I Don't Want To Believe

Alien Amber Alert

    The next couple of hours were kind of stressful. He still heard nothing from Sherlock, no one came knocking to give him company, but then again no one came knocking to take him to the gallows. So John sat on the bed, wishing that he could press his finger to the disk and read all of those files, but alas, he tried and tried, but it would only work for alien DNA. Once again another way to make him feel more like a monkey than a human being. Weren't humans supposed to be at the top of the food chain, all powerful killing machines? John could only wonder what the human race would do when they found out there were people out there that were more advanced than they were, better in every way...At least that's what Sherlock wanted John to believe. They could still very much be very overdramatic high tech humans, pretending to be aliens for the sake of the plot. He kept watching the door, afraid that now someone would notice the disk's disappearance, and now that he knew they were going to try to execute him, well, who knows what they might do? Maybe his death will come early, because who wanted a traitorous human? John sighed, laying on his bed and throwing the soccer ball once more, the only thing he could possibly do to occupy himself. Suddenly the door opened, and John was positioned to throw the ball in defense when Molly walked in. He was a little bit relieved, but then again, she didn't look like normal Molly, she looked nervous, scared even.
"Molly, are you alright?" John asked. Molly looked at the ground nervously, leaving the door open as if she were expecting more people.
"John, you're asked to report to the Three Leader's chambers immediately." She muttered, wringing her hands together.
"Why?" John asked nervously, an uncomfortable shiver running down his spine. This was it, wasn't it?
"Well, um, I'm not quite sure." She muttered.
"Did they seem angry?" John asked, getting off of his bed and tucking the disk farther underneath his comforter.
"Well, I'm not...why do you know something I don't? Are you in trouble?" she asked, sounding a lot more worried than scared. Obviously she wasn't able to be talking too much with the members of death row.
"I don't know, does Sherlock know about this?" John asked, deciding that if they were to make an escape, they needed to now.
"I don't know, I didn't see him there." Molly decided.
"Molly, would you do me a favor?" John asked. Molly nodded nervously; looking around to make sure no one followed her.
"I'm supposed to take you down." she muttered.
"They'll kill me Molly." John pointed out. Molly gasped in surprise, looking at John suspiciously as if he were joking.
"No, they wouldn't...Sherlock said you're going home!" Molly exclaimed.
"We found a file, a disk I suppose, it said I was to be killed, I stole it, they'll come looking, Sherlock never knew everything, they're going to experiment on the child, they've never told us their true intentions, Molly, you need to find Sherlock." John insisted in one breath. "You need to find him." he repeated, in case she hadn't heard him the first time.
"They're not going to kill you?" Molly repeated in a terrified whisper.
"Yes Molly, they are, you need to get Sherlock!" John insisted in a louder voice.
"But, if I go against their orders, they'll kill me too, exile me!" she insisted.
"Molly, please, you can talk your way out of it, Sherlock's going to get me out, me and the child, we're leaving, and if they're coming that means we don't have as much time as we thought!" John pointed out. Molly took a deep breath, fixing her hair and standing up taller.
"Where is he?" she asked in a determined little whisper.
"I don't know. He might be at the amphitheater; he might be at his room, but whatever you do, find him, tell him to get the child, tell him to come and that I'm in danger." John insisted.
"Okay, John, be careful, please be careful, if this gets out of hand..." Molly started, but John shushed her with a glare.
"It's been nice knowing you Molly, good luck." John insisted. Molly nodded furiously and rushed out of the room, leaving the door open in case John needed to run. As much as he wanted to close it, to give himself a feeble line of defense that didn't even lock, John needed an escape route as well, a place to run if the guards arrived, if the doors closed, he would be locked in. So John hid in the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the claw footed bathtub. He was wearing his human clothes; there was nothing else he needed to leave, should he keep his jumpsuit, his cape, for keepsakes? No, they would just weigh him down, and besides, if the aliens were looking for him, maybe a very indiscreet jumpsuit and cape combo wouldn't be the most incognito decision. Every second that passed felt like an hour, and he tried to put himself into Molly's shoes. Was she running to the amphitheater now, was she talking to Sherlock, was she making up an excuse to the guards that were on their way to take John? Was Sherlock running to help, the 'Alpha Male' tucked under her arm? John could only hope that all was well, that in the next couple of minutes Sherlock would run in to help. So he waited, and waited, wondering what earth would be like when he returned, what his parents would do upon his return. What was he even going to do with this partially developed alien hybrid baby? Would he have to break open the glass when it was grown, would it break out itself, like an egg? And what did he do with the mysterious liquid? Surely that's not something you dump down the drain into public sanitation. All of these questions buzzing around his head, but then again, the biggest question was whether or not he would make it home or not. Even though he hadn't seen many guards, there were bound to be plenty, and all he had was Sherlock to help him, Sherlock and Molly were his only hopes now.
"John, John!" screamed a desperate sounding Sherlock from in the room. John breathed a sigh of relief, running out of the bathroom to see Sherlock running around in a small circle in the room, as if looking for John. As promised, the tube carrying the baby was tucked under his arm, but he set it down and came running to his human, trapping John in a very aggressive hug.
"Oh thank god, thank god, I thought they already took you." He muttered, pressing his face against the top of John's head as if that was somehow comforting.
"Well, they're about to, what took you so long?" John asked, trying to get a little bit of breathing room, but Sherlock's tight grasp wasn't too easy to slip away from.
"Molly came running, sobbing, screaming that they were going to kill you, I panicked, I grabbed the baby, I ran..." Sherlock muttered, holding John even closer. "I'm so glad to see you alive."
"We need to go, I won't be alive for long if you keep up with this sentiment up for much longer." John insisted.
"This might be the last time I see you." Sherlock muttered.
"Yes, you're right." John agreed. Sherlock took a deep breath, stepping ever so slightly away and taking something out of his pocket. John studied it; it looked like a steak knife from the kitchens.
"Here." Sherlock muttered, holding it out for John to take.
"What's this for?" John asked curiously. That wasn't a very useful weapon against whatever kind of soldiers these aliens had.
"Well you can't very well hold me at knifepoint without a knife, can you?" Sherlock laughed. John took the knife by the handle, not looking very wicked but certainly able to hurt someone if you were determined enough.
"Alright, let's go." John decided, grabbing the canister of baby and starting for the door.
"And John?" Sherlock asked rather nervously. John turned in slight annoyance, but Sherlock was looking a bit guilty, as if he didn't want to stall any longer. "I um, well..." He looked very nervous, as if this was really tolling on his self-esteem, "It was nice to be with you." Sherlock muttered. John just laughed, rolling his eyes at Sherlock's idiocy.
"Ya, I know." He agreed with a smile. He was probably planning on saying those three words, but it obviously was too difficult at the time. But John couldn't think about that, he didn't care about Sherlock's emotions, or how this might be the last time they ever see each other, if they don't get out right now their entire new family was going to be dead. Sherlock took a deep breath, but ran out of the room, leading the way along the hallways to the control room. As they left the room, John caught a glimpse of two leather clad soldiers yielding long golden ceremonial looking spears. They looked rather surprised to see their prey wander so easily into their grasp, but they stopped, gripping their spears dangerously.
"Stop, Mr. Holmes, get the human!" one of them called, as if that was going to work. John turned around desperately, grabbing Sherlock by his shoulder and pulling him close, pressing the knife as lightly as he could to Sherlock's throat without actually hurting him. He needed this to look realistic. Sherlock was trembling in his arms, his breathing was very loud and distracting as John tried to pull the most desperate expression he could, which of course wasn't very hard.
"If you come any closer, he dies!" John exclaimed. The two of them started running forward, lowering their spears. John started to hold the knife up in defense; maybe they didn't value Sherlock's life as much as he had thought.
"That only works in your human world; we're much more practical here." Sherlock hissed, but John just grabbed him by the back of his jumpsuit and pulled him along the halls. The guards followed in hot pursuit, calling out demands and screaming for backup. Thankfully those little jumpsuits weren't made for running, more like walking round and looking intimidating, because John in his jeans was running a lot faster than these so called superior life forms.
"Where are we going?" John called, running so quickly around a corner that he smacked into the opposite metal wall, the tube rocking dangerously in his arms.
"Follow me!" Sherlock insisted. John had to trust that he actually knew the way.
"I can't when you're running slow!" John insisted, his words so quick between his breaths that they only sounded like muttering. His muscles were hurting, his lungs were calling for help, and he was now developing a serious cramp in his side, but he had to keep going. The pain would go away, death was forever. Sherlock sped up the best he could, his cape flowing behind him dramatically as he ran through the corridors. John could hear the guards behind them, still calling for the two of them to halt, as if now they might change their minds and bow down. Finally Sherlock stopped, ripping open a door that was previously not there and disappearing inside of it. John just got inside, catching the tiniest glimpse of the guards scrambling to catch up, maybe five of them now, before he shut the door quickly.
"Can we lock it?" John asked, pressing his back against the door and catching his breath the best he could. A cold glass of water would be really nice right now.
"No, but you need to make sure they can't get in." Sherlock decided, running up to the controls near the wall. John looked around, not really enough to take in the scenery. There was a large control system with a computer monitor, depicting what looked to be an aerial view of John's house. There was a large target right over his cornfield, presumably where the crop circle had appeared. There was also a big hole in the middle of the floor, with a circular trap door you only see in Sci-Fi movies that think they're real creative. This must be the teleportation room. John couldn't really admire it though, because as soon as he got a good look around the door started to open. John pressed his weight up against it desperately, but he knew he wasn't enough to keep five armed aliens away forever.
"Hurry up!" John called desperately, hearing the guards calling to each other from the other side of the thin metal door. Sherlock didn't answer, seemingly moving the target to a more discreet location; one that wouldn't give John's destination away too badly. John put the baby on the ground and tried to get a better grip on the door, but his feet were already starting to slide against the metal floor, he couldn't hold them forever...
"Give me a minute!" Sherlock insisted, pushing buttons desperately.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" John called.
"No, of course not!" Sherlock insisted. Well, that was great. John's strength was leaving him; surely the power of five men would overcome him in a moment.
"Push!" screamed a guard from the other side, and the door flung open. John was thrown to the floor, but he scrambled to get the baby into his arms first, that was the priority, family. The guards rushed in, two of them taking him by the arms and knocking the knife out of his hands, two of them running over to Sherlock to make sure he was alright, and the last one retrieving the stolen baby tube. John struggled against his captors, using all methods he knew to try to free himself. He kicked, he tried to worm away, he even spit onto one of their faces, but to no luck. Their grip never subsided.
"Mr. Holmes, are you alright?" one of the guards asked. Sherlock stayed by the controls, forcing himself to nod in fear. He had to play the victim here; however he chose to do that.
"He told me he would kill me, I had no other choice, I'm sorry..." Sherlock insisted, looking close to tears. John growled, trying to kick one of the men in the leg but ended up contorting very uncomfortably, dangling from their sturdy grip.
"After a stunt like this we have no choice but to exterminate him." the guard decided, not sounding upset about that at all.
"You were going to do that anyway." John spat. The guard laughed, as if it were amusing to see John try to debate.
"Yes you funny human, of course we were. What use did we have of you?" he asked. John looked desperately at Sherlock, who was still by the controls but not pressing any buttons. It would really be helpful if he would start pressing buttons.
"Don't look at him, he won't help you now, we've got you where we want you." One of the guards decided.
"Magnussen will be pleased, he's always wanted to dig open a human, see what's inside." The guard decided, looking at John as if he were a meal waiting to be prepared.
"Oh, so you work for Magnussen now?" John asked, trying to act as though he wasn't scared out of his mind.
"Everyone works for Magnussen, they just don't know it yet." the guard laughed. John struggled helplessly, and Sherlock just looked at them in wonder.
"There are three Leaders, not just Magnussen." He pointed out. The guards were silent, obviously they had said too much. Sherlock descended slowly from the control panel, walking up to where John was being dangled limply by the arms.
"Are you planning to take over our government?" Sherlock asked suspiciously.
"I most certainly am not." The guard said firmly, but John doubted that. If Magnussen already had the guards on his side, then obviously something was going on. Honestly John couldn't care too much about alien politics right now, because he was still being manhandled by the very followers of the man that planned to kill him.
"We can't sink to the level of the humans, with their anarchy, with their chaos, nothing good comes from fear." Sherlock decided, staring at John with a small smile. He was either a really good actor, or he really had hated John from the beginning. The look in his eyes, it was enough to make John doubt his intentions all along. Was he playing the villain; was he pretending that John was supposed to be scared of him? Was this a plan of his, to get John back safely?
"As if I fear you." John spat. Sherlock sank to his knees to look John in the eyes, his eyes looked desperate but his mouth was still smiling evilly.
"You should." He decided, staring determinedly into John's eyes, there seemed to be a stopwatch in the blues and greens, three, two, one... Sherlock jumped to his feet, kicking out the legs of one of the guards that held John and grabbing the discarded steak knife on the ground. One of the guards scrambled to restrain him, but by that point John had already freed himself, kicking away from his captors and knocking another on the head as hard as he could.
"John, hurry, we just need to press the button!" Sherlock called desperately, trying his best to strangle one of the guards from behind.