fossilised | For John Watson

For John Watson

[Sherlock is still finding pieces of the melted laptop in the carpet.

It had actually been quite an ingenious booby trap to be devised by a fourteen year old boy with only household chemicals to work with but, as Sherlock surmised, rather overkill to keep his mother from finding his extensive porn collection. Not one of their more illustrious cases, but it had been quite entertaining to watch both the boy and mother's faces as he revealed that he did know the how and why. He lost interest after the mother started shouting and John started shouting and the whole thing turned tedious.

He rather thinks John won't actually be doing a full write-up of this one on his blog.

It's been two days since their last case and he's beginning to get more than a little antsy. Lestrade has sent him nothing, just a boring hit and run that he refused to even leave the flat for, and nobody interesting has appeared through the blog. Said blog he is currently scrolling through on John's laptop, having borrowed it again.

He did ask, it's not his fault John hadn't been in the room at the time.]

Bored, John.

[He doesn't even know if his flatmate is even in, but that's hardly a necessity for him to actually speak to John. Frustrated, he throws the laptop across the room to hit the wall, where it summarily breaks. Which is where he can be found whenever John appears, sulking amidst pieces of laptop, both from the melted one of their last case and John's poor broken one.]

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[Even in the flickering light, it's not hard to see that John has gone tense all over, and that smile painted on his face only makes it even more unsettling. Why does he feel that he needs to reassure her, like she's some frightened ninny who can't handle the possible truth?

She doesn't think this is the doing of Matthews, though, how could she have known what train they'd be on specifically? How could she hack into the tube network on such short notice? Surely even Jim, with all the reach and influence he seems to have, couldn't do this. It has to just be a fault.

The seconds stretch on slowly, and no announcement comes, no movement from the train.]

Maybe we should move down towards the front.

[It's a low murmur, she's not letting him go alone, but they need to be circumspect because moving from one carriage to another is prohibited.]

[He doesn't want to leave her, but he doesn't want to take her, either. Given the options, keeping Molly close means she can't be kidnapped away from him again. Not that there are many places a person could take a woman when trapped on a train underground.]

Yeah.

[He starts to edge along between the other passengers, trying to be unobtrusive. John laces his fingers with Molly's to keep a hold on her as they go. Even if it's not allowed, when they reach the doors to the next carriage, John will aim to move between them.]

[There's absolutely no way to be subtle about opening the doors at the end of each carriage, but luckily commuters in London rarely care about what someone else is doing. They're far too absorbed in muttering to one another about the delay, and what it might mean for their work, to care about John and Molly.

The next carriage is more full, people standing in the aisles as well as sitting, and most glance their way when they enter. It makes Molly's skin prickle, wondering if any of them are watching for something specific, but she mentally shakes herself for her silliness. Honestly, she's getting as paranoid as John.]

Do you think that--

[She gets no further before there's a loud thunking noise further up the train, like something metal striking metal, though she can't figure out what it is.]

They're changing the engine out. [It's a ludicrous, action movie-fueled notion, but it's the first possibility that leaps to John's mind when he hears the noise. A few people give John a look like he's just a little mad, but they soon return to their own grumbling about delays.

John's heart rate picks up and his grip on Molly's hand tightens just a little bit as he starts to move through the carriage. He offers small apologies as he tries to push past people without actually touching them.]

In the middle of a tunnel with passengers still on board?

[Even Molly thinks that's a really unlikely idea, tube trains go back to the depot to do things like change engines. She doesn't even know how a tube train changes engines, but she's sure it doesn't happen under the city with passengers packed into the carriages.]

Maybe we should go back, I don't know if it's a good idea to keep going now?

No. We need to keep going. Something's happening that isn't meant to be happening. [Something potentially bad. They need to find out what.]

I figured that out.

[She's not that dumb. Her fingers curl around his a bit tighter.]

But that doesn't mean we should run into it without thinking, we're both hurt and we don't know what's out there.

[What's out there is maybe the answer to what's happening to him. His voice drops to a whisper.]

Molly, it could be something we need to stop to protect innocent people.

I know that, but... how?

[She tries to meet his eyes with earnest ones of her own, trying to get him to see sense.]

You're very brave, but you need a plan. We don't have weapons and we're injured.

[She has a point. He doesn't have a plan, but the thought of doing nothing is like nails on a chalkboard in the back of his mind. It's intolerable.]

We need to figure out what that noise is first, then we can figure out what we need to do. Until we know something, we're not going to be able to plan effectively.

[That's reasonable. John thinks it sounds reasonable in his head. It's not bulling ahead without a thought. But it's still moving them forward to find out what's happening. If there's too much trouble, he'll send Molly back and he'll deal with whatever it is on his own.]

[In Molly's mind, that just seems to be an excuse to keep bulling ahead under the pretence of needing to make a plan. But there is some logic behind it, they do need to know what's happening, and so she nods.

She squeezes his hand, though, briefly but firmly to get his attention.]

Then we look, but we stay out of sight. Be careful, John, Sherlock won't forgive me if I go home without you.

[Molly's not wrong about John's main motives.]

Just looking. [Unless he sees there's something he can do. Then there will be doing.] C'mon.

[John does his best to move them past people and onto the next carriage while avoiding brushing up against too many people. He still feels slightly feverish and a general sort of malaise, but this task has focused his mind, at least. Sometimes living in anticipation can be worse than just having something happen, good or bad. It had been that way between battles in Afghanistan and these past few weeks have reminded him of the battlefield. Moments of dead quiet, waiting for the first stray bullet to graze past you and the next skirmish to start.]

[She's not sure whether to trust him at his word, but she has no choice right now unless she wants to cause a scene and draw attention to them both, so she just follows him into the next carriage and the one beyond that.

The final one they step into, which should be halfway down the train, is in pandemonium and it's easy to see why. The front of the train has disconnected and disappeared, leaving them stranded in the tunnels.]

[There are times when having his paranoia vindicated really isn't a good thing. John stares at the last carriage before raising his voice to a military bark to try to be heard over the panic.]

Everyone calm down. I'm a doctor. I need to know if there are any injuries and what's happened.

[Hopefully, it will get at least a few people to pause.]

[It does get a couple of people to look over at him, though most of the dozen or so people in this carriage ignore him. One of the women who turned to look, a dark eyed woman in a hijab, points shakily at the door.]

We thought there was just a technical fault, but the train disconnected and went. Someone went out of the door and I think-- I think they're hurt out there. Isn't the track live?

[Yes! This is something that he can help with. It doesn't require a weapon, just a body. Molly can't fault him for doing something here.]

Molly, stay in here and try to calm everyone down. I'll try to get them back inside.

What did the person look like, miss?

I didn't get a good look, it happened so fast. I think it was a man? Maybe?

[Molly reaches out to try and grab him by the elbow, voice low and concerned.]

You can't, she said it's live, you'll just electrocute yourself too.

[That is a point. John recalculates.]

He can't have got far if it's live. I can at least take a look out for him... maybe we can pull him back in with something. I know it's early, but if someone's just come from the shop or if they're a cleaner, they might have some marigolds. We can use those to dampen the charge.

Could you ask around while I take a look?

[She's reluctant, still not entirely trusting him not to just jump out anyway, but she does let go of his elbow.]

Okay, just be careful, Sherlock'll kill me if I let you die.

[She smiles, sudden and a little embarrassed.]

I'd miss you too.

[Since they've become sort of friends during this madness. At least, she hopes they have.]

[John flashes her a smile. He is fond of Molly now. They've been through a lot together in a very short time and she's been unimaginably kind and generous. That she's been dragged into the madness is unfortunate, but a part of him is glad she's here.]

I promise I won't do anything stupid, Molls. Find us those marigolds, all right?

[He nods to her and to himself before stepping over to the door and moving to open it up. Once he does, John will look around for signs of a body.]

Hullo? Is anyone out there? Can you hear me?

[Molly settles to her task with a manic sort of focus that has everyone, even the belligerent and panicking people, searching their bags for anything that might help reduce the conductivity of electricity.

It won't be hard for John to see someone out on the track, they're barely four feet from the carriage door. A man in his thirties, jeans and a t-shirt, face down and unmoving. He doesn't respond to the call.]

John?

[That's Molly.]

We've got no marigolds. But we've got a plastic mop handle, does that help?

[It's something.]

Yeah. Thanks. I need another bloke. Someone who looks like he can lift someone. I'm not gonna be able to pull him in on my own.

[He'll take the handle if Molly offers it, and reach out with it to lay it gently on the man's back. He's just trying to get a feel for if there's a current running through the man.]

[Molly's about to offer to help herself, she's stronger than she looks and as a forensic pathologist she's lifted way more dead bodies than people might think. But she has one arm out of commission, so maybe she wouldn't be the best help at all.]

Hey-- you! Yes, you! Please come and help here, don't argue with me.

[John will find himself next to a middle aged black gentleman who has been bullied into assisting.]

I ain't a doctor.

[Immediate death by electrocution doesn't follow when John taps the body, which is encouraging.]

I'll be the doctor, mate. [John assures him.] We need to get that man back inside. We need to get this handle under his clothes and pull him in. I'll... [John trails off. He'd been about to say that he'll lean out and try to snag him, but even running on adrenaline, the doctor can feel how his body aches, how weak he actually is at the moment.]

I'll brace you. You've got a longer reach. I'm John. I need you to fish him up for us. As soon as you've got him close enough you're not gonna tip out, I'll help. Do you think you can do that? We may be his only chance to survive.

I can try, sir.

[Something about this young man, despite being shorter than he is by a good foot, seems to have an air of command enough that he doesn't hesitate in obeying. He's never done anything like this before, but he starts to lean out of the cab.]

My name is Reuben, and I can't say as I've ever hung out of a train before, you sure you can keep me from falling while I get him?

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