Sherlock Story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 87
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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*****.***Warning this chapter M just in case, Violence. ****. ****
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…. The Game…
"Fortune knocks but once, but misfortune has much more patience."
~Author Unknown
The nondescript car sat several flats down from 221B Baker Street. The skinny man sat in the car as he waited for someone to call him. They had been in the dark for too long. He could not see a thing with the lamppost out. That had been the idea when it was broken earlier.
His mobile ringing startled him a bit. "Too much coffee," he thought.
Moran's voice floated over the other mobile line. "Is the old woman taken care of?"
"Yeah, but I think the lads got carried away again. I had better stop them before they kill her. I know that you just wanted her beaten till unconscious." The tall skinny man sighed. He hated legwork.
"That would be a shame if she died," Sebastian Moran chuckled before he disconnected.
The skinny man sighed more dramatically for the third time as he looked around then exited the car. He alternated between walking briskly and jogging toward the darkness.
Suddenly Sherlock was falling. The force of the suddenly released water carried him along and knocked John and Thomas off their feet.
Sherlock wheezed, sputtered, and coughed as his world filled with one thing… breathe.
It took a moment before he could speak "T… That… (Cough)… was unpleasant." He was trembling severely.
Agents broke into the room with guns drawn. John squeezed Sherlock shoulder before he got up and returned to Lestrade side. Sherlock frowned as the nausea returned again. He swallowed hard. He knew it was a matter of time. This time it would not go away so easily.
He closed his eyes. He lay wordlessly as someone uncuffed his hands and feet. At least Lestrade was safe. Sherlock looked at Lestrade and frowned.
Will be safe.
Mycroft walked in with Anthea directly behind him. Paramedics followed as they ran up to each man. Thomas told them that he was okay. Sherlock growled at them in between coughing and wheezing. John stepped back and let the medics work. He stayed close by, however. John was waiting to see what he would do after the antidote was opened.
Mycroft stood looking at everything. He noticed when the monitor came to life again. There was once again a blinking red light above the water tank that he deduced that his little brother was in judging by the state of him. He looked at the light and glanced at a nearby agent. The agent nodded. After giving a warning, he took out his gun and aimed. Mycroft smiled and nodded at the monitor before a shot rang out. Soon, nothing was left but sparking wires and smoke. The entire display had been a bit dramatic on Mycroft's part. It was not necessary. An agent pushed a device, and a signal was broadcast to jam any hidden monitors or microphones that were doubtlessly hidden throughout the building.
Something bothered Mycroft. He looked at Sherlock more intensely. Sherlock glanced at his eyes then glanced away. Mycroft mouth opened wordlessly, and something flashed in his eyes before his icy exterior came back.
"Help me to my feet," Sherlock said.
Before Thomas could walk the short distance, Mycroft's long legs closed the short space taking him to his brother's side. He looked into Mycroft's intense gaze before he quickly looked away as he made his way over to Lestrade. Sherlock's hands gripped the edge of the trolley. Partially to support himself, partially to keep his hands from touching Lestrade to assure himself that he was okay, going to be okay. He compromised with himself and pulled the blanket up to Lestrade's shoulder.
"Question for antidote," Sherlock said slowly in an ineffective effort not to stutter. Thomas ran to get the note as Sherlock quietly watched the medic start an IV on Lestrade.
They started to wheel Lestrade outside and put him in the ambulance. Donovan's voice was heard on the outside as she demanded to go with Lestrade. Sherlock sighed.
"John, how are you feeling?" Sherlock asked quietly.
"Pretty good for someone who has been poisoned," John snorted, "I thought with all the running about, I would be feeling some symptoms now."
Thomas read the note to Sherlock. It said simply. "The light's the same but who's the rook?"
Sherlock smirked before the wave of nausea took the smile away. "Thomas would you put in the same letters." Sherlock frowned as his breathing increased, "Wait…" He closed his eyes against the nausea and opened them as he tried again.
"Who's the rook," Sherlock repeated to himself. "The same letters as before, but in reverse. Violet, Red, Orange, Ingigo, Green, and Blue" Sherlock said before adding. "In reverse alphabetical order, V-R-O-I-G-B, and then enter."
"I'm sure John," Sherlock said before John could ask. Thomas took out the small box. He thought about telling everyone to step back, but at the look Holmes gave him when he opened his mouth, he closed it again wordlessly. Thomas entered the letters saying them aloud to himself. He looked up and when there were, no objections pressed enter. Everyone was very quiet as if someone held up a sign saying silence. Thomas held his breath and waited. A soft beep sounded twice as lights flashed then stopped flashing.
The door popped open.
John felt like a weight lifted. "It's safer to give me the antidote after an IV line has been started just in case I have a seizure or need emergency medication directly into my veins. Saline only, anything else could mix with the drug and be dangerous."
"You'll both be getting the saline IV that you spoke of." Mycroft said firmly. Sherlock frowned but did not argue.
Mycroft received a phone call as he watched the paramedics insert saline IV fluids into both men. It was about Mrs. Hudson and 221 B Baker Street. Mycroft's face remained blank. He made a decision. He would tell both men what happened later. Now, they both needed medical care.
The orange shock blanket made its way onto both men's shoulders. Sherlock, in fact, had two blankets. He surprised John for the second time in minutes as he took the shock blanket from them and allowed John to help him remove his wet shirt and wrap both blankets around his bruised body.
John's body became rigid. He looked at Sherlock and gasped loudly. Everyone suddenly became quiet and looked at both men. John inhaled sharply again as his body stiffened more.
"I'll take that antidote now please." John said quietly as he reached out his hand to take the syringe.
Fifteen Minutes Earlier
The skinny man walked in the alley of 221 B Baker Street. He walked from the dim shadow into the dark. He looked down as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He looked and cursed as he turned to back out of the alleyway. He felt his body slam into the rubbish as air was violently expelled from his lungs.
He did not protest or say a word when handcuffs were clicked onto his wrist. He looked to his right and saw what appeared to be a young agent smirking dressed in a wig, a flowery dress, and an apron.
The skinny man cursed again as he was dragged away.
Moriarty chuckled while he replayed the video. It had been entertaining even though it was cut short when Mycroft Holmes jam the signal. He could not see or hear anything after that. Sherlock probably already gave his pet the antidote. He reminded himself that even with the antidote, Doctor Watson had three very unpleasant days ahead. Maybe, he would send flowers. Red, of course.
He chuckled again when he remembered how Mycroft Holmes directed one of his agents to shoot the monitor. To think that the elder Holmes accused him of being dramatic.
His mobile vibrated in his inner suit pocket. A rare frowned crossed Moriarty's face as he pulled out the mobile that no one was supposed to have a number to.
Moriarty read the text. His eyes narrowed. He clutched the mobile in his hand tightly. He read it again. Any remaining mirth left his face as Moriarty's eyebrows rose. He looked at the initial of the person who sent the text as he quickly exited the room. They were M.H.
Mycroft and Thomas had somehow reached Sherlock's side. The Paramedics were suddenly pushing Sherlock back on the trolley.
Sherlock noticed that it was becoming more difficult to focus. "John, something… need… tell you." It was important that John listened.
"Sherlock, be still and quiet." John said with urgency as Sherlock felt something burn slightly as it was pushed into his vein.
Why was it, now that it was safe to tell John, John was not listening. It was annoying. Sherlock was suddenly tired and shaking more but had to try again.
"J... John." Sherlock tried again.
"I know Sherlock. You gave yourself the poison." John's mouth was tight. He squeezed Sherlock hand lightly as he walked beside the trolley.
Why was everyone staring at him? He hated people staring at him when he did not feel good.
Sherlock eyes suddenly widened as the world tilted.
John.
Where was John?
Before he knew what was happening John cradled his head as Sherlock vomited over the side of the trolley.
Sherlock wiped at his nose and mouth, with a weak and shaky hand. Something sticky and wet came back. Sherlock looked strangely at the red on his hand. The noise increased suddenly as the paramedics now ran with the trolley. Mycroft, Thomas, and John's face bounced up and down beside the trolleys sides as if they were running too. He closed his eyes, their bouncing faces were making him dizzy.
Sherlock tried to tell John that he did not feel good, but could not seem to get the words out. He opened his eyes again looking for John. His eyes locked onto John's eyes. Why did they look worried, even Mycroft? He did not like John to be worried. He wanted to keep looking. John was telling him that it was important, but he was so tired, so very tired. He held on to John's face. To his voice.
After a minute, his eyelids grew heavier. He was losing the battle. The weariness was unbearable now.
Sorry John.
He lost the fight to keep his eyes opened as his lids finally closed and the world and the noises faded slowly away.
A/N I hope that you are enjoying. Let me know. Love to all. Update as soon as possible. Thank you so much for all your support. It makes the hard work worth it. :)
Lots of Love, Zacha