A Gift and A Curse
Chapter 8
Jane sat in the Strangers' Room, sipping the orange juice in her hand. She was still, almost unnaturally so, there was no tremor in her hand or involuntary shaking in her leg. She felt calm and silently berated herself for her hysterical manner last night.
She could hear Mycroft pacing behind her. Her chair was positioned away from the door and right in front of Mycroft's desk, which he had occupied a couple of minutes previously.
That was until anxiety got the better of him and he began to ring his brother. Jane said nothing whilst Mycroft had rung Sherlock over and over again, each time resorting to swearing at him in an array of different languages.
At one point Jane even thought she heard Mycroft speaking Welsh.
Eventually she heard his sigh and heard the rustle of his jacket as he slipped his phone in his pocket. He sat down opposite Jane looking as tired as she felt.
"I'm afraid I simply cannot get hold of him."
"Did you honestly expect him to answer?" She said quietly, she tipped the rest of her drink down her throat. "What time is my…appointment?" She spoke with indifference, which actually made Mycroft feel oddly uneasy.
"Nine o'clock. Your consultant is Doctor Julia Harris. She may wish to talk you through the process although you may already know the effects of what will happen, I would advice you if you simply…sit through it."
"What name have you given them?"
"I…persuaded…them that a name wasn't necessary."
By 'persuaded', Jane knew he meant he'd paid them more than enough to allow it to swept under the carpet.
"Where is it? The clinic?"
The side of Mycroft's mouth twitched into a smile. "London."
"I'm not on a 'need to know basis' am I?"
"Precisely. I suggest you leave now to miss the worst of the traffic. I can't control everything that goes on in London."
Mycroft rose, he walked to the door and took Jane's jacket off the coat tree and stood by the door. Jane rose slowly, taking her time to place the glass on Mycroft's desk. She took deliberate steps towards the door and allowed Mycroft to help her with her jacket.
As he slipped the jacket over her shoulders, she whispered, almost inaudibly;
"Come with me?"
She expected Mycroft to immediately turn her down, stating that he had other business to attend to but he didn't. Instead, he spoke softly,
"Very well. There's a car waiting outside, I shall be out shortly. I just have to inform Sosa of my absence."
"Right, yes." Jane looked as if she was about to say something else but instead she turned on her heel, walked out of the Stranger's Room and outside to where the car was indeed parked. She slid in the back seat, leaving the door open for Mycroft to join her.
Sosa entered Mycroft's office just as he pulled a black cashmere coat on.
"Yes sir?"
"I will probably be absent for the next two or three hours Sosa, delay all my meetings."
"Very good, sir."
"I trust Isis is at the clinic?"
"Yes, sir. She left an hour ago. Did-," Sosa shifted uncomfortably. "Forgive the intrusion, sir, but, have you managed to contact Mr. Holmes?"
Mycroft shot Sosa a 'what do you think?' look.
"Ah. Do you wish for me to continue to contact him?"
Mycroft shook his head. "It would be a waste of energy."
"Yes sir."
Sosa left the room, already speaking to the Minister of Transport's secretary. Mycroft pulled his umbrella out of the stand and hook it on his arm. He toyed with the collar of his jacket for a few seconds, whilst his mind decided on one final attempt at contacting his brother.
One last try wouldn't hurt.
He pulled out his phone and sent one last text.
St. Benedict's Clinic
239 Bute Square
9 o'clock.
I can delay the consultant for twenty minutes, maximum.
MH
He slipped his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket. Now he had to deal with little brother's mistakes, again.
Someone was speaking, a woman was speaking, shouting, clapping and the sound was agonisingly magnified in his head. He tilted his head slightly, only an inch, but the sunlight caught him directly in the eyes.
He gasped through gritted teeth. And noticed the television was still on. Did he switch it on when came in? Or was it still on when he came in? The woman speaking was Connie Prince. Wasn't she dead?
His head pounded furiously, he had to take something to stop it, Paracetamol, Ibuprofen, Cocodomol, bloody hell, even cocaine would do.
He tried to push himself upwards but because of the fact that he'd all but passed out in the night, his left arm was dead. His face slammed back into the cushion ungracefully and he growled.
He decided to try a different approach to getting up, he rolled over. And, fell flat onto the floor having misjudged the distance.
"Oh for fu-" He murmured into the carpet.
It took exactly three minutes and two seconds for the feeling to return to his arm. He pushed himself up slowly. He stood in the same spot, swaying for a moment. He stumbled into the kitchen and started to rummage through the cupboards, looking for painkillers.
He pulled out Pot Noodles, beans, onions, spices and crisps trying to look for sodding painkillers. He had his head shoved halfway in the cupboard when someone slapped him hard on the shoulders.
He yelped and jolted his head up, hitting it painfully into the top of the cupboard. He clutched his head and he turned to face his attacker.
"Sherlock, you horrible young man! Where have you been all night?" Mrs. Hudson looked close to tears.
"I…went out." Sherlock rubbed his head. "Do you know where the painkillers are?"
Mrs. Hudson ignored Sherlock's question. "Jane was in such a state when you left! How could you do that to her? Why weren't you answering your phone last night? I was ringing and ringing you all night!"
Something in Sherlock's mind cleared. He shoved his hand in his pocket, pulling out his phone. He stood up, ignoring Mrs. Hudson's rant and headed straight for the second draw down. He pulled out the spare battery and shoved it in his phone.
Beside him, Mrs. Hudson ranted about how it was his fault that Jane was in such a state and that her hip hadn't given her this much jip in months. Sherlock didn't register her speech nor did he care because his phone had come back to life and he was reading through the messages send by his brother.
His heart plummeted to the bottom of his chest.
Sherlock Holmes your child is going to die tomorrow if you don't do anything to stop it.
MH
St. Benedict's Clinic
239 Bute Square
9 o'clock.
I can delay the consultant for twenty minutes, maximum.
MH
It was already five to nine.
"Sherlock? Sherlock? What does it say? Was Mycroft texting you? Well, I'd be surprised if he wasn't. Is Jane alright? Sherlock?"
Sherlock ran.