Memories (Sherlock BBC Fanfic)

Chapter 4

Molly was the first i saw. Poor innocent Molly. Strangled. I could see the bruises on her neck from where Sebastian left them. Her lips still blue, her eyes still open. Greg hung next to her. His neck snapped, leaving his neck at an unnatural angle. Leaning on the tree he was hung twenty feet from the ground. He probably never saw Sebastian coming. He probably died instantly. My eyes moved to Mrs. Hudson. Throat slashed, wrists bound together in front of her, rope around her neck like all the others. Her sweet face twisted in pain in her last moments. 

At this point i began to shake uncontrollably.

Next was Mycroft. Damn Mycroft. His blood covered his stomach and chest from the bullet lodged just below his rib cage. He bled out. The worst way to die. It was his blood i slipped in. The final corpse, that completed Jim's threat, was the body of Sherlock. My very best friend. Dead. Hanging from a tree. His eyes somehow glared down at me as he swayed with the wind. Blood covered his head, much like it did when he jumped. Another wound lay on his chest. A bullet to his heart. Jim's little message to me.

I tried to turn. I tried to run away, but my legs didn't work and i fell. I slammed against a tree and screamed. I just screamed and stared at the faces i had killed. Knowing that they will haunt my dreams. Knowing that i would never forget. It wasn't fake. They weren't fake corpses like Sherlock's fall. They weren't body doubles or manikins. Every detail down to the freckles was real. God. They were dead.

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Sherlock:

I checked the clock in Greg's car for the sixteenth time and began to doubt it's accuracy. It had only been forty-five minutes, but it felt had felt like hours. The car was silent except for the small sounds of the radio, which was playing a soft song i didn't recognize. Greg eventually broke the silence.

"What can you tell from the picture?" He asked in a quiet, grim, voice.

I reopened the photo reluctantly.

"Taken just before he sent it. John looks... weak. His face is pretty battered. Possible broken nose and swollen eye. But the bruising on his chest is what i'm concerned about. He might have a broken rib, or several fractured ones. We'll see once we get a look at him."

Lestrade accepted my opinion with a hum, and continued on the road. He stayed silent for the next half hour, until he looked at me. He must have been thinking about something.

"Why did he let him go? He's had him for a month, why let him go?"

"He still wants to play the game. He doesn't want John dead, he wants me dead. To beat me at his game. I lucked out last time, but this is just the beginning of round two. The only reason John got hurt was because of me."

Lestrade took his eyes off the road to study me, trying to read my emotions. I tried my best to keep my face blank. But i was fighting the urge to break down. John didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve someone like me who just lead him into trouble. I shifted my gaze to the window, shifting so that Greg couldn't see my face. I heard a small sigh as he gave up and the car went back to silence.

We reached the stretch of road where the woods deepened. Greg shut off the car and got out. I took off into the woods and jogged for about ten minutes before we slowed. Unsure of where John might be in the forest, i called out to him. 

Silence.

I tried again, but a hand on my shoulder stopped me. 

"This might be a trap. I don't think we should make ourselves known."

I shrugged him off my shoulder and bit back. "I know that! But Jim gave us permission to find him, and if he wanted to kill me, it would have been a long time ago! John could be anywhere out here, and calling out to him is the best option."

"Alright, alright. Calm down, i see your point. Just... yeah." he sighed and began to call his name.

We began to jog through the trees calling his name, hoping that we did indeed have the right place and that John was not unconscious. It gave me an uneasy feeling in my gut. Whenever you have to rely on hope, things are bad. And after awhile of calling, my hope began to fade.

After twenty or so minutes of calling, we heard our first response. It was a scream. We bolted towards the man with guns drawn immediately. Reaching the top of the hill, we had a good view of the area below. John was laying on his side nearly two hundred feet out. 

"JOHN!!" I yelled as i bolted, ignoring the crack in my voice. Greg was quickly behind me as i reached him. 

He was shaking as if he was cold, but was burning with fever. And even in the dark i could see the battered face of my friend. His eye had closed and was a dark purple, and there was dried blood staining his nose from where someone had landed a good hit. 

He didn't notice when Greg and I came closer. And when i reached out, he flinched so hard i brought my hand back in shock. 

"John? John, its me. Sherlock."

A sob wracked his body as he tried to say my name. His voice failed him from the screaming and it barely came out over a whisper. He began to curl in on himself and i reached out again.

"John. You're going to be fine. We just- we just need to get you out of here. Okay?" 

I reached out again and gently took his hand, trying to soothe him. He nearly wrenched his hand free until i stated my name again. "It's just me, Sherlock. Remember?" He seemed to regain a few thoughts, and stopped fighting my hold. He leaned forward grabbing my coat collar and sobbed.

I had never seen John cry before. He was always so strong, so in control. And seeing him like that broke my heart. 

It took both of us to get him to the car. We laid him down in the back and i climbed in next to him as Greg started the car. He held on to my coat the whole time as he shook and whimpered. It pained me that all i could do was gently say his name and hold his hand. The first hour in the car he didn't even acknowledge he had been found. He fixed his eyesight in one place and cried. And Greg's expression in the mirror slow began to grow worse.

We had been driving for almost eighty minutes when John began to sob a bit harder. We were so close to London. So close to help. John whimpered again, and I reached up and flicked on the overhead lights. And everything happened at once. He flew forward and landed a blow to my jaw.

I was startled, to say the least, and reeled backwards. I put a hand to my face as John hit me again. Greg had pulled off the road and gotten out, and was clearly debating what to do. He opened the door and lifted John off me and onto the ground. John didn't like that.

He swiftly turned and shoved Greg into the ally wall. He put his hands up and around Greg's throat, cutting off his flow of air. 

"JOHN??"

He turned to look at me, fear in his eyes. I took a step forward and he ran.

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Hey sorry it took so long to upload, but i have been so busy this last month with collage planning and stuff. Hope you like it, and make sure to comment, like, or vote. Thanks -Nicki