Chapter 18: Make A Wish

Bruno had left the room with an evil smile on his face. John didn't like it. He was sitting on the cold ground next to Sherlock, who was still gagged. The blogger felt sorry for the detective. He could hear how hard his friend was trying to get enough air through his nose.

"I wish I could help you get rid of the gag, but Bruno bound my hands and ankles. I'm as useless as you at the moment."

There was no response from the tall man.

"It's scary when you're not saying a word," the blogger whispered.

Bruno had bound them back-to-back. It was useless to try to get loose of the ropes. John was worried to the core. Sherlock as quiet as he was right now, was not a good sign. He was still breathing and it seemed like this was all the detective tried to do at the moment. John needed to do something. His friend was suffering and he could feel it. Slowly, the soldier started to rub his ankles. The ground was plastered with rough stones, so maybe it would be enough to free himself this way. He was struggling for about ten minutes, when finally, his feet were free again. Sherlock never reacted to the movement and John was getting more and more worried.

Now that his feet were free, the blogger looked around to find something sharp enough to get rid of the other ropes. If he would be able to free his hands, he could look after Sherlock. There was a hook on the wall and John got excited.

"Do you think, you can stand up with me? There's a hook on the wall and I'm sure I can free myself."

The detective just nodded and the blogger was relieved that his friend was still there.

"Okay, on my count. One, two, three!"

Both men started to get up, but Sherlock was already weakened and they started to stumble. Somehow, John was able to steady them both and now they were slowly trying to reach the hook.

The blogger could feel his friend getting weaker by the minute, but this was the only chance they had.

"Come on Sherl. Just a few more steps and I can help you," John encouraged.

Finally, after long minutes of keeping Sherlock awake, John succeeded. The ropes were falling on the ground and John was massaging his wrists for a second. As fast as he could he tried to get down with the exhausted detective and started to work on the last rope. It took him longer than expected but finally, they were free. He immediately turned to the detective, who was already slipping into unconsciousness.

"Hey buddy, it's not bedtime yet. Stay with me! Come on!" John pulled away the gag and started to clap the detective's face. It was that moment when the doctor realized that his best friend had stopped breathing.

"I've lost count of how many times I've done this," the doctor said while giving mouth-to-mouth. It took some time, before Sherlock showed the first signs of returning.

"Look, Sleeping Beauty is waking up. Guess my kiss brought you back again."

"I would say it was more your fishy breath than your kiss," the detective whispered.

"Cock. Now shut up and let me think of a way out of here. You need a hospital."

"We both will need an undertaker, John. He won't let us go. Not until we are six feet under."

"I am not giving up. Even Bruno has a weakness and I will find it."

"Well, good luck with that," Sherlock said dryly while staring up at the ceiling.

The blogger stood up and decided to try the door. It was of course a very ridiculous idea, but he had to try.

"Losing your memory didn't do you any good, did it?" Sherlock was teasing him. He ignored it. They were about to die and he wasn't ready. The execution of Pietro and Laura had shocked him deeply and he didn't want to die like this.

"I'm trying to get us out of here," the blogger said while trying the knob of the door. It was of course locked and he sighed in desperation. It was useless. They were trapped.

John was walking back to where Sherlock was still lying on the cold ground, when suddenly the floor started to tremble and a big hole appeared. John instantly knew what was happening and tried to push the detective away from the danger. It was useless. The hole got bigger and bigger and finally both men were falling into the unknown.

John thought they were falling to their deaths and he started to panic. Suddenly their fall was caught by a soft landing. When the doctor looked around, he found himself lying in tons of pillows.

"What the hell?"

"This looks like from a scene of Alice in Wonderland," Sherlock whispered confused.

"Why would he have such a room? That's ridiculous."

"Maybe I was wrong."

"Wrong? Sherlock Holmes is never wrong," the blogger replied.

"Well, I think this time I am." The detective tried to steady his breathing.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" Watson was worried.

"I felt better. I'm more concerned about you," Sherlock said.

"Me?"

"You had quite a fall down those steps. I saw you on the screen."

John tried to sound unbothered. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"How many ribs?"

Sherlock knew. Dammit. He really didn't want his best friend to worry even more than he already did.

"It's not that bad. I have been worse."

"How many?" Sherlock's voice was getting louder.

"One broken, one bruised. You're satisfied now?"

"For the moment, yes." The detective tried to rise from one of the big pillows and looked around.

"Definitely wrong," he whispered while his brain started to combine the new information.

"If you're ready to tell me, I am waiting," John said while feeling betrayed.

"Look around John. What do you see?"

"I see pillows. Just a lot of big, soft pillows."

"Doesn't that alarm you," the detective asked.

"Well, it's not fitting the rest of the villa," John answered.

"Exactly. This room is completely different to all those other rooms."

"Why did he bring us here?"

Sherlock sighed. "John, I think we were fooled."

For a moment, the blogger thought Sherlock was hallucinating from the fever. But then, when he saw his friend's face, he knew that he was serious.

"So, what makes you think we were fooled?" John tried to get closer to the detective. When he finally reached him, the detective wasn't smiling.

"John, I think we have more than one Bruno."

"Again twins? Sherlock, I know the case with Moriarty was very unexpected, but twins? Are you sure about that?"

Sherlock started to laugh.

"What's so funny," the blogger wanted to know.

"I didn't mean twins, John."

"I am listening as always."

"I think we are fighting a family here."

John looked at Sherlock like he'd seen a ghost. "Are you losing your mind now?"

"No, unfortunately not. But it all makes sense now. We were tricked from the beginning."

"What do you mean?"

Sherlock started to laugh. "How could we be that blind?"

"Sherlock?"

The laughing continued. It wasn't the normal laughter he knew from the detective. This laughter was full of desperation. John slowly understood, that something was very, very wrong.

"Sherlock? Tell me what's wrong! Now," John barked at the laughing detective.

"It's a family John! I was fooled by a complete family."

John was still irritated.

"What are you saying? Sherlock, that's not true. You're losing your mind. It's just Bruno and no one else."

"John, we are witnesses of the best magic ever."

"What changed your mind?" the blogger couldn't follow.

"As far as I can tell, Bruno has a daughter and a wife."

"Okay. You're crazy. I got it," John said while trying to suppress his desperate grin.

"No John. It's you who doesn't understand. This room here is the opposite of all rooms we discovered so far. It's colorful, soft and above all: peaceful. Here, there is no harm, no violence."

"And that makes you think it's a girl's room?"

"This room was made for fun," Sherlock explained. "But it's been a while since someone came here. You can smell the dust on the pillows."

"Maybe he is keeping kids, too?"

"No. He would never hurt a little child."

"So, where is the rest of the family," John wanted to know. He still couldn't believe the new thesis.

"We did meet her. A few times I think."

"Where?"

"Do you remember the rose scent?"

John's eyes widened. "You think, she is the one using this perfume?"

"I do. And if I'm right, their daughter is the true magician."

The blogger thought it couldn't get any more irritating, but Sherlock again proofed him wrong.

"Their daughter? How can you be so sure he's having a daughter?"

"Because this room here was a playground. Look at those pillows. Red, pink, purple… Are those typical boy colors?"

John had to admit, that the detective had a point here.

"See? I told you. From the amount of dust, I would assume that the daughter is now around sixteen years old," Sherlock continued.

Before John could ask any more questions, Sherlock tried to get off the pillows.

"What are you doing? You shouldn't climb around in your condition."

"I am trying to get us out of here before it's too late."

"Too late for what," John asked while climbing after the detective.

"Too late to escape," Sherlock breathed while sliding down one of the pillows. John did the same, always trying to keep up with the tall man. Finally, both friends were standing in front of a big door. Sherlock tried it, but it was locked.

"Guess we're fucked again," the blogger whispered. Sherlock could hear how desperate his best friend was. "I am not giving up yet. I will fight until I die."

"Sherlock, maybe we should stop trying. This is a dead end. We will die here."

The detective looked around. He needed something to manipulate the door. His eyes met one of the pillows. There was a zipper and the detective smiled. Without saying a word, he grabbed the zipper and pulled.

"Sherl, do you really think destroying pillows will help us here?"

When Sherlock returned, he showed John a paper clip. "Sometimes, we are lucky. If you lose the zipper, use a paper clip instead."

John was shaking his head. Sherlock could be a pain in the ass, but still he was able to impress him in the weirdest of moments.

The detective started to manipulate the lock and all of a sudden, there was a clicking sound and the door opened. When they left the room, the surprise-effect was even bigger. They were standing in another living room. This time, it wasn't a room for guests. It was the private area now. There was a woman sitting on the sofa. Sherlock could already smell the scent of roses. "Do you smell that," he whispered to John.

"Hell yes," the doctor replied.

Both men were standing there, unresponsive. The sight of the woman was the last thing both were expecting.

"Welcome. So, you finally found your way out of the bloody side," she greeted them.

There was a glass of white wine in front of her. The woman looked anything but happy. Her eyes were a mixture of sadness and tiredness.

"What is this here? And who are you?" John, polite as always.

"My name is Gabriella Ricci."

"You are Bruno's wife," Sherlock stated.

"Well, kind of. It's just on the paper."

"So, you don't have amore and anything like that?" Sherlock couldn't suppress a grin. Sometimes, John could be very direct when he spoke.

"It never was. He forced me into the role of a loving wife and mother."

"Did you save us from that cold prison up there," the detective wanted to know.

"Let's say I wanted to give you two a chance. If Bruno finds out, he will kill me."

"Well, thank you. That's a very brave gesture," the blogger replied slightly ashamed.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. I'm only trying to give you two more time. Bruno is a very dangerous man."

"Tell us something new," the blogger whispered.

The woman tried to smile. "Sit down please and join me."

Both men slowly walked to the sofa, still suspecting another trap.

"Don't worry. Bruno won't return the next two hours."

"Tell us your story. How did you end up here?" Sherlock needed answers. This case was getting more and more disturbing.

"We met eighteen years ago. I was a ballerina in Rome. He saw one of my shows when he studied there."

"He studied? Do you know which academic subject," Sherlock interrupted.

"Oh, he studied different things. Mechanics, chemistry, medicine…"

"Wait, medicine? You sure?" The blogger was alarmed.

"I am. He has a lot of knowledge and that makes him even more dangerous," Gabriella confirmed.

"Well, now that explains how he came up with this hole show," the detective replied.

"Bruno promised me a lot of things and I fell for it. I can't say he's treating me bad, but sometimes I wish I could live a normal life. Just like other people."

"Did he forced you to support him in his shows? I mean, where you involved," John asked curiously.

"When I found out what he was doing, I made it clear that I wasn't going to join him. He accepted it and I promised him to stay quiet."

"Bruno has invented a lot of things to kill all those people," the detective continued.

Gabriella started to sigh. "You think Bruno is the devil? Then you should meet his daughter."

"His daughter? Are you saying it's his daughter who has those monstrous ideas," the blogger asked shocked.

"Penelope, yes. She's even more evil than her father is. She comes up with the ideas and her father makes the magic happen." Gabriella looked lost. Sherlock assumed she must be very lonely in this big villa. She had everything: gold, a lot of rooms, housekeepers… But still she was trapped in a hell she didn't want to be.

"Tell me, is there a way out of here," Sherlock wanted to know.

"There are many ways. But they don't end well."

"Sounds like you tried to escape many times," John mumbled.

"259 times to be precisely," Gabriella let out.

"Jesus, I guess we're not getting out of here alive," the blogger gulped.

"If you're lucky enough you will die in a few seconds," Gabriella shared.

"I'm not afraid of dying." John paused for a second, then looked at Bruno's wife again, "Not since I survived Culverton Smith. I am worried about my daughter. She will be an orphan then."

"I'm sorry. I really am." Gabriella stood up and walked into the kitchen. When she returned, she had a little box in her hand. She handed it to John.

"What's that," he asked astounded.

"Medical supplies. I'm sure he's already hurt you, didn't he?"

John opened the box and when he saw, what was inside the box, he looked at Gabriella totally surprised. "Where did you find this?"

"It's from Bruno. He needs it from time to time."

"Well, thank you. I don't know what to say," John whispered.

"Just stop them. Even if it means to kill them. Just… Just end this nightmare and save those innocent people." Gabriella was trying to hide her tears. Sherlock knew she was scared. Very scared and telling them about Bruno und Penelope wouldn't improve her situation…

A wave of coughs started to interrupt the silence. Dammit. He wasn't still getting better. Sherlock had been dumb enough to believe things would get better as soon as he was allowed a little break.

"Bruno has put some antibiotics and painkillers in the box. And if I remember right, there was some cortisone, too," Gabriella informed.

John looked through the ampules and little vials. Bruno was very well equipped. He had medicine, all kinds of painkillers and, what surprised John even more, antidotes for different kind of poisons.

He grabbed a syringe and looked at Sherlock, who was trying to calm himself.

"Would you like a shot? I promise you will feel better very fast," the doctor offered.

The detective just nodded. And if Sherlock Holmes wanted treatment, it meant he felt very, very bad.

After the syringe, Sherlock kind of relaxed and his head started to rest on John's shoulder. "Tired…," was all he could manage, before sleep took over his senses. Dr. John Watson could feel the heat radiating from Sherlock's body.

"He doesn't look good," Gabriella whispered, trying not to disturb the exhausted man.

"Bruno tried to drown him. I managed to get him out but he inhaled a lot of water," the blogger explained.

"If you think Bruno is a sadist, you should wait for Penelope."

"At the moment all I want is for Sherlock to get better and for me some painkillers. My rib is killing me," John hissed while trying to grab another syringe. He handed it to Gabriella. "Would you mind giving me a shot?"

She nodded and pushed the needle into John's arm. The pain slowly got better and he sighed in relieve. "Thank you."

"What did he do to you?" She was honestly worried.

"I took the stairs on my own style," John tried to sound funny.

"He let you fall down," Gabriella asked shocked.

"Kind of. But don't worry. Broken bones will heal."

"We have to get you out of here. If Bruno finds you, he will make sure you won't see the sunlight again," she whispered.

"I know. But where are we supposed to hide? Sherlock needs rest to recover a little bit. He's in bad shape."

"I have a little secret room in my sleeping room. I had it built when Bruno was away for a few days. And the sleeping room is the only room, he's not using cameras," she said with a twinkled eye.

"How long do you think before he finds us?"

"I can't tell you. If Bruno finds out what I did, he will do bad things to me. But I am willing to pay that price. For all those innocent lives. After so many years, finally someone came to their rescue. Come on. I'll show you the room."

Together they hooked up the sleeping detective and walked into the sleeping room.

"Aren't you scared that the cameras are watching you," John asked unsecure.

"Don't worry. I took care of that earlier." She opened one door of the big wardrobe and pulled on one of the clothes hangers. The wall was making an ugly sound and slowly it moved away a little bit. Behind it was a little room. A big mattress was on the ground, thirty bottles of water and some cans of food. Even a little heater was installed to make sure, no one was freezing to death. John dragged Sherlock into the room and gently let him sink on the mattress. Gabriella gave him a warm smile.

"Good luck to you. My part in this game is over. It's up to you to bring this all to an end."

"How do we know when we can leave here?"

Gabriella sighed, "If he isn't able to find you, there is a monitor above the mattress. You can switch through all cameras he has installed whenever you want. Maybe you are lucky to leave when he's doing one of his shows."

John looked at her, trying to smile. "Thank you. Thank you for everything."

She smiled back. "Good luck Dr. Watson. I trust you. You will end this."

And with those last words she stepped away and the door in the wall slowly closed to protect the hope of hundreds of innocent immigrants…