sherlockbbc_fic | prompting part XXIII

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prompting part XXIII

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John sat in his armchair, constantly glancing at the time, 4 pm, so only five hours to go and two clues left. Sherlock had mentioned when they got home that the last clue should lead them to the bomb. The man in question was still pacing the room. Several books were strewn across the floor, none of them leading anywhere.

“Think, think think” Sherlock muttered to himself, his mind racing at light speed but still nowhere closer to the truth. A thought suddenly occurred to John. “Hey Sherlock...we have a bomb, a hunt and Moriarty, in London” Sherlock barely acknowledged him. “Whats your point?”. “Where's your brother?” Sherlock shrugged, he didn't really know or really care right now.

“Probably starting a war or something, I don't know. Not my problem”

Come on brain, come on. A knock at the door, Sherlock knew who it was before it was even opened, Lestrade, with Sally and Anderson. “Anderson get out” He wasted no time. Anderson stood fast so Sherlock turned his back and continued his pacing. “Any luck?” asked Lestrade, John shook his head. “What, the freak can't figure out a simple riddle?” Sherlock glared, Lestrade motioned for her to shush.

The DI moved to sit opposite of John, telling him what they had learnt so far, it wasn't much and most of it wasn't helpful. “The tenant says the package was delivered by some blonde bloke, thats all he knows, he was told not to open it. The man told him to leave the house for awhile”

“Why didn't he go to the police?” Lestrade shrugged, “Got scared I guess, he said it just felt safer to do as he was told.” Sherlock clenched his hands. “Shut up, both of you I'm trying to think” Sally scoffed. “What is this stupid riddle anyway, I bet its something really obvious and you're just over thinking it.”

“Fine you solve it then” Sherlock threw the box at her, she ducked, so it hit Anderson instead, the detective grinned. “Ow! That hurt you know” The forensic scientist bent down and picked up the box. Donavon retrieved the riddle from him. “I watch from above? Thats the riddle?” Rubbish sort of riddle really. “Yes, now shut up”

“I watch from above..what like the London Eye?”

Everyone in the room stopped what they where doing. Sherlock slowly turned, completely shocked. “Say that again...” Anderson felt slightly nervous, everyone was looking at him. “Well you know I, eye, you can see most of London from the Eye. Eye watch from above... makes sense doesn't it?” Sherlock laughed and clapped his hands. “Of course, it's so simple! So it needed a simple mind to solve it." Anderson brisitled. "Oi!" " This may be the smartest thing you've ever done Anderson!”

Sherlock was already dressed in his coat and out the door before Anderson could think up a retort. “Hurry up John!” John rushed down the stairs after him. “You slow down! You've got those long legs while I've got....you know normal ones”

“We're so close John, I can feel it! I'm on fire!”

“Well come on now, you've only solved half of them. Let's not get carried away”

“Semantics”

“Yes it always is with you isn't it”

ajshkajdh.

This is the best thing to wake up to.

The best.

Everything is amazing, characterization is perfect, this is wonderful, I honestly don't know how many ways I can praise this to make you understand how much I love it.

yay!

working on chapter 9 nine

after that, things get really interesting >D

More traffic, and a line. A long line. “Tourist season” complained Sherlock. John wasnt to fussed. “Come on, we're british, we know how to queue.” Famous last words however since they were in that line for what felt like forever. Lestrade by now had caught up with them, brandishing his badge at the front and demanding thye close things down so each capsule could be searched.

“You know if you had turned up earlier, things would have been much easier and less time would have been wasted” Sherlock gave another glare to Lestrade, who shrugged. “Traffic” He explained. “Bloody Mycroft”. John shook his head at the bickering that followed. “Thats enough girls, we need to find this next clue.”

-----

It took about forty-five minutes, with Scotland Yard helping. They entered the capsule carefully, to find...nothing. At least thats what John thought. Sherlock was studying the window for some odd reason. “Sherlock?” The detective moved, to reveal writing on the glass.

“Solve her murder....”

There was an address written after it. Lestrade was already phoning people, Sherlock was....damn it, Sherlock had already left the capsule. John ran after the tall man, not wanting to be left behind. Together they took a cab, expecting the others to take their own cars, but John knew Sherlock wasn't even caring what they did. They only got in the way in his mind.

----

The building was small, abandoned and the body fresh. Sherlock circled her like a vulture, his eyes taking in every tiny detail, every speck of dirt or blood. He knelt, pulling out his magnifying glass, searching the body, then searching her bags. Fifteen minutes later he stood back up, satisfied.

“Well?” Lestrade looked at him, arms folded. “She didn't die here, that much is obvious” Sherlock took a breath as he moved to stand next to John. “How do you know that? Look at the blood spatter!” Anderson rudely interrupted, Sherlock was about to comment until John elbowed him in the ribs.

Wasn't it obvious? Sherlock sighed and moved around the body again. “Her shoes, look at them, they're clean” He knelt and pointed at the soles of her blue shoes. “So what?” “So, it's been raining, theres mud everywhere, especially outside here, but theres no mud on her shoes, so she was not killed here.” John raised his eyebrows, it was always so simple. “But the blood spatter..” Sherlock waved a hand over the wall. “Made to look as if she died here, would fool most people, but this isn't human blood, its animal blood.”

He squatted next to the body. “She's in her early thirties, just got back from the hairdresser, look at her hair. She's just been to a second hand bookstore after the hairdressers....the books, they're old but in a plastic bag, with a receipt, so she's only just brought them. The receipt...” He pulled it out, but it didn't give an address.

Think, Sherlock, think. The others remained silent. A map sped through Sherlocks head. Hairdressers, near a second hand bookstore.... come on, come on. There! He stood back up. “I know where she was killed, come on!” He ran back out of the room.

Ohh, getting interesting.

Not that it wasn't all ready interesting, it's just getting really interesting.

... I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, shh.

lol aaaw, just wait, just you wait! Bwhaha.....>.>

Time was running out, they had maybe an hour and a half left, but if Sherlock was right, this was where they'd find the bomb. John spun around. Hairdressers, check, second hand bookstore, check. Sherlock was already running in the direction of a large old builidng. He leaned over, pointing something out.

“Blood, look, its fresh. She was injured here.. then dragged inside!”

The door wasn't even locked, making it easy to go inside. Too easy. Lestrade handed John a torch, the inside of the building almost pitch black. “You sure she was killed here Sherlock?” asked Lestrade, as he sweeped the torch back and forth. “I found her earring by the door, she was missing one”. John leaned over to stare at the small piece of jewellery.

“I didn't notice”

“Im not surprised”

Sherlock had begun running into various rooms. Lestrade and the others chased after the tall detective, once the DI had of course informed the other Yarders to sweep the area. “You should wait outside Sherlock, if theres a bomb, its not safe!” But his calls fell on deaf ears, they always did.

------

Time continued to count down. John entered the only room that wasn't empty, but still no bomb. There was a TV though. A very large TV screen. John crept closer. The room was empty, the wallpaper torn off, but there was an expensive screen on the wall. Something didn't feel right.

Hello John

Plain white words flashed across the screen, making John jump back in surprise and almost trip over his own feet. Shit... Jim was watching them, he had to be. “Sherlock!” He cried out as loud as possible. The doctor didn't even turn around, just kept his eyes on the screen. Lestrade, Sherlock and the others burst into the room, Lestrade with his gun out, Sherlock held... his riding crop for some reason.

Sherlock took a breath and looked at John. “I thought you were in trouble”. John was touched but concerned with more pressing matters. He pointed to the screen. But the words were gone. Sherlock walked over, studying every inch of it.

Hello Sexy

This time it was Sherlock's turn to jump in surprise. He smiled. “Jim”.

Congrats on finding where she was murdered!

“Im guessing you can hear us and see us, somehow, but thats not important, wheres the bomb?”

Oh Sherlock, It's not here, it was never here.

“No, no no! All clues pointed to here! We've solved your puzzle, we found all the clues!”

Who said I'd ever play fair, my dear?

Shit, shit shit shit. Lestrade called off the search and waited for more information. John moved next to his friend, who was rapidly becoming more agitated by the second. The words disappeared, replaced by a picture.

“Pall Mall?”

John was confused. Why there? Lestrade began barking new orders down his phone. Sherlock's eyes widened, his face going white. Oh no, this was no accident. Music began to play interrupting all their thoughts.

/It's time to kill the lights and shut the DJ down
(This place about to!) 
Tonight we're taking over, no one's getting out

This place about to blow! Blow! 
This place about to blow! Blow! 
This place about to blow! Blow! 
This place about to blow! Blow!/

John stole a look at Sherlock and was shocked by what he saw. His friend was even paler than before, his hands were shaking. And then he ran. Sherlock had pelted out of the room, faster than he'd ever seen him. The others stood there, confused for a second then rushed after him.

“Sherlock, Sherlock what is it? Why is the bomb in Pall Mall and not here?!”

Sherlock turned, still running. “Thats not Pall Mall!” John and Lestrade stole a look at each other. But the image clearly showed Pall Mall. Why would he say that? John decided to humour him.

“Then what is it!?”

“The Diogenes Club!”

Still confused, John climbed into the cab with Sherlock, his hands unable keep still. "DRIVE!" There was a beep, the pink phone flashed a message across its screen. 'Its 8:45, do you know where Big Brother is?'. Sherlock yelled at the cabbie again, to drive as fast as possible. The phone started replaying the music from the abandoned building. Nothing either could do would turn it off.

/Now what? We're taking control 
We get what we want, we do what you don't 
Dirt and glitter cover the floor 
We're pretty and sick, we're young and we're bored 

It's time to lose your mind and let the crazy out/

“Sherlock?”

“What?!...no...sorry John, it's not your fault...”

John was growing more and more worried for his friend. “Whats wrong? Whats the Diogenes Club?” Sherlock ran his hand through his hair. “One of the strangest clubs in London. It's hard to explain...it was started by a young man back in his university days. Now days mostly elite men and occasionally, but rarely women use it. Especially business men. Inside you are forbidden to talk, many go I think because its peaceful and relaxing, I've been a few times myself"

John shook his head, something still wasn't right, something had his normally reserved friend on edge. “What aren't you telling me Sherlock?” The detective looked down, one hand clenching itself tightly. “Mycroft, Mycroft started the club, its almost 9pm, he's there.. right now John” Oh no, Mycroft... but he was smart, very smart, John was certain he'd be alright but he now understood. His friend was worried.

He knew Sherlock cared. Sherlock claimed to be a sociopath, some had even stated he may have aspergers. But these people didn't know Sherlock, he was neither, just someone who kept his emotions close to his heart, all bottled inside. He only showed them to John, sometimes Mrs Hudson and rarely but occasionally to their clients. John stared forward and prayed they weren't too late

------

/Go, go, go, go insane, go insane 
Throw some glitter, make it rain on 
And let me see them hands,
Let me, let me see them hands /

A man dressed in white Westwood, wine glass in one hand, remote in the other, danced. Another man, tall and blonde, watched amused from his chair, cleaning his rifle.

-----

Lestrade had beaten them there, but only by a few minutes. Sherlock bounded out of the car, the phone falling from his coat pocket. John picked it up. It was counting down.

“Where is everyone?!”

Lestrade turned to see one very angry Sherlock behind him. “We're trying to get them out, somethings wrong with the doors” Before he'd even finished there was the sound of a window being smashed, people starting to climb out to safety.

Sherlock ran towards an old man. “Mycroft, is he out yet?!” The old man shook his head. “Saw something I think, went off to go check it. Haven’t heard from him since. It was about ten minutes ago." Sherlock started to run towards the open window. John stared down at the phone, it was beeping.

10

9

8....

“Sherlock, get back! Get back down!” John rushed over, grabbing his friend around his thin waist and tried to pull him away. “Mycroft isn't out yet John!” Im sorry Sherlock, but you're more important right now. He tugged hard, finally pulling his friend away. Lestrade had walked over, helping him restrain the struggling detective.

7

6

5...

“Whats wrong with him?” Lestrade looked confused, glancing at John for help. “Mycroft”. Even Sally looked concerned. “Who's Mycroft?” John looked Lestarde straight in the eye. “His brother”. Lestrade looked down to stare at Sherlock but he was gone. Sherlock had teared himself away from both of them, running towards the building.

“Sherlock, NO!”

John chased after, his own safety thrown out the window.

4

3

2

1...

BOOM!

------

The explosion propelled the both of them back into hard ground. The last thing John remembered before passing out was the pain filled voice of his best friend, crying out for his brother.

“MYCROFT!”

I really like this one! It has a fast pace, is clearly written with no unnecessary detail or long explanations (I'm not a fan of those, but that is just a personal preference. Don't mind me, lol) The cliffhanger at the end makes me scream for the next part. ^^

well here you go! I do like lots of detail and explanations XD but save them only for certain types of fics. like my other fic has that because its necessary and theres not heaps of talking. This is more action packed. but later chapters will focus more on emotional things.. so...we'll see

Thanks random person! unless its the op...

lol, no I'm not the op. Just a random person who has a lot of time and found a nice story to read.

John must have only been unconscious for a few minutes. When he first awoke the street was like a war zone. Something all too familiar. There was dust and stone everywhere, the building was on fire. Sherlock lay next to him his head bleeding, his leg at an awkward angle. John gave himself a once over. Minor head injury, scrapes and bruises, nothing overly serious.

He crawled over to Sherlock, placing his fingers against his throat, please be alive you idiot, he breathed a sigh of relief when he felt a steady beat. “Sherlock, Sherlock mate you need to wake up now” He patted the side of his friends face, giving a small smile as the detective began to stir. Pale eyes opened, locking on immediately to John.

“John!”

“Ssh, its ok, Im ok, you're.... you'll be ok”

Sherlock looked around, wincing and wished he hadn't. “My head” John brushed back to hair, slight wound on the front, his hand moved around to the back. Blood coated his fingertips. Sherlock probably had a concussion too.

John moved back, pulling his friends head off the cold, hard concrete and into his lap. “You need to stay with me, can you do that Sherlock?” Sherlock's eyes were still dazed and confused. But he tried to nod. Hey lay there for a few seconds and then his eyes widened.

“Mycroft!”

He tried to lift himself out of John's lap, with great difficulty, virtually pitching forward and onto his face. “Sherlock!”. The detective couldn't stand, his leg was to badly injured for him to do so. “Mycroft!” He kept calling for his brother. It was heart breaking. Lestrade spotted the two of them, running over, a worried look on his face. John tried to pull his detective back.

“Are you two ok?”

“Not really, any word about Mycroft?” Lestrade shook his head. “Im sorry, no one who escaped goes by that name, we're still searching for surviours.. but.. Im sorry it's not looking good.” Sherlock's body had given up and was now lying on his side.

“John...John!”

“I'm here Sherlock”

“Mycroft?” God he sounded so young and innocent.

“.....Im sorry Sherlock...I don't know”

He pulled his flatmate against his chest, the man's legs folded awkwardly beside him. “No.. he has to be ok, the idiot, he has to be, John”. But John couldn't reassure him, looking at the wreckage, he wasn't able to tell if anyone inside could have survived such a blast. Lestrade began speaking to Sally, who shook her head, staring at Sherlock.

“Sherlock... Im sorry, it looks like -”

“No”

“Sherlock, mate..” Lestrade knelt down to his level. John noted that his flatmate had began to clench at his jumper. “Im sorry” He honestly was. Sherlock was shaking, tears began to well up in his eyes. “You're wrong!...He can't be .. he's not allowed.... no....no!” The tears began to fall, a trickle at first but soon they were streaming down his cheeks. He bent his head into John's shoulder, clenching the jumper tighter.

John felt tears sting his own eyes, and wrapped his arms around his friend, rubbing his back and whispering soothing words. He looked over at Lestrade, miming for an ambulance, he could still feel blood seeping down Sherlock's neck.

“Mycroft... no... god no..”

“It'll be ok Sherlock...”

“Sherlock?...Sherlock?!”

But his friend wasn't listening anymore. His body had finally given up and Sherlock had slipped back into the unconscious world.

O_O... D:

No!!! God - please tell me Mycroft's alive. Hurt - sure, but please let him be alive

Oh this is incredibly gripping - it's just action non-stop (which is brilliant) I look forward to reading more soon (and am just going to sit here hoping that somehow Mycroft's not dead)

I wish I hadn't passed out last night, this is a wonderful thing to wake up to, though.

Oh, I'm crying. Sherlock...

I... Yes, this is amazing. Sorry if I'm not able to praise you completely, I'm a bit wibbled at the moment.

I'm not even sure if that's the proper use of that word.

As always, can't wait for more.

Aw both of you are too nice! Im working on the next chapters now. Should be up in a few hours. >D we will see about Mycroft later right now we need some good angst, H/C and flashbacks

It's the random reader again. xD I can only agree and cheer for some good ol' angst.

I have no complaints. I'm a complete angst addict. Keep up the amazing work.

ok not much angst yet in chapter 13, I want sherlock to dream a bit, maybe for another day. and then we can has angst? Still unsure if I should time skip or not, if i do it will only end up being for maybe a week?

I have a tumblr... do you mind me starting to post some of this there or on fanfiction... some people are interested.

OP

(Anonymous) - 2011-12-29 07:19 (UTC) - Expand

John paced back and forth in the hospital waiting room. His own arm was now bandaged up, a white patch on his left temple. But he'd refused to stay in a hospital room. Lestrade and the others were also with him. Lestrade was just as worried, he sat on the edge of his chair, his hands folded under his chin. Even Sally looked worried and sad. Was she worried about Sherlock or did she feel bad for thinking he was an emotionless bastard?

John couldn't begin to imagine what his friend was going to go through, once he woke up. It was clear he was close to very few people. Particularly his own family. Mycroft was someone who understood him, who was like him. Had the same abilities. Now it was looking like he was to be all alone, but John promised he would be there for him.

“Doctor Watson?”

John stoped his pacing, walking straight up to the blonde woman. “Is he ok?!” She nodded, glancing at her clipboard. “At the moment, I'm afraid he's still unconscious, but I'll let you know as soon as we know more” John felt the urge to hit something, preferably someone in Westwood.

“Can I see him?” She shook her head. “Only family” John's face fell. “But... he may not have any anymore...” Sighing the doctor relented, taking pity on the ex-solider. “Ok, but only for five minutes” John was already gone before her sentence had finished.

---------

The room was dark, his best friend lay on a bed in the middle of the room. He was as pale as the sheet, if not for the monitor John might have thought him....dead. Sherlock had a bandage around his head, several cuts and bruises were visible on his skin. Both arms were on the top of the blue hospital blanket. One bandaged, the other bruised but whole.

John took the seat waiting near the bed. He dragged it until it was next to Sherlock. He sat, taking his friends hand in his own. “Sherlock? If you can hear me, you stubborn bastard, you need to wake up. I know... right now you probably don't want to, but there are people here who care about you very much.. so please... please just wake up” John felt tears sting his eyes again. He had to wake up. John wasn't sure what he'd do if he didn't.

----------

Little feet pounded against the cold floor, running into every room in the very large manor. They tripped, the young owner crying out. A boy, about ten years old looked up from his book. “Sherlock?”

A curly head raised their eyes up to the child now next to him. “Myky, Myky!” His little lips quivered, his eyes welling up with tears. The toddler raised his arms up to the figure above him. “Oh 'lockie, I told you to be careful” Mycroft bundled up the child in his arms and sat him on the couch.

“It's just a scratch 'lockie”

“But it 'urts Myky!”

Mycroft smiled and procured a bandaid for his little brothers knee. “Next time, hit the brakes? Don't run so fast, what were you doing anyway little brother?” He sat down next to him, the little toddler hugging his side.

“Chasing the bad guys Myky”

Mycroft laughed. Sherlock pouted. “Ok, I was looking for you” He had quite the vocaularly for a three year old but after all he was a Holmes. “Well, you found me” The little boy smiled happily.

“Read to me?”

“Alright, what book?”

“The Lost World!”

Mycroft gave another laugh. “And who wrote that? Come on 'lockie, you know this” Sherlock put a finger to his lips in thought. “Arfur Cone Doil!” The taller Holmes shook his head, deeply amused.

“Close enough little brother, close enough.”

ajnxkzj

lsdijhvk

zzzbt

Excuse me for a moment.

You are excused, chapter 14 is up, chapter 15 after dinner. If you're still up ....

Well, I can probably last until about three am, which is fourtyish minutes from now. So if it's not up by then I'll have something to read when I wake up.

Re: Oh Brother Of Mine 8/?

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