Sherlock Story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 122
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A disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to BBC along with the talented writers Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss; along with the 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*****.*** T rated, However, there is some violence ****. ****
I have written several chapters. There is a bit of a chiffy on the last chapter. The next few postings run into each other, so the chiffys are not intentional.
Read all at once...or ...read one a day and you will only have a day before the next posting. The choice is yours. Make yourself happy.
" Each board contains two knights… The knight – with its strange and unpredictable jumps – is the trickiest of the chess pieces.…"
… White Knight, Black Knight… Unpredictable Jumps… Part III
"In darkness of the night - I spied him in a tree - Sat I froze by the sight - He was looking at me."
Current Day
Current Time
The open space vibrated with energy. A sea of humanity blurred unnoticed. His full concentration was already lost in his mind as he calculated the best course of action to take, so that the largest number of people would survive. He purposely ignored the faces so that his total concentration would be based on logic.
Several pairs of eyes followed him as he walked in. He ignored them all. A rare sensation worked its way through him as he moved slowly but steadily. Apprehension. He was not sure which direction to take. If he were honest, he would admit at least to himself that he did not even have any direction.
While Moriarty had distracted him, a mobile from Moriarty's men had replaced his mobile. He thought about calling John and Mycroft, but he did not dare until he knew the rules of this new game. He had no doubt that Moriarty had bugged the mobile that he had given him. If he made a phone call to anyone without Moriarty's permission, and he found out about it, there would be an unpleasant consequence.
He glanced at the crowd of people that were there.
"Lovely," Holmes whispered to himself.
Holmes noticed movement out of the corner of his vision. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He needed to move quickly and invisibly. A quick glance of the general area of the room gave valuable information. His eyes continued to give a subtle glance about, before they came to rest briefly in the direction of the security camera in the top, corner, of the room.
Data flowed into, and out of, his mind.
Professional grade CCTV...
Surveillance camera...
H264 High Resolution 4ch DVR utilizing High Resolution VGA.
He would be surprised if the Criminal Mastermind had not found a way to tap into the surveillance camera security system. Moriarty was most likely having a laugh as he sat, and watched, while he drank tea, and tortured a few innocents.
Moriarty had made it more difficult for him to move about unnoticed, when he took his scarf and coat. That had, no doubt, been his intention.
He attempted to move as quickly as his sore body would allow, but the realization, that he would not make it past several concerned eyes, was clear. Several medical workers came toward him.
An unfamiliar voice to his right spoke first. "Sir, are you okay?"
A different voice spoke, "Sir, you really need to sit down." A wheelchair appeared next to him. "Now."
Holmes looked longingly at the door that led beyond the outer room. Sneaking past the door was normally not a problem. Today, it would be. He had mastered the art of hiding in plain sight, blending into his surroundings, and if all else fail, bulling his way into where he wants to go. It would not do any good currently. He was drawing too much attention to himself. He could only imagine what he looked like. Between Anderson, the car accident, a fight with his would be kidnappers, and Moriarty, he probably looked like death warmed over.
Holmes thought for a few seconds. There was a sudden realization that his left side felt unusually warm, and sticky. His hand moved down toward the wetness before coming in front of his face. It came back red. Moriarty had brutally twisted his fingers into his side, while in the motorcar. It was meant to be a punishment for defying him. Sherlock now realized that as Moriarty had twisted his hand into the laceration on his bruised ribs, he had pulled at two of the three stitches and broken them. His shirt and a small area of his dress jacket were stained with blood; the day old wound was bleeding again.
He allowed himself a frown when he realized that he was surrounded. Did they not have anything better to do, Holmes wondered.
"I'm fine," he said between gritted teeth as he staggered to the side.
Traitorous transport.
One hand caught him. Another firmly guided him to a wheelchair that had materialized.
Sherlock righted himself as he pushed the offending hands away. "I am fine," he repeated with what he hoped was a glare. It looked more like a grimace. The medical workers ignored him. Did they not realize that he did not have time for this? Lives were at stake. There was a puzzle to be solved.
"Sir, you're in shock." A voice drifted from his right.
His frown deepened as he was manhandled. He opened his mouth as several scathing remarks came to his mind. It was closed when he noticed the determined look on the medical workers' faces. He closed his mouth and his frown deepened.
His eyes traveled and deduced the faces of the three people who were determined to care for him. Blue-gray eyes rested on a young nurse.
Twenty-three, no twenty-four years old - eight months as a nurse – newly engaged, no engagement ring yet – cares more about her patients than hospital policies - compassionate.
Holmes eyes locked onto her eyes. He took her offered hand. She squeezed his hand without losing eye contact. He squeezed back. The young nurse smiled down reassuringly at the handsome man. Beyond all his bravado, she saw fear. Her boyfriend, not boyfriend anymore she reminded herself, but fiancé was the same way.
Voices merged together, some were offering words of comfort, and others were giving him direction.
The man's body stiffened. The young nurse tried not to frown as she watched the young man open his eyes wide, and then close them, as sudden pain shot through his body.
"Oh God," Holmes whimpered quietly. "The room is spinning." He added. Soft gasps and moans left his lips.
He was quickly wheeled past the doors toward the inside of the hospital.
Current Day
John and the agent slowly and quietly moved into the building. The signal to Sherlock was getting stronger. He was somewhere in that building. They would have to search. John stopped the agent silently. His eyes squinted. He slowly walked up to the object that was hung on a hook. John felt his muscles elongate as he reached up. He would recognize the object anywhere. It was Sherlock's light, black Belstaff wool coat.
John's fingers tightened around the overcoat.
Current Day
Current Time
The nurse walked back down the busy hallway toward the room with the man in it. It was unusually crowded today. Several accidents, muggings, even two gas leaks. She could not ever remember a busier day in the near nine months of her employment.
She felt the cool, slick object in her pocket. She smiled what she hoped was an innocent smile as a coworker passed by. She seriously should not have even considered doing, what she had made up her mind to do, but the man had seemed so broken, so distressed, how could she have refused him.
Her mobile was in her pocket, hidden. It was not supposed to be used on the medical, or surgical floors, but he had seemed so desperate to speak to his brother. She felt sympathy as she stretched out her hand to push the door open.
The patient, Holmes had his eyes closed. He opened them immediately. The young nurse stood for a second or two and looked at the man. His eyes seemed to be almost looking into her. She resisted the urge to both frown and squirm.
"You were able to get your mobile for me." The patient said casually.
Her eyebrows rose. "How did you know that I would do it?" The man never answered, he just continued to study her. His eyes followed her as she moved with the mobile in hand, and handed it to him.
He grimaced when his hands reached for the mobile and took it from her. "Thank you Abbey," He said. The words seemed to be almost an afterthought. His voice held traces of pain. She could not remember telling him her name. She normally wore a name-tag with her picture and name, but the clasp on the back must have broken sometime earlier. She could not find it.
She looked at him intently. "Are you sure that you won't have anything for pain?"
"I need my mind clear," he said in a matter of fact way.
"Have to save the world?" She smiled at the joke.
"Not all of it." Holmes said seriously. The man was quiet for a few minutes thinking. After a brief hesitation, he pushed the number keys and waited for the call to connect.
"Mycroft it's me," He frowned as he took the mobile from his ear for a second and stared at the phone. He put it back to his ear and was about to speak, but stopped. He looked at her as if he suddenly remembered that she was still in the room. "Do you mind?"
"Well… I actually should…" a moan from the man as he swayed slightly and closed his eyes cut off her gentle protest.
She looked at the monitors and IV. His vital signs were slightly abnormal, particularly his heart rate, but nothing immediately life threatening. "Well," She started again, "I'll pop out for a minute and check on my other patients."
"Don't try to get up on your own. Use your call button if you have to use the loo, and if your heart rate continues to rise, you might have to reconsider something for pain." She gave him her best imitation of a stern look. The one her mum used on her often.
"Of course," Holmes said with his best angelic look.
"Well then," The young nurse said as she looked him over one last time before walking out the door.