(no subject)
Title: Mobile Phones, Crashes and Heads
Author: prettybirdy979
Fandom: Sherlock
Work Type: Fic
Characters: Sherlock, John, Lestrade, Mycroft
Rating: PG13 (for safety)
Spoilers: The Great Game.
Written For: morganstuart as a birthday gift.
Summary: Roles are reversed this time... But there's still only a mobile phone to get him out. Sequel of sorts to Mobile Phones, Rubble and Shock
Author's Note: Thanks heaps to morganstuart, who came up with the idea behind this. Hope you enjoy this.
Why weren’t they picking up? Didn’t they always have to pick up? It was a rule or something, a law…one of his laws?
No wait, wrong thing. He didn’t make laws; he enforced laws. And rules. His rules. One of which was…was…was…
“Lestrade, this had better be important. I am at a important point in my experiment.” The voice that answered was familiar, with a hint of glee in it. But it was wrong.
“Wrong? I hardly think you are able to judge the importance of my experiments. Now, what is the case you wanted me to solve for you?”
Since when was there a case? No, hang on, maybe there was a case. He definitely remembered there being a case.
“…Lestrade, where are you?” the voice echoed suddenly and Lestrade moved his hands up to cover his ears.
The phone dropped.
********
Sherlock had to hide a flinch at the sounds that came over the line. Banging and static, likely caused by the dropping of the phone. John moved to stand beside him, having looked up at Sherlock’s last statement.
“Sherlock, what is it?”
“Lestrade called. He’s confused, making little sense and seems unaware of who I am and why he called. Likely caused by an injury of some sort.”
“Head injury.” John interjected, earning himself a glare from Sherlock.
“Yes, obviously. Now we just need to-“
“Sherlock? Why did you call me?” Lestrade’s voice suddenly came over the speakers. It had a
gravelly layer to it and was still very soft but it was clearer than it had been earlier. Clearly he was more aware of his surroundings now; a fact that brought a small smile to Sherlock’s face.
“I did not call you, you called me. Now, where are you?”
In the time it took Lestrade to reply, John had begun to tap the arm of the chair while Sherlock had closed his eyes in order to hear the background noises more clearly. “I…I don’t know. It’s dark. Why did I call you?”
Dark. Sherlock’s mind begun to race through the meanings of the word… Time- ten o’clock. So dark out, not much help. But then, how dark? Dark enough to be noticed in London, where light pollution made true dark hard, so more dark than usual. Absence of street lights or at least reduced lights. Possibly a dark alley, but then Lestrade would realise that. So-
“Lestrade, can you see anything around you?” John’s voice broke into Sherlock’s thoughts. Turning his head slightly, he met John’s eyes which were full of concern with a touch of defiance. Like he had done something wrong by asking the question instead of Sherlock. Sherlock lowered his head so his small smile could not be seen before he got it under control.
“Umm… there’s a…there’s a seat. In front of me. And a head! John there’s a head by my feet. You had better tell Sherlock we’re going to need his help on this case, I think it might be a bit beyond me at the moment. And when did I call you?”
John’s eyes widened at the new information, while Sherlock quickly began to find the facts hidden in the babble. Seat meant car most likely, combined with the dark meant car crash. The head was probably another victim’s, most likely the driver of a car behind-
“Lestrade!” Sherlock cried, causing John to jump. “What’s behind you?”
There was a pause, during which John began to search through his contacts for numbers he could call. Sherlock sat frozen, waiting for more data with which to build his picture of Lestrade’s situation.
He did, however, point out Mycroft’s number as John scrolled past it and mouthed “Ask after car crashes in London” at John’s confused look. John nodded and moved into the kitchen to make the call.
A cry of pain, intense and terrifying came over the phone’s speakers.
“Lestrade!” Sherlock roared, causing John to drop his phone and come racing out. Sherlock could hear Mycroft calling from the dropped phone but he suppressed the spark of amusement that it caused.
“Lestrade! Answer me!” He called again.
“He must have moved something injured when he turned.” John pointed out. Sherlock swallowed the comment that ran through his head about pointing out the obvious. If this was how John dealt with stress he would not deny him his outlet.
“Sherlock?” Lestrade’s voice was quieter than before, with a breathless quality to it. Sherlock caught the sound of a quiet gasp after he spoke, Lestrade had moved and it had pained him.
“I’m here. Where are you hurt?”
“My, my, my head hurts.” Both John and Sherlock nodded at the confirmation of their earlier thoughts. “And I can’t move my arm. Did I mention there’s a head in the car with me?”
Sherlock sighed. Barely any new information- how am I going to find Lestrade with so few facts?
John bit his lip in concern, before returning to the kitchen to grab his phone. Sherlock could just make out Mycroft’s voice from the phone. Why was he yelling?
“Sherlock...why did I call you?” Lestrade repeated.
His voice barely registered with Sherlock. He said there might be a case. Donovan would know. Get John to call her. Cameras? Too many in London, need to eliminate locations.
“Damn it, I need more data!”
********
Sherlock’s voice broke into Lestrade’s confusion. It was so uncharacteristic of the detective to swear and even the minor swear word was enough to reach some small part of Lestrade’s mind.
“Sherlock?”
“Lestrade, I need to know everything. Where do you last remember being?”
It hurts his head to think, but he tries for Sherlock. The man sounds so worried and he’s never heard like him like that...but that’s a lie, he has heard him like that. Lestrade screws up his eyes as the memory eludes him.
“Lestrade, you’re muttering again.”
He was? He hadn’t noticed.
A sigh came over the phone. “John, Lestrade. I believe you’re thinking of the...incident at the pool. That was the last time...”
Oh. Makes sense. No wait-
“Lestrade! I need you to focus!”
Focus. There was... wasn’t a case. No case. Why a body then? No, a head.
********
And they were back to the head. Sherlock felt like throwing the phone across the room. Was this how Lestrade felt talking to him that night? Not knowing anything and having to create a detailed picture from it. Sherlock felt his respect for the man increase greatly.
He only hoped he could return the favour tonight.
“Sherlock! Mycroft said that he’s found Lestrade’s last known movements. He got into a cab outside Scotland Yard about an hour ago. It looks like a major crash happened on the route he was most likely to have taken.” John called.
“Of course, that’s obvious.” Sherlock scoffed. “How long until they get him out?”
It was then Sherlock processed the look on John’s face. It was completely blank, barely any sign of emotion on his face. Only his tight lips and eyes displayed his state of mind.
Sherlock was almost scared. He had never seen John this furious.
“They missed him.” John growled. “Some big truck lost control and hit a half dozen other cars and no one bothered to check the side alley where his car was pushed into. It was a simple matter of following the debris but they didn’t.”
John threw the phone across the room. A small part of Sherlock’s mind agreed with the sentiment but the rest was focusing on his words.
********
There were lights. Pretty ones. They hadn’t been there before. Had Sherlock figured it out then?
“Yes Lestrade. We’ve found you. Small minded fools, didn’t look beyond the big truck. It’s London! People just don’t observe.”
Oh. Good. Sherlock had done it again. He always did.
“Lestrade...Please be quiet. You don’t want to...to-”
This was why he had called Sherlock wasn’t it. Because you could always count on Sherlock to figure it out. He was the greatest man he knew and without him...why was there a head?
********
Sherlock’s knowledge of London, combined with the time it took to remove Lestrade from the wreckage of his cab meant that the Baker Street pair beat Lestrade to the hospital. Once there, John was able to integrate himself into the hospital staff so as to get updates on Lestrade’s condition.
Of course that was no help when there was nothing they could do. They had found him in time and now had to let the hospital staff do their jobs to save him.
Didn’t make the wait any shorter.
Mycroft had slipped into the room sometime before dawn, bringing decent coffee and details of the accident with him. He wasn’t surprised to see John had fallen asleep, choosing to use his brother as a pillow. Sherlock wasn’t doing anything, but was just staring at the opposite wall. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of coffee but otherwise didn’t move when Mycroft entered the room.
“Well?” Sherlock’s voice broke the silence.
“Those responsible have been...dealt with.” Mycroft said softly. “And Lestrade?”
“No news. John informs me this is good news, but I do not agree.”
Mycroft didn’t reply, but did take the seat by his brother to wait for news of their friend.