The Holmes Called A [Sherlaide III]

Airlift

Adelaide jumped out of the car once they'd pulled up to the tiny unit, wanting more than anything to race into the building and get Sherlock. Instead she stayed outside with Mycroft, giving as much info as possible to the medical team so that they could airlift Sherlock to the hospital immediately. Police cars had moved in and officers were everywhere. But it was all mostly quiet to forestall the chance that the poachers would find out they were there and kill Sherlock.

John and Lestrade led the team of officers in and Adelaide waited anxiously, arms crossed and shifting from foot to foot as she prayed that they'd bring out her husband alive and in one piece. Mycroft stood next to her and kept his hand on her shoulder. He was fairly certain they'd made it in time, but if they didn't then he was there to catch her if she collapsed. They watched the emergency personnel enter the building after the officers and held their breath.

Shouting disturbed the pseudo-silence as officers escorted two struggling, protesting men in tight cuffs. Creighton and Jacob looked incredibly pissed as they were led to separate police cruisers, where they finally shut up. Then Greg emerged, calling out codes and orders. He looked over at Adelaide and gave a quick thumbs up. She blew out a short breath of relief.

Finally, John and the med staff came next, wheeling someone with a mop of greasy chocolate curls out on the stretcher. Sherlock! And he's not covered by a cloth. He's alive. Adelaide looked up at Mycroft who nodded, "Just in the nick of time." He deduced.

Adelaide managed to stay where she was until the team had reached her and the chopper. She only caught a glimpse of him. John pulled them aside as they lifted Sherlock up into the aircraft, "He's unconscious but I think we got him before he could go into toxic shock. I collected the most recently used vials so we can have them analysed, but we must get him over to the hospital now."

Adelaide nodded and before she knew it, she was in the car again with Mycroft driving her and John to the hospital, escorted by the police. They got there just as Sherlock was being unloaded and Adelaide raced to meet them in the emergency Triage. She made it to the stretched and clasped his hand between hers. After getting a close look at him she had to stifle a cry. Oh, Darling, what all have they done to you?

Sherlock was covered in bruises, lacerations, and red pinpricks, too many to count, where the needles had been inserted. He was deathly pale and looked as bony and thin as he had been when Adelaide first met him- maybe even a bit more. His ribcage, especially, was very visible under the sickly translucent skin covering it. Adelaide also felt how cold he was to the touch, and heard how fast and shallow his respiration was. Even unconscious, He's panting heavily from pain.

She leaned down and whispered in his ear, "I'm here, Sherlock. You're safe now and everything will be okay, I promise." She pressed a few kisses over his lips and cheeks before he was intubated and she started answering a storm of questions. She didn't let go of his hand at all, only adjusting her grip when they hooked him up to the multiple intravenous saline and medicine drips. When they took him for x-rays she had to let go, but she found out where they'd be taking him and went to the ICU to wait.

There she was found by the people who had been working on a few antidotes, who pulled her into the lab to help concoct the one Sherlock needed. This kept her busy until Sherlock was wheeled to his ICU room, transferred to the bed and hooked up to the vital signs monitor. Adelaide went in and sat in the tiny chair by the bed, holding his hand again as the Technicians finished the antidote and every little test, bodily sample and x-ray were analysed.

Until the antidote was administered and the doctors had apprised her of everything that was going on with her husband, there wasn't a second of peace and quiet. When they were finally left alone Adelaide let out a deep breath and leaned onto the bed, "You'll be okay. Probably sick and sore for a while, but you'll be okay, Darl."

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