Sherlock's Interpreter {Sunday Updates}

Chapter 6: They Were Tracking You!

Toma, the night guard, raced over to the glass double doors and cautiously peered out. "Charlie, we have to go," he said. He glanced over his shoulder at the petite woman kneeling beside the groaning man.

Charlie stared down at Sherlock, her brow creased in worry. "Do you think I poisoned him, Toma? Maybe he has an allergy."

"They could be here any minute," he said as his eyes went back to scanning outside. "We might already be too late to leave."

"What if I gave him too much morphine?"

"It does not matter. He is one of them. We must go."

Sherlock's moan rattled the air. He made sure of it.

"Help me get him up, Toma," Charlie said. "Grandmother will help him."

Toma hesitated. "You can not take him there."

"Please." Charlie looked at him desperately. "If he dies, I'll never forgive myself."

"We will be the ones to die if they catch us."

Charlie slipped Sherlock's arm over her shoulder and struggled to get him up. He did everything he could to hold his smile, purposely giving her no help. Instead, he let his tall, wiry frame hang over her shoulders, nearly toppling her to the floor with him.

"You go, Toma. I can't leave him," she said as she struggled again to get Sherlock to his feet.

"Fine," the Night Guard grumbled before racing over to her and taking Sherlock's other arm. Together they managed to haul him to his feet, but Sherlock rested most of his weight on Charlie, nearly tripping her several times as they hurried down the darkened hall.

Sherlock's lips twitched at the way she panted as she tried to keep him upright and moving along. Good. A small price to pay for making him leave London.

They made their way to a back door where a car waited for them.

Toma briefly released Sherlock to find his key to unlock the heavy door, giving Sherlock the pleasure of leaning heavily on Charlie's shoulders. But despite his best effort to bring her down, she didn't let go of him. Instead, she used her knee to give her extra support, placing it against his thigh, her grip like a clamp around his waist as her muscles strained to keep him on his feet. Sherlock's lips twitched again. For someone who couldn't be more than 5 foot 6 inches, she had remarkable strength. Even he was shocked that she was able to support his entire weight.

He let his tall frame go slack a little more and groaned as he dropped his head to Charlie's shoulder. And that's when it hit him; the fragrance of cherry blossoms filled his nostrils. He breathed deeply, imprinting her scent into his brain. How could he not? After all, he was on assignment. And the mission to bring in the Magnussen brat was going splendidly. At this rate, he'd be back in merry old London by the weekend, just in time for Mrs. Hudson's noon-day tea. He inhaled again.

A soft lock of blonde hair escaped her ponytail and traced over Sherlock's cheek. His eyes flew open at the sensation and fixed on the gently curving ear that was oh so close to his mouth. He gulped at the aroma invading his senses. It wasn't at all objectionable. On the contrary, her fragrance was quite... delightful. He studied the way the rest of her blonde hair sat so snuggly behind the curve of her ear. A small, delicate ear.

Toma came back over, and together they got Sherlock outside.

Charlie called in Japanese to the driver who hurried around the car to open the back door. Sherlock scowled with hooded eyes as the driver came over and pulled his arm from Charlie's shoulders to his own. And as Charlie got into the backseat first, Toma and the driver pushed Sherlock into the car beside her, but not before his forehead collided with the metal door frame.