[Fic] Come Out (Wherever You Are): Chapter 4 - Robots (bigbang_mixup, Sherlock (BBC))
Title: Come Out (Wherever You Are)
Chapter Title: Robots
Rating: PG-13
Chapter Word Count: 1,774
Overall Word Count: 13,103
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for all of Sherlock.
Summary: John Watson is attempting to get on with his life until life is turned upside down - being kidnapped, being tortured - but the light at the end of the tunnel is worth it.
Author's Note: I do not own Sherlock or any of its characters.
In our dreams, we can be complete
If we go to sleep
We can wake up home again.
John had been dosing when he jolted awake by thinking he heard a knock. He caught his breath as he realized he was in the same damn hotel room. It had been a couple days now and he thought Moriarty was trying his luck. There were hoops for Sherlock to jump through, that were cleared easily, but he wasn’t able to give any clues. The calls were too short to be traced and just - he wished that this was a nightmare instead of reality. Hell, he’d take arguing with Sherlock over what to watch on the telly over this. The waiting was getting to him and he couldn’t just walk around the room, even though he felt better by doing it. It was easier to just sit and wait. This time, he did get up and move over to the door, pressing his ear to it.
“My pawn’s been taken. Therefore, we have to move him.” He could recognize Moriarty’s voice anywhere. He wasn’t sure what that said about him and he pushed the thought out of his mind.
“Sir, is that wise?” Another man asked. His voice was a deep Cornish accent and sounded harsh against Moriarty’s smooth voice.
“Yes.” A pause. “Give him this. He’ll go down like a baby. Nothing to worry about.”
“Yes sir,” the other man said.
John stopped listening to the conversation, quickly looking around the room to find something to use. His eyes fell upon a small lamp on a side table. He unplugged it and lifted it, feeling light in his hands. He put himself half way between the table and the door, the lamp in his hands and ready to swing it and whoever came through the door. What he didn’t notice is that, when he walked, the limp was gone.
He took a deep breath as the door unlocked and then opened. He waited as the man came into the room and swung the lamp, aiming for the hands first. His hit was true and whatever was in the man’s hands flew across the room. He swung again, this time aiming for the face. Considering the man was confused, that also hit home. He then threw the lamp had into the man’s legs and dove after what fell to the floor. He noticed it was a syringe, full of some sort of liquid - probably a sleeping agent John thought, and he took proper hold of it. The man was just getting up as John moved back over and quickly used the needle on him. He breathed a sigh of relief as the man quickly fell asleep.
He picked up the lamp, not noticing the man wasn’t breathing at all, and started down the hallway. He kept the lamp in a defensive position, looking around for Moriarty or any other of the goons. He made it to the elevator, pressing the button and his heart sinking as the button didn’t light up.
“I will say, John, that it was a very nice show,” Moriarty said as he stepped out from where he was hiding. “But do you really think that I would let you go that easily?”
“Yes,” John said as he turned to Moriarty. “You didn’t think I was going to do this.” He tightened his grip on the lamp. If anything, he could use it as a shield for the gun that he was certain was going to appear at any second. But, as a precaution, he was shielding his bad leg at the moment.
Moriarty chuckled. “But I did. I must say, your leg is looking a lot better. You didn’t limp at all. Turns out that you don’t need Sherlock to feel better - you just need some excitement. I can certainly make sure that you have that.”
“You stay away from me.” John swallowed. “And I’m not gay.”
“Despite all evidence to the contrary. Johnny boy, why deny something that is clearly true?”
The elevator dinged behind John. “Turns out that it’s time for me to go after all.”
Moriarty just smirked at that. “If you say so.”
John heard the doors open, stepping backwards and felt a needle go into his shoulder. He felt someone strong wrap arms around his waist as his arms let go of the lamp, sending it crashing to the floor. He could still hear and feel, he wasn’t asleep, but he felt like he couldn’t move anything at all.
“Pull the stop,” Moriarty commanded to the person that was holding John.
The man did as Moriarty asked. “And the lamp?” The voice had a Middle Eastern accent to the English words.
“Leave it,” Moriarty said. “He can see that John tried to free himself. I do wonder what they’re going to make of what happened in the other room. Too bad we can’t be here for that.” He turned and went to the stairwell, starting down.
The man hefted John, putting him over the shoulder and following Moriarty down the stairs. When they got down to the bottom, it opened up to an alley where a car was waiting.
“Lay him down in the backseat,” Moriarty commanded as he got into the passenger seat and fiddled with the GPS.
The man nodded and did as Moriarty asked.
John got a good look at the man’s face when he was laid down in the backseat. If his face wasn’t frozen as the rest of his body, he would have given a look of shock. He had seen the man before, when he was over in Afghanistan, and there was a part of him that hoped he would never see the man again. His eyes gave away that he noticed the man.
“I know, it’s been too long since you fixed my arm. And then made my wife and children disappear. I am lucky that I have friends in high places that will help me find my family. But I do not think you are going to like it all that much.” He laughed as he shut the door and moved into the driver’s seat. He started up the car and used the directions that Moriarty programmed into the GPS to go to their next location.
*~*~*~*
Sherlock watched as the person from the Internal Affairs department was questioning Donovan. Part of him felt pleased about this and part that he wished that he hadn’t figured it out so quickly. The other part wondered why Donovan waited two days before deciding to speak to anyone, like she knew that he was going to have to work. He looked over as the door opened and Lestrade came in. He went back to watching the interview.
“You’re not supposed to be in here.”
“There was nothing else to do,” Sherlock said. “And Mycroft and Irene figured themselves out.” He didn’t like the fact that both were there for the second day in a row. If only because it meant there were fewer places where Sherlock could hide from everyone.
“Good enough for the both of them. She left with him a bit ago.”
“Why did you come in here?” Sherlock asked.
“We found something.”
“Where?” Sherlock asked. He listened and thought of where the hotel is. “That has a brilliant view of the Eye.”
“Our thoughts exactly. And there’s a man dead up in one of the rooms. Not John but it might have a connection.”
Sherlock got up, grabbed his coat and scarf and was ready to go a moment later. He followed Lestrade out and to a car, getting in and being quiet as they passed by London on the way to the hotel. It was only when they got to the hotel that he thought someone said something. “What?”
“We were discussing if you should stay out or not,” Lestrade said. “Until we’ve secured the crime scene.”
“I’ll go with your judgment.”
“… Sorry?” Lestrade asked.
“I know I’m an outsider here. I’m trying to gain some good will. So if you stay that I should wait until you ask for me, then that’s what I am going to do.”
“Alright - thanks Sherlock,” Lestrade said as he got out of the car with Anderson.
Sherlock sighed and leaned back in the seat, closing his eyes. In the back of the car, with the silence around him, he was able to look through everything. The cane, which was used against John, which meant that John was fighting too much. He opened his eyes as Anderson knocked on the door and then opened it. “Ready?”
“Yep,” Anderson said. “You seem less - well - yourself.”
Sherlock smiled at that. “Have you ever heard of poker face, Anderson?”
“Yes - ah,” Anderson said. He handed Sherlock a pair of gloves before pressing the elevator button and then the floor button.
“Do you know how many fingerprints are found a day on elevators?” Sherlock put on the gloves though.
“Just following orders,” Anderson said.
Sherlock nodded and was grateful that the elevator ride up to the top floor was brief. He stepped out and looked at the hallway. A lamp lying in front of the other elevator and a syringe in the middle of the other elevator. Looking down the hallway, there didn’t seem to be any sign of a struggle. He followed Anderson down the hallway to the suite room. Now, here there was a bit of a struggle, with a spot for the missing lamp. He looked down at the dead man and then up at Lestrade. “May I?”
“Yes.”
Sherlock moved the body, seeing the syringe stuck in the man’s neck. “That was meant for him.”
“How do you know?” Lestrade asked.
“Because the man is dead. Moriarty knows John’s background and I learned it first hand. John knows how to fight; Moriarty would have used that to his advantage to get rid someone with performance issues.” He looked over the rest of the room and was about to say something else when the phone rang. He put it on speaker phone. “Hello?”
“It’s been a long time since we talked, Sherlock,” Moriarty said.
“Where’s John?”
“Turns out that the sleeping draught given to him is taking a longer time to wear off,” Moriarty said. “Did you like our present?”
Sherlock looked down at the body. “Who was he?”
“Why do you think I’m going to give you any hints?” Moriarty asked.
Sherlock paused. “I want proof of life.”
There was a beep on the phone as a picture of John sleeping came up and then the phone call ended.
Chapter Title: Robots
Rating: PG-13
Chapter Word Count: 1,774
Overall Word Count: 13,103
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for all of Sherlock.
Summary: John Watson is attempting to get on with his life until life is turned upside down - being kidnapped, being tortured - but the light at the end of the tunnel is worth it.
Author's Note: I do not own Sherlock or any of its characters.
In our dreams, we can be complete
If we go to sleep
We can wake up home again.
John had been dosing when he jolted awake by thinking he heard a knock. He caught his breath as he realized he was in the same damn hotel room. It had been a couple days now and he thought Moriarty was trying his luck. There were hoops for Sherlock to jump through, that were cleared easily, but he wasn’t able to give any clues. The calls were too short to be traced and just - he wished that this was a nightmare instead of reality. Hell, he’d take arguing with Sherlock over what to watch on the telly over this. The waiting was getting to him and he couldn’t just walk around the room, even though he felt better by doing it. It was easier to just sit and wait. This time, he did get up and move over to the door, pressing his ear to it.
“My pawn’s been taken. Therefore, we have to move him.” He could recognize Moriarty’s voice anywhere. He wasn’t sure what that said about him and he pushed the thought out of his mind.
“Sir, is that wise?” Another man asked. His voice was a deep Cornish accent and sounded harsh against Moriarty’s smooth voice.
“Yes.” A pause. “Give him this. He’ll go down like a baby. Nothing to worry about.”
“Yes sir,” the other man said.
John stopped listening to the conversation, quickly looking around the room to find something to use. His eyes fell upon a small lamp on a side table. He unplugged it and lifted it, feeling light in his hands. He put himself half way between the table and the door, the lamp in his hands and ready to swing it and whoever came through the door. What he didn’t notice is that, when he walked, the limp was gone.
He took a deep breath as the door unlocked and then opened. He waited as the man came into the room and swung the lamp, aiming for the hands first. His hit was true and whatever was in the man’s hands flew across the room. He swung again, this time aiming for the face. Considering the man was confused, that also hit home. He then threw the lamp had into the man’s legs and dove after what fell to the floor. He noticed it was a syringe, full of some sort of liquid - probably a sleeping agent John thought, and he took proper hold of it. The man was just getting up as John moved back over and quickly used the needle on him. He breathed a sigh of relief as the man quickly fell asleep.
He picked up the lamp, not noticing the man wasn’t breathing at all, and started down the hallway. He kept the lamp in a defensive position, looking around for Moriarty or any other of the goons. He made it to the elevator, pressing the button and his heart sinking as the button didn’t light up.
“I will say, John, that it was a very nice show,” Moriarty said as he stepped out from where he was hiding. “But do you really think that I would let you go that easily?”
“Yes,” John said as he turned to Moriarty. “You didn’t think I was going to do this.” He tightened his grip on the lamp. If anything, he could use it as a shield for the gun that he was certain was going to appear at any second. But, as a precaution, he was shielding his bad leg at the moment.
Moriarty chuckled. “But I did. I must say, your leg is looking a lot better. You didn’t limp at all. Turns out that you don’t need Sherlock to feel better - you just need some excitement. I can certainly make sure that you have that.”
“You stay away from me.” John swallowed. “And I’m not gay.”
“Despite all evidence to the contrary. Johnny boy, why deny something that is clearly true?”
The elevator dinged behind John. “Turns out that it’s time for me to go after all.”
Moriarty just smirked at that. “If you say so.”
John heard the doors open, stepping backwards and felt a needle go into his shoulder. He felt someone strong wrap arms around his waist as his arms let go of the lamp, sending it crashing to the floor. He could still hear and feel, he wasn’t asleep, but he felt like he couldn’t move anything at all.
“Pull the stop,” Moriarty commanded to the person that was holding John.
The man did as Moriarty asked. “And the lamp?” The voice had a Middle Eastern accent to the English words.
“Leave it,” Moriarty said. “He can see that John tried to free himself. I do wonder what they’re going to make of what happened in the other room. Too bad we can’t be here for that.” He turned and went to the stairwell, starting down.
The man hefted John, putting him over the shoulder and following Moriarty down the stairs. When they got down to the bottom, it opened up to an alley where a car was waiting.
“Lay him down in the backseat,” Moriarty commanded as he got into the passenger seat and fiddled with the GPS.
The man nodded and did as Moriarty asked.
John got a good look at the man’s face when he was laid down in the backseat. If his face wasn’t frozen as the rest of his body, he would have given a look of shock. He had seen the man before, when he was over in Afghanistan, and there was a part of him that hoped he would never see the man again. His eyes gave away that he noticed the man.
“I know, it’s been too long since you fixed my arm. And then made my wife and children disappear. I am lucky that I have friends in high places that will help me find my family. But I do not think you are going to like it all that much.” He laughed as he shut the door and moved into the driver’s seat. He started up the car and used the directions that Moriarty programmed into the GPS to go to their next location.
*~*~*~*
Sherlock watched as the person from the Internal Affairs department was questioning Donovan. Part of him felt pleased about this and part that he wished that he hadn’t figured it out so quickly. The other part wondered why Donovan waited two days before deciding to speak to anyone, like she knew that he was going to have to work. He looked over as the door opened and Lestrade came in. He went back to watching the interview.
“You’re not supposed to be in here.”
“There was nothing else to do,” Sherlock said. “And Mycroft and Irene figured themselves out.” He didn’t like the fact that both were there for the second day in a row. If only because it meant there were fewer places where Sherlock could hide from everyone.
“Good enough for the both of them. She left with him a bit ago.”
“Why did you come in here?” Sherlock asked.
“We found something.”
“Where?” Sherlock asked. He listened and thought of where the hotel is. “That has a brilliant view of the Eye.”
“Our thoughts exactly. And there’s a man dead up in one of the rooms. Not John but it might have a connection.”
Sherlock got up, grabbed his coat and scarf and was ready to go a moment later. He followed Lestrade out and to a car, getting in and being quiet as they passed by London on the way to the hotel. It was only when they got to the hotel that he thought someone said something. “What?”
“We were discussing if you should stay out or not,” Lestrade said. “Until we’ve secured the crime scene.”
“I’ll go with your judgment.”
“… Sorry?” Lestrade asked.
“I know I’m an outsider here. I’m trying to gain some good will. So if you stay that I should wait until you ask for me, then that’s what I am going to do.”
“Alright - thanks Sherlock,” Lestrade said as he got out of the car with Anderson.
Sherlock sighed and leaned back in the seat, closing his eyes. In the back of the car, with the silence around him, he was able to look through everything. The cane, which was used against John, which meant that John was fighting too much. He opened his eyes as Anderson knocked on the door and then opened it. “Ready?”
“Yep,” Anderson said. “You seem less - well - yourself.”
Sherlock smiled at that. “Have you ever heard of poker face, Anderson?”
“Yes - ah,” Anderson said. He handed Sherlock a pair of gloves before pressing the elevator button and then the floor button.
“Do you know how many fingerprints are found a day on elevators?” Sherlock put on the gloves though.
“Just following orders,” Anderson said.
Sherlock nodded and was grateful that the elevator ride up to the top floor was brief. He stepped out and looked at the hallway. A lamp lying in front of the other elevator and a syringe in the middle of the other elevator. Looking down the hallway, there didn’t seem to be any sign of a struggle. He followed Anderson down the hallway to the suite room. Now, here there was a bit of a struggle, with a spot for the missing lamp. He looked down at the dead man and then up at Lestrade. “May I?”
“Yes.”
Sherlock moved the body, seeing the syringe stuck in the man’s neck. “That was meant for him.”
“How do you know?” Lestrade asked.
“Because the man is dead. Moriarty knows John’s background and I learned it first hand. John knows how to fight; Moriarty would have used that to his advantage to get rid someone with performance issues.” He looked over the rest of the room and was about to say something else when the phone rang. He put it on speaker phone. “Hello?”
“It’s been a long time since we talked, Sherlock,” Moriarty said.
“Where’s John?”
“Turns out that the sleeping draught given to him is taking a longer time to wear off,” Moriarty said. “Did you like our present?”
Sherlock looked down at the body. “Who was he?”
“Why do you think I’m going to give you any hints?” Moriarty asked.
Sherlock paused. “I want proof of life.”
There was a beep on the phone as a picture of John sleeping came up and then the phone call ended.