him and didn't cover his entire torso. He gave the solider a cocky smirk and wink. He walked over to Mycroft. "If John and I don't make it...make sure his daughter is taken care of." He met his older brother's eyes briefly and then walked back over to the map and took a moment to commit it all to his memory.
Mycroft met his eyes, nodding slightly and watching his younger brother hesitantly.
"Right then." Hollman slipped his helmet on and grabbed his gun, nudging Sherlock with a half smile. "Let's go, civilian." He moved in the direction of the tunnel entrance, not bothering to look back as he spoke into a radio piece attached to his helmet. "Going in to get Doc. One stubborn as fuck civilian. Doc's fiancé." He paused and chuckled softly. "No, he did good. We all knew he had it in him." The conversation died after that, Hollman occasionally glancing over his shoulder at Sherlock before they arrived at the entrance to the tunnel. He slung his gun over his right shoulder and ripped the door open, looking down. "Straight drop, about seven feet, and then you're in. See you soon."
Sherlock snorted at being called a civilian. He barely listened to the solider as he followed after. So hot. How did John work in this desert sun day in and day out? He dropped down in, landing in a crouched position and one hand in the dirt. He stood carefully and began walking, briskly but not a fool's pace. Too much was at stake to screw up. He turned on his only source of light to occasionally make sure he wouldn't run into a wall. Eventually he found John and the other solider. He tried to talk but coughed instead. Dirt and grime tasted bitter in his mouth. He gave a smirk to John, eyebrows raised as if asking if he was ready to do this. There wasn't time for a heartfelt reunion.
The footsteps alerted John to Sherlock's presence before he finally came into view. "This rock needs to be moved to my left. Not too fast but it has got to be clean." He gripped the rock with a warm smile in Sherlock's direction before turning his gaze to the soldier on the ground. "Okay Blackford. Stay calm and don't move. We are almost out, okay?" There was a weak groan in response. John's gaze turned back to Sherlock. "Ready?"
Sherlock merely nodded and gripped the other side of the rock. He lifted with a small grunt and when John was ready, he set it down at the same time as the army doctor. He took a moment to catch his breath and then picked up John's pack. He shouldered and had to make a few adjustments so it would fit his lanky firm a little more comfortably. He coughed on the dust once more and spit it out but managed to find his voice this time. "We'll have to walk single file. You take your wounded man here first and I'll be right behind you."
John nodded in agreement; turning his back to Sherlock to crouch down near the injured soldier. "Alright Blackford, I'm going to pick you up. I'm going to carry you over my right shoulder, okay?" A small agreement escaped from the dark and John nodded, working his hands under Blackford's shoulders. It took a bit of maneuvering but John finally had the soldier over his right shoulder, his arm wrapped around the young man's torso. Blackford's hands clutched at John's belt and he rested his head against John's back.
"Good catch, Doc. He's a looker," Blackford's voice was weak but he was clearly smiling.
"Thanks, I like to think I'm the luckiest bastard alive," John replied as he started moving forward, his free hand holding his torch in front of them so he wouldn't bump into any walls.
Sherlock wasn't a modest man by any means, but he found it strange all of John's men kept commenting on his looks. Or maybe he just didn't understand military camaraderie. Between the body army, helmet and the pack he began to slow down his pace. God, this was all so heavy. He considered himself to be in pretty good shape, but there was a lot of weight on his body right now. He had an all new respect and admiration for what John did out here every day. He kept track of the army doctor until he went around the bend and he was left in darkness. It was fine. The bend was about thirty paces in front of him, so he didn't turn on his torch. He got about half way there and tripped over a protruding rock. He leaned back, so he wouldn't fall on his face. However, he hadn't corrected for the weight of the bag on his back and he ended up falling backward instead. He slammed into a wall and the ground above him began to shake almost immediately. Dust and debris fell around him and then he heard a loud rumble. The turn John had just taken, caved in. Well, at least nothing heavy fell on him and most likely not on the men in front of him. However, now he was trapped. Perfect.