Chapter 7
Roll
Sherlock tucked and rolled, hitting the slope and careening into the pitch dark threshold of steep mountain forest. It had occurred briefly to him as Sherlock dove over the edge that there could be anything from a plunging cliff face to a slope of jagged boulders awaiting him there in the darkness. There was a sharp pain in his shoulder as he impacted against the mountain's shoulder and he continued to roll. Finally, thankfully, the terrain flattened out somewhat and Sherlock struggled to stop the momentum his body had carried through the tumble. Far off to his right he heard the familiar, sickening crack of breaking bone. He became aware that somewhere beside him was another body that was also struggling to end the furious heel-over-head roll. He reached out, snagging a coat collar and they fell together, sliding to a stop among the dense pine brush.
"Sher_sherlock?" John's voice gasped in the darkness.
"Yes." Was all the detective could manage to whisper through his strangled breathing. He brushed a mess of leaves out of his face and peered through the darkness. Almost ten feet away lay the man John had been struggling with, deathly still.
Sherlock's eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness and he stared forward at John's face.
"Oh my god." John said. In that moment as he fell backwards he'd thought for sure, this was it. He would die. In the same instant he saw Sherlock, falling forward, reaching. No, no, no! Then John felt his heart stop as Sherlock had leaped after them. The next thirty seconds was mess of limbs, gravity, pine and dirt and terror.
Now, Sherlock sat on his knees, close before him in the twilight with one hand holding John's coat collar in a stony death grip as if he were afraid to let go. He was shaking, looking at him with a helpless, lost, still fearful expression.
"Jesus, Sherlock." John said. He sat up, threw his arms around the man who had just dove over the edge of a pitch dark cliff after him and buried his face in the crook of Sherlock's neck. Without thinking Sherlock reached back, bringing John's body firmly against him, arms locking around his waist. He felt John's rough, unsteady breathing and relaxed, letting the rhythm his steady, thrumming, living heart calm his nerves. John became speechless, overwhelmed by what had just happened and what was happening now.
In all his life John had never imagined that anyone would follow him over the edge of a cliff without a second thought and it was here, now, in this moment of panic and disaster, cradled in the arms of the only true friend that he'd ever had, John Watson realized that he was deeply, irrevocably, terrifyingly in love.
"You could have died." He whispered and felt Sherlock's arms tighten around him. "What_ what, Sherlock, could you possibly have been thinking. That could have been a death drop, anything could have been over the edge."
The sound of sirens was loud now and from up the steep slope Sherlock could see flashing lights as they slowed to a stop.
"I knew what was on the other side." Sherlock's voice was defensive.
"No, ya didn't." John laughed.
"Yes, I did. You."
Emotion lodged in John's throat.
Light flooded over them. John leaned back and Sherlock let his arms fall. They looked up into the light, a high powered hand held search light. Neither of them could see who was behind it and they shielded their eyes.
"Glad you weren't far! S' he alive?" Greg Lestrade called, shining the light on the unconscious man beside them. John went to him and felt for a pulse.
"I've got a pulse! He's going to need to be lifted out!" John called. The man's leg was stuck out at an unnatural angle. Sherlock got shakily to his feet and ran a hand through his hair, looking around. He was dazed. Greg threw down two thick ropes to help them climb back to the road. Some EMT's were making a slippery, clumsy decent down the hill to greet their unconscious patient. Up top were two ambulances, a fire truck, a few police car's, Mycroft's vehicle and the Detective Inspector's car. The sheer amount of people was overwhelming at the moment and John took a deep breath. When they got to the top, Mycroft was waiting for them. He raised an eyebrow at the state of their clothes.
"We've recovered the lorry that went over and are in the process of tidying up the weigh station scene. Unfortunately most of the footage will most likely be compromised from the fall." He said.
"Officer Gregory Norman is not a real metropolitan police officer." Sherlock said.
"Obviously." Mycroft responded. "Otherwise we would have had him in custody before now."
"That's how they've been getting away with it." John muttered. "Steal a cop car, steal a uniform, and you steal the authority that comes with it."
"Precisely." Sherlock said, turning away. "I have to have a word with Lestrade." He walked off, leaving John and Mycroft.
"What happened?" Mycroft asked sharply.
"Not sure what happened on Sherlock's end. I got stuck in the storage compartment of the lorry and almost went over the edge with it. Got attacked by that big bloke down there Sherlock showed up in time to see us go over backwards."
Mycroft frowned. "Why does he look like he went over with you?"
"Because_ he did. He sort of jumped after us."
Mycroft's mouth tightened into a firm line and he looked up, shaking his head. "While you were being abducted Sherlock managed to render one man unconscious, blind a man in one eye, nearly crush another man's wind pipe and steal a Bentley Continental GT. It pains me to think of him diving off a pitch dark cliff face."
John sighed. "Me too. He said he knew what was on the other side."
"Of course he did." Mycroft said, staring at John strangely. His phone rang and he turned away to take the call. John walked off to find Sherlock.
"Bianca Westrom is being released. She'll get off with some community service and a bit of restitution for her part played in Saul Westrom's game." Sherlock said happily, sitting on the back of Lestrade's car. "Ludovico Benici is being arrested. Balance is restored."
John looked him up and down and couldn't help but smile. Sherlock was covered from head to foot in pine needles and leaves.
"You look much the same." Sherlock said, looking John over once.
John chuckled, glancing down at himself. It was true.
The journey back home was long and tedious. John and Sherlock both began to doze in the back of Greg Lestrade's car. John had drifted off thinking that all of it was almost funny. Tonight he had quite literally fallen head over heels in love.
Sally Donovan drove and the Detective Inspector sat in the passenger seat, lost in thought. Sally looked at him.
"A few weeks ago, I told him that it was only a matter of time before he got his friend killed." She said quietly.
"Did you ever imagine Sherlock would go right with him if he did?" Greg replied.
Sally shook her head.
Greg frowned "Well, from the looks of it, he would. John went off the edge and from what was said, Sherlock went right after him."
They rounded a corner and in the back seat, John fell against Sherlock, who wrapped an arm lazily around his shoulders to steady him. John leaned into his hold, completely at ease.
Sally glanced in the mirror at them, half smiling. "He might be human after all."
Greg nodded, thinking about the events of the night. He'd feared the worst when they'd pulled up to see the still running Bentley and no other sign of Sherlock and John besides scuff marks in the dirt. Relief had flooded over when he'd spotted the two at the bottom on the slope, arms wrapped around one another and alive. The last few weeks had been a mess of frustration, confusion and tension. Now, as far as he was concerned, the hardest part was done.
They had been though miraculous cases, dangerous ones, strange ones and sometimes, like this case had been, all out chaotic ones where all a man could do was take a leap and hope for the best. Literally, as of tonight. Truly, there was never any telling what was in store when you worked with Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson.