Sherlock story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 60
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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Love to all
Things to know. 1. Paracetamol is a pain reliever. Tylenol.
T rated some future chapters may be M
*Thanks so much for reading. Please do not forget to comment. *
Note: Everyone Sherlock is currently in Spain.
:( Sorry, I meant for this to be up 24 hours ago. But, I gave multiple chapters. Read one a day or all at once, the choice is yours.
**********Warning for those who are sensitive. Read for more information. Those who are not just skip this section and enjoy the story. Contain spoilers. Still there? Okay. Chapter 61 and 62contain flash backs and non-graphic abuse. If this bothers you in any way, read chapters 60 and 63 only. You will still understand the story, I promise. ***************
Make yourself happy either way and enjoy the story.
Lots of Love, Zacha
"Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe." ~ William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
Current Day
Current Time
Lestrade wiped his face as he drank the stale coffee. It was another late night. He had kept himself busy so that he would not think of the fact that Sherlock had been missing for over five weeks, and John had been kidnapped for more than a week. He had heard nothing from anyone and all his inquiries had resulted in the same answer.
The matter was being looked into, and the authorities would get back to him as soon as possible.
Only his position in Scotland Yard had even earned him that much of a proper rejection.
His mobile phone rang. He sighed resigned as he picked it up.
"DI Lestrade speaking," he answered. He listened, first in confusion, and then in wonder as a slow smile dared to creep up his face.
"He said nothing, he only listened. "Thank you," he said as he ended the call. Greg Lestrade opened then closed his eyes as he took a few minutes to settle his emotions. He picked up his mobile again and called a number that he knew by heart.
"Mrs. Hudson," he hesitated, "There's news…" he waited for her to calm down and listen.
"They have them," he said. "Both of them," he clarified, "John and Sherlock…"
Lestrade smiled wider.
Current Day
Current Time
Everyone was awake now. John was sitting in the corner next to Holmes curled up body. He was feeling his pulse. Satisfied, The Doctor gave him another shot in his arm. The younger man frowned in his semiconscious state but did not wake up. Sherlock would mutter as if he was having a conversation with someone even though he was still asleep.
Thomas looked around as he spoke on his mobile. He, Captain Magoro, and Myers were planning strategies by three-way communication on their mobile phones. Anthea and Mycroft were on their laptops and Smartphone devices. The other driver was awake and talking quietly to the man who was assigned to drive. Mycroft mobile rang. He looked at the caller ID and rolled his eyes. He schooled his voice and pushed the button to connect.
"Yes David," Mycroft began his conversation.
As Mycroft began his conversation, he wrote something on the computer for Anthea to read. She nodded and pulled out her Smartphone.
Fifteen minutes later and Thomas finally ended his mobile calls. He sighed as his fingers brushed the cool leather seat. He deposited the mobile on the seat beside him but his long fingers stayed loosely contracted around the device. He became lost in thought for a moment. He was concerned that Moriarty's men would try again before they could leave the country. The younger Holmes had done a commendable job defending himself, and escaping, but he was physically beyond his limit. If another attack occurred, Mr. Homes would not be able to defend himself or escape in any way. Thomas was determined that he would not be put in that unfortunate position.
Thomas waited patiently for Mycroft to finish his conversation as he looked at the tranquil scene that was passing their car windows. Deceptively calm. Thomas bothered his lower lip then stopped when he noticed his subconscious behavior. It was not like him to give into nervous gestures but he was also a practical man. It was not over. Thomas sighed then winced. He was growing more uncomfortable physically and needed more pain medication. His pride would normally not allow him to take any pain medication in front of anyone, but he would not let pride stop him from doing what was necessary. He discreetly took out the Paracetamol and took three. He quickly put the pills in his mouth and frowned slightly. He stretched his chest muscles as his long fingers closed around the water bottle. He closed his eyes, as the cool liquid helped to wash the dry pills down his throat. He screwed the bottle cap back on and kept it in his lap for a moment. He could not afford for pain to slow him down. He also could not afford to take anything stronger. He finally opened his eyes but looked immediately out the window.
He continued looking out the window and waited for Mycroft to finish his conversation with the Prime Minister. The temperature had increased along with the rising sun. Thomas felt heat on the back of his neck and head. This heat was not coming from the sun but from the eyes of practically everyone in the vehicle. He ignored their stares.
Thomas heard as Mycroft finished his conversation on the mobile. Mycroft looked at Thomas when he was finished. It could not be avoided any further, Thomas thought. With a noisy breath, he turned his face away from the window. With the exception of Sherlock Holmes and the driver, every eye in the vehicle was looking at him.
Intensely.
Doctor Watson was not only looking, but his eyes were traveling to his torso, and his arms were folded.
"You should allow me to look at that," John said with a forced casualness.
"I assure you that I am," He looked at their faces. He then frowned. "Functional." He said with a look that dared anyone other than Mycroft Holmes to say anything.
Mycroft eyes seemed to bore into his soul. Thomas resisted the urge to squirm. Holmes finally seemed satisfied and started speaking. Thomas simultaneously relaxed and exhaled a breath that he did not realize that he was holding. He spoke.
"We have notified the safe-house of our change of plans earlier Sir. You were on a call. We will be arriving at our destination soon."
"Is everything in place," Mycroft asked already knowing the answer.
"Yes. I believe that it will work Sir." Thomas said with confidence.
Everyone's attention was diverted to Sherlock. He started to almost thrash about and his speech suddenly became clear, not mumbled. "Father no… please don't… stop. I'll do better." Sherlock's voice sounded younger, vulnerable. Sherlock's body stiffened and he moaned as if in pain. Sherlock was suddenly quiet except for an occasional moan. They were used to his mumbling. Not a word spoken out clearly and in distress.
Everyone but Mycroft looked at Sherlock then each other unsure of what to do. They were unsure of what was happening or what to say. John looked at Mycroft, but Mycroft was only looking at Sherlock and ignoring everyone else.
John opened his mouth to speak but never got the chance.
"Do you mind if we switch places?" His voice was gentle; however, anyone who knew Mycroft knew that it was not a request.
John nodded and they both changed places. It was not much of an effort in the roomy vehicle.
"It's a little soon but should I give him another shot?" John was already reaching through the metal container that held most of their medical supplies.
"No John," Mycroft said without truly turning his attention away from Sherlock.
He put his head close to Sherlock who had begun to thrash about again mumble.
"Father stop- stop. I don't know what I did wrong… Mycroft… Myc… Myc…"
Mycroft listen as he bent his lips close to his brother's ears and whispered. "It's alright Lock, It's just a memory, It-he can't hurt you." He spoke so quietly that only John heard.
"What did he do to him?" John whispered out loud with a grim look at his face.
Mycroft ignored his question. He did not answer and paid no one but Sherlock any attention. He continued to whisper reassurances to his brother. His mind, along with his brother's, was trapped in the past.