Improbable Truth (Sherlock Fanfic)

Chapter Four

Watson's POV

Location: St Bart's

Time: Present Day

BOOM. The blast was so strong it practically knocked me off my feet.

Oh, sorry. I need to backtrack a little.

Sherlock was doing his thing, trying to figure out where and when the Golem might strike next, when suddenly we felt a rumble under our feet. Then almost instantly, a blast and a shock wave so massive it sent me sprawling to the ground. Dust and debris were everywhere, and there was a ringing in my ears.

Lestrade popped up in my field of vision, shouting something. I picked myself up groggily and together, we headed for the stairs. Sherlock suddenly appeared clutching his head, stumbling down like a mad man.

The chaos outside was indescribable. People running everywhere, shouting for ambulances. Suddenly, my hearing returned, and the thunderous sound of voices assaulted my head.

Sherlock was searching the crowd frantically, eyes darting everywhere. "Molly. Where's Molly?" He practically shook Anderson like a sack of rice, but the dazed man offered no answer.

"I... I don't know, she was in the morgue when the explosion happened."

Sherlock grunted and took off towards the half-ruined hospital without a word.

"SHERLOCK!" I yelled after him, but he was out of earshot. Checking to see that Lestrade and Anderson were okay, I darted through the crowd after him, Sherlock's grey coat and scarf easy to spot in the mass of people.

***
The building was a wreck. I caught up with Sherlock at the edge of a massive pile of rubble blocking the entrance to the morgue, frantically trying to dig through the pile.

I grabbed his arm. "Sherlock, wait for the rescue team. It's hopeless, we can't dig through this in time."

He ignored my words and mumbled something that sounded like 'no time'. His eyes seemed unfocused and blurry, as if he didn't know what to do- but Sherlock, not knowing what to do? Sighing, I helped him remove a heavy piece of celing.

Then we heard cries of pain from the other side. Molly.

At the same time, something snapped back in Sherlock. The frustrated man was gone, replaced by the cool and collected detective.

"Help me get through" was all he said, and we attempted to dig at the rubble from which the cries were heard.

***
Thirty minutes and twelve (yes, I counted) huge slabs of stone later, Sherlock was back in his normal Sherlock mode (which meant looking too nonchalant), Molly was back but in a different hospital receiving treatment, Lestrade was back on his radio trying to assess the situation and I, John Watson was back to being clueless as ever. Luckily, I knew at least that 221B Baker Street was safe- or as safe as a place full of garbage could be-, and Mary was there visitng Mrs Hudson. So at least we had a place to stay.

According to Donovan, who had suddenly just popped out of nowhere, this blast wasn't isolated. It was much, much worse.

"We've been receiving reports of these bomb blasts from all around the UK. Not just London, but other places like Brighton and Suffolk. Small explosions with a blast radius of a few kilometers. One is enough, but with the number reaching twenty and counting, I'm not sure we can handle this anymore. The Prime Minister has ordered a full lock down of London, and the Parliament is in an emergency session. News of casualties are pouring in by the minute, and the number isn't stopping. Does Sherlock have any idea-"

I cut her off. Donovan tended to blabber on and on when in panic mode. "Sherlock's working on it, I'm sure. We'll just have to be patient. Did your boys have any luck with the Moriarty images?"

"We've failed at tracing the source. It's very technical, but- oh no, I have to go." And she ran off after hearing her pager ring.

Sherlock walked up to me, coffee cup in hand. I just stared at him.

"What? I need a cup of coffee in the morning." Was his only reply.

"There's no time for that now" I said as I hurried down the streets looking for shelter. "Someone targeted St Barts', and we're- no- you're in danger out in the open."

Sherlock smirked. He followed suit at a quick pace, however. "I'm touched by your concern for my welfare, John. But I need time to think." Pulling me into the nearest alleyway, he thrust a scrap of paper into my hands.

"What's that?" I unfolded the paper and as I deciphered the untidy scrawl, realization dawned upon me.

"You have safehouses?"

"Multiple ones, in fact. I- borrowed them from Mycroft." He looked slightly sheepish.

"And you thought it necessary to rent-"

"I thought it necessary to lend Mrs Hudson a hand. Also- these safehouses aren't mine. They technically belong to MI6, but that isn't important right now. The important thing is for me to think. 221B Baker Street is no longer safe. The only people who know the exact location of these safehouses is me- and now you."

Typical Sherlock Holmes. Between him and Mycroft, they could have taken down the entire British Government in a heartbeat.

"The nearest one is a few blocks down-" I started, but Sherlock had already headed back down the alleyway.

"Let's go, we don't have much time," he shouted back to me.

Honestly. What was the point of pulling me into an alleyway then moving someplace else again?

I could have punched Sherlock. I sighed and headed back into the chaotic scene outside St Barts', following after Sherlock. I had just caught up to him, when suddenly-

"You. You. You murderer!"

A woman in her fifties suddenly slammed Sherlock to the pavement and started punching his face, her face contorted with rage and pain. She howled with anger as Sherlock tried to raise his arms above his head.

I pulled the woman off Sherlock in an instant, while the passersby walked along, hoping to not get involved.

"You... you murderer! You killed my son! That's him there, Sherlock Holmes killed-"

"Listen up here, Sherlock didn't kill anyone! What are you shouting about?!" I lost my patience. The woman was pinned to the wall, sobbing and trembling with rage. I released my grip on her and rushed to help Sherlock up. He had a strange look on his face.

"I'm... I'm very sorry."

I was stunned into silence. Who was this woman?

"Mike Denvers' mother," he said as if he had read my thoughts.

Mike... one of the Network. Sudden realization came upon me.

The woman was still sobbing by the wall. If anything, her cries increased in volume.

Sherlock took a few steps to her. He whispered something in her ear, and the woman shook her head, too defeated to say anything. Sherlock tried saying something, but the woman shoved him away.

"Come on, we've got to get to the safehouse, it isn't safe here." I started to move away.

"Wait..."

"Look, there's nothing you can do for her, it wasn't your fault-"

At that very moment, a car with black windows pulled up alongside us.

The driver's window wound down, and Mycroft's head appeared. I did a double take. Mycroft Holmes, driving?

"Hello, brother. Hello, Doctor. Get in. Now."

END

Hehe I'm being super irregular with my updates, it's getting harder to find time to write, what with college and whatnot... once again, please do forgive my ooc moments, this chapter was an absolutely hard one to write... I'm terrible at action descriptions :/ hope you'll like this chap though, comments are very very much appreciated :)

As always,

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