It is still definitely Sunday for another thirty minutes.
Sorry this is late but enjoy.
"Why don't you tell me what I want to know. It'll make this much easier on you, you know." Your voice wavered into the back of my mind, chilly and low.
An unfamilliar man answered. "You don't scare me, Holmes." He was breathing hard, but remained steady, his slow exhales laced with sweat and faint cologne. In a flash of shadow and color, you connected with the side of his face, and he responded with a hiss.
"That can be corrected," You growl.
He grew quiet, and took in a deep breath. "If you want to kill me, or torture me, be my guest. But you're wasting your time."
The corner of an ice pack bit into my forehead, throbbing and swollen with pain. I tried to open my eyes, but the light stung, and large ovals wobbled in and out of my vision. Reds and browns quarreled while my eyes tried to focus. My neck and back were stiff and sore, I could feel it already. I was crooked where I was laying, and as I tried to shift, a sharp groan escaped my lips.
I felt you touch my leg. "Stay still, John. You've been unconscious. Not sure how bad the injury is yet."
"What happened...?" I murmured, lifting a hand to my head.
"You were assaulted. Two men invaded the flat. One I chased away, but the second I managed to catch." Your eyes flickered to the man, tied by the wrists to the back of one of our kitchen chairs. Its legs looked like toothpicks compared to the girth of his arms, but your Browning kept him at bay, along with a serious-looking wound in his upper left thigh. He glanced over me briefly, his gaze hard. "His identification reads Colonel Jack Argall."
"What did you do to him...?" I grunted and started to sit up, but the pain in my head kept me down.
"He was being difficult, and I had to restrain him." You twirled the gun around in your hand with a smirk. A gunshot wound, then.
As the surroundings came into focus, I noticed in stark detail the bruising around your hailine, and the slight swelling around your eye. A small smear of blood sat beneath your nose. You had held your own, even against him. But your eyes remained sharp, your posture strong but relaxed, the gun bouncing in your hand like it was the remote for the tele.
"I'll tell you one more time, Mr. Argall. You can either comply, or face the consequences."
"What consequences? Are you going to shoot me? Mutilate me? Your methods of persuasion are not very original." He glanced at me. "I don't think you would want to subject your fiancé to that kind of violence, would you."
You brought the nuzzle of your gun to his jaw and drew it back, locking your eyes to his. "Who is your employer?"
"I already told you, I won't-"
With a brisk snap of your arm, the barrel of your gun smashed into Argall's temple with a crack. The sound alone made my skin crawl. But you grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled him back upright.
"I'll ask again. Who is your employer?"
"My employer is not someone you want to trifle with." He answered, flexing his jaw. "Someone who is much more cunning than you. You may have me, but you do not have the upper hand, Holmes. Any time now you'll be-"
Your phone chirped, and your hand dipped into your pocket.
Argall rolled his neck. "Could've been quicker."
"Would this be your employer, then?" You glanced at your phone.
You have something of mine. - EL
"They won't be happy you're keeping me." He said with a tsk.
"Why are you of any importance?" You asked, typing in a reply. "You're just a hired thug, a disposable pawn."
"Yes, in your perspective, I am."
"But not to your employer. Interesting." You eyed him, scanning over him, and he met you with agitated hostility. "Sit still, Mr. Argall, and soon enough we'll have this under control. It's a good thing you didn't bet on the 'cunning' part of your speech, isn't it?" You finished typing and hit send.
He's been an inconvenience to me. - SH
The reply came within seconds.
Even nuisances have debts to pay. Release him to me, would you, Mr. Holmes? - EL
I'm afraid that's out of the question. - SH
I would encourage you to reconsider. - EL
"What is it, Sherlock?" I croaked, forcing myself to sit up.
"Lay down, John, the swelling still hasn't gone down." You started to tap in a message to your brother. "Tell me, Mr. Argall, how long has it been since you started fucking your employer?"
His eyes went wide. "What are you-?"
"It's painstakingly obviously, you might as well have hung a condom from your pocket with her name on it. You've been in her bed recently. This morning, perhaps?" You sighed. "Of course, not many people know about it. You're trying to keep it a secret, the two of you. But I'm sure that fact has been crucial to the position you're in now. It's common knowledge that you don't bring secrets to Baker Street unless there's money or criminal masterminds involved."
Jack Argall. On record? - SH
"How did you know that?" Argall stammered.
"The same way I know you're former military. Army, if I'm correct. Dishonorable discharge. Youngest child. Alcoholic father. No, mother. Married once; you ended it. You've been sleeping with your employer regularly. I'm sure it helps with the promotions. Obviously, then, your employer is a woman. Young. My guess would be late twenties, early thirties. Blonde hair. Slim but muscular, and curvier past the waist - that is your type, isn't it, Mr. Argall? - but you are much older than she is, by at very least fifteen years. That could be the reason why you're keeping quiet about your relationship, but if she truly were the 'top dog', why would she feel the need to hide anything?
"If she were a mastermind, it wouldn't matter what anyone else thought. It's likely that she's part of a corporation, or that she is taking orders from someone above her, someone who she is either close to or wants to impress. Thank you, Argall, thank you. You've painted me a very fine picture of your employer."
The man's eyes were the size of fishbowls. Your phone chirped again.
Former army colonel. Dishonorably discharged in 2003, charges of rape and abuse. Is he a lead? - MH
I'll ask you politely to release Mr. Argall, before I lose my patience. - EL
"Listen to her, Holmes." The man said. You looked at him, and he rustled his brow. "If you care at all for John's well-being, you'll let me walk."
"There's been no damage done to him since you've been tied to that chair, I count that as an improvement." You smirked, finishing your reply. "I think you've given me all that I need, Argall. Soon you'll be meeting one of my old friends. His name is Lestrade, and he'll take good care of you back in Scotland Yard. Don't worry, he's already on his way."
Sirens began to wail in the distance, and anger flashed across Argall's face. "I'm warning you, Holmes!"
"Consider me warned." You tapped his forehead with your gun.
A woman without patience makes for a case easily solved. - SH
You'll regret you tested me, Mr. Holmes. - EL
By the time Scotland Yard had finished in the house, the sun had already set, and I was completely exhausted. Greg took over as soon as they had arrived, securing Argall and having him transported personally by Donovan to the holding facility. We were lucky, too, because evidently your lack of sleep had gotten to you. You spent your time pacing around the flat, your skin clammy, itching at your arms when you thought I wasn't looking.
The paramedics checked me out and announced that I did not in fact have a concussion, which was good. Starting out the holidays with a head injury would have been less than jolly. But I still had a skull-splitting headache and held an ice-bag to my head for the better part of the afternoon. By sun-down the swelling had gone down, and I put the bag back in the freezer, where it belonged.
Greg stuck around, keeping an eye on me and making sure the policemen didn't disturb the flat too much. He chiefly directed the investigation from the couch, sitting beside me. He took it upon himself to ask me questions: when I'd noticed the men, what I could gather about the getaway's appearance, simple things like that. Worry lined his eyes whenever they shifted across my face.
"How are you feeling, John?" He asked, clicking his pen closed. I glanced up at him, surprised with the quick change from formal to informal.
"Like hell," I replied, stretching my leg. "But... what? What do you mean? I'm doing fine."
He seemed less than convinced. "Has Sherlock been looking out for you?"
"Yes, he has." I nodded. "He has been. Y'know, save for this little... dihlemma."
"I'm being serious, John." He sighed, looking down the hall to be sure that you weren't around. "John, listen. If your health isn't improving, there is no reason why you can't come back to my place for a little while. Just get a little break. Y'know, from the stress."
"Are you implying that Sherlock is making me worse?"
"No, John, no, that's not what I'm saying." Greg sighed, running his hand through his hair. "I'm just worried about you two."
"Thank you, Greg, but I don't think that's necessary."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure."
"Alright, John. I'll trust you. But as soon as something goes wrong, I'm going to trust you to let me know about it, alright?" He patted my shoulder. "I want you to get better."
"Thank you. I appreciate it."
He nodded. "And, John? Is it just me, or has Sherlock been acting a little... more jumpy than usual? Because he seems a little reckless. Like how he handled Anne. I know he suspected her, and thinking about it, I don't blame him. He was worried. But it was a little sloppy for him. Usually he ties things up nice and pretty. But he didn't bother." He tapped his thigh. "I know it's a been a while, but is there a chance he could be...?"
"What?!" I exclaimed, a little louder than I'd meant to. I quieted. "No. He wouldn't. He's clean."
"Alright, alright. But keep an eye on him, okay?" He pursed his lips. "I promised Mycroft that I'd be transparent if anything ever came up, but I don't want to jump to conclusions. I know he's has to deal with this too. Just, please keep up with me, John. Ask for help if you need it. Alright?"
I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry.
Greg exhaled, pulling up the sleeve of his coat to check his watch. "Damn, it's gotten late. I'll get back and see what I can get out of Argall. You two still going to the dinner tomorrow?"
"Planning," I answered.
"Alright. I'll see you then." He smiled, touching my shoulder again as he stood. "I'll say good-bye to Sherlock, too. Rest up."
He turned and left, jogging downstairs with his coat trailing along behind him. As soon as he was out of eyesight, I leaned onto my knees and cradled my thundering head in my hands.
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Next chapter Thursday.