The Puppeteers (Mycroft Holmes)

Chapter 10

Chapter 10 - Ambush

The south station was definitely a hideaway. Yet another old and run down building among the many peppering London. As they approached along the side of the building, John checked that his pistol was in the back of his waistband and nodded to Sherlock. Cameron checked her own pistol and took a deep breath, hoping she wouldn't have to use it.

The door was rusted and difficult to lift. Sherlock and John lifted it slowly and Cameron slipped under. She looked around and found a black case among a pile of others. Taking it, she slid it under the door and let them through. They let the door back down slowly. Cameron tapped the case and frowned. She cracked it open.

"Firearm smuggling." She murmured, looking over the guns nestled inside.

Sherlock was checking around them. "Probably just passing through here. This way." His coat flapped behind him as he turned and hurried down the factory aisle. John nodded to Cameron and headed down the aisle to Sherlock's right. She heard his gun cock. Cameron cracked her neck and pulled her Browning out. She took a deep breath, gripped it firmly and moved into the aisle to the right. Her earbud crackled.

"Anything yet?" Mycroft asked.

"Nothing." Sherlock muttered.

The machinery blocked their view of each other. Cameron looked around and checked her shoulder often. "Where are you, Owen?" She whispered. Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she winced, checking her watch. Gideon would be home by now. She reached back to turn her phone off.

Sherlock's baritone came from her left. "Do you-" He shouted suddenly. A crack was heard and then scuffling.

"Sherlock!" John shouted.

Cameron spun on her heel and leapt onto the machinery. She climbed up, avoiding the rusted sharp bits. Coming over the edge, she looked down to see Sherlock struggling with a man his height. The man had his arms around the detective's throat and was pulling him back roughly. Cameron cocked her Browning and aimed carefully at the man's shoulder. He looked up at her just as a hand wrapped around her ankle. She cried out as she was yanked down. A gunshot came from the aisle.

"John!" Sherlock wheezed.

Cameron's back hit the cement floor. The air whooshed out of her lungs. She gaped at the ceiling, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to drag in air. A hand wrapped into her shirt and began to drag her away. She heard another gunshot. The hand stopped and loosened and the air rushed into her lungs. Cameron rolled into her captor's legs. The person stumbled and she rolled to her feet. Pushing herself up, Cameron broke into a run.

The sounds of struggle had stopped. Cameron looked over her shoulder to find a man running after her. He raised his arm. She yelped and ducked as a bullet zipped over her head. Another one cracked through the air. She stumbled and slid across the floor, her cry catching in her throat. Her vision blurred when she stopped moving. Pain radiated from her thigh and to her hip.

"Leave her!" Someone shouted. The person left. She gasped quietly and pushed herself up slowly. Her gun was gone, lost somewhere in the fray.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft shouted over the earbuds. "Sherlock, John!" There was nothing. Cameron rolled to her side.

"Sherlock? John?" She called weakly. There was no response. "Mycroft, they're gone." She rolled into a sitting position, crying out as her leg moved. Her hand fell to grip her thigh. Warmth spread across her palm and ran between her fingers. "I've been hit." She whimpered. "Nothing serious."

"You would say that if you were dying." Mycroft's voice was dry but he sounded shaky. "Where are you hurt?"

"Gunshot to the back of my right thigh." She hissed. "Think it missed the artery but my bone... Okay I lied. It might be serious."