Sherlock Story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 88
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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Thank you: Kitiara88 (I will try my best to keep it up. :)), Burning Phoenix (If you are on the edge of your seat, hang on tight.), MapleleafCameo (Poor Sherlock indeed, glad John is there.), hJohn302 (Thank for the multiple reviews. Sherlock would do anything for John), Puky2012 (Thank for the multiple post. What did Mycroft do, we will see.), Danishprince (Sorry to be cruel. It is only because I care ;) ), gemstone1234 (Thanks for the multiple post. I hope the Thalmes was not too cold. ;) ), Esstell, (More crazy ahead love.), Prothoe (Thank for the multiple reviews. I think a tiny Sherlock is permanently in John's head.) Bookworm Gal, (Thanks for your comments and conversations. :)), Natalia (You clever you. You were correct :D), Catie501 ( Thank for the multiple reviews. I think that Sherlock rocks as well.), bruderlein ( There might be more that you did not see coming. Hang on.), sdale05 (Welcome :) ), AJ Elfhawk, (Enjoy the ride) To all guests. All my love.
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…. The Game…
Busy times ahead of me so I wanted to get these to you.
1. I wrote several chapters so read all at once
Or
2. Section out the chapters until the weekend
Those on holiday, stay safe.
To the one of you who had a lose. I am thinking of you. :)
Note:
1. Beverly Allitt, born in the sixties, worked as a nurse and was one of Britain's most well know female serial killers.
2. A skip is a really big bin (trash container) which is for large amounts of rubble. Skips are hauled away by trucks.
3. An Ambu bag is a medical device used to provide assisted ventilation to people who are either not breathing or are having trouble breathing.
"The difficulties you meet will resolve themselves as you advance. Proceed, and light will dawn, and shine with increasing clearness on your path." ~ Jim Rohn
Current Day
Current Time
She sat on the plush beige striped chair as her fingers absently brushed back and forth on the hard cold floor. She thought about the events that led her to the moment that she found herself in. She looked toward her balcony deep in thought. The rising sun streamed in ribbons through the oversized windows that lined the elegant room. She had her people pack up the bags to leave. She was going to disappear for the next few months. Somewhere warm this time.
No one knew of this place but Sherlock. However, Mycroft was good and knew about her other two properties; it would be a matter of time before he found her current location. This was the most comfortable of all her properties. It was the one that felt the closest to home since her grandmother died.
Hurried footsteps came into the room as the woman stood quickly.
Her most two trusted employees came into the room. Clare and James stood in front of her. They both had a grim look on their face.
"Ms. Adler, information has come in." The female said as she handed her employer the note.
Ms. Adler hurriedly opened the sealed envelope then read the note that was written in Russian. She quietly walked over to the fireplace and threw the note in the fire. Irene watched in fascination, as the black circles appeared randomly on the paper, and then white flames with red edges consumed the note. Within seconds, all that was left were ashes on the logs.
"Get him ready to travel immediately, don't wait for me." She hesitated, "Guard him with your life, If something should happen to me, if you do not hear from me in four days, you know what to do."
She walked over to her desk and pulled out three letters, and a jump drive. "One letter was addressed to Doctor Watson, one was to Mycroft Holmes. There was also one addressed to Sherlock Holmes. She took that one and quickly walked over to the flames as she, after a brief hesitation, threw it in. Within a minute, the flames had eaten that one letter as well.
"Do you want us to wait until you see him Ms. Adler?" James asked.
"Arm yourselves and leave now." She did not turn to look at them again. She heard their quickly retreating footsteps. She showed no emotion. Those who knew her thought of her as strong, even cold. However, the truth that she kept from everyone was that she did not have the strength to look at him then leave. He was safer away from her now.
Mycroft was not the only one who was trying to find her.
She sighed as she looked toward the light of the distant city; it really was a beautiful city. She would have to say goodbye to Saint Petersburg for the foreseeable future.
There were two simple reasons for her retreat. Sherlock was in danger. The other reason was equally as simple.
Moriarty.
Thirty-Two Minutes Earlier
Mycroft's POV
The building was secured and Moriarty's men were dead or captured. The one who was considered to be the British Government walked into the building on the outskirt of Soho.
Clever.
The kidnapper had driven the men around in a circle giving the impression that they were being taken a long distance away when in truth they had been not far from the original point of contact. Two of the transmitters from Sherlock's shoes were found on the other end of town in a skip. It was meant to be a distraction. If it was not for Mycroft's quick thinking to follow the distorted signal from the CCTV cameras, and Thomas planting a tracker under the car seat that they were put in when kidnapped, they might not have reached in time.
Mycroft noticed clothing on the floor. He walked over to it. His brothers clothing, socks and his shoes with the heels broken completely off were wet on the floor. The water reached them. They were not his concern. He noticed his brother's light- black Belstaff wool coat. He frowned and picked it up. He caught the eye of an agent.
Mycroft glanced at his brother as his face softened. "Have this clean and returned to him in the hour."
"Yes Sir." The agent ran off without another word.
Mycroft walked slowly as he took in the long but narrow room. Sherlock's panting voice growled at the paramedics in between coughing up water, and wheezing. The elder Holmes sighed. He would give Sherlock time to get his frustrations out before he tried to reason with him. He knew that the Sherlock of two years ago would need time to distress.
Mycroft resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Doctor Watson would handle his brother. John would probably be able to get Sherlock to do with a word what most people could not get his brother to do with a gun. He glanced at his brother. Satisfied that he was breathing, he quickly glanced away. He took a few minutes to take in the details of the room. His body was perfectly still except for random blinking of the eyes. His eyes traveled around the room. Data flowed at an alarming rate into his mind and was categorized in order of importance. His eyes took in the DI Lestrade that the paramedics were moving quickly around. He inhaled deeply and walked slower. As he walked, he noted the squishing sound that started to resonate under his shoes. It was quite a bit of it. He hoped that it would not ruin his Italian leather shoes.
His eyes now went to Thomas who appeared to be physically uninjured although somewhat wet and cold. He would insist that the agent take a shock blanket if he did not do so on his own. He glanced at the scattered red lights that he noticed at various points in the building as he walked in. His eyes narrowed annoyed. In a second, it was gone and his facial features returned to a stony indifference. He now looked at Doctor Watson as he moved quickly around Lestrade. He was wet as well.
Mycroft closed his eyes briefly then looked at his brother.
Sherlock's rant had died down. His burst of energy was now gone. He lay trembling on the concrete floor. He was soaked. The younger Holmes shirt and trousers were plastered to his body, his curls weighed down. Even though his coughing was better, it still persisted. He lay still on his back with his eyes closed as an agent uncuffed the chains on his hands and feet.
Mycroft lips thinned. He looked at the water tank yards from where the younger Holmes lay. A wave of wrath ran through Mycroft's body. No one would have noticed except Sherlock who was preoccupied with breathing at the moment, and a preoccupied John who just stepped back from Lestrade. Watson allowed the paramedics to take over completely now. Mycroft's jaws clinched together briefly.
One of the solid red lights started to blink again. The light moved and seemed to turn and swivel slowly until it came to rest where a now freed Sherlock was shivering uncontrollably on the ground. Mycroft's body stiffened as he caught the eyes of an agent that was passing by. Within a few minutes, damaged wires and sparks were all that remained of the monitor. Mycroft walked closer to Sherlock now and stood by looking. Something was irritating his mind. Something was out of place. He looked more intensely at his brother. His saturated white shirt was almost transparent. The bruises on his skin were easily seen under the shirt. Water soaked with dried blood, produced an area of pink that was soaking into the shirt and slowly spreading. Presumably, from areas of bruising from when he was beaten earlier. A few cuts and scrapes on his body and face were also running.
Something bothered Mycroft. He looked at Sherlock more intensely. Sherlock glanced at his brother's eyes then glanced away. It was something in Sherlock eyes; they almost gave a silent apology. Mycroft's mouth opened wordlessly, and something flashed in his eyes before his icy exterior came back.
"Help me to my feet," Sherlock said with a shaky voice.
Lestrade was finally being loaded onto the trolley now and Sherlock was determined to get to him. Before Thomas could walk the short distance, Mycroft's long legs closed the short space taking him to his brother's side. Mycroft helped his brother up.
He looked into Mycroft's intense gaze before he quickly looked away as he made his way over to Lestrade. Sherlock staggered over to Lestrade as he looked with concern at the unconscious man. Sherlock's hands gripped the edge of the trolley as if he would collapse at any minute. Alarm bells rang in Mycroft's mind.
Lestrade was wheeled out. As Sherlock watched him go, the last of his energy seemed to go as well. Sherlock blinked a few times as he staggered over to the closest wall and leaned his back against it.
Mycroft made a few telephone calls, text, and received them, as his eyes now did not leave his brother. He watched his brother and was careful to always be within a few yards of him at all times. He watched as he solved the last puzzle and seemed to struggle more with each passing minute. He finally glanced away from Sherlock to John. John now seemed to be watching Sherlock more closely too.
Doctor Watson was giving instructions about how to safely administer the antidote. Yet… Mycroft noticed it again. It was not one thing but a thousand little seemingly insignificant things that screamed, pay attention, danger.
He heard Doctor Watson finish speaking. Time for the test.
"You'll both be getting the saline IV that you spoke of." Mycroft said firmly as he watched Sherlock expression carefully. Sherlock frowned; he did not argue but instead looked away at a wall.
He did not argue.
Mycroft cursed in his mind as his grip tightened around the umbrella.
John's mouth opened and closed it before he looked at Mycroft for the first time. He questioned Mycroft with his eyes. Mycroft looked back as his mobile interrupted him. He text and spoke on the mobile. He watched as the paramedic started an IV fluid on both men. John's eyes did not leave Sherlock, as he seemed to be deep in thought. John suddenly without explanation disconnected his IV fluids and put a cap on his heparin lock. He abruptly walked over to Sherlock. Sherlock seemed to be in a daze as he allowed John passively to remove his shirt and give him dry blankets. John looked at Sherlock's bruised body closely and frowned.
Thomas walked back into the room. He finished directing the other agents and assigned someone to supervise. He glanced at Mycroft then Watson then Holmes. Both Thomas and Mycroft seemed to walk closer.
John and a paramedic helped Sherlock onto the trolley. He seemed a little more dazed as if he did not even realize that he was on the trolley. Thomas frowned when again. He did not argue. He glanced at Mycroft and John.
John saw something. He unwrapped a corner of the shock blanket and stilled suddenly. Mycroft watched wordlessly as John shaking hand stretched slightly as it reached. He looked at it as it returned to him. John's eyes moved from his hands to look at Sherlock. Mycroft heard a gasp escape John's lips. The elder Holmes did not believe that John even noticed. The room was suddenly silenced as everyone looked at both men. The grim look on John face was not unnoticed by Mycroft.
"I'll take that antidote now please." Mycroft heard John say quietly. Mycroft looked as in control and emotionless as he normally did. Only the tightening on his umbrella indicated his now racing heart.
She glanced nervously at the window as she looked at the city below. She was tired and her body still a little sore. She was risking everything to come back to the city. She looked out the window of the airplane as it made its landing. She traveled far and was a little fatigued. They would be landing in thirty minutes.
She smiled sadly. "Only you can cause me to travel half a world away to be near you."
She only had to sneak in a city. Keep her movements from Moriarty, sneak past Mycroft's man, and then sneak back out again undetected. She could let Mycroft know that she was back in the country but it was difficult losing his men the last time that she left, and there were things that Mycroft did not need to know. Not yet at least.
Irene closed her eyes and tried to rest her body some more.
"Well," She thought. "Let the party begin."