Chapter 13: Unexpected Turns

The room where Sherlock had found the rosary was decorated with a lot of other stuff. Most of them were made of silver, gold or other very expensive materials. Sherlock already had an idea where this was coming from.

"You see all those other things here? I guess he took it from his victims."

"Could it be some kind of collection," the blogger asked curiously.

"Could be, but I think he's more a trader than a collector."

"How can you be so sure of that?"

"Just look around John. He has a villa, which is built of marble and gold. Do you really think he had the money just from using some pink powder and magic?"

"No…"

"That's the point. I think he got all the money from trading or selling those values."

"But do you really think the people he killed were that rich?"

Now Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Sometimes you are not thinking rationally."

"I'm sure I'm thinking rational most of the time," the blogger protested.

"Those young people come here with all they have. And most likely they don't come with a lot of money but pearls, gold and silver. Understand?"

"Why wouldn't they come with money?" John still wasn't able to get it.

"How can you change money when you don't know the language?"

And now the doctor knew what his friend was trying to tell him.

Sherlock smiled, "See, I told you you're not thinking rationally enough."

The friends were looking at each other, the silence seemed like magic in the mysterious room.

"So, what are we going to do," the blogger wanted to know.

"Well, I would say we dig deeper into this whole thing, trying to get as much information as possible. I really need to know what connection my grandma had with this man. Was she just one of his victims or am I missing a very important point?"

"Are you questioning yourself right now?"

"I am confused, that's all."

"Sherlock Holmes confused? Seems like the magic has finally gotten to you," John said with a little grin on his face.

The detective looked at the doctor in front of him and smiled, "Maybe…"

"So, where do we go now?" John asked nervously.

"I think we should continue to explore the building."

"But what about Bruno?"

"Well, at the moment it seems like he's not hunting us. We should hurry," Sherlock replied and started to look around. "There has to be another exit. I don't want to take the same route again."

As always, Sherlock's mind was already racing, data after data was running through his head, combining and comparing. John was patiently staying in the corner of the room, watching his friend while trying to find another way out.

"I knew it!" Sherlock suddenly whispered and laid his hand on a stone in the wall. Some mechanism was starting to work and a door opened.

"Interesting," the blogger mumbled.

"Not at all. Just the ordinary secret room stuff."

"As always," John sighed and followed the detective through the door.

"So, are you keeping the rosary?" he asked the detective while walking down the stairs. It was smelling musty and the blogger was reminded of the time he was kept prisoner by Eurus. If Sherlock wouldn't have found him in time, he would have died of dehydration. He gulped. Instantly, the detective turned round to face him.

"What's the matter?"

"It's nothing. Just a bad memory, that's all."

"Eurus."

"What?"

"You're thinking of Eurus," Sherlock replied worried.

"How did you know?"

"The smell. I had the same memory."

"At the end I really believed that you wouldn't come," John admitted.

"And I was scared of not finding you in time. But I did and you are still at my side."

Both men continued their journey, when suddenly Sherlock stopped abruptly.

"What's wrong?" the doctor asked kind of nervous.

"It's a trap," was all Sherlock could manage before another wave of pink powder greeted them…

When John Watson awoke from his dreamless sleep, he was looking at the sun. Its red colour shining threatening in contrast to the rest of the blue sky. Something was bothering him. Although the sun was beautiful and he was sure he had never seen something like this before, it didn't feel right. What was ringing his alarm bells? The headache was still present and for a moment the doctor feared he was going to throw up any second. He rolled himself onto his side, trying to supress the unavoidable. When the torture was finally over, he wiped his mouth and tried to sit up. And now he understood, why he was confused earlier. The walls were missing, a light breeze was playing with his hair and the cicadas could be heard all around him.

"I'm free?" he wondered while looking at the dry ground around him. The fog around his eyes subsided and finally he was able to think clearly again. He had been with Sherlock and…

Sherlock! Where was Sherlock?

Scared he looked around, trying to spot him. To his relief, his friend was lying only a few metres away on the ground.

Slowly, the blogger tried to get up and started to walk towards his friend. When he was at his side, he turned the tall man on his back and felt for a pulse. To his relieve, the detective was only asleep and when he gently nudged him, Sherlock moved.

"What happened?" he asked irritated while trying to soothe the headache he was experiencing.

"I think we were left in the wilderness," the doctor replied sarcastically.

The detective rose from the ground and looked around. "He dropped us here?"

"Well, how else did we end up here?"

"Sorry, my mind is still a little bit foggy." The tall man tried to stand up, but couldn't. He was still too numbed from the powder.

John saw, that his friend was unstable on his feet and tried to comfort him. When Sherlock was leaning on the soldier's strong shoulder, the doctor flinched, when he felt the heat radiating from the detective's body. "Jesus Sherlock, you're burning up! Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm fine. Guess I had too much sun out there," he whispered.

"O no, you're not going to sleep now Sherl. We have to bring you to a hospital."

"No hospital," the detective replied while trying to get off the doctor.

"You heard me. I'm not having this conversation with you right now. Something is going on and I don't have anything here to help you. Just tell me where we are and where I should go."

"Just walk. It's not important which way you take. All ways lead to a street or, if lucky, a city."

The blogger sighed. This wasn't what he expected to do when waking up with a terrible headache. He wanted to talk further to his friend about Bruno and why they were left here in the wild, but when he felt the weight on his right side increasing, he knew it was useless. Sherlock was already asleep again…

With all the strength he had, he started to walk. Step by step through olive trees and dried grass. The sun was burning down on him mercilessly and all he wished for right now was a bottle of water. He was walking over thirty minutes in the heat, his broken wrist still complaining, before finally reaching a street. There was no car and everything was quiet, so John continued his walk along the street. Maybe someone would see them.

Fifteen minutes later, John already feeling sick, a car came to a halt right next to them.

"Posso aiutare?" the man looked very worried but John wasn't able to understand nor to answer.

"Sorry, I don't speak your language," he replied tiredly.

"You are lucky. I speak little bit English. You two need help?"

"Hospital," was the last word the blogger managed to say before he finally passed out from the heat stroke, he had sustained from the sun…

When the doctor awoke a second time, he found himself in a hospital bed. There were wires leading to different monitors and he wasn't able to remember what had happened. His head was still hurting and when he tried to open his eyes, the pain increased and he flinched. He could hear a heart monitor in the distance. He knew the steady beeping was belonging to him and for a moment he listened to the comfort sound of a steady rhythm.

He was still wondering how he ended up in a hospital. Perhaps he had done something very dumb. His right wrist was finally reminding him of something but still his brain was too confused to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

He must have fallen asleep again, because the next time he came round, the room was much darker. Did he sleep a whole day? Slowly, he opened one eye, trying to get a look at his whereabouts. It was just an ordinary room with white walls and a TV on the sideboard. He couldn't help it but something was missing. Something very important. A door opened and someone was standing at his bedside now. John tried to speak but his voice was still raspy from the dehydration he had sustained from the long walk in the sun.

"Buongiorno. Io sono Dottore Alessio Ricci."

John now looked at the doctor next to him and sighed. "Sorry, I don't speak Italian."

"I see. Then we have to talk in English, no problemo."

"Where am I?"

"Ospedale Sacro Cuore di Gesù," the doctor replied with a warm smile.

A smile formed on his lips. He was in hospital. This meant he was safe.

"You were very lucky they found you."

"I can't remember anything. It's still blurry," John replied.

"It's not quite uncommon to lose memory after a heatstroke."

"Heatstroke? Was I in the sun that long?"

"You and it seems your friend was, too."

"My friend?"

"The tall man you were dragging with you," the doctor tried again. "He was in pretty bad shape."

"I can't remember. Why can't I remember?"

"The heatstroke was severe. We had you in a coma for three days and you finally awoke after ten days in total."

"Ten days?" John couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Cerebral edema needs time to heal."

"Will I regain my memory?"

"We will see. Do you remember anything? Your name would be a good start. We found you two without any documents."

"I… I don't know who I am. I… can't remember my name…"