Benedict story

Forgotten Memories, Chapter 35

A 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 for your latest reviews and PMs since the last post. Miriza, madscientistsuz , Socalrose , hjohn302 , gemstone1234 , hanging in there , and Taylor501 (thanks for commenting on each chapter,) Thanks. Love and cookies to all.

Thank you ; BritLitChick , Guest #3, Burning Phoenix, Jenna Yemowa , Warm Glow, Guest #1, Nietzsches , Guest #2 , hanging in there , eohippus, hjohn302, ShiverandShamy, Lunita28, Voldemort101, bruderlein, Prothoe, briongloid fiodoir, Puky2012, leyapearl , hjohn302, Kitiara88, Pencilx , MapleleafCameo , Prothoe, Warm-Glow, Jenna Yemowa, , BritLitChick, , Lanna-Nailo, Voldemort101, drpaz, Socalrose, dbz27, Prothoe, Esstell, Lunita28, Guest, Danishprince, ShiverandShamy , briongloid fiodoir, Isaldaria, hanging in there, Warm-Glow, Tammy, Taylor501, bruderlein, April29Roses, ShiverandShamy, christistina, waterbaby, 84, and Peacefreakx3 for your review and PMs. Thank you to all Guests.

Cyber blankets.

T rated but some future chapters may be M.

A/N: Important. Benedict will at times be referred to as Ben or Benedict since he believes that to be his name.

*Thanks so much for reading. Please do not forget to comment. *

For the "No WAY! You didn't!"; "…roller coaster...creeping up the steep slope…"; "30 hours is TOO. LONG."; "evil cliffie"; "stomach is in knots" ; and "evil Moriarty", this is for you.

I kept my promise gemstone1234. (Smile)

Something to hold you over. Love to you all.

"Our deeds determine us, as much as we determine our deeds."

~ George Elliot

Current Time

Current Day

Benedict had made his choice. The fired gun fell from his hand as he collapsed to the ground in pain.

Benedict's body buckled to the ground as he held his head. This was the most intense that the pain had been. It was debilitating.

Two guards lay dead in the room. There was one threat, a guard that was behind John, and about to shoot him; he was shot by Benedict. The other was behind Benedict; he was shot by John simultaneously.

John ran to Benedict. John gently raised Benedict's head and cradled it in his lap. He glanced around nervously.

What now?

They had to move but Benedict was in no condition at the moment. That was if he was even willing to come with him. He had not shot him, John conceded that that , at least, was a start.

John held Benedict as Ben looked up at him through pain-filled eyes. The pain was the cost of his disobedience and his questioning mind. His nose bled on his shirt ruining it. Too bad, it was a nice shirt. John frowned as he looked down at Sherlock. One hand still cradling his head, the other hand had the gun Myers had given him as he looked from Sherlock to the two doors in the room nervously.

The Doctor, after not seeing anyone, sighed and took a moment to concentrate on getting Sherlock to his feet. They had to start moving; it would not take long for someone to figure out that Benedict had not followed orders.

"John," John now looked into Sherlock's eyes with a concerned smile. "My name is John," he said again looking at Benedict with concern.

Benedict now blinked his eyes as he tried to focus on the man who held his head in his lap. He was glad to discover that the man had not shot him yet, apparently, he had made the right decision.

"You didn't shoot me?" John said as he applied slight pressure to Sherlock's nose.

"Obviously!" Ben said somewhat nasally as his own hands took over holding his nose. He meant to roll his eyes but with the pain, it came out as a facial grimace instead.

"I didn't shoot you, you didn't shoot me. Let's move on, shall we." Benedict realized that his words sounded sarcastic. He did not mean for them to, his words tended to sound sarcastic sometimes.

Ben looked at the man for his reaction. Instead of anger, the comment made the man smile.

John suddenly free hands did not notice that he subconsciously ran his finger through Sherlock's curly hair as he looked with concern. A part of John needed to touch his friend to convince himself that he was real, and to comfort him. Benedict noticed the intimate gesture curiously but did not comment directly on it.

Benedict took his hand away from his nose as he studied the man. His bleeding was slowing now. His headache was still present but bearable.

"We know each other." Benedict stated factually, as he took a paper out of his inner suit pocket.

John frowned as he took it and scanned the simple document. Benedict had been keeping a journal of the events, and his reaction to events and persons in the mansion, including his brother. What caught John's attention was that scribble randomly throughout the document was one word over and over again. It was on the corner. In-between his log of events. The word was "John".

There was "John is coming." "You trust John with your life." "Listen to John." "John is the key" "John would never hurt you" and several times it was written and underlined. "Do NOT shoot John"

John raised his eyebrows and smiled, "A bit obsessed are we?"

"A bit." Benedict admitted. He looked into John's eyes and suddenly felt safe for the first time since waking up from his injuries, despite the gunfire around them.

Gunfire.

Both men's attentions were drawn back to the present.

"I do not want my brother hurt but I have to get away from him, he's quite mad I'm afraid. He's had me drugged for some reason." Benedict attempted to sit up now as John helped him. The slowed bleeding now stopped. The headache was dissipating.

John looked at Benedict as he helped him to stand. "He's not your broth…" John stopped speaking abruptly as gunfire sounded closer now.

"I'll explain everything later, right now…" John started to say.

"… We need to go," Benedict finished for him.

"Can you walk?"

"I'll do better, I think that running is appropriate," Benedict said as he took a few steps.

John grunted a nod as he looked around scanning. "By the way, thank you for not shooting me."

"The day is young," Benedict said.

John glanced at him, "Should I be worried?"

"No," Benedict said sincerely before smirking.

John looked in his eyes and saw sincerity there, and for a fleeting moment, he saw Sherlock's eyes looking back at him, then they were gone. He missed those eyes.

John smiled and said beneath his breath, "Smart arse…," John looked his friend up and down, "…both versions."

Benedict smiled as he led the way out with John running behind him. He stopped suddenly and frowned. "There is a woman, I have to help her."

John looked at Benedict's list, sure enough it said, "Help the woman. She's in trouble."

"Adler?"

"Is that her name?" Benedict asked.

"Where is she, this place goes on for days and in case you forgot, people shooting." John reminded him.

"I think I know where she might be, at least where she was last night." Follow me, Benedict said. John thought that it was like old times, trying to keep up with his long legs.

"Only your real friends tell you when your face is dirty."~ Sicilian Proverb

Irene leaned against the wall. Something was happening in the mansion. Most of the guards have left. A series of gunfights were occurring. She hoped that Sherlock was safe. Mycroft and his full wrath apparently had arrived.

She heard running then a struggle outside her door to the same lab room.

She pushed her body up against the wall. She would be very happy or dead in the next few minutes, she concluded.

She heard keys in the lock of the door, she heard the key turn, and then she looked at the faces before her.

She smiled.

John ran up to her and took in her battered appearance. Benedict approached slower and almost cautiously.

"Dear God, what happened to you?" John asked as the doctor in him assessed her quickly. Her jaw was bruised and her lip split.

Adler looked at Benedict wordlessly.

John looked at Benedict with his mouth opened, "Tell me, you didn't do this."

"I came with every intention of doing worse; I raise my hand for the first strike, but… I couldn't."

"It was one part in me driving me to violence; it was almost like a drug coursing through my system, bemoaning more ... more. There was another part that fought against the violent part. It was quite disconcerting."

John frowned as he processed his friend's words, "What stopped you?" Adler asked the question John wanted to." Why did you kiss me if you did not remember?"

"You came to beat the tar out of her and you kissed her instead?" John asked incredulously.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," Benedict said quietly as he cleared his throat. "We better get going. Can you walk?"

Adler rose and grimaced. Benedict rushed over to her now as he held her in place.

"Irene?" John questioned troubled.

"Where else are you hurt?" Benedict asked concerned. He moved her long hair aside as he noticed a bruise in the form of a fingerprint.

She grimaced as she moved his hand off her neck. She moved her hair to cover her neck again.

"Later loves, I'm just sore." She turned her eyes to Benedict as she said to Ben, "By the way, you're late." Adler said sweetly as John helped her to start moving.

"You knew I would be back for you?" Benedict asked doubtfully.

"Yes" Adler said as a matter of fact.

"You could not possibly." Benedict replied slightly annoyed.

"But here you are," She smirked.

"Are you always so irritating or just during a rescue?" Benedict wondered out loud.

"Always and much more love, this is me nice." Irene said as John helped her to walk and Benedict looked through the opened door. A nod of his head and John and Irene followed behind as they slowly made their way up the hallway.

"Indeed." Benedict sighed realizing that this was one discussion he would not win.

"If Sher… Benedict did not do this to you, who did." John started to ask.

"Isn't it obvious? It's Sebastian. The same man that tried to manipulate me into torturing then killing you both." Benedict said sarcastically.

"Of course, how silly of me? It's hard for us the common masses to keep up." John rolled his eyes. Sherlock was certainly still in there and he seemed to be taking control back bit by bit, whether Benedict was aware or not.

Benedict and John had fallen into their familiar banter. Neither man noticed. Irene did as her smile widened.

"What?" Both men asked simultaneously when they noticed her look. They first looked at her then each other. "Nothing," she replied.

Irene's eyes suddenly widened. She involuntarily hissed from pain as her hand flew to her abdomen. A small groan followed before she could stop it.

"Wait," Benedict said as he looked at John. John stood and leaned her against the wall. Benedict looked her in the eyes and his hands went to her shirt to lift it. Adler's hand came to hold his hand.

"We don't have time," She started to say. Benedict eyes pierced her eye and for a moment, a brief moment, she saw Sherlock. For that reason, she sighed and let go. Benedict raised her shirt. Both men looked. John gasped.

Her body was bruised so badly there were more bruises than skin showing. Benedict looked confused at the wound dressing. It had the outline of blood showing through. His long fingers easily peeled the edge of the dressing back. Anger burned through him as he looked at the nasty wound. That anger was directed at one Sebastian Moran.

"It'll need stitches." John's voice floated from behind him.

"I assume I was correct when I concluded who did this to you." Benedict asked.

Irene said nothing.

"Does... the rest of your body look like this?" Ben asked. Irene looked at the wall and bit her split lip but said nothing.

"Sherlock," John recognized the look.

Benedict said nothing.

"Benedict," John tried again.

Benedict now looked with a false calm at him but his eyes burned. He pressed the wound dressing close again. The last time John saw that look, Sherlock had thrown an agent out of a window for hurting Mrs. Hudson.

"You'll be OK," Benedict said to her before turning to John. "I assume that those firing those guns are your men. Take her to them. I need to speak to someone." Benedict said through gritted teeth. This time he would not stop at slapping Sebastian. Benedict turned to go.

John grabbed the edge of Ben's shirtsleeve. "No!" He said firmly as he looked Benedict in the eyes.

Benedict looked at John's hands, then in his eyes. "Let. Me. Go." Benedict said with an eerie calm.

"No." John said as he invaded his personal space. Benedict pushed him to the left, as he intended to walk away.

Before Benedict could process how it occurred, he found himself slammed against the wall by John.

John pinned Ben against the wall and held on firmly to his suit lapel with both hands. He did not let go. Ben squirmed angrily but found that he could not bring himself to hit the man holding him.

"Boys," Irene said nervously as she leaned against the wall.

John kept his eyes on Benedict as he spoke. "Get yourself under control. I never thought that I would say this to you but stop being emotional and think. That man hates you, He's jealous of you. I could tell by the talk he had with me. Moriarty or no Moriarty, Sebastian will find an excuse to kill you."

"Have we calmed ourselves?" John asked. Benedict said nothing but stopped squirming. John moved one hand to his chest pushing firmly, with the other hand he took out the list. He glanced at the document then looked back into Ben's face.

"Listen to John." He pointed to the words on the sheet of paper. "Your handwriting, your words not mine."

Benedict closed then opened his eyes. "Do you think you might let me go now?" Benedict asked as he looked down on the smaller man. The smaller man that is a lot stronger than he looks, Benedict mentally noted to him.

"I'll let you go now." John said as he backed off of his friend and handed the worn paper document back to Benedict.

John cleared his throat, "Do remember that you also wrote, 'Do NOT shoot John.' It was underlined." John reminded him.

"Did I?" Benedict asked. "I seem to forget a lot of things lately." He folded then put the document back in his jacket pocket. "Best if I keep this on me as a reminder." Benedict said sweetly.

Benedict sighed. "The gunfire is decreasing." Everyone silently wondered who was in possession of the mansion. No one said it out loud.

Benedict walked up to Adler. "Put your arms around my neck."

She looked at the blood on his shirt, "You're recovering." She now looked with concern in his eyes, then John's, back to him.

"My neck Ms. Adler." His voice was gentle but firm.

She nodded and allowed him to pick her up. The slight grimace on his face was not unseen, she noticed. She, however, did not comment.

"If we can make our way outside to the woods, men are outside that will protect us." John said as he glanced at his phone.

Benedict looked at John. "You lead the way; I'll direct you and carry her." John took his gun back out and led the way as they quietly made their way up the stairs, unsure of what they would find.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed. let me know.

Love to all, Zacha