Downloading... [Sheriarty AU] {Completed - Edited}

Chapter Twelve: Injured Idiots.

"Got it," Jim nods.

She stops and looks at him, as if debating. Jim raises an eyebrow in return, silently asking why she was standing and staring at him when Sherlock was chained to a wall, possibly hurt.

Irene removes something from the back of her skirt and holds it out to him. When his eyes fall onto the object, his shock clearly shows on his face.

In Irene's hand, being offered to him, was a gun.

"That's.. That's a gun," He states, not sure what else to say.

"Take it. Keep an eye out. Before long, they're going to start figuring out their men are laying unconscious and that we're all gone. Do you know how to use it?" She tilts her head to the side.

Jim's mind goes back to his and Sherlock's first not-a-date. Sherlock had shown him the basics of handling a gun and he'd even hit the centre of the target a few times. But his life wasn't exactly on the life back then and it may just be now.

He gives a nod and a quick smile as an answer to her question. Irene returns the smile before she pushes the door open and proceeded to enter as dramatically slow as she did when coming to get Jim.

Listening carefully, Jim tries to figure out if Sherlock is being hurt or not. He can't hear any cries of pain, that was a good sign.

Five agonisingly slow minutes later, Sherlock is calling Jim's name. His voice is frantic and it sends Jim's heart into his throat. He freezes, not knowing if he should move or not. Does Sherlock know he's up here or is he calling in hopes to be saved? Is Irene done with knocking out whoever was down there and reassuring Sherlock that she is on their side?

Oh, God. Jim had no idea what to do. Does he stay here, like Irene instructed, or does he rush down and try to help Sherlock?

"Jim! Please!" Sherlock calls, voice riddled with pain.

He said Jim. He called him Jim. This must be serious.

Jim has no idea what to do.

Biting his lower lip, Jim decides to risk it. Slowly, being careful to stay out of view as much as possible, he leans forward to look around the doorframe.

"Shit" He gasps at what he sees.

Sherlock is at the bottom of the stairs, clutching his bleeding leg and staring up the stairs in hopes of Jim coming to help. Beside him, Irene is unconscious as is a large man who looked like he'd be sitting right beside Jim's homophobic friend as they drink and beg for change.

Jim almost trips over his own feet as he rushes down the stairs. When he gets to the foot of the stairs, he pauses. What now?

There's no way he can carry them both. He'd probably need help carrying Sherlock.

Remembering that promise to himself, and knowing he needed to wake her up, Jim lifts a hand and slaps Irene across the face once. No response.

"Shit" Jim mutters again.

Sherlock was watching him, eyes worried but face almost bored looking. Jim swallows, knowing that waking Irene up was essential. That or they left her here.

"Her arm..." Sherlock says, eyes dropping to Irene's arm. His voice is hoarse and Jim knows his leg must be hurting.

The wound of Sherlock's leg looks nasty. It's a large cut. His trousers are ripped completely around the wound and blood is causing the fabric to stick to the detective's pale skin. Jim winces at the sight of it.

Jim then follows Sherlock's line of sight and quickly sees that he means the wound on Irene's arm. She's been stabbed in the upper arm, by the looks of it. Jim frowns, wondering why he didn't hear any cries of pain.

"What about it?" Jim asks.

"Press down on it. If that doesn't wake her by, I don't know what will." He looks toward the open door. "We need to leave as soon as possible. The computer's not far from here."

Jim stares for a moment, wondering how the hell he can be honestly considering going ahead with the plan with his leg in that state but then he remembers that this is Sherlock and Sherlock can be really, really stupid at times.

Sighing, Jim pushes the palm of his hand down on Irene's wound for a few moments. Much to his delight, she gasps in pain and sits up. She grips her arm, staring down at it for a moment before taking hold of the end of her dress and ripping the fabric.

She then hands the strip to Jim and nods to Sherlock's leg.

He nods and sets to work on wrapping up the wound as best he could. Sherlock stays relatively silent through the whole ordeal, just sucking in breathes now and then.

Soon, Irene (who somehow wrapped her own arm in more fabric) and Jim are lifting Sherlock up and helping him hop up the stairs.

When they get to the top of the stairs, Jim turns towards what looked like an exit but he ends up getting pulled back by Sherlock.

Huffing, Jim raises an eyebrow.

"Now what?"

The only thing stopping Jim from slapping him was the massive gash in his leg.

Sherlock nods to the door across from them. "Computer's in there. You still need to hack it."

He had no clue how Sherlock knew it was in there. Sometimes he honestly believes that the man had superpowers.

"Seriously?" Jim asks in disbelief "You're both in need of medical attention and you want me to hack a computer?"

"Yes, obviously," Sherlock replies, growing impatient.

Jim shakes his head. "Pair of idiots."

Irene still hadn't uttered a single word.

They help Sherlock into the dark room, that looked like an office as opposed to a torture room. After helping Sherlock sit down on a chair, Jim stars up the computer that sat on the desk with a sigh.

Sherlock was watching him intently and a part of Jim wanted to wink at him. He represses the urge and sets to work on hacking the computer.