Sherlock story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 57
RAT. WEDDING. BOW. These are the clues for the next series of Sherlock, Series #3. Full interview on You tube. In addition, Parade's End if you need a Benedict fix. Also on YouTube or BBC 2. (Thanks eohippus)
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.
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T rated some future chapters may be M
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Note: Everyone Sherlock and family have left Morocco and trying to make it to Spain.
Thank you for all your responses.
Lots of Love, Zacha
"Sometimes the most urgent thing you can possibly do is take a complete rest"
~ Ashleigh Brilliant
The dark blue of the water was soothing. The gentle rippled waves were replaced by the violent vibrations of the motored boat. They would be docking in Spain in less than thirty minutes. From there the destination to go to the safe-house or to go directly to the airplane had yet to be made. The decision would be partially factored on Holmes' condition.
Thomas turned as he observed the two smaller boats that had joined them when they left Morocco's official water space and entered international waters. They took a slightly longer route to avoid the patrols on various points of exit to another country. The remainder of the agents were finding their way across the border in scattered groups. They disguised themselves as tourist, business persons, and families. The remainder of the agents, wounded, prisoners, and Captain Magoro men had already left the country using ways that are more creative.
Thomas' body swayed roughly when the boat hit a particularly choppy patch of water. He instinctively held on to the rail of the boat. He grimaced slightly at the pain that the sudden movement caused. Thomas' strong arms stretched his tee shirt as he stretched his left arm in front of his chest in an attempt to stretch the tight muscles there. He closed his eyes as the events of the last near five weeks came into his mind.
The kidnapping of Doctor Watson.
Sherlock Holmes rescue of that same friend.
Mycroft Holmes almost dying, as he attempted to run into a building with a bomb in an attempt to rescue his brother.
Locating Holmes.
Getting Holmes only to lose him.
Retrieving Holmes again.
He left out the memories of him being shot. Those were not pleasant. He took a cleansing breath then opened his eyes. He chuckled when he thought of Sherlock and several agents beaten on the floor of the storage shed. He was glad that even with memory lost, he had not forgotten the near year of training that Mycroft Holmes forced his brother to take when younger. He did this when he had stumbled home after yet another beating. Thomas had been one of his instructors. He almost felt a sense of pride.
At least until another rough patch of water jerked his body up. He looked around to make sure that no one was looking and took a bottle out of his pocket. His strong, slightly callous fingers easily twisted the bottle. He debated between one or two pills for a few seconds. He sighed and chose two as he grimaced and dry swallowed it. He looked at the edge of land as they quickly approached it. The moon as it reflected on the ripples of the water and the gentle rhythmic rock was almost soothing.
He looked toward the door leading to the lower deck of the water vessel. Sherlock was in good hands. For this moment. This brief moment all was well. He knew that it would not stay that way.
He took a moment. This moment, to allow himself to - relax.
"The truth may not set you free, but used carefully, it can confuse the hell out of your enemies."
Laurell K. Hamilton, Micah
He was standing under the hot running water as it soaked into his hair as he shampooed it. He used the same shampoo as Jim. As the rivets of water raced down his lean muscular body, his thoughts were of Holmes and the torment he must be enduring.
He smiled, as he thought about the suffering Holmes had yet to endure; if he lived long enough for them to bring him to the location that he instructed. His mind worked out the details. He had to be careful. Moriarty was brilliant. Luckily, he was also distracted by Holmes. The thought spoiled his mood. If it was not so impossible. He would say that Moriarty was a bit careless. He was never careless before. Anger burned in him at the thought of the troublesome man.
He was careful to frame General Baroon for Holmes demise. A battle between The General and a rival drug cartel. He started to scoff, the late General Baroon, he corrected himself. He smiled at his brilliance. He now took the soap as he washed the last of the shampoo from his hair. The body soap was also the same one that Moriarty used.
That Jim used.
He did not notice as the friction of his hand against his skin created mounds of soapy bubbles, which slid, unnoticed on the shower floor then down the drain forgotten. Sebastian was too busy plotting his next move. His mind became lost on several problems that needed his attention.
A knock on the door was muffled by the water. The one who knocked did not wait for a reply but opened the door. Sebastian was surprised when a burst of cool air and the dissipation of the thick airborne mist of water occurred. It was immediately followed by a shadowy figure just outside of the glass shower door. There was a second knock, this time on the shower door interrupting his thoughts.
"Mr. Moran." One of his men said just outside the door. He felt growing apprehension as he partially opened the door further chilling his skin.
His man's frown told him all he needed to know before he spoke. "It's about Holmes, Sir…"
A minute later and a cursing Sebastian ran out of the shower as he almost slipped on the marbled tile and bumped into a side table. He lost the grip on his towel but left it there as he righted himself and ran into the master bedroom. One man that was packing his bags at the sight of the naked and enraged man quickly left the room. He would finish packing later. He went into the living area of the suite as both men looked wordlessly at each other.
It took a few second for both men to properly close their mouths and, wrap their brains around the idea of their boss losing his normally cool exterior. The two men talked. One would bring the Mercedes Bens around while the other would check out the hotel to save time.
They both heard a crash followed by a long explicative of curses. No one dared to venture in to check on the man's physical condition. Their boss had apparently slipped and fallen on the hard floor.
"Maybe he should have rinsed the soap off before he got out of the shower," one man commented casually to the other with a frown.
Patel was back home, in his mother's house where he lived with his two sisters. He was in the garden. His two teenage sisters were kneeling on the ground as they pulled up the weed that tried to strangle the beautiful tomato plants that grew thick and long. He was helping them. It was their time to talk. As the man of the house, he considered it his duty. Maybe, it was more than a duty. If he was honest, he did not mind.
He knew his sisters well. They opened up best when they cooked or when they gardened. Gardening was easier. He would sit and watch them. He would do all the digging and moving. The earth seemed to yield to their hands. Later, one of his sisters told him of her newest boyfriend. The second in three months, he noted quietly to himself. Kevin had insisted that he met the young man while he was in town. His sister had rolled her eyes but gave in. He noticed her trying to hide a smile. She was secretly pleased that he cared enough to meet him.
Kevin saw a particularly juicy looking tomato and grabbed it. His sister had her hands on her hips as she watched him wipe it clean on his shirt then take a bite that was entirely too big. A mixture of juice and seeds squirted on his shirt and ran down his mouth.
His sister snorted a very un-ladylike laugh. His eyes widen as he looked at her. He moved his head closer to her as he purposely took another big bite. Seeds and juice now squirted on them both. She was silent in shock for a moment until they both burst out laughing. He gave his sister a quick kiss on the cheek as she hit him playfully on the arm.
Both of their attention was diverted to their mother and other sister who were both walking toward them with what looked like a blanket and lunch. Kevin felt something on his arm. He looked toward the vegetation and the tomato plant but saw nothing. He looked again at his mother and other sister walking but again felt the pull on his arm. He looked at the plants next to him but saw nothing. Was someone there? Did this have to do with one of his cases? His work. Had he endangered his family?
He swallowed hard and looked around. His sisters and mother seemed oblivious to the danger. Suddenly the grasp on his arms became firmer and his entire body shook. He struggled to get away but could not
"No…"
Kevin awoke with a startled jerk. "No!" He heard himself say. His face jerked upward from the desk. His arms were numb from being laid under his head.
"Sorry mate!" A man slightly older than himself said. He took his arm off of Kevin with an apologetic look. "You were hard to wake," he paused briefly.
"I'm here to help so that you can get some rest," The other man smiled. "I hear that you've been awake for over forty three hours."
Kevin's sleep deprived brain tried to catch up. A dream, he was having a dream. Kevin sighed then stretched. His body was happy to suddenly remind him that he had been slammed into a wall a little more than thirty hours ago. His head started to pound. He ignored the other analyst as he took out the bottle of medication and put two pills in his mouth. He swallowed the pain medication with the cold cup of coffee.
He now dry wiped his face and the drool that had apparently ran down his mouth while he slept. "Authorization code and ID please." Kevin managed to ask.
"They wouldn't let me in here without it." The other analyst said somewhat put off.
"Humor me." Kevin said with a false smile.
The analyst took out his ID and swiped it in the machine. Kevin watched him warily as he made several phone calls, all of which checked out fine. Kevin hung up the phone. He had no idea why he felt an unease.
His dream came back to him.
Everything seems to be in order. Kevin admitted. It's all yours for the next six hours. Finally, the relief analyst seemed to calm.
Kevin raised himself to get up as the other analyst sat down. He punched in the necessary codes to transfer the controls to himself.
Kevin looked over him for a moment unsure why he was hesitating. Two agents walked by as he nodded to them.
"Your thumb," Kevin reminded him. The analyst hesitated and then put his thumb up to the scanner. He seemed to exhale a breath when the red light turned green. It took only a few seconds longer than it was suppose to but it did turn green.
Kevin's mind noticed little things such as the breath that he seemed to hold until the scanner turned green.
"Sorry a bit nervous, I heard about all the things that happened to the other safe house just inside the border."
"Oh," Kevin said suddenly feeling silly, he understood completely, anyone would get nervous after hearing of the death of another analyst in a safe-house so close by. "Yeah. He is, was I mean, a friend."
"Sorry," the new analyst said. "Peter, my name is Peter." He held out his hand.
"Kevin," Well I'll let you get on with it.
Kevin suddenly realized that his hair was sticking up in unruly ways, and there was a line on his face, from where he had fallen asleep with his face down on the computer desk.
They nodded to each other as Kevin walked off. Kevin sniffed himself. A shower was in order before he slept. Kevin stifled another yawn. He sighed to himself as he thought of how silly he was being.
He walked a few yards as he prepared to go up the stairs toward the bedrooms. He glanced back to the room he had just exited.
One more phone call would not hurt, he thought sleepily.