Sherlock story
Deleted Memories, Chapter 56
Warning: post Reichenbach spoilers. Hope you enjoy.
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WARNING: This chapter contains scenes that have descriptions of captivity and, torture, and all things not nice. Thanks.
**Rating temporarily M**
Deleted Memories of Abduction
Novák slummed against Sherlock's body, dead. Sherlock with difficulty rolled him off. He shakily removed the handcuff from the one hand it was still attached to.
Sherlock tried to stand; pain and dizziness exploded. The room swum before him. He closed his eyes; opened them and, taking a breath, tried again. He groaned with pain as his hand instinctually held his side.
Once standing, he glanced at his hand where he felt the sticky wetness. 'Oh stabbed,' he thought clinically.
He looked at the blood covered metallic blade on the floor.
Sherlock shook his head to clear the fog and groaned again. "Think," he said aloud.
He reached inside of the wetness and pressed with his hand, hard; he allowed himself a hollow scream.
A wave of nausea passed, and he tried to suppress the dry heaves swallowing hard, as he leaned his head against the wall for support. Sherlock closed his eyes. He knew time was against him.
"The phone," Sherlock thought.
He opened his eyes blinking away the sting of sweat mixed with blood.
Clumsy fingers stumbled inside of Novák's jacket, and found the phone. With trembling hands he tried to call with no results.
The screen was cracked.
He tried calling again the phone rang once, twice, three times.
"John picked up," Sherlock whispered a plea.
On the fourth ring, someone answered the line.
With a shaky voice, "J… J… John," Sherlock stammered.
"Hello… Hello… Sorry, I can't hear you mate…, call back." The call ended.
"No… John." Sherlock closed his eyes, as another wave of nausea hit.
John would not recognize the number. He would not know it was him. Emotions rolled through Sherlock, he pushed them back down, no time, "Try again," he told himself.
With trembling hands he hurriedly texted John.
"Please," Sherlock said, half plea, half prayer as he hit, send. Sherlock hoped that John had gotten the message. The phone beeped to show that the text got through.
Sherlock knew he had to move.
Sherlock swore in frustration. He hesitated a moment, then picked up Novák's large jacket, while he fixed his clothes best he could. He stumbled along holding on to the wall.
He tried to keep one hand on his abdomen to stop the flow of blood.
Sherlock moved.