Sherlock story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 54
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. Thanks, to all Tea and Cookies.
Notes, a car boot is a trunk.
Parts rated M to be safe.
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. *
Note: Everyone is currently on Morocco and trying to make it to Spain.
Thank you for all your responses.
******Important. I gave you extra chapters. This upcoming week is busy for me so, 1. Read the chapters spread apart or 2. All at once, your choice. Next update early weekend. Peace to all.*******
Lots of Love, Zacha
"When a friend is in trouble, don't annoy him by asking if there is anything you can do. Think up
something appropriate and do it." ~ Edgar Watson Howe
Current Day
Current Time
John and several agents ran back to their jeeps and other vehicle as they jumped back in and sped off. They drove up to the site of Sherlock's last signal and were alarmed to find tire tracks and signs of a struggle. Thomas and several cars, went ahead as John and several more cars of agents quickly searched the woods. This was done in case Sherlock had collapsed close by. No signal or sign was found, it had suddenly stopped.
The vehicles sped away in a cloud of dust. John's efforts to reach Sherlock by mobile had gone unanswered. His mobile rang; he quickly picked it up as he hoped against hope that it was Sherlock.
"Benedict?" John said a little too quickly.
"It's me again," Thomas said.
"Any news?" John asked somewhat breathlessly. He did not bother to lie to himself and say it was because of the large amounts of activity of the day.
"Yes. Patel picked the signal up again." Thomas was not offended by the obvious disappointment in Doctor Watson's voice. "John we've almost reached them. I am sending you the coordinates."
One of the agents wordlessly took John's mobile and after a moment handed it back to him. There was no need for John to say what he was thinking. The agent driving went as fast as the vehicle would allow.
Within several minutes, they came to the blackened remains of a burned out vehicle that was on the side of the road. They swerved their vehicle to avoid crashing into the ruins. They knew that it was not one of their men. John frowned as he glanced at the remains.
They did not have time to wonder who the persons that were in the vehicle might have been.
A violent shift sent Holmes body sliding then striking the side of something firm, and cool. He woke with a startled gasp. He blinked away his fog. He was somewhere small, dark, and enclosed. After a few minutes of lying still, he felt his strength slowly return.
For a brief moment, there was panic. What had happened, where was he?
Data.
He needed data. His eyes could not give him any, yet, that in itself was data. He was somewhere dark. The violent yet rhythmic vibration indicated that he was in some kind of transport. The sudden shift as well as the sound of a motor told his mind the rest, as the fog lifted
No.
Not motor.
Car motor.
He was in the boot, or trunk of a car. Judging by the vibrations, he was traveling very quickly somewhere. He laid still, trying to quickly think about his options based on his level of health. His eyes noticed something. It was locked but it was possible. He waited for more of his strength to return.
The men followed closely as the signal took them within a few cars back. The traffic was light and the sun was setting. The man in the passenger seat picked up his mobile and listened to instructions.
"Yes Sir," The man said. He disconnected as he nodded to the driver.
Several cars that were spread out came in a closer pattern and positioned themselves as they were instructed. The man in the passenger seat looked ahead until he came alongside the other car. He suddenly pulled out his gun. The driver's eyes met the man in the other car briefly before smiling.
A popping sound was heard directly before that car swerved and recovered. A man with open vacant eyes lay on the passenger seat that was painted with streaks of blood. The driver pulled out his gun and returned gunfire.
Thomas was a kilometer behind the signal and gaining speed. He would reach them in five minutes.
Some kind of commotion seemed to be up ahead. Some of the few cars that were on the road were pulling over. One car was on fire after crashing. Another was turned over in a ditch.
"What is happening?" Thomas asked irritably into his headphone that seemed to be permanently attached to his ear.
"Sir, it seems as if there is a second group that is shooting at the soldiers who have Holmes." A voice explained. "Who do we shoot at?" The voice further questioned.
Thomas took a second to think. "Everyone! But, do not shoot at the car with Holmes. I don't want a stray bullet to kill or injure him."
"Yes Sir," The voice disconnected.
Thomas made another quick call.
Over a dozen cars flew through the mostly empty main road. The pop-clink sound of bullets hitting metal reverberated in the air. One car in the rare bumped violently into another causing it to go into a spin and crash into another car. An orange fireball rose quickly in the rear-view mirror.
There were the sounds of car engines being pushed to their maximum.
Holmes, hearing the sounds, suddenly felt the overwhelming need to get out. It took Holmes a few minutes to contort his sore body. He gathered his strength as he thought of the best possibility of escapes. He looked at the partition that could be pulled down to enter the back seat. It was locked but he was motivated.
Benedict kicked at the car trunk partition that opened up to the back seat. He kicked with his foot as he steadied and tensed his upper body. His handcuffed hands braced against the top of the boot to give his body something to push against. After only a few kicks. A sudden impact to the car sent it swerving to the right. This sent Sherlock's body to the left. He grunted as his body hit the side of the car.
Another impact was felt then another swerve and the car resumed a more straight pattern. He adjusted his body and tried again to kick violently at the partition that separated the boot of the car from the backseat. Several kicks and the partition finally gave way. He took his handcuffed hands and pushed in the last resistance.
Benedict pushed himself through and almost gave an involuntary gasp as vacant eyes met him. He grimaced as he pushed the body out of his way as the dead man's upper portion fell on the floor of the car. He stayed low in the car.
There were random popping sounds followed by the clink of metal on metal. He thought quickly. The faintest tinge of the familiar headache was starting to stir again; he ignored it best he could. He came up with a plan, it was risky but as things were going, he may not be alive in a few hours if he did not act. He did not know whom to trust except John.
Two different groups wanted him badly.
Both were willing to kill for him.
He did not plan to go with either.
He took a breath and quickly raised his body as he suddenly brought his clasped hands around the neck of the driver. The distracted driver noticed too late as Benedict's handcuffed hands came over his neck and pulled the driver back.
The driver lost control of the car as it weaved left then right in a jagged pattern. The two men struggled as the driver unsuccessfully tried to reach his gun with one hand as he held on to the wheel with the other. An elbow hit Sherlock's face as he grunted from the pain but held on. He ignored the blood that trickled down his nose. He wasn't sure if it was from being hit or his regular nose bleeds.
The driver passed out as Sherlock quickly grabbed the wheel of the swerving car. The unconscious man's foot pressed heavily on the gas as the car accelerated.
Sherlock's eyes widened as he noticed where the car was heading.
Thomas and the other agents were close enough now to engage the hostile forces.
This was most unwanted, Mycroft thought as he was driven by his staff in the car.
His staff tried to persuade him to stay away and let them handle matters, but he told himself that it was only logical to ensure that Sherlock was alright should all the memories flood into his mind suddenly. He would need to be there himself.
Mycroft glanced at his watch.
"We're almost there Sir," his driver said before he could be asked.
Thomas came to a crashed car. The front of the car was pushed in because of a pole. Steam and smoke rose up and dissipated as it broke away.
The driver was dead, killed by the crash. The soldier in the back was killed by a bullet. The partition was broken from the car boot. Agents ran over while others looked around cautiously. Thomas looked at the floor in the backseat where Holmes' mobile phone had apparently slipped out of the pocket of the soldier who lay dead in the back seat floor.
Thomas growled in frustration as his earpiece chirped once to show that he had an incoming call.
"Yes!" He said a little louder than he meant to and his hands found its way to his hips.
"Yes Patel." He said as he realized who it was. A slow smiled broke on his face. Moments later agents drove away in the now darken sky.