Sherlock story
Deleted Memories, Chapter 127
Warning: post Reichenbach spoilers. Hope you enjoy
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"It is interesting to notice how some minds seem almost to create themselves,
springing up under every disadvantage, and working their solitary but irresistible
way through a thousand obstacles."~Washington Irving
Sherlock pulled himself away from the wall. Thomas looked him over. Sherlock appeared disheveled and bruised with open wounds on his chin and lower lip. Unfortunately, it was nothing unusual considering the circumstances.
Still, something seemed out of place. Thomas frowned when he came to Holmes shirt. It was partially buttoned. A closer look and he noticed the missing buttons. He looked on the floor and saw buttons scattered.
He had witnessed the younger Holmes with much worse physical wounds smiling dismissively and walking away after telling everyone concerned that they were overreacting.
Usually, the everyone concerned was Doctor Watson and Mycroft Holmes.
Now that Thomas examined Holmes closer, he noticed various little things that disturbed him.
Holmes looked as if he was dressed in a hurry. He was physically shaking slightly.
Mr. Holmes was not the kind of man to be easily shaken.
Thomas mind turned.
Sherlock simultaneously eyed agent Thomas. Thomas had a bruised face and rumpled suit and hair.
Sherlock's eye stopped as it landed on Thomas' bloodied shirt.
He quickly shifted his gaze to Thomas' eyes.
"It's not my blood Mr. Holmes," Thomas reported.
Sherlock's released a breath and his lips became tight as he nodded once.
"Was that concern I saw on your face Mr. Holmes?" Thomas asked with a small smile.
"You imagined it, Thomas," Sherlock said quietly, he offered a brief small smile then looked away.
"Can you walk, Mr. Holmes?"
Sherlock nodded.
They walked toward the stairs. Sherlock was normally not affected in any way by dead bodies.
They passed Veselý men that were shot. One was a few flights of stairs down, the other two close to the entrance on the first floor. Sherlock made it a point to not look at them as they passed the bodies, Thomas noticed.
Thomas had been assigned to Holmes on and off for years. Something was wrong.
Thomas stopped and looked Sherlock in the eyes.
"Mr. Holmes, I don't know how to ask any other way," Thomas hesitated slightly, "were you… injured in any way that I am not aware of, do I need to know anything? Do you need an ambulance?"
Sherlock was silent for so long that Thomas started to feel uncomfortable. He debated whether or not he should press the point or simply start walking and tell Mycroft Holmes his suspicions.
Sherlock finally spoke. "Let's just say you have impeccable timing and leave it at that."
Thomas just frowned. He hesitated and opened his mouth to say something but Sherlock sensed his hesitancy and interrupted.
"Really, I'm… fine." Sherlock said sounding almost cheerful, as he again for the tenth time that day pushed everything unpleasant down. Ignoring and silencing the screaming voice in his head.
Thomas noticed and frowned at the sudden cheerfulness. Mr. Holmes did not do cheerful. Even if he did, Thomas thought that he was a little too cheerfully for a man who have been through so much.
Sherlock started to walk and Thomas followed slightly behind observing how Sherlock's body moved. His moments were stiff and guarded. Thomas knew that Mr. Holmes was not fine.
Thomas frowned; he discreetly needed to make a call to Mycroft.
As they walked away, Sherlock wondered where his phone was. It shocked him as he realized how much he needed to hear John's voice. He was surprised that someone had not notified John by now.
Someone he did not know and barely paid attention to handed Sherlock his retrieved phone.
He stood and walked a short distance to get some privacy to call John but stopped as a bout of nausea came again along with some dizziness. Sherlock stopped walking and quietly leaned against the building wall with his eyes closed.
Thomas frowned and stayed physically close to Sherlock.
Anyone who even thought of looking Sherlock's way after looking at Thomas changed their mind. Thomas did not bother to press the subject of Holmes going to the hospital. It was pointless and he did not feel it safe sending Holmes away without more backup arriving.
No one but Doctor Watson would be able to change his mind. Thomas folded his arms and glared at the people present. He kept watch over Sherlock while he continued to lean on the wall. He considered it his duty until Doctor Watson arrived.
The ambulances finally arrived. Sherlock would not allow emergency personnel to touch or examine him. He would not even allow treatment of the few cuts and bruises that were visible.
Sherlock did accept bottled water and pain medication from Thomas, to everyone's surprise, but nothing else.
Thomas allowed no one except emergency personnel to come close to Holmes.
Sherlock was tired. Where was John, he wondered as he felt the nausea dissipating.
Forensic were there now. Anderson stopped when he noticed Sherlock.
Thomas saw Anderson walking as he smiled gleefully at Sherlock. Anderson, after noticing Sherlock's distress and appearance smile widen, as he walked over with the thought of tormenting him .
Thomas resisted the almost overwhelming urge to strike the man and looked him in the eyes giving warning in case he thought about saying anything.
Anderson noticed the look on Thomas' face and stopped walking suddenly then quickly looked away. Anderson then walked briskly into the building.
Sherlock opened his eyes in time to observe Anderson's expression.
The thought of Anderson at the crime scene made Sherlock alternate between anger and nausea. A crime scene where he was considered the victim. Second thought, maybe the blow to the head was the cause of the nausea.
Sherlock could not help but notice how his mood was fluctuating severely, he was physically beyond exhausted, he was injured again, and he suspected a very mild concussion.
John would not be happy.
He deduced himself and did not like what he concluded.
His lack of desire to go to the A/E had kept him from sharing his self observations with anyone. He would wait for John.
He thought maybe this once; he would listen to his body warnings and rest for a few days in body, even mind. For the first time in his adult life, Sherlock was looking forward to the dull. At least, for forty-eight hours as long as he rested in his flat.
Well, maybe twenty- four hours, he corrected himself.
He would not even yell at John this time when he hovered.
At least he would try not to.
Sherlock felt better now, he looked at Thomas who nodded then started walking gain. He dialed the phone.
John seemed to have some kind of Sherlock's in trouble radar. Again, this made Sherlock wonder why he had not called.
He wondered briefly how he would tell John of yet another attempt to kidnap him.
With maybe the exception of his own father, Sherlock did not feel things like hate. He decided long ago that it was a distracting emotion, and purely illogical. And, even with his Father he had to privately admit that it was more anger than hate.
However, he now felt the long forgotten but familiar sensation rise up in him. It was directed at Ayyad.
He was glad he did not have a gun and the man in front of him now. For the first time in his life, he was not sure that he would be able to control himself.
The phone line rang several times, no one answered.
Sherlock abruptly stopped walking. They had reached a few yards outside of the isolated building.
He frowned and tried again.
Several cars were pulling up. Agents stepped outside. Thomas' phone rang. He picked it up and spoke to whoever was on the other line.
Sherlock for the second attempt tried calling the landline in the kitchen in their flat. No answer.
Sherlock's heart rate picked up slightly. Everyone around Sherlock seemed to melt away.
Sherlock tried John's mobile phone again, this time he let it ring until his voice mail picked up.
Thomas' body stiffened suddenly as he listened to the caller on the other end of his phone line. Thomas' mouth was partially opened as he looked at Holmes. He continued to talk on the phone as he walked slightly away while keeping Holmes in sight.
Sherlock never noticed because he was distracted as he picked up his phone to call Mrs. Hudson.
Again, no answer only a ringing phone.
That was the push that sent Sherlock over the edge. Anger, fear, pain, and rage that he had been pushing down for hours came bubbling up.
His emotions came spilling through without him even recognizing it at first. His perfectly constructed mask of emotional indifference slipped completely off and his normally tightly controlled passionate nature came spilling through.
Sherlock was normally not one for profanity. That is why he wondered who would be ill mannered enough to be cursing in public in such a manner. His mind was fully occupied. He was momentarily so disconnected from his emotions and body, he never noticed that the words were emanating from his own lips out of frustration.
Thomas frowned as he looked in Holmes direction but said nothing as he continued his whispered conversation.
Sherlock punched in another number. It was for Lestrade's personal mobile. He did not realize that he was holding his breath.