Return to Baskerville (Chapter 14...again)
Since it didn't work so well the first time, I decided to re-up this chapter. Hopefully, I'll have better results this time.
Enjoy!
Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and even more so to those that took the time to review. It means a lot especially as this is my first proper go at fanfic. Thanks to my betas as well. I've learned quite a lot from all of the advise.
Title: Return to Baskerville (Chapter 14)
Author: Pottsfanatic
Rating: MA(Graphic torture, language, smutty stuffs)
Pairings: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson (as it should be ^_^)
Other Characters: Mycroft Holmes, James Moriarty, Greg Lestrade, Major Barrymore, Corporal Lyons, OC Private Jenkins
Spoilers: Yep, you should go watch the series. There are only 6 episodes and this story will make much more sense in certain areas if you do.
Genre: Mystery, Hurt/Comfort, Angst...The kitchen sink...it'll all be here.
The lovely characters contained within this fiction are the creation of the brilliant Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (and those blokes, Moffat & Gatiss from the BBC show Sherlock) I've just had a fiddle with them.
Righto....here we go... again.
Chapter 14
Lestrade had waited after his ruse to make sure Sherlock had made it into to the facility undetected by the guards. The inspector then made his way back around to the rear of the compound to wait for Holmes. He’d just made it back to the hiding spot they had previously occupied when he heard the crack of the first gunshot, followed immediately by two more.
The rear patrol quickly hurried to find out what was going on giving Lestrade a clear path to follow behind them. As he reached the entrance, Lestrade took position to the side and peered in so he wouldn’t be detected. He reached behind to the small of his back to retrieve his Browning HP. The scene in front of the Inspector was one of chaos. There were three men lying on the ground not moving and one of them was Sherlock.
Greg cocked his pistol, pulled the badge from his coat pocket and stepped inside. “Detective Inspector Lestrade, New Scotland Yard,” he shouted. “Someone tell me what the bloody hell is going on here, and I mean now!” Lestrade moved as close as he could to Sherlock to try and ascertain how badly the detective was injured.
One of the soldiers spoke up. “Corporal Lyons, sir. I’m head of security here at Baskerville. Weren’t you the man that was at the front gate drunk just a few moments ago?”
“Yes, that was me. I’m here undercover with my colleague.” Lestrade quickly covered; it wasn’t a complete lie. Lestrade slowly squatted down to Sherlock, never lowering his pistol nor taking his eyes from the men in front of him. “We were investigating someone at this facility.” The inspector reached forward and pressed two fingers to Sherlock’s neck checking for a pulse and was relieved beyond measure to find one. Thank God! He’s not dead, thought Lestrade.
Sherlock’s head was bleeding at the right temple. It looked as though a bullet had just grazed him. Damn lucky, that. Lestrade stood, pistol still pointed at the detail in front of him. “I say again, what happened here?”
“I’m guessing the Major - Major Barrymore-was the man you were investigating. That’s him,” said Lyons, “there on the floor by Mister Holmes. I had no choice, he pulled his sidearm and fired on Mr. Holmes and my security detail. He was able to get off two rounds before I could stop him.” The Corporal looked like he might be sick, but he continued. “I’ve never had to shoot a man in the back before,” he said, “But he gave me no other choice.”
Lestrade lowered his pistol and returned it to its previous location at the small of his back. “I’m just going to check them,” he said, moving forward slowly. “Someone needs to call an ambulance.”
Lyons ordered the Private to his left, “Dispatch medical to the main corridor and call for an ambulance.” He too holstered his weapon and moved forward.
The security man lying on the ground next to Holmes, Jenkins was the name on his uniform, was clearly dead: one shot to the head.
“Private Jenkins took the first shot,” said Lyons. “Poor bastard stepped in front of Mr. Holmes to try to subdue the Major. The second shot from Major Barrymore hit Mr. Holmes and that’s when I fired.”
“Sherlock probably deduced where the Major was going to fire and managed to move out of the way, but only just. He’s only been grazed.” Lestrade moved finally to Barrymore.
The Corporal’s bullet had struck Barrymore right between his shoulder blades, killing the Major instantly.
The medics rounded the corner and entered the corridor.
“The Major and Private Jenkins are dead”, said Lyons. “Please see to Mister Holmes.”
By the time the ambulance arrived, Sherlock was coming to and although he protested vehemently, Lestrade insisted the detective ride with the EMT back to hospital where he could be checked out thoroughly.
After an hour in A&E, Sherlock emerged with a plaster on his temple looking a bit worse for wear. He didn’t greet Lestrade as he approached but said, “I need to see John,” and kept on walking toward the lift.
Lestrade followed behind and waited until they were in the lift and the doors had closed before he addressed the detective. “So, are you all right? I thought I said to be careful?”
Holmes was annoyed at the questions. “I didn’t think the Major would be stupid enough to fire on his own man. Once I became aware that was the case, I took measures to avoid being injured, albeit just a fraction too late.”
Lestrade smiled at the detective, “Well at least you’re not wearing hospital kit, guess that’s something.”
The lift came to a halt at the cardiac floor. As the doors opened there was a flurry of activity along with monitor alarms going off. Overhead a voice could be heard, “Code blue, cardiac 342.” “Code blue, cardiac 342.”
Recognition hit Sherlock like a load of bricks and he bolted toward his partner’s room.
Holmes came to a halt just inside the door as he saw Watson being worked on.
“Clear!” someone shouted, and John’s body jerked as the electric charge hit him.
“Come on John”, said Lestrade, who had caught up and was now standing behind Sherlock. “Stay with us.”
The monitor continued to make the same long sound. “Asystole,” said a nurse.
“Push 20 CCs epi and increase current to 280,” said the doctor, rubbing the paddles of the defibrillator together.
Holmes stood, transfixed. A single tear fell from his eye. “Not now,” he whispered to himself. “Please, don’t leave me.” The detective wrapped his arms around his body, hugging tightly.
“Clear,” said the doctor and then pressed the paddles to John’s chest. Watson jerked again only this time the jolt to his system worked.
“We’ve got sinus,” the nurse said as the familiar beep, beep of the monitor came back.
Sherlock released a long breath. “Good man,” he said aloud.
The flurry of activity went on for several more minutes while the doctor and nurses continued to work on John. Finally they began to filter out of the room. As the doctor passed Sherlock she said, “You can have five minutes Mr. Holmes, but then I’ll need you to go.”
“Doctor,” Sherlock’s voice was just above a whisper. “What happened?” When I left a few hours ago, although he still hadn’t awakened from surgery, he seemed to be doing well. I’d never have gone if I knew he was still in danger of…” Holmes made a gesture towards the bed.
“Doctor Watson woke about an hour ago,” said the doctor. “There was no one in the room when he came to and he panicked. He was disoriented, a condition caused by both the surgery and from being held captive. He kept calling out for you. We tried ringing you but it kept going to voicemail and when you could not be located this caused further distress for Doctor Watson.”
“There was a woman, his sister,” stated Sherlock. “I left her here to look after John in my absence.”
The Doctor gave a half smile. “Yes, well we had to have her escorted from the building. She was becoming belligerent to the staff. I’m afraid she may have been a bit on the inebriated side. She kept trying to tell them how to do their job, messing about with the IVs and such.”
“That’s not what caused John’s heart to fail is it?” said the detective, his fury growing towards Harry Watson by the moment.
“No, no. He just became overwhelmed when he woke. His body wasn’t ready for the shock to his system, so to speak.” The doctor put a reassuring hand on Sherlock’s arm.
“Thank you doctor”, he said and pulled himself from her touch.
“Remember what I said, five minutes - that’s all.” Then she looked at Lestrade, who had been standing silently behind Holmes the entire time, and said, “You. Out. Now. Come on, let’s go.”
Lestrade saluted the doctor and made a military about- face, “Yes, mum,” he said sarcastically as he left the room.
Now alone with John, Sherlock removed his coat and gloves, then pulled a chair up to sit beside the bed. Gathering up his partner’s hand in both of his, Holmes began to kiss the back of it.
“My dear man, don’t you ever scare me like that again.”
As John slept, Sherlock recounted the tale of his and Lestrade’s trip to Baskerville. Several attempts were made by hospital staff to remove Holmes after the five minute mark, but to no avail.
Several more hours had passed since the code blue and Sherlock had managed to fall asleep in the chair with his head resting on John’s bed. It was only when he felt a hand running thorough his hair that the detective stirred.
As he lifted his head he saw John was awake and looking at him. “Hi,” said Sherlock. “Been awake long?”
John just shook his head. Holmes deduced two things from this. First, John had not been awake long and second, he probably needed something to drink. Even though he could have stayed forever with his dear Watson stroking his hair, Sherlock stood up and reached for the water on the stand next to John’s bed.
“Barrymore is dead.” It came out before Sherlock had realised he said it.
John tried to sit up and pulled the lead out from his heart monitor causing the machine to sound asystole.
The detective, fearing the worst dropped the water and turned swiftly to see Watson just trying to get comfortable.
John noticed the look of horror turn to relief as he was able to croak out, “I’m fine.”
That didn’t stop the barrage of staff that came rushing in though and Sherlock was shuttled out of the way while they checked John over.
The next hour was spent with the doctor running cognitive tests to make sure John hadn’t suffered any hypoxia. There were a few gaps in memory but overall it seemed John had been quite lucky. One of the biggest gaps however, was that John had no memory of returning to Grimpen Village or his subsequent torture by Major Barrymore.
Enjoy!
Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and even more so to those that took the time to review. It means a lot especially as this is my first proper go at fanfic. Thanks to my betas as well. I've learned quite a lot from all of the advise.
Title: Return to Baskerville (Chapter 14)
Author: Pottsfanatic
Rating: MA(Graphic torture, language, smutty stuffs)
Pairings: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson (as it should be ^_^)
Other Characters: Mycroft Holmes, James Moriarty, Greg Lestrade, Major Barrymore, Corporal Lyons, OC Private Jenkins
Spoilers: Yep, you should go watch the series. There are only 6 episodes and this story will make much more sense in certain areas if you do.
Genre: Mystery, Hurt/Comfort, Angst...The kitchen sink...it'll all be here.
The lovely characters contained within this fiction are the creation of the brilliant Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (and those blokes, Moffat & Gatiss from the BBC show Sherlock) I've just had a fiddle with them.
Righto....here we go... again.
Chapter 14
Lestrade had waited after his ruse to make sure Sherlock had made it into to the facility undetected by the guards. The inspector then made his way back around to the rear of the compound to wait for Holmes. He’d just made it back to the hiding spot they had previously occupied when he heard the crack of the first gunshot, followed immediately by two more.
The rear patrol quickly hurried to find out what was going on giving Lestrade a clear path to follow behind them. As he reached the entrance, Lestrade took position to the side and peered in so he wouldn’t be detected. He reached behind to the small of his back to retrieve his Browning HP. The scene in front of the Inspector was one of chaos. There were three men lying on the ground not moving and one of them was Sherlock.
Greg cocked his pistol, pulled the badge from his coat pocket and stepped inside. “Detective Inspector Lestrade, New Scotland Yard,” he shouted. “Someone tell me what the bloody hell is going on here, and I mean now!” Lestrade moved as close as he could to Sherlock to try and ascertain how badly the detective was injured.
One of the soldiers spoke up. “Corporal Lyons, sir. I’m head of security here at Baskerville. Weren’t you the man that was at the front gate drunk just a few moments ago?”
“Yes, that was me. I’m here undercover with my colleague.” Lestrade quickly covered; it wasn’t a complete lie. Lestrade slowly squatted down to Sherlock, never lowering his pistol nor taking his eyes from the men in front of him. “We were investigating someone at this facility.” The inspector reached forward and pressed two fingers to Sherlock’s neck checking for a pulse and was relieved beyond measure to find one. Thank God! He’s not dead, thought Lestrade.
Sherlock’s head was bleeding at the right temple. It looked as though a bullet had just grazed him. Damn lucky, that. Lestrade stood, pistol still pointed at the detail in front of him. “I say again, what happened here?”
“I’m guessing the Major - Major Barrymore-was the man you were investigating. That’s him,” said Lyons, “there on the floor by Mister Holmes. I had no choice, he pulled his sidearm and fired on Mr. Holmes and my security detail. He was able to get off two rounds before I could stop him.” The Corporal looked like he might be sick, but he continued. “I’ve never had to shoot a man in the back before,” he said, “But he gave me no other choice.”
Lestrade lowered his pistol and returned it to its previous location at the small of his back. “I’m just going to check them,” he said, moving forward slowly. “Someone needs to call an ambulance.”
Lyons ordered the Private to his left, “Dispatch medical to the main corridor and call for an ambulance.” He too holstered his weapon and moved forward.
The security man lying on the ground next to Holmes, Jenkins was the name on his uniform, was clearly dead: one shot to the head.
“Private Jenkins took the first shot,” said Lyons. “Poor bastard stepped in front of Mr. Holmes to try to subdue the Major. The second shot from Major Barrymore hit Mr. Holmes and that’s when I fired.”
“Sherlock probably deduced where the Major was going to fire and managed to move out of the way, but only just. He’s only been grazed.” Lestrade moved finally to Barrymore.
The Corporal’s bullet had struck Barrymore right between his shoulder blades, killing the Major instantly.
The medics rounded the corner and entered the corridor.
“The Major and Private Jenkins are dead”, said Lyons. “Please see to Mister Holmes.”
By the time the ambulance arrived, Sherlock was coming to and although he protested vehemently, Lestrade insisted the detective ride with the EMT back to hospital where he could be checked out thoroughly.
After an hour in A&E, Sherlock emerged with a plaster on his temple looking a bit worse for wear. He didn’t greet Lestrade as he approached but said, “I need to see John,” and kept on walking toward the lift.
Lestrade followed behind and waited until they were in the lift and the doors had closed before he addressed the detective. “So, are you all right? I thought I said to be careful?”
Holmes was annoyed at the questions. “I didn’t think the Major would be stupid enough to fire on his own man. Once I became aware that was the case, I took measures to avoid being injured, albeit just a fraction too late.”
Lestrade smiled at the detective, “Well at least you’re not wearing hospital kit, guess that’s something.”
The lift came to a halt at the cardiac floor. As the doors opened there was a flurry of activity along with monitor alarms going off. Overhead a voice could be heard, “Code blue, cardiac 342.” “Code blue, cardiac 342.”
Recognition hit Sherlock like a load of bricks and he bolted toward his partner’s room.
Holmes came to a halt just inside the door as he saw Watson being worked on.
“Clear!” someone shouted, and John’s body jerked as the electric charge hit him.
“Come on John”, said Lestrade, who had caught up and was now standing behind Sherlock. “Stay with us.”
The monitor continued to make the same long sound. “Asystole,” said a nurse.
“Push 20 CCs epi and increase current to 280,” said the doctor, rubbing the paddles of the defibrillator together.
Holmes stood, transfixed. A single tear fell from his eye. “Not now,” he whispered to himself. “Please, don’t leave me.” The detective wrapped his arms around his body, hugging tightly.
“Clear,” said the doctor and then pressed the paddles to John’s chest. Watson jerked again only this time the jolt to his system worked.
“We’ve got sinus,” the nurse said as the familiar beep, beep of the monitor came back.
Sherlock released a long breath. “Good man,” he said aloud.
The flurry of activity went on for several more minutes while the doctor and nurses continued to work on John. Finally they began to filter out of the room. As the doctor passed Sherlock she said, “You can have five minutes Mr. Holmes, but then I’ll need you to go.”
“Doctor,” Sherlock’s voice was just above a whisper. “What happened?” When I left a few hours ago, although he still hadn’t awakened from surgery, he seemed to be doing well. I’d never have gone if I knew he was still in danger of…” Holmes made a gesture towards the bed.
“Doctor Watson woke about an hour ago,” said the doctor. “There was no one in the room when he came to and he panicked. He was disoriented, a condition caused by both the surgery and from being held captive. He kept calling out for you. We tried ringing you but it kept going to voicemail and when you could not be located this caused further distress for Doctor Watson.”
“There was a woman, his sister,” stated Sherlock. “I left her here to look after John in my absence.”
The Doctor gave a half smile. “Yes, well we had to have her escorted from the building. She was becoming belligerent to the staff. I’m afraid she may have been a bit on the inebriated side. She kept trying to tell them how to do their job, messing about with the IVs and such.”
“That’s not what caused John’s heart to fail is it?” said the detective, his fury growing towards Harry Watson by the moment.
“No, no. He just became overwhelmed when he woke. His body wasn’t ready for the shock to his system, so to speak.” The doctor put a reassuring hand on Sherlock’s arm.
“Thank you doctor”, he said and pulled himself from her touch.
“Remember what I said, five minutes - that’s all.” Then she looked at Lestrade, who had been standing silently behind Holmes the entire time, and said, “You. Out. Now. Come on, let’s go.”
Lestrade saluted the doctor and made a military about- face, “Yes, mum,” he said sarcastically as he left the room.
Now alone with John, Sherlock removed his coat and gloves, then pulled a chair up to sit beside the bed. Gathering up his partner’s hand in both of his, Holmes began to kiss the back of it.
“My dear man, don’t you ever scare me like that again.”
As John slept, Sherlock recounted the tale of his and Lestrade’s trip to Baskerville. Several attempts were made by hospital staff to remove Holmes after the five minute mark, but to no avail.
Several more hours had passed since the code blue and Sherlock had managed to fall asleep in the chair with his head resting on John’s bed. It was only when he felt a hand running thorough his hair that the detective stirred.
As he lifted his head he saw John was awake and looking at him. “Hi,” said Sherlock. “Been awake long?”
John just shook his head. Holmes deduced two things from this. First, John had not been awake long and second, he probably needed something to drink. Even though he could have stayed forever with his dear Watson stroking his hair, Sherlock stood up and reached for the water on the stand next to John’s bed.
“Barrymore is dead.” It came out before Sherlock had realised he said it.
John tried to sit up and pulled the lead out from his heart monitor causing the machine to sound asystole.
The detective, fearing the worst dropped the water and turned swiftly to see Watson just trying to get comfortable.
John noticed the look of horror turn to relief as he was able to croak out, “I’m fine.”
That didn’t stop the barrage of staff that came rushing in though and Sherlock was shuttled out of the way while they checked John over.
The next hour was spent with the doctor running cognitive tests to make sure John hadn’t suffered any hypoxia. There were a few gaps in memory but overall it seemed John had been quite lucky. One of the biggest gaps however, was that John had no memory of returning to Grimpen Village or his subsequent torture by Major Barrymore.