SHERLOCK I, II, III & IV • #wattys2016

freedom

Simon’s fingers stretched out and curled around the ladder’s rung. Surging all his energy through his arm, he pulled himself onto the ladder and balanced his foot on the bottom rung. Holding his breath, he looked over his shoulder at the flooding tunnel. Charlie was no longer behind him. His brows crinkled in a deep sadness and for a moment he wished he wasn’t alone. Moving his lips in a form of prayer, he heaved himself up the ladder until his head met against an iron ceiling. Keeping his feet steady and his weight leaning against the ladder, he used both of his hands to lift the manhole and scoot it onto the pavement below. He quickly pulled his hands in when he heard the rush of a car speed over him.

“Come on, Simon, you can do this. Get out, get out, get out!” With a quick glance at the sky above, he placed his hands along the rim and pushed himself out. The cool air hit his soaked body and he found himself in the middle of a busy London intersection. As fast as he could, he got to his knees and stood up. But it was too late. He turned around just in time to meet a flood of yellow light. He felt his body crunch against solid steel and then fly into a pole. He slid to the ground, everything inside of him crumbling and melting. He opened his eyes and looked down at his feet. Blood seeped from his fractured shin and he felt a stirring pain in his ankle.

“Sir, sir, you all right?” a man asked, offering to help him off the ground.

Simon dismissed him and dragged himself to his good leg. He leaned against a pole and stared at the growing audience. Breathing in a slight huffs, he said, “A phone, I need one. Get me one.”

A teenage girl whipped out her iPhone and handed it to him timidly.

“Thanks, love.” Simon took it out and dialed Sherlock’s number. But he couldn’t get through, for Sherlock’s battery had died long ago. “Dammit.” He dialed St. Bart’s Hospital, but the phone didn’t allow him through. Handing it back to the girl, he said, “Drive me to Westminster now.”

“The government?” the girl asked, dropping phone back into her handbag.

“Yes, can you please?”

“Of course, but you should get to the—,”

“No, I don’t. A friend’s in danger, and he needs my help. Can you understand? If not, I’m getting someone else.”

“No, it’s all right. Get in.” The girl and another man helped Simon to the girl’s car and settled him in the passenger seat.

“Sir, you really should consider seeing someone about your leg,” the man suggested, looking at the bulging leg.

Simon tightened his jaw and he remembered seeing Charlie’s body sink under the dark waters. He shook his head. “Not at the expense of another friend. I’ll be fine, I’ve had worse. Thank you.” He glanced at the girl just long enough to nod her to drive on. The car jumped to life and made its way down the street. Simon kept his composure even though he knew his left lung was badly bruised or worse. It hurt every time he breathed; like a bunch of knives slicing inside his chest. But he had to force his mind to be stronger than his physical pain. He had to make the extra two miles. He had to be a runner in a marathon and battle against “the wall.” If Sherlock and John were still alive, which he knew deep down they must be, then he knew he should see the case to the bitter end as well.

Meanwhile, Sherlock pressed himself flat against the stone wall. Gritting his teeth, he carefully patted his blood soaked fabric over his open gash. It burned, bit, and roared with pain with every touch, but he knew no other way to protect the wound. Holding a hand over the injury, he looked down and saw the passenger window across his torso. The car was still on its wheels, the front antennae just an arm’s length away.  Biting the side of tongue, he reached out and grabbed the antennae. He slid his fingers down the thin cylinder and began unscrewing it from the car. When he had detached it, he shaped the end into a flat spoon. Taking in a deep breath and biting the side of his tongue, he extended it out to the phone and placed the flattened end on the other side of the phone. With a movement, he jerked the pole towards him, sending the phone flying towards him. In one moment, the phone was in his hands.