The Holmes Called A [Sherlaide III]

The Cell(ar)

The Next Morning

"I must say, I didn't expect to see you so so soon."

"Remember us, Mister Sherlock Holmes?"

"We met a year ago. You locked us up."

"But we got out, see. And came here to regroup before returning and getting payback."

"So thanks. In a way, you saved us money and a trip." 

Sherlock grimaced and curled into a ball, wanting to escape the throbbing in his head and body. But he couldn't ignore it as he recalled what had gone on before he'd been shot up and knocked out. At least they don't have Adelaide. She's safe. She has to be okay. He repeated to himself, hearing the door to the cellar he'd been tossed into open. He dared to open his eyes and lift his head, daring to believe that it was his rescue.

Adelaide ran down the stairs, "Sherlock, are you okay, Darling?"

"Wh-What are you d-doing here, Adelaide? How'd you find me so fast?" He questioned weakly, "You need to g-get out, Love. They'll get y-y-you too!"

"They won't get me. I promise, Sherlock." She reassured and dropped to her knees beside him.

"No! They are about to come back and they will see you here!"

"No they won't, Honey."

"Yes, th-th-they will. Why wouldn't they?"

She smiled sadly, "Because I'm not real. Only you can see me."

Sherlock's jaw clenched, "No... No, you're real..."

"You know I'm not. You're hallucinating, Sherlock."

"No!" The consulting detective reached out to grab her as the image of her started to dissipate into the cellar's damp blackness, grasping only at air. He slammed his fist against the floor and growled. I should be with her enjoying our honeymoon together. Not imprisoned here! Why did I let them overpower me!? He cursed to himself.

It had been his twelfth hallucination. Twelve times seeing Adelaide in one way or another. Chasing them through Bath on foot, or with their car before he'd blacked out, or blocking the cellar entrance when they'd thrown him down there. Each time he had hoped it was real, and every time the pain of knowing that it had only been the work of the injections broke him a little more.

The brunette rolled onto his back, panting as another surge of white heat electrified every vein in his body. They had given him several injections of toxic solutions. And the physical complement to those were frequent beatings- short but intense. And under the effects of whatever compounds they'd given him, he had been unable to move or resist. He felt like he had been lit on fire and zapped with a bolt of lightning- his entire body stung and ached.

Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his fists, and tried to distract himself by entering his mind palace. But the doors were sealed shut. He couldn't think straight, but to assure himself that Adelaide had not been taken and subjected to the same torture as he was enduring.

He heard the door open and didn't bother to move. He knew that it wasn't a hallucination this time.

"Not so tough after all, eh? And I thought you would have taken so much more before turning into this, given your past acquaintance with drugs," Came the voice of one of his captors as they descended, "Of course, synthetic toxin is a wee bit different from drugs."

"Do shut up, Lowry."

"Oh, you can still talk. That's one for the observation notes."

Sherlock peeked open one eye and watched as Creighton Lowry, bright white hair glinting in the dim lighting, sucked a few CCs of blue tinted solution from a vial into a syringe.

Creighton Lowry and Jacob Powell, the Toxicologist and Museum Guard turned Poachers, had escaped from the Penitentiary and apparently had scurried to Bath of all places. While hiding from the Force, who had eventually called off the hunt due to the typical serial killers needing priority attention, they had laid low and started planning their revenge. They had also managed to access the formulas for some of their synthetic toxins, which they'd been making for months and had accumulated a good stockpile. And of course, they were slowly rebuilding their careers in the Poaching business.

"You intend... to kill me with those."

"Only after testing the toxins on you in every way we can come up with. They'll probably kill you first anyway. And then, to put Missus Holmes out of the misery of being a widow after less than a week, we'll take her and give her a lethal dose. Maybe save her skin for more tests."

Sherlock swallowed the obnoxiously present lump in his throat and tightened his fists again. They won't get Adelaide. You will hold out until she and the others find you.  He ordered himself as Jacob joined them.

"I really didn't think Adelaide would ever get married. Maybe she should have stayed single and turned you down. Of course it wouldn't have made the revenge nearly as fun," Jacob whistled and aimed a kick at the back of Sherlock's head, enough to elicit a response from him, "How much investigating will it take for them to solve the case of Sherlock Holmes' murder..?"

"Not much." Sherlock spat back. It's got to be only a matter of time...

Thank you for reading!! 😘