Observing Isn't Everything
"Alphonse!" Edward shrieked, his hands reaching for the heap of armor.
Had Scar finally done it? Had he killed the one important person in his life? Ed tried as hard as he could to squirm over to his brother, but the deep, bleeding gash in his left shoulder stung with agonizing pain every time he moved. Not to mention Scar had his leg pinned to the ground just by mashing a foot on his leg. The Ishvalan was stronger than him, without a doubt. Ed hadn't heard a response from the armor that was almost completely shattered on the ground.
"Al!" Ed screamed again, his voice cracking from the painful thoughts of losing his brother… Especially after all they've been through.
"There is no hope for you, Fullmetal." Scar said in his normal demeaning voice.
Scar pressed down on Edward's leg with his foot, making the blonde try his hardest not to scream. There was only one thing Ed could think of to do. The Gate. It had to be the only way. Al was probably still up at the gate, and Ed could just bring him back. Right? It had to work.
Making a risky decision, Ed quickly clapped his hands together, creating alchemic streams of light that shot from his hands. He then placed his energy filled hands back to himself, and he saw the familiar Gate once again.
"Look, we don't know what it is. It's just… just get over here!" Lestrade said into the phone with an angered tone.
"Why should I?" Sherlock retorted, pacing around 221B, phone in hand and on speaker. Even if he was a genius, Sherlock had his lazy habits.
"What's it even about?" Sherlock asked, a hint of interest in his voice. "Murder? Suicide?" He questioned excitedly. His normally deep voice went slightly higher when he spoke, actually getting interested in what Lestrade had to say. If Lestrade was just not explaining the case, then it would either be something incredible, or Greg was just too tired to explain anything... Sherlock thought the second option was most likely the correct one.
Sherlock heard an impatient sigh from Lestrade's end. "Just get your ass over here!" Lestrade nearly yelled as he hung up. The raven haired man grinned to himself and shoved the phone into his pocket. He grabbed his coat and scarf from their places on the coat rack and acquired his favorite aspects of his attire. There was a new case around... Sherlock hadn't had a case for two days! Two days! He would have died over boredom if this had continued any longer, but thanks to Lestrade, he now had something to occupy himself with.
"John!" Sherlock yelled through the apartment, waiting to see the miniature man give an exasperated sigh and ask what the was going on.
"Yes..!" Said John, sitting at his laptop, only yards away. Sherlock looked at his companion and blinked in partial surprise. He hadn't even noticed John there… Or perhaps he just hadn't cared enough to even bother looking at him. Sherlock put his thoughts aside and tended to the cause of his excitement.
"A case." Sherlock said, raising his eyebrows and giving a familiar smirk to John.
"You called me here just for some, random kid in an alley!" Sherlock ranted, his voice showing signs of regret for even coming on this ridiculous case…Honestly, if some weird blonde girl...Oh, make that boy… was just passed out in an alley, it was no cause for Sherlock Holmes to be called. The kid could have just gotten into his father's alcohol and got a bit tipsy...
The three men were gathered outside an alley in the cool London air. The narrow walkway held a small boy that could have seen better days… It took Sherlock a few moments to actually assess the boy's condition. Tattered and torn clothing. Bleeding gash on the left shoulder, several cuts and bruises on the face…. And… something… else…
Even though Sherlock did enjoy a case, couldn't Lestrade have picked something more interesting for him to do?
"Look." Lestrade said, pointing to the young boy in the alley's arm. Now what could that be…? Tin foil? No. Metal? Yes, it certainly looked like it.
It looked as if it was made of a dulled metal. John squinted at it, trying to see if it was actually real. Now, John had seen some crazy things in his time… But he'd never seen anyone with a metal prosthetic such as this.
"Some unusual kid! Ooh! Call Sherlock!" Sherlock mocked. Even if this case was steadily getting increasingly interesting, and he was actually wanting to learn more about this child's arm, he was still going to mock Lestrade for his own enjoyment.
The silver haired man gave Sherlock an annoyed glare, his expression speaking louder than words ever could.
Some of the police officers poked and pestered the unconscious boy. He had blonde hair, which in the back, was tied into a braid. His clothes were torn and he had cuts and bruises all over him, including a very, deep cut in his left shoulder. One of the policewomen, who appeared quite young and new to the force, touched his metal arm. It was cold, and made her shiver to the touch. She quickly backed away after she did, which only increased Sherlock's curiosity. He then stepped over the police line to examine the boy closer.
Sherlock knelt next to him, eyes moving quickly, assessing every detail he could muster from the boy.
"So, you don't know how he got here?" Sherlock asked from his kneeling position, turning his head towards his colleagues.
"Not a clue." Lestrade answered, his voice gruff as it always was.
"Maybe he got beat up, by a gang or something?" John suggested. Even if it was a stupid statement, it was a likely possibility…
There was a small moan from the boy that interrupted the conversation. Sherlock's head snapped back to the blonde. The boy blinked several times before he could properly see again. His eyes too were unusual… almost golden in color.
"W-Wh..." He started, his voice hoarse and weak. He placed his non-metal hand to his head, groaning in pain now. He blinked several times, becoming aware of his surroundings. His eyes then became consumed in fear. "Al!" he shrieked as he jolted up. Or, at least he tried to jolt up. He failed miserably, his face paling and eyes fluttering shut as he fell back to the ground. Sherlock, whom had remained in his knelt position had immediately backed up slightly when the boy jolted off the ground. Now the blonde was in his arms, Sherlock having caught him in his failed attempt to stand.
All of the police officers had looked Sherlock's way when the boy had screamed. Sherlock looked over to John and Lestrade, his expression showing slight concern. Sure, Sherlock could be an emotionless bastard sometimes, but when it came to children, especially beaten and bloody ones, he did show some concern and emotion towards them. Now there was an unconscious, still bleeding, boy in his arms, leaving Sherlock at loss of what to do.
"Want me to call an ambulance?" John suggested, his eyebrows furrowed with worry.
Sherlock nodded as he looked down at the boy in his arms. Sherlock couldn't help but notice the heaviness of the boy. He can't possibly weigh this much… He's a shrimp! This only confused the detective, leaving him again, at loss of what to do. He decided that it'd be best to let the paramedics do their job, once they came. Sherlock carefully placed the boy back on the ground, trying to do so in a quiet manner, as if not to wake the boy, which obviously wasn't going to happen. The child was out cold, and wasn't going to wake up anytime soon.
Sherlock stood back up now and stepped back across the police line.
"Alright, they should be here soon…" John said, sending an apologetic look to his friend.
Lestrade gave a nod. "I would have called them myself, but we weren't quite sure what we were dealing with…"
Sherlock put his hands into his coat pockets now, shielding them from the cold. The dull conversation of his friends' hardly interested him.
Soon the paramedics arrived, and the boy was carefully taken away. Sherlock had immediately called a cab so that the three of them could follow and head to the hospital. Sherlock was actually concerned now, wanting to know if the child would be alright. He'd never seen anything like this before... This had become quite an interesting case for the Consulting Detective…
Sherlock and John sat in the waiting room impatiently. Well, John sat anyways, while Sherlock paced back and forth. Even if he didn't know the boy, he was still worried for him. A boy of what, 12, 13 years of age, bleeding in his arms like that? It made Sherlock worried, in fact, he would even say that he cared. Maybe it was just the oddness of the metal arm and leg, which had been revealed when the hospital staff had got a hold of him. Golden eyes, ripped and tattered clothing, cuts and bruises… Quite unusual.
It had been three hours since they arrived at the hospital, and Sherlock had been pacing ever since. John had gotten up a few times to use the restroom or get some coffee, but he remained in the room with Sherlock most of the time.
"You seem awfully worried about him..." John commented, Sherlock's pacing becoming slightly annoying now.
"Worried? Please, John. I would hardly classify it as that. I am not worried about him, I am just intrigued by him." Sherlock answered, stopping his pace momentarily to answer his friend with a glare.
John was about to snap at Sherlock, always hating how he explained everything to him like he was a toddler. Just as he opened his mouth there was a sudden scream from the other room. The voice was shrill, and was most likely the boy's. Sherlock immediately turned his head, wanting to burst in there and see the boy for himself.
"Al!" John and Sherlock heard the boy scream.
The nurses were heard as well… They were instructing the boy, telling him to calm down. Sherlock imagined it wouldn't be too long before they'd knock him out with some morphine...
"Sure is making a fuss..." John said quietly, staring down at the white, tile floor.
Sherlock gave a simple nod like he always did and continued pacing. Who is Al? Al... A.L... it could stand for something... No...It's not likely... But if it is a person, they're obviously someone close to him... Perhaps a brother?
Thirty minutes or so later a nurse came out of the room. She had a quite a bit of blood in her outfit, as well as some on her face, which she tried to rub off. She looked absolutely flustered from her experience in there, which Sherlock didn't doubt. This child seemed to be able to put up a good fight.
"You can go in now. We think he's calmed down enough for visitors." She said politely, holding the door open for John and Sherlock to walk in. Sherlock stayed silent as he entered the room, John trailing behind.
The boy was looking much better than before, his cuts having been mended as best as they could... But the gash on his shoulder had to be stitched... His previous braid that his hair had been tied in was now undone, leaving his long, blonde hair to lay on his shoulders and back. He seemed to have a very weary, depressed mood about him, slumping in the hospital bed and trying to avoid eye contact with anyone else.
The two older men stood near the boy's bed, Sherlock eager to ask questions. Now to find out exactly who he is...
"What's your name?" Sherlock asked in his normal, deep emotionless voice.
"It's Ed..." The boy replied, still not looking at anyone, his eyes remaining fixated on the bed. His voice seemed weak now, which John had guessed all that screaming had done numbers on the kid's voice.
"Full name." Sherlock said.
"Edward Elric." The boy seemed to snap at Sherlock.
John tried to hide a grin, the boy's... or, Edward's arrogant attitude at his friend was quite amusing.
Sherlock gave a light glare to Ed, trying to strike a bit of fear in him. Usually, Sherlock's icy glare could scare anyone, adult or child... It had even made John feel slightly threatened a few times. Though, Ed didn't even budge. In fact, he seemed to return the angered stare back to the dark haired man, narrowing his eyes at him.
"Your arm and leg there..." John said as he motioned towards them, the metal reflecting light from the windows and making them quite noticeable. "Did you get in an accident?"
Ed stopped his little staring contest with Sherlock and resumed his game of avoiding eye contact. He didn't respond to John, not wanting to think about his metal prosthetic. The thought of them only made him think of Alphonse... Which only made him think of how Al could be dead, and it could be all his fault.
John gave a sigh at the non-responsive blonde. He wasn't going to get anywhere with this. He's just as hard-headed as Sherlock... John thought to himself.
"Where are your parents?" Sherlock asked now, trying to get some answers out.
Again, Ed didn't answer. He didn't want to talk of his horrid past. All he wanted to do was find the one member of his family that he had left... That is, if Al was even still alive.
Sherlock groaned to himself, wanting to scream at this stubborn child. He came here for answers. Sure, he did care about Ed, but if Edward was going to be as stubborn as a mule and barely even talk, he wasn't going to be worth Sherlock's time. Even if Sherlock was plenty interested in this case, a silent boy that wasn't going to say anything was of no use to him.
John could practically smell and sense the anger now, and decided it'd be best for them to go... It wasn't like this dumb kid wasn't going to answer any of their questions.
"Sherlock?" John said as he stood up from his seat in the chair, trying to get his companion out of there before he throttled Ed.
John cocked his head towards the door. Sherlock gave a sigh and nodded. Sherlock normally wouldn't give up this quick, but it was John's call. Plus, he needed to see if Lestrade had gathered any info on the boy, since the blonde wouldn't answer anything himself.
John gave the boy one last look before they both exited the room. It probably wasn't the best time to question the boy, or Edward, as he was called... He could have been in shock for all John knew. But, still, the look in Ed's eyes was something John recognized, as it had been a look in his own eyes many times. It was like fire, burning with passion and determination. It made him question who this young Edward really was...