Cauldron-Born [SHERLOCK FANFIC]

Inside the Loft

Professor Garner switched on another monitor that was connected with a set of London security cameras.  Immediately, the image on the screen was that of Sherlock, Alana, and Charlie. Tossing the remote onto a table, Professor Garner walked over to Mycroft’s phone, which he had confiscated earlier.

“You have a message,” the scientist said through a pinched nose as he taped the ‘on’ button. “What’s the code? It’s from a John Watson.”

In a snarky voice, Mycroft said, “I won’t give you the code. But you can listen to the voicemail if you hit the side button five times, counting three seconds in between.”

“Hello, Mycroft? This is John. I’m leaving a message and hope you return it immediately. It’s about Sherlock and the ‘man-eating’ case he’s on. Call back as soon as possible. Ta.”   

Turning two slivered eyes at Mycroft, the professor said slowly, “So, Sherlock Holmes has been with my son all this time? Dammit!”

Chuckling at the scientist’s massive mistake, Mycroft said in his pinched voice, “Should have done your research before coming to me.”

Throwing the phone across the room, the other man raged in a raspy voice, “He won’t cure my son! I’ll have him stopped.”

“Ah, sure, I’m sure you’ll do lots of progress, considering we’re the farthest we could possibly be from London. But I’m sure a man of your intelligence will find away.” Mycroft said, relishing in the man’s realization.

“Call him back,” the professor demanded, running over to the other end of the room to retrieve the phone.

‘Wouldn’t you rather just surprise them instead of telling him you’re on your way?” Mycroft said with a sarcastic waggle of his head. “Besides, what’s the point of continuing the experiment when it’s quite clear that you’re failing? Let Sherlock cure him and we’ll be done with all this rubbish! And I can go back to more important duties.”

The scientist tapped his foot to no particular rhythm and picked at his parched lips. He circled the room, fiddling with his shirt collar and running his hands over his glass equipment. “I have an inquiry, Mr. Holmes,” he said in a menacing voice. “I’ll be sending you back to London. But, before you go, I have a question.”    

~~

Coming to a stumbling halt, Sherlock leaned against a nearby wall to catch his breath. Charlie and Alana soon caught up behind him, both panting heavily.

“Did we lose him?” Charlie asked, looking out into the darkness. “Sherlock?”

“Of course not!” Sherlock shouted through one cough. “They’ve left tracks, I’m not blind! We still got a bit of light from the lamps!”

Alana sniffled and sunk to the ground. She took out her mobile and began texting to John. Noticing the light from her phone, Sherlock spun around and grasped her hands with his. Looking her straight in the eyes and saying in a quivering voice, he said, “Do not send the message! If he gets it, and he’s hiding from them, they’ll find him.”

Fighting against the tears streaming down her cheeks, Alana said in a shuddering whisper, “I just did.”

Gritting his teeth, Sherlock grabbed her hand and broke into a run. “Charlie, you with us?”

“Yes!” Charlie shouted, looking over his shoulder at what he heard to be shouting. Just like he had feared, he saw two men jump one woman in the alley beside him and begin gnawing at her face.

Still holding onto Alana’s hand, Sherlock swung a sharp left and skidded into the abandoned barn. His eyes were looking up at the loft and his arms stopped Alana from running ahead of him. “Don’t move, Alana. Grab Charlie when he comes in.”

Upon hearing Charlie’s light feet make their entrance, Alana reached out and snatched his jacket, pulling him immediately beside her. “Sherlock’s found something!”

Releasing Alana, Sherlock stepped forward, slowly raising his handgun. It was only when Sherlock fired once did the other two watched a body drop from the loft. In a dull thud it landed, revealing its mangled face. Alana shrieked, making Charlie slap a hand over her mouth. Observing the dead body, Sherlock took a cautious step forward and scanned the loft again.

“Would anyone happen to have penlight?” Sherlock asked. Sucking in air, he said, “Oh, John would have one. But he doesn’t have one, does he? Of course not, not while he’s trapped up there.”

“Trapped?” Alana and Charlie said in one breath.

“Just don’t move, I’m going to go up there, see if he’s all right.” Sherlock’s voice softened and he tucked his gun in the back of his slacks and began calculating the strength of the loft. “Charlie, guard the doorway. Be alert, don’t miss a trick. But please,” Sherlock paused and looked over his shoulder with a look of growing disgust at the mere thought, “Don’t do anything stupid!” Reaching up to a banister, Sherlock pulled himself up and disappeared into the darkness.

There was silence.

Complete silence.

Alana wanted to call out, but knew that it would be a foolish risk. Seeing Charlie her only form of protection, she pressed up against him and held her breath. Charlie looked down at her and softly placed a hand around her waist. He swallowed slowly, afraid that even that tiny sound would send a flock of monsters on them. He let out a shuddering sigh and settled his finger on the trigger.

“John?” Sherlock mouthed, surprised to find the loft larger than it looked from the ground. He used his hands to slide across the floor while sniffing every few seconds to get a whiff of his new coverage. It wasn’t long before he caught John’s scent. The thick smell of worn cotton and the curious, light scent that was all John drifted from the far corner of the upper floor. Sherlock carefully moved forward, looking behind him every so often in case he was being followed.

“Stop there, Sherlock,” came John’s dry voice. “The floor’s loose. I’m trapped under a body and a large beam.”

“It’s all right, John, I won’t come closer,” Sherlock informed, rocking back onto his ankles. “Have you tried moving at all?”

“I tried. The floor tilted back and the wall behind me gave a bit. I know I’m not that far off the ground, but I won’t make the fall,” John answered.

“What’s pinned?”

“The body’s over my leg. I broke its neck. She didn’t bite me, or—ow! And, the beam cuts across my chest. And…I can’t feel my hand. I think it’s numbed, or something.”

Sherlock turned his eyes to the floor and began thinking of a way of freeing his friend. Popping his head up with an excited smile, he said in a bright voice, “All right, John. I’m going to climb down and stand underneath you. Break yourself loose, and I’ll catch you.”

“No,” John groaned. “There’s a pack of them somewhere in this loft. I don’t know where, but they followed me in.”

Sherlock stopped breathing for a moment and slowly looked over the edge down at Alana and Charlie. There, clinging to one another, Charlie had his handgun pointed to the corner directly underneath John. They had been found.