Wreckage and Rubble (Sherlock BBC Fanfic)

January 8th, 15:29

Current Mood: satisfied

Current Music: sounds of summer

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He didn't need to be told that an explosion had occurred. That was evident in the tilt of the buildings roof, the bulge of one wall, the clouds of smoke and the flicker of flame seen deeper in the building.

Someone had run from the scene of the crime. That was evident in the rubber tire marks left behind by the fleeing vehicles; long dark tracks that spidered away to nothing as the rubber gripped and sped the vehicle on its way.

Someone had been hurt badly during the explosion. That was evident in the splatter of blood tracks - more than one - that terminated at the tire marks. Forensics was already documenting all of these things as they were unable to get into the scene until the fires had been extinguished and the ruins deemed safe.

Sherlock had something to do with this. Geoff Lestrade hadn't made DI by sticking his head in the sand and pretending that things were not what they were. He knew Sherlock had been taunted by a bomber. He knew Sherlock knew more than he was saying about this bomber - the one that had been named as Moriarty by the art gallery hag... manager. He knew that Sherlock would not have called for the Yard's help if the final pip on that infernal Pink phone was something he felt he could deal with himself.

What worried Geoff is that John hadn't given him a heads up. They had each others numbers and an unwritten understanding that if Sherlock was in over his head, John would text Lestrade with a heads up. John had a great deal of faith in Sherlock's ability to cope, but also had a soldier's weather eye for trouble. John would not let his genius flatmate get himself killed simply because the man had too high an estimate of his own abilities. He'd call Geoff in against Sherlock's wishes and deal with the fallout after the fact. He was probably the only person Sherlock would permit to do that for him.

He'd never seen anyone affect Sherlock the way John did. He'd seen the man annoyed by those around him; he'd even seen fleeting interest in another person - that had quickly faded to cool disinterest once Sherlock had worked the other person out. Geoff hated seeing the disappointment in Sherlock's eyes once he'd figured someone out - it was as if that person had let the thin man down by being so obvious.

Sherlock had never given John Watson that look. God knows why, there wasn't much to the man. He seemed as bland as his jumpers, though he had a decent brain on him. A former soldier and surgeon, John Watson was polite and bland. There had to be more to him or he'd never have lasted at Baker Street, but for the life of him Geoff couldn't see what it was that had Sherlock so fascinated. That didn't mean that Geoff didn't like the doctor - on the contrary, he found him to be very pleasant and his affect on Sherlock was nothing short of miraculous.

"There's someone in there!" the shout woke Lestrade from his musings. A cold feeling of prescience came over him and before he'd consciously decided to move he was running for the rubble.

"Sir!" Sally Donovan's voice shouted in the background, "Wait!"

But he couldn't, because that was Sherlock in there, and Geoff Lestrade was not one to stand by and leave someone he knew in trouble. He knew it was Sherlock because where else would the young pest be? Sally caught up to him as he dodged around a series of nastily smashed changing rooms, her hand catching on his arm like a claw.

"He's not worth it," she hissed, "Come outside."

Geoff had never raised his hand to a woman before, but Sally came dangerously close to being the first had he not heard John Watson's voice echo from the ruined pool ahead of them. The sound was enough to loosen her grip and she followed him around the last obstruction and out onto the ruined pool deck.

"Oh my God," Sally choked and Geoff added a profound prayer to that.

John was covered in blood. It wasn't hard to see that it was coming mostly from him. Sherlock was in his arms, unconscious, also covered in blood. Both of them were wet from the pool, which bore traces of their blood in its water as well as a large amount of debris and soot. It wasn't hard to deduce that John had thrown them in the pool to escape the explosion and that he'd been hurt before they went in.

John was fighting the emergency workers around him, struggling to get himself and Sherlock away from the pool. Geoff could see that the problem was that the ambulance medics were trying to split them up. John would probably allow them to help if the two flat mates were transported together, but the army doctor was definitely too incoherent to say so. The fact that he was able to fight at all with three holes in him, not to mention the fact that he'd had to swim to the side and haul Sherlock out of the water as well, was nothing short of a miracle as far as Geoff was concerned. In that moment he began to get a glimpse of what Sherlock Holmes saw in the quiet John Watson.

"Put them on the same stretcher," Geoff shouted, even as he moved forward, "For god's sake, can't you see that he needs to be with his friend for now?"

One of the medics turned to look his way, and thus missed John's eyes rolling up in his head as he finally succumbed to blood loss. Geoff got there just in time to catch him as the other man caught Sherlock. Instantly they were in the centre of a medical whirlwind. Even Donovan led a helping hand to carry Sherlock's stretcher outside.

As the ambulances sped away, Geoff looked down at the blood on his hands and prayed that both men made it through the night. He didn't want to deal with the wreckage that would ensue if John or Sherlock woke up alone.

END

Disclaimer - characters and settings as depicted in the BBC series not mine. No money being made. Plot is mine.

AN - set immediately after Ep 3, obviously.