Benedict story
Sherlock story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 40
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.
I appreciate you all.
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. *
Enjoy
"The past is our definition. We may strive, with good reason, to escape it,
or to escape what is bad in it, but we will escape it only by adding
something better to it." ~Wendell Berry
Current Day
Current Time
It was over an hour into the drive.
Benedict woke up after the jeep bumped a hole on the road. He startled as he groaned aloud. He blinked his eyes as his hand without thought came up to dry wipe his face. An image faded from his eyes. He looked around. The trees were becoming more spread out and thin, the air warmer.
He looked at the soldiers, they were still driving. He glanced at one of the soldiers. Something about him bothered Benedict. He was unsure why. His thoughts were getting increasingly fuzzy. He bit his lower lip as he swallowed hard. He was thirsty.
He fingered the phone in his suit pocket as he again looked at the soldier in the front passenger seat. A pain shot through his head. Benedict gritted his teeth as he closed his eyes. He took deep breaths to even out his respirations.
His right hand came reflectively to his nose as he felt the warm sticky liquid. His long fingertips came back red. He stared at it with a bit of slight confusion until he realized that it was blood.
"… you OK?" He heard a voice float in from his side.
It took him a moment to realize that it was probably wise that he answered.
"I'm fine," he took the sterile medical gauze cloth and applied pressure to his nose. His fingers reflectively touched the phone in his pocket.
A white light flashed before his eyes, then quickly retreated. He blinked as he waited for it to clear up. He swallowed again the thirst quickly becoming worse.
"Do you want water Sir," The soldier from the front seat asked Benedict. Something in the back of his mind told him not to drink it. His body disagreed as his tongue came and licked his dried lips.
"I'll wait." Benedict said. For a moment, he thought he saw something flash in that soldier's eyes, but another flash of pain took his mind off of everything else for minutes until the pain decreased enough for him to think again.
"How much further before we stop?" Ben now asked. Benedict needed to speak to John. He wanted the conversation to be private. He would call as soon as the jeep stopped.
The nosebleed finally stopped. They seemed to be occurring more frequently, Ben noticed.
"Not much further Sir," a different soldier, the one to his side answered. "We were originally not supposed to stop until we got you past the boarder but there has been a sudden heavy increase in activity. We are going to the backup location. Your Doctor Watson and several other persons will meet you there soon." The soldier sitting next to him, gave him a reassuring smile before turning to observe the road. Benedict noticed that they now took out their guns.
He looked to the side as he watched the landscape past. Benedict was lost in thought as the jeep disappeared down the dirt road.
John, Mary, and another soldier walked into the room of the doctor. John put his gun in the gun holster he was provided with, as Mary and the other soldier kept watch. John reached under the cabinet in the bathroom. He said a prayer as he squatted on the floor and looked in the cabinet. His right hand reached up and felt the coolness of metal. John pressed up and with a click he disengaged a metal case.
He smiled as he opened the metal case then looked at the syringe. In the back of his mind, he heard Mary responding on her mobile.
"John, we have to go, company is coming." She looked at the vial in his hands. "Is that it?" She asked.
"It might be but I need to analyze it. I can prepare a weak dose but I'm not giving Sherlock anything until I am sure of what it is."
John and the group started moving quickly as they spoke.
"Alder's microchip gave us the basic formulas for series one and two of the drug. We can analyze it in ten minutes," Myers said. Myers led the way with John following and the soldiers in the rear of her.
Their guns were out and ready to fire. The mansion was supposed to be clear but it was huge. John knew Moriarty enough to be surprised if it did not have hidden passages and a hidden room or two. They would not have time to search completely.
"Can we analyze on the move? I need to get to Sherlock." John asked. Luckily the doctor's room was fairly close to the exit and on the first level. They would be out soon.
"I'll make it happen." Myer took out her mobile as they passed the staff kitchen.
"Pack up quickly…" She spoke on her mobile as they jogged. They all exhaled with relief when they exited the building. John took out his mobile to call Sherlock and check on him. He had an uneasy feeling.
They all noticed movement coming from their right side; it was the captain.
Captain Magoro was jogging toward the group but his focus was on Myers. His face held a grim expression. He had a satellite phone in his hand.
Mycroft ended the call on his mobile phone. He spoke with John. He was relieved that John was recovered.
John suggested that he speak to Sherlock but Mycroft declined. With Sherlock's memories programmed, he did not want to trigger any flashbacks until he was physically with him. He advised John and all the agents to not challenge any memories until they had Sherlock in medical care.
He called Anthea to ensure that three airplanes were ready for takeoff. They were located on opposite ends of the country. Somehow, Moriarty seemed to know that they were heading for Tangier to exit the country and a small army was suddenly there. There was a leak somewhere. There usually was at least one on both sides.
Mycroft rubbed his head. Ideally, he have been several hours away from seeing Sherlock. Now things were not as clear. Several agents and Anthea were in the room awaiting instructions
"Take me to him," Mycroft said tiredly.
"Sir, if you're found in the country it could be an international incident." His agent reminded him of the obvious.
Mycroft knew he was correct. If anyone else suggested what he was about to do. He would stop them and say that they were being emotional and not thinking in a logical manner.
"Sherlock Holmes, no one but you could reduce me to this," Mycroft whispered to himself.
"I'm sorry Sir, what did you say?" One agent asked.
Mycroft sighed, "I said we have to use care to make sure that I am in and out without anyone knowing."
Anthea sighed resigned. "Unfortunately, I thought you might feel that way."
Anthea walked away and came back with several bags; she pulled an object out and gave it to Mycroft.
"Sir you will at least need to be in disguise." She insisted.
Mycroft looked at the object in horror and frowned. "What is this?" He asked in earnest with his nose turned up in revulsion.
Anthea could not help her smile, "They are called blue jeans, Sir."
"The past is strapped to our backs. We do not have to see it; we can always
feel it." ~Mignon McLaughlin
Benedict felt the vibration of his phone. He picked it up and answered cautiously. "Yes," he said.
"Um… Benedict this is John. I wanted to know how you were, and to let you know that I'll see you in less than two hours." The voice on the mobile phone said.
Benedict did not realize that he had been holding his breath. He wanted to tell John many things. He trusted him after all did he not? But, they were still in the car and he did not want to have a conversation in the presence of the soldiers, particularly the one in the front passenger seat. He noticed the way the man looked at him yet pretended not to look. He could not put his finger on it but his look was different.
"Sh…?" The voice said with concern now. "Benedict?" The voice corrected itself a little louder in volume.
Benedict thought as he tried to keep his face neutral. How could he make John understand? Something came to his mind. It seemed like a silly thing to say but John said to trust the something on the inside.
"I'm… fine." Benedict said as he waited for a reaction.
"You only say you're fine when you're the opposite. What's wrong; just answer yes or no casually do you understand?" John asked.
Benedict closed his eyes with relief then opened them. He swallowed before saying, "Yes."
"Are you in immediate danger?" John asked.
Benedict thought briefly, "No," he said.
The soldier in the front seat looked at him from the front view driver's mirror. He seemed suspicious. "But we should be arriving soon." Benedict added in a casual voice. The soldier seemed to look away now.
"There's someone in the jeep with you that you do not trust." John stated as fact.
"Yes, the heat isn't too bad." Benedict responded.
"Trust yourself Sherlock," John did not notice that he had not said Benedict. Benedict did and frowned.
"Do you have a weapon that you can discreetly reach?" John asked.
"No," Benedict said plainly. He was distracted as he thought about the name Sherlock in his mind.
He heard John curse quietly. John did not say anything to Benedict for two minutes. Benedict heard him speaking with someone else.
"Four vehicles of agents are on their way to escort that one. One of the persons in the vehicle that is coming, you can trust with your life. They are just starting their journey, so be careful." John hesitated.
"How are you doing physically?" John hoped that the flashbacks did not start.
Benedict swallowed again, "Don't worry, as I said, I'm fine."
There was silence for a few moments as both men listened to the other breathe.
"Listen carefully, someone that cares about you, taught you to fight when you were younger. If all else fails. If you don't know who to trust. Fight and run away from everyone. I will find you but it's critical that you keep that mobile on your body. Put it somewhere not obvious. It's also critical that you stay awake and drink as much fluid as you can. Do you understand?" John asked with concern in his voice.
"Yes," Benedict said simply. His headache was coming back. He licked his dry lips again and looked longingly at the water. He would not drink that one that was offered. Something inside told him not to.
John hesitated, "I'm on my way."
"I know," Benedict said weakly.
Both lines disconnected. Somehow, he knew that John was speaking the truth.
Preview
Ten minutes later and Benedict's headache returned with a vengeance. John had said that name to him several times. Sherlock. John had corrected himself several more times. Benedict said the word out loud for the first time.
"Sherlock," Benedict whispered to himself.
"URGgggg!" Benedict growled while holding his head. He felt like someone took a knife and stabbed through his temple. His hands clutched his head. His mind filled with one word.
SHERLOCK – SHERLOCK – Sherlock – Sherlock- sherlock- sherl…
He groaned as the mountains, trees, and road faded away. Everything turned into a gray nothingness.
Suddenly he was in a room standing by a wall as he looked and listened to a stylishly dressed, tall woman with pale skin and dark hair. Leaning against the woman, there was a skinny and pale-skinned child, who had the dark, curly hair.
Update soon.
You that know me know that I am a bit unpredictable , so hold on. Fair warning. :)
Love to all.
Zacha