Craig's truck lurched over yet another pot hole, jittering uncomfortably. John was clutching his sides- he hadn't laughed this much in a long, long time.
"… And that was the best goddamned meal I've ever had."
They didn't trust John with much other than getting food and holding doors, but with a little pressing, he could get anyone to crack a joke or two.
Well, not that it took long to crack Craig open. Jokes were all that he was made of.
"And you know, the worst part of all of that is that it's true," He chortled, pulling his hair out from his eyes as he swerved into another lane on the freeway- Angela always drove like she was being chased, but at least she knew what she was doing. John didn't know how thoroughly they did these things in America, but he doubted Craig had ever passed a driving test.
"Say, uh, Will, where did you come from?"
He thought for a moment.
"Wisconsin."
Craig seemed to know the place.
"Awh, yeah- man, this one time when me and some buddies were in Wisconsin…"
They were driving to the border of Georgia, just he and John, to- John wasn't entirely sure, but it had something to do with some delivery of technology to a distant outpost of- again, he wasn't sure. John's assignment, as he understood it, was to stay the fuck in the car and wait for Craig to finish business.
Which would have been intolerable if the ride hadn't been so refreshingly hilarious. Craig had that sort of way about him- he filled the silence comfortably with raunchy jokes and a constant stream of- of talking. John hadn't heard anyone talk this much since his days in the army. It made him feel both alienated and at home- these people, these sorts were more his type, people he knew how to deal with, but they weren't what he'd gotten used to for a year and a half. They weren't murder cases and heads in the fridge and detectives, consulting or otherwise.
He had to remember how he fit.
And he'd told a few jokes of his own- war shenanigans, practical jokes that he'd had to filter under a friend of mine… They tossed stories at one another, embellishing them where they needed, outright lying whenever the story called for it. Craig, John assumed, more than himself.
Craig turned the radio to a bluegrass station the moment they crossed the border into Alabama- He didn't seem to truly enjoy the music, but found it funny.
It was one of the longer drives he's had in a while- the last long ride he'd taken was to Baskerville. It's awkward, driving with Sherlock, because it's exactly the same as living with him, just in a smaller space- of course no one spoke to each other and Sherlock refused to drive with the radio on, so the claustrophobic silence drove John up the wall. Rest Area stops were scheduled according to the Fibonacci sequence, which must have been orchestrated for the sole purpose of pissing John off.
"-And this bitch gets out of the car in the middle of the freeway-"
They're in the middle of nowhere- the middle of nowhere in America is different from the middle of nowhere in England. It's somehow just more American- everything is preceded by the feeling of being in a foreign place, with foreign trees and hills and power lines. He supposed that he was allowed this feeling, even as Will Sigerson- Wisconsin was nothing like Georgia, he was fairly certain of that. Still, John has a sense that they're not out here for much of a reason at all- he feels a bit put on. He can't refuse good conversation, though, so he'll have to deal with it when they get to- wherever it is they're going.
It's dusk by the time they get there- it's not dark, per se, just dim under the shadows of the tall trees around them. The road stopped in the middle of an oblong clearing- a clump of four houses were about twenty metres from where the car sat, idling.
"All right, well," Craig started, turning off the car and pocketing the keys. "I won't be long."
John laughed- it was harsher than the ones they'd shared in the car.
"Mmmm… No."
He stepped out of the car along with Craig, who scowled expressly.
"Will- You really don't need to go, I'm just picking something up."
"You said before that you had to deliver something."
Craig dragged a hand over his face.
"Look, Will- Just stay in the car. Don't make this awkward. Okay?"
John could feel his anger bubbling up- he controlled himself, setting his jaw as he opened the car door and stepped out.
Craig threw up his hands in defeat.
"Jesus Christ. Whatever- fine."
John followed him as the younger man hopped up the patio two steps at a time, jiggling the entire door until the lock popped open and let them in. Craig let him in, sweeping the area with an extravagant wave of his arm.
"See? There's nothing in here. I was supposed to drive you somewhere and back for a few hours to get you out of their hair for a bit while they do something important. Just- get back in the car. Let's go."
He kept the door open, expecting John to take the hint- they were done here, they were getting in the car and going home.
Instead, John wandered into the kitchen, following... something disconcerting.
"We found this place a few months back- cleared out, but with lots of documents left behind. It's nothing. An old, abandoned shack."
Nothing on the counters, in the cabinets… Trying to keep as alert as possible, John looked around the kitchen and its bare appliances.
He opened the fridge.
Checked the stove.
Opened the microwave…
Still warm.
A single Hot Pocket leaking cheese on a paper plate.
He took the plate out of the microwave, letting the smell out at the same time.
"What's tha-"
Craig has peered into the kitchen, but now his eyes were wide.
"Oh, Shit."
John set the plate back on the table, following Craig as he bolted out the door and towards the car-
A low, deep rumble from behind them.
The glare of headlights in the near-dark, lighting up the road about half a mile off.
John glanced at Craig, who suddenly seemed very scared.
"Oh, fuck."
"Wh-"
"Hide. Now."
John ran to the nearest enclosure large enough for the two men to crouch behind relatively undetected- behind a rank-smelling garbage hut- thankfully, Craig had enough sense to follow.
"You weren't expecting them?"
Craig was still trying to catch his breath.
"No! I was supposed to bring you somewhere to get you out of the way, not right into the thick of it."
"Do you have a gun?"
Craig sucked on his teeth, unwilling to answer. Finally-
"Maybe it's just the police?"
John looked around at the miles of forest that separated them from any sort of civilisation.
"Oh, yeah, a neighbour must have tipped them off."
"I don't know! We're trespassing, they could have-"
"Shh. They're getting out of the car. Do you have a gun or not?"
"It's in the truck. Under the seat."
It was John's turn to rub his face in exasperation.
"Well that doesn't help us, at all. What made you think this was a good idea at all? 'Oh, Craig, take Will somewhere to keep him out of the way.' 'Oh, I know, I'll drive him three fucking hours to Moriarty's doorstep!' "
He realised his mistake as soon as he'd said it. So did Craig- his eyes narrowed, visible even in the dark.
"… Whose?"
"Eyy! Who's truck is this?"
They quieted- John listened to the footsteps crunching in the gravel.
"Euhh, maybe Murray's here."
"That ain't his truck."
"Well, I dunno, whose is it then?"
There were two men- one huge, both armed. One of them held a pizza- the other had drawn a pistol from the back of his jeans. With a decent gun, John could probably take them.
Without the gun, not so sure.
These two men walked around the truck, peering into windows, trying to open the doors- Still suspicious, the smaller of the two suggested that they check inside, just in case. No need to be hasty, he said.
He unlocked the door and turned the front room lights on- Craig and John were in the unfortunate position of right in view from this position, just moments away from the line of light that the front picture window cast on the ground.
John held his breath. The larger of the two- the one with the gun- lingered at the doorway, scanning the yard for something out of place before opting instead to keep watch on the truck, leaning against the house.
John bit his lip.
"Okay, so- our options."
He spoke quieter than a whisper, right into Craig's ear. Thankfully, Craig followed suit.
Craig made a face in thought.
"We could make a run for it."
"No. Doors are locked- it'd take too long. They'd be on top of us in seconds. They know to shoot at the tires."
"How can you tell?"
John gave him a glare in response.
"No, we'll have to…"
He looked around, from the empty window to the man on the patio-
"Sammy, they're in here!"
The large guy re-drew his gun, jumping into the house.
"Now."
John led the way, crouching as he ran before he dove behind the truck- Craig unlocked the door farthest from the house, and John slid in, Craig following.
John reached under the seat as Craig fumbled with his keys- he was trying to be too quick, he was scared and turning inarticulate.
"Slow down, Craig. Just- turn the truck on and go."
"Slow down- There's no rush-"
The engine sputtered, and a sense of dread hung over them for three precious moments-
Four-
Almost five…
It roared to life and Craig threw it in reverse, turning it around one hundred and eighty degrees before slamming it into drive and down the gravel path as fast as the car would allow, scraping across the side of the other car as he passed it.
John had found the gun- a dusty but fully-loaded .22 calibre revolver. It was a beginner's gun- John would be able to use it to protect himself and Craig, but not at a distance, and not for very long.
Next to him, Craig was filling the silence.
"- They weren't supposed to be there, There's never been anyone any time we ever go there- Dammit, Will, Dammit, dammit-"
"Craig, calm down. Just focus on getting to the interstate as fast as you damn well can."
"- Calm down?! We were getting shot at! They had guns, they could have shot us-"
"You're supposed to be used to this sort of thing! You do this all the time-"
"I don't! I'm the personable guy! I distract people while everyone else gets into the fights! I don't do combat! That's why I'm here and not over in Atlanta- they wanted me gone as much as you!"
He took a few struggled breaths, swerving onto the onramp. John looked behind him- they might have gotten lucky.
"What about you? Why the hell are you suddenly Mr. Calm? You work in advertising."
"Craig, stay on the road. I think we've lost them."
"See! This is what I'm talking about!"
Speeding around a herd of semis, Craig weaselled his phone out of his back pocket, tapping blindly but expertly at it as he paid attention to passing the car in front of him.
"Yeah, Angela-"
From where John was sitting, he could hear a lot of noise on her end.
"What? I can't hear you."
Static yelling, followed by what sounded like- gunshots.
"I- What?"
More yelling- he grunted in affirmation, told her they'd be there, and hung up.
"What's up?"
John had waited four minutes before he bothered to ask- Craig didn't really look up to conversation right now.
"They're in trouble, they need us. They've even got Jen in there."
"The other three usually do the fighting?"
"Yeah. I distract, Jen hacks. They shoot. I'm in your boat- I got dropped here for them to look after, I just turned out to be useful. We all thought you were good for nothing."
"Well, I'm sorry I proved you wrong."
"Hell, I don't mind. Now I know who to hide behind when we go and cover their asses."
Craig slowed down when they crossed the border of Georgia, but he was still chattering nervously.
"- They were both huge, too- well, you saw them, those hunkering pieces of meat and metal that were so close to killing us with their bare hands-"
John drifted in and out of focusing on him- he was breaking down the gun in his lap that had probably been unused under that seat for months, checking to make sure it even worked while he had a bit of downtime.
"- And now we gotta go right into the belly of the god-damned beast and pull the professionals out? What the actual fuck? I suppose they'll be pretty damn glad that you turned out to be Vin Diesel, man, 'cause Jen n' I are pretty damn hopeless with shit like this…"
He flipped on the radio, turned the channel a few times, then turned it back off.
"Craig. Calm down. Just focus on driving."
John had seemed to gain, if not Craig's respect, than his suspicion that he may be something more- he stopped talking, paying close attention to the road.
This lasted all of two minutes.
"Who are you?!"
Lying came pretty easily to John, when he was already lying about the rest of his life.
"Someone who plays a lot of videogames. Told my ex-wife that'd come in handy."
Craig laughed- John knew that he didn't buy it but he stopped asking about it, which was just as well.
John turned the radio back on to an alternative rock station and they drove back to Atlanta in relative silence.
Craig wanted to park right in front of the warehouse, but John ordered against it.
"You don't want to let what might be the only getaway vehicle we have sit right outside their front door for sabotage. Here- right here. That's good."
Here was a block from the abandoned box of a building- away from residential areas, and easy to run to from a rather main-looking entrance.
There weren't many lights on outside- just a grid of lampposts that had long since fallen into disuse, so getting into the building shouldn't be too difficult unless there were sentries. Which John doubted, but could not exactly prove nor disprove given his dearth of information on the entire situation.
He ran through a comfortably familiar mental checklist- he'd slipped back into an older version of himself, and while he didn't have a group of soldiers to command or any real objectives to accomplish in the present moment the feeling was closer than he'd been in a long while to exhilaration.
"Okay, let's go."
Craig seemed reluctant- John looked at him for a long moment.
"Do you want to stay in the car?"
Craig shrugged the question off-
"Fuck, well, no..."
John wasn't too convinced, but he'd take it.
"Well that's good to hear. Our friends- no, your friends need help. Friends help people, they don't- hole up in the bunker when they're needed most."
He hadn't been Captain Doctor John Watson for a long time now- really Captain, not just pulling rank- and it felt great to be the one in the position of power again.
"We only have one gun."
"Right now, we do. Later on, who knows. Just follow me. Alright?"
Craig nodded, stepping out of the car.
"Okay. Just stay right behind me. Keep a look out if you want, but be as quiet as you can. Do you know the layout of this building at all? Where they could be?"
"They'll be in the eastern half, where the offices were. The second floor."
"Well, Craig, you picked a lucky place to park- that's our entrance."
Tony was behind a desk, reloading his handgun- Mary was in favour of something a little showier. She was visibly angry- She shot better when she was angry, she explained once, and so she kept her mind on things that pissed her off.
He'd never seen her miss a shot, so he supposed he didn't have the right to argue.
"She did call them, didn't they?" Tony waited until she was looking at him to start talking in a muted Spanish. Barely a whisper- they could read each other's lips and expressions well enough by this point.
They had hid themselves in an office in the corner, seeking protection and time to breathe and reload. Eight men were in the hallway, being anything but inconspicuous. They could hear them speaking on the radio to each other- plan was to either kill them or collect the valuables and meet at the airport.
Mary quirked a smile at their confidence in killing them.
"She said she did."
"It's been a fuck of a long time- where the hell could Craig have gone to take them this long?"
"Maybe they're not coming."
"Craig wouldn't do that. He'd waffle around for three hours but he wouldn't not show up if Ang called him. He's coming, Mary."
One could only hope.
Tony quirked an eyebrow, gesturing to the open door. Ladies first.
Mary gave a single quick nod, swung the semi-automatic rifle over her shoulder, and preceded him into the hallway with a few ear splitting bursts.
Jen was having a hell of a time trying to hold the gun Angela had shoved into her hands- it had terrible weight for something so small and was not at all comfortable to keep in her hands, but she supposed it protected her when she needed it to.
If she needed it to.
"Shoot their legs if you don't want to kill them," Angela instructed when she reloaded the pistol for her. "But they're shooting for your head."
So she shot at their legs- and if they kept shooting, Angela would finish the job.
Jennifer's job was to make her way over to the selection of offices in the east hallway, find the database, download it onto her own hard drive and destroy the original. It seemed pretty silly, really over-theatric, with the scores of henchmen and guns and new cars covered with plastic on the main floor. She just needed to transfer some files and break a computer.
Angela's job was to make sure she got there.
Tony got them in here- Mary was going to get them out.
Which was proving to be a little harder than they'd first expected.
And where was Craig? And Will?
" 'S not clear yet in the east hallway," the gruff voice on the other end of Angela's phone told them. They heard the gunshots in real life just before they heard them again on the phone. "Where the fuck are those two?"
Angela scowled into her headset, opting (as she had for the past hour) to ignore the question.
"Well clear a pathway for us to get up there, at least," she ordered, pushing Jennifer behind a corner as three men filed out of the room down the hall.
"God damn it, Craig!"
Craig was in a worse and worse state the closer they'd gotten to the entrance, but John supposed that was to be expected.
John himself was feeling uneasy about the whole thing- he didn't know anything about the operation, the building, the enemy- he didn't know where he was going and where the others could possibly be. The cylinder was full, but that didn't give him much faith at all in protecting the both of them with the gun fate had given him- not with the amount of gunfire that was sounding in there.
Well, he'd done with far worse.
He could only hope that at least one of the the big, semi-automatic sounding firearm was on their side. He could imagine Angela ploughing through a few thugs with something like that, the same smile on her face that she gets when she runs over the curb throwing the van in reverse.
Under the cover of darkness, John crept behind parked cars and bins to the Eastern doorway, glancing back every so often to make sure that Craig was still behind him. The poor kid looked white as a sheet, and within reason- gunshots echoed sporadically through boarded windows.
It came to John that maybe it was a bit too much to ask of the kid to have a bit of bravery in the face of certain danger.
"Look, Craig- you don't have to go in. We only have one gun and six bullets, not exactly prime conditions. You can go back and keep the car running for an easy getaway, that's just as good."
As pale as he was, as wide as his eyes, the determination Craig set in his jaw in response was enough. Respectful.
"No, I'm going in."
"All right, well- good. That's good to hear."
Under the black shadows of the awning, right at the front door. John tried the handle- unlocked.
Craig grinned.
"All right, Rambo, let's go."
Tony's bleeding through his muted green shirt, but he doesn't seem to be in pain. He's not shot, then- else, he's just not paying attention to it.
Both are equally likely.
"How many left?"
"By my counts, five. But I don't know where the fifth is."
"We can disable as many as possible, then, and just cover each other to get to the room."
There's the sound of Angela's gun, not too far off. Tony scowled, musing aloud-
"- The fuck are they thinking?"
Mary had no answer for him.
"They're probably trying to get in quickly, before they catch on."
"There's nothing else on this floor, I'm sure they know where we're going by now, Mar'."
"All the more reason to act now. I'll take the three on the left, you take the one in the room opposite and look out for the fifth. Okay?"
"Mary-"
"Go."
He obeyed her with less than a nod, following Angela's gunshots with his own, shooting the forth occupant in the kneecap and disarming him before running to cover Mary- she'd shot to kill, three bodies in a musty kitchenette.
"Here you go," she offered, tossing a handgun his way. He caught it, inspected it-
"Seemed like something you'd like," she smiled. She'd been right- he stored it in the spot in his jeans on the small of his back, pressing comfortably against his skin.
"Still on the lookout for that mythical fifth," he reminded her- she nodded. As if she needed reminding.
"Mary? Tony?"
That was Jennifer- Angela was heard moments after, shutting the younger woman up.
Tony and Mary rounded the corner to find the other two- Jennifer looked frenzied, Angela dangerously calm.
"Secure?"
Angela only spoke in one-word sentences when she could.
Mary answered.
"There's a fifth."
Angela bit her lip.
"Forget them for now. Let's finish this get out of this damn place."
There was a noise- by the stairwell. It was opposite the way they were supposed to go, but the soft-spoken murmurs were nothing to ignore- not with a fifth person with unknown whereabouts in the area.
A quick nod by Angela and the three armed ones readied their weapons.