Sherlock story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 10
Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to BBC along with the talented writers and amazing Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. No money was made. The story however is my original thought, and comes out of my overactive imagination. Other characters introduced are also mine.
** Thank you briongloid fiodoir, Prothoe, eohippus, ShiverandShamy, danishprince, hjohn302, Puky2012, socalrose, Voldemort101, and Jenna Yemowa for your latest reviews and PMs. Thank you christistina , Voldemort101, waterbaby, 84, Burning Phoenix, Jenna Yemowa, Peacefreakx3, and Nietzsches and for your review and PMs. I appreciate you! ** Edited: Welcome Trevor.
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Author's note: Thank you to the 735 readers of this story so far. Thank you for your support, It is encouraging. A special thank you to everyone who takes the time to comment or review or PM. It is encouraging as well as helpful.
Someone made a story request. Those of you who know me, know that as long as it will not interfere with the integrity of the story, I am happy to fulfill the request. You know who you are, look for it in the next few weeks. :)
T rated but some future chapters may be M.
Things you may need to know 1. Plaster is the same as bandage or, wound dressing2. Holiday can be interchanged with vacation 3. Throw a wobbly is to lose one's temper. 4. A car's boot is a car's trunk.
**Here we go!
Lots of Love, Zacha
"The very least you can do in your life is to figure out what you hope for. And the most you can do is
live inside that hope. Not admire it from a distance but live right in it, under its roof." ~ Barbara
Kingsolver- novelist
Current Day
Lestrade hung up the phone with shaking hands. He looked over the small space as he rose from his chair slowly. His coffee and half eaten food was forgotten. He stayed like that, his body frozen as his mind raced.
His eyes traveled around the room now but still he said nothing, saw nothing, still lost in his thoughts.
A slow smile spread across his face. "Son of a …" His words were interrupted as he hastily looked toward his bedroom. "Time to cut my holiday short," he thought out loud.
Lestrade frowned as he seemed to notice his appearance for the first time in days. He moved quickly toward the shower.
Current Day
John saw the agent approach the group and quickly ended his call. He jogged over to them with his phone forgotten in his hand.
John took the items out of the agent's hands without asking. No one stopped him.
"It's Sherlock's suit jacket. It's the one he wore that night…" John had to take a moment to get his emotions under control. "I'm sure of it Mycroft," he said now looking at Mycroft.
The agent also had the disassembled shoes of Sherlock. Someone had taken the time to take the heel apart and to take out the transmitter. Mycroft's eyes narrowed dangerously as he looked over the items.
"He was taken." John said needlessly.
"Yes, John," Mycroft answered just as needlessly.
"Why would someone take his shoes apart?" John wondered aloud.
"To examine the device. By that examination they would be able to make a determination of what kind of possible other devices we were capable of concealing on Sherlock. They probably removed his clothing if they have any sense what- so- ever." Mycroft commented absently while thinking.
"I know that you probably put something in his coat but he did not have his coat on the day of the explosion Mycroft."
"It wasn't in his coat John."
John frowned and decided that he did not want to know where Mycroft had put the other tracker. He knew that Sherlock would not have been happy to find out about the level of surveillance that his brother still maintained on him.
He also decided that if it helped to get his flatmate back, that he would personally kiss Mycroft for it. The shock on Mycroft's face because of such an act, would make his own personal trauma worth it.
Another agent ran up to Thomas. Thomas a minute later ran back to Mycroft and gave a report. "Mr. Holmes, a bloody plaster was found on the floor at the exit of the tunnel."
He now sat in the chair that had materialized behind him minutes ago. "They want him alive," he said to no one in particular. He could not afford to waste his energy. He had to plan. He understood clearly now that it was a game of chess. He also understood that the first move had already been made.
Mycroft Holmes took a deep breath and then became as still as a rock. He seemed to focus off in the distance. John had observed this twice before. He was entering his mind like Sherlock would do. Unlike Sherlock, who although it was unnecessary, preferred to close his eyes and had to subtly move his fingers; Mycroft was as still as a rock and his breathing slowed. He would also blink heavily at increments and when entering and exiting his mind.
John vaguely wondered something. If Sherlock's method of mind mapping involved a mind palace as his icon, what was Mycroft's icon, an entire country built in that incredible mind of his?
Mycroft suddenly blinked rapidly and looked around. He frowned. John swallowed hard. Whatever Mycroft had just figured out caused him to not be a happy person. Before John could question him, their attention was diverted.
He suddenly received a text.
Ping* Where is Mr. Holmes –IA
Mycroft thought for a moment. Making a decision his hands typed across the screen of his mobile. He hit send.
I am working on the answer. * Send
A moment of waiting
Ping*I will contact you soon.
Mycroft looked for a moment toward the phone in his hand frowning, and then he looked toward John.
"John, we have to talk."
He glanced at everyone around them. They all scattered a good distant away. Thomas returned to the site and started questioning a lower level agent against what was once the doorway to the building.
"John, I need to know everything that had occurred in my brother's life within the last year. Especially the things that he doesn't want me to know about."
"You both have a good relationship now. I would think that you know all of the important things. The things that he chose not to tell you… you know that I can't betray his confidence."
"Even if it means his life?"
John frowned at that.
"He was injured John. We don't yet know who took him, where they took him, why they took him, or what their intentions are."
John looked away toward the rubble for a moment. His mind and heart wrestled against each other. A decision was made. He looked at Mycroft warily. "What do you need to know?"
He looked at his phone then back to John, "Everything John, and I do mean… everything."
A/N: Let me know your thoughts and thanks for reviewing. One more chapter will be up in 24 hours or less.
LoL (Lots of Love)