So I've narrowed it down to two options of what I'll do after The Other Side. Either another Sherlock fanfic called Cluedo, or a Torchwood fanfic called True Colours. Tell me what you think. :)
I hope you enjoy this chapter
Sherlock
The news that Mycroft is sending us back to Baker Street having just arrived, we have to think of a way to get Angel - who is still unconscious - out of the building and into a car. On top of this she must avoid being seen. I close my eyes and try to think of a way to do so with minimal damage. I am pulled away from the sound of my mind palace by Gavin (or is it Graham) kicking a table pushed against the wall repeatedly as he does when frustrated.
"Greg stop!" I bellow, the answer having come to me.
"You remembered my name!" He says in surprise. I sigh heavily.
"Not the time." I insist. "Turn that table upside down." He complies. I glance at John, he is still knelt over Angel. Silent tears stream down his face as he stifles a sob. I want to help him but know that the task in hand cannot wait.
I take one of the legs of the table between my hands and try to pull it down, hoping to be able to make it horizontal so that the table forms a sort of stretcher. I push and pull but it refuses to give. I'm pushed aside by Toni, who proceeds to repeatedly kick it until it bends.
"Go on," I tell Lestrade "Put your anger to good use." He rolls his eyes, but does as I suggest. Within just a few minutes, we have a makeshift stretcher.
We snap into action. I take Angel's shoulders, while John supports her torso, Lestrade her thighs and Toni her ankles. We move slowly, careful not to jolt her in such a way which could cause her pain. Next we lower her slowly onto the table.
Mission accomplished, we each take a leg of the table and raise it. In any other circumstance this could be a Sudan chair, but not now, now it is more like something one would lie a corpse on. It is a chilling thought.
I stick my head around the door to check that no one is there, watching. The hallway is empty, everyone left when the fire alarm went off. I nod, signalling that the coast is clear. We move, a unit, as if we are one person. Silently through the corridors we weave, it is like a ghost town. We approach a lift, preferable to having to climb down flights of stairs but, due to the fire drill, they have been shut down - not that we would have fitted anyway.
Mycroft
I watch as my brother and his friends take Angel, my star employee, through the building. They are visibly struggling and I am stuck here, unable to help. My usual objection to "leg work" seems to have vanished and I find myself wanting to assist. Still I know, I cannot leave my post. I am being relied on.
I call one of my men.
"Make sure there are enough pain killers, bandages and whatever else she'll need. Also get in some surgeons - ask what they'll need too. John can't do this alone."
"Yes sir," He answers. "I know sir. That's the third time you've told me sir." I wave him off, irritably. This intense feeling of nerves is eating away at me.
"You there," I call him back. "Get me some tea, would you? And make it strong this is going to be a long night." I wring my hands anxiously and turn back to the screen. They are nearing the exit.
Sherlock
I sigh in relief as I see the door we need to reach, just 10m away. Angel is by no means heavy but after at least 10 minutes and several flights of stairs, my arms feel ready to fall off. Toni, smaller and weaker that the rest of us has beads of sweat forming on her brow. Reveling in the near completion of this leg of the journey I fail to hear footsteps behind me. Only when our pursuer shouts aloud do I notice.
"Hey stop, what are you doing?" The four of us share a look and stride forcefully on. The doors pose as an obstacle and we only know once we reach them that they are, luckily, pull doors. We burst through them and look desperately for the car to escort us home. The only problem - there are two, which one is ours? As I begin to wonder, my phone rings. I struggle to free a hand and answer it.
"It's the black Jaguar, Sherlock." My brother states from the other end of the line.
I direct my associates to it, a chauffeur quickly climbs out and helps us to settle Angel in the boot. By now the man from inside the building has nearly caught up.
"What are you doing?" He repeats, his limited vocabulary exposed. I slam the boot shut and we each clamber in.
"Step on it." Toni says. "I've always wanted to say that."