Oooo! What will happen?!
John had raced through the first warehouse to find nothing. Taking off he hoped Sherlock had better news.
Sherlock stood in front of the broken down warehouse. He knew she was here. He didn't know how, but he knew. Sherlock knew he should be racing in, looking for Caitlin, yet he could hardly bring himself to move. He was scared. Scared of what he would find. Yes he had remained confident and almost detached as he went step by step through the case. But he knew that there was a chance, a very large chance, that even if he found Caitlin, he would find her dead. Pushing his fear to the side, he stepped through the creaky doors.
Sherlock leaned heavily against the wall outside the back of the building. He had searched the entire warehouse and found nothing. Well, not exactly. He didn't find Caitlin, but what he had found had made him physically ill. The images of that room filled his mind. A bed whose sheets were soaked in blood. Blunt, rusted and bloody instruments of torture. The worst thing of all was the pile of Caitlin's bloody clothes that were shredded from obviously being ripped roughly from her body. Sherlock threw up before wiping his mouth and standing straight. This wasn't right. All of his instincts had led him here, telling him this was the place. Yet his hopes were dashed when he hadn't found her. Following the back alley up towards the main street, Sherlock heard a low murmuring that was getting louder by the second. Stepping out into the weak light of the street lamps he saw a small group of people gathering around a van that had crashed into the side of an old building. Squinting in the feeble light, Sherlock dashed across the street. Shoving past everyone Sherlock inspected the driver's side door as well as the driver who was dead. The glass of the window had a single hole from what appeared to be a snipers bullet, cracks starting to splinter out from it. The shot, which had been incredibly clean had been the cause of the drivers death. Opening the door to inspect the man further, Sherlock's heart lept into his throat when he saw this man was covered in blood that was clearly not his own. Stepping back Sherlock realized the back doors of the van were wide open and he saw a dark lump just hidden within the shadows of the alley next to the crashed vehicle. Walking very slowly Sherlock rounded the van and as he crouched down and saw what the lump was, he let out an undecipherable noise of agony. It was Caitlin. He felt for a pulse, almost ecstatic when there was the slightest flutter and quickly covered her naked body, but not before he saw the words carved into her body.
"She was never yours –Moriarty"
Grinding his teeth until his jaw ached Sherlock clenched his eyes shut to keep the tears away before dialing Lestrade. Sitting on the cold ground Sherlock gently cradled Caitlin's body in his arms whispering for her to hold on and waited for help to come.
Sherlock never thought he would be happy to see Lestrade, but as soon as he showed up, ambulance in tow, Sherlock's heart leapt for joy. Carefully placing Caitlin's body on the gurney the EMT's supplied, he watched as she was quickly loaded into the ambulance. Jumping in after them he sat next to Caitlin and gingerly placed his hand over hers. As the doors slammed shut and they started for the hospital, Sherlock Holmes did something he had never done in his entire life. He prayed.
Sherlock paced the hospital waiting room. They had taken Caitlin back ages ago and after strongly stating he could not come with her, Sherlock was told he would be informed of her condition as soon as possible. Throwing himself into a chair, Sherlock dragged his hand down his face before checking his phone for the millionth time. Where the hell was John? As if on que, Sherlock's phone buzzed. Seeing the message from John, Sherlock lept to his feet but hesitated for a moment. He didn't want to leave Caitlin alone. Asking a nurse with limited patience if there was any news, Sherlock finally decided to go. He left the nurse his number and all but ordered her to call as soon as anything happened. With a final glance toward the emergency room doors Sherlock grit his teeth and left.
As soon as Sherlock was in the cab and had given the driver the destination, Sherlock pulled out his phone. He had immediately known the message he received had not been from John. He sent Mycroft a short but to the point text.
Caitlin in hospital. Critical condition. Watch out for her. Please.
-S
As soon as Mycroft received it Sherlock knew his brother would go. Please was never used. Unless it was an emergency. Steeling himself for what was to come, Sherlock waited in silence until the cab arrived at its stopping point. Paying the driver, Sherlock climbed out and walked to the door of the building before taking a breath and pulling it open.