Fight for Me

Chapter 87

"Sherlock!" The detective heard his name called out, causing him to whip around towards John and Lestrade jogging towards him, Lestrade hanging up a call on his mobile.

"She's in there John, this is where the woman that Moriarty killed died. Lydia's now in her place," Sherlock explained quickly, glancing back at the large block of flats, intimidating by the size considering they only had ten minutes left.

Lestrade assured Sherlock, "I've got back up on the way, we'll find her."

"They won't get here in time," Sherlock argued, sounding a bit defeated.

"But Sherlock, we won't be able to search this entire block of flats by ourselves, not in the time we have."

"Just, shut up! Go in and start looking, I'll try to deduce where the blast originated from," Sherlock snapped, not waiting for a response from either man before delving back into his thoughts.

This time he pulled up a photo of the block of flats after the bomb had gone off. They had rebuilt the building, of course, so Sherlock had a suspicion that he would have to estimate the room from where the bomb had originated. He could only pray that the kidnapper had been as accurate.

He ran through a number of scenarios of where the explosion could have gone off, trying to figure out which location would have created the destruction present in the photographs taken by news outlets. It had taken him longer than he had time for, but he had managed to gain a clear picture in his mind and he sprinted off towards the room.

As he ran up flight after flight of stairs, he felt he could almost hear the clock ticking down, he was running out of time. He had to get there, he couldn't fail her. If he was a second too late, it wouldn't just be Lydia who would die, but John and Lestrade as well. He wouldn't let that happen. He cared little about his life, but he wouldn't let his friends die.

Sherlock didn't bother knocking as he got to the new rooms built around where the old lady had lived, throwing one door open to reveal a couple watching the telly together. They looked up at him angrily and began to shout, but Sherlock blocked them out as he ran to the second door, finding it locked.

Left without the time to pick the lock, especially if he had miscalculated the origin of the explosion, Sherlock slammed his body into the door. It flew open, bits of splintered wood showering the area. But Sherlock barely noticed the debris, his gaze falling on the woman lying unconscious on the floor in the middle of the room. A vest of explosives was secured around her chest and she was tied to a broken chair that she must have tried to break free from.

"Lydia!" Sherlock cried out, panicking that he had been too late. Had they killed her already and it was only seconds before the bomb exploded?

Crouching beside her, he brought his fingers down to her neck, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt her pulse beneath the tips of his fingers. After quickly untying her wrists from the arms of the chair, pained to see how red they were from her desperate attempts to get free, he cradled her body in his arms, trying to bite back the emotions rising up.

He placed a kiss to her temple before scanning the area, looking for the camera that was no doubt set up somewhere so that the kidnapper could keep an eye on the room without being in the blast radius. Finally noticing a glimmer in the far corner, Sherlock spoke directly to it.

"I found her in the time provided, deactivate the explosives."

The lights of the vest switched off and Sherlock quickly removed it from Lydia's body, tossing it into the corner of the room. He rung up Lestrade, informed him of where the bomb was and that he would be bringing Lydia back to the flat. The last thing Sherlock knew Lydia wanted was to be admitted to the hospital the night before her musical's opening. Besides, they had a resident doctor so she was going to be fine.