For John Watson

[howdull]

[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.]

Comments

[howdull]

That's not possible considering the wide variety of ingredients, so why don't you try again with an honest answer?

[jumpthegun]

The world of medicine is wide and varied for allergies. [John raises his brows defiantly, in spite of feeling wretched and... sort of wanting the drug. He holds that for a moment before sighing in irritation.]

I don't have any allergies.

[howdull]

[Why couldn't he have been working on the gunshot victim? At least he was unconscious. Thomas sighs and preps the needle before taking his patient's arm.]

You're going to feel a sharp scratch in a moment.

[He doesn't wait much beyond that, getting the morphine into him. With any luck it'll knock him out.]

[jumpthegun]

[The comforting numbness of narcotics flood through him fairly quickly.]

I need to call the police. Mind if I do that now?

[Except what was the dosage on that? John's brows knit together as he feels his head swimming more with induced dizziness than what was there from the pain.]

Bloody hell. I need... the Alphabet Woman is still out there! I have to call... Lestrade. She has Sherlock.

[He shakes his head, but it's like trying to swim against the current in a river. John just doesn't have the energy for it anymore. He slips into unconsciousness.]

[howdull]

[Atta boy, sleep now.

Thomas doesn't usually like drugging his patients without their consent, but sometimes it's necessary and this is definitely one of those times. He gets his patient readmitted as soon as they get to the hospital, his partners taking Jake up to surgery, and he's processed to a high priority ward due to the state he's in.

Whenever he finally wakes up it will be to the comforting buzz of morphine, fresh sheets, and Lestrade looking tired while reading a stack of case files.]

[jumpthegun]

Mm... [John blinks himself awake to see Lestrade sitting there. Well, that's... convenient. If embarrassing.] What time is it? We don't have much time.

[howdull]

[His head snaps up.]

Jesus, John. You told me they discharged you before, you bloody idiot. You've been out about thirty hours, they kept you sedated to give your back a chance to heal up a little.

[jumpthegun]

Thirty... Jesus Christ! [John's eyes widen and he starts to push himself up.] The clue. She was sending the clue by post... Jake...

My phone. I need my phone.

[Thirty hours is far too long. He's going to murder that EMT.]

[howdull]

Oi, don't do this. Stay there and tell me from the start what's going on, this isn't the time for you and Sherlock to be hiding the pieces from me.

[He can help, but only if someone tells him what the hell is going on.]

[jumpthegun]

[John runs and hand through his hair, but settles for a moment. Lestrade is the one with the most resources next to Mycroft, and John's sort of burned that bridge.]

The woman who killed Harry, who blew up the flat, she kidnapped Sherlock yesterday. The day before yesterday. The day it all happened. She's using alphabet letters as her call sign for destroying my life. A is for Alcoholic. B is for Baker Street. C is for Consulting Detective. She wants to take everything from me because I apparently ruined her life.

I'd never met her until the other day. I think... she must be the wife of one of my men over in Afghanistan. Somerset accent, but rough. Not sure she if she went to college. She's good with technology, though. Or knows people who are. She was able to hack the CCTV footage covering Baker Street and fill in with an episode of EastEnders when it would've shown her there.

I was meant to meet her at the Starbucks on Oxford Street the other day and didn't have any way to get there in time from where Sherlock's brother drove me out to. Convinced a kid - Jake. There was a kid who came in with me. Is he all right? She shot him through the stomach and told me I had 11 minutes and 15 seconds to sort him out.

He wasn't supposed to be involved, he was just going to drop me off. I don't even know how she's... she must be tracking my phone. She's hacked it somehow.

[howdull]

[It's one of the benefits and pitfalls of working with Sherlock Holmes that Lestrade doesn't even question if this far-fetched story is at all true. He just curses under his breath when he hears Sherlock has been taken, this has just become a much higher priority. The man might be a colossal dick, but Lestrade has become somehow fond of him in the time they've been working together.

Right, so Harry is dead, they know that, he's been processing that scene. Similar to the bombing at Baker Street, but how it all fits together is new to him. He rubs a hand over his face and then squares his shoulders, getting ready to deal with all of it.]

If I send a sketch artist over, you think you could describe her well enough to get an E-Fit to send out? We've got the bullet from your driver friend and we're processing that now, and the car has been impounded for evidence. We'll collect your phone, send someone over to wherever you were staying to look for any post, and work this together. We're not going to let some psycho hurt Sherlock, alright?

[He gets to his feet and gathers up a pad and pen.]

Before the artist gets here, you think you could make a list of any men that you might not have-- well, saved, who had a spouse back home that you can remember?

[jumpthegun]

I need my phone. I can't stay here. I can do the list and your sketch, but then I've got to go.

[He can practically feel the minutes ticking away while he's lying abed in another bloody hospital gown. It occurs that Lestrade hasn't answered his other question.]

And what happened to Jake? Is he alive?

[howdull]

The kid you came in with?

[He's not going to address John being an idiot about his own health just yet.]

It was touch and go for a while, but he pulled through. Donovan took his statement about an hour ago, though it wasn't very coherent, he just kept mumbling about James Bond and beta-blockers. Don't suppose you can shed any light on that?

[jumpthegun]

[The relief is immense, and John lets himself relax for just a second or two as he closes his eyes and thanks his lucky stars that actually worked. His pink-haired cellist will live to play another day.]

I didn't want to tell him I was going to meet a woman who'd blown up my flat, so I... told him I had a heart condition and needed my meds, beta-blockers. After the Alphabet Woman got in the car, I had to explain what was really happening and... he said it was like a Liam Neeson film. I also sort of had him step on the accelerator while I drove us backwards out onto Oxford Street after he'd been shot.

She's a good shot. That's something else. We were swerving like hell and she managed to hit the car twice.

[howdull]

Quick thinking, you saved his life, mate.

[Also that sounds really cool, and Lestrade looks suitably impressed. He never gets to drive backwards like a stunt man, which is very unfair.]

If the husband was military, you think maybe he taught her to shoot? Maybe she was military too? You really have no idea who she is or why she's targeting you?

[jumpthegun]

Maybe. I thought she might have been one of the soldiers under my command or someone I was working with, but I've honestly never seen her face before. She looked about ready to spit acid when I asked if she was the wife of one of my men, though. She was wearing a wedding ring, so I'm almost positive that's the connection.

Still, it was Afghanistan. A lot of people died. It might be a long list.

[howdull]

Alright, it's still something to go on. You want to give me the address of where you're staying so I can go and get this post you say she's sent you?

[It's said in a mild tone, but there's a very clear 'because you're not going anywhere' underneath.]

[jumpthegun]

[John hears that tone. It's the tone he'd feared hearing if he went to Lestrade. John isn't Sherlock. As far as the DI is concerned, he's probably just another civilian and victim. The idea of being helpless once more while other people do the work makes his skin crawl.]

I'd like my phone back before I give you the address, detective.

[The doctor's tone is equally mild, but his gaze when he looks up and over at the other man again is defiant.]

[howdull]

[Lestrade's face shifts into slight disapproval, but he pulls John's phone out from his pocket where he's been keeping it safe. He doesn't hand it over just yet.]

I give you this, you stay here until I get back this afternoon?

[jumpthegun]

[John's jaw tightens.]

You'll bring my clothes... or some clothes when you come. I'm checking out of here today. She's already proved she can impersonate your officers to get in where she likes and take my things. She can go where she likes, and if she's smart, she'll have changed her looks by now. She's had thirty fu... thirty hours. It's more than that since she kidnapped Sherlock.

[howdull]

I'll bring you some clothes, but we're going to talk about you discharging yourself again this afternoon.

[He sometimes thinks he's a goddamn nanny and not a police officer, when some of the people he works with are no better than children. But he does hand over the locked phone to John.]

Do you need anything else bringing before I go? Nurse fetching?

[jumpthegun]

No. Thank you. [John takes the phone and immediately checks for any messages.]

The address is 6 Romney Court, Shepherd's Bush Green.

[howdull]

[John might be too focused on his phone to see, but Lestrade's face when the address is mentioned twitches into worry, disapproval, and then resignation before he simply leaves.

There are seven messages on the phone.]

FROM: Mycroft Holmes: There are better subjects for you to impersonate than me, Doctor Watson, make use of them in the future.

FROM: Sarah Sawyer: Tried calling but you didn't pick up, please just let me know you're okay.

FROM: Sarah Sawyer: Pick up

FROM: Sarah Sawyer: I just heard about Harry. John, please, you have to call me.

FROM: Clara: Called funeral home. Can do service next tues, is that ok?

FROM: Unknown sender: -. . .- .-. / ...- .. -.-. - --- .-. .. .- / .-.. .. -. . .-.-.- / --- ...- . .-. --. .-. --- ..- -. -.. .-.-.- / -.-. .- .-. .--. . - / .- - / .-.. . .- ... - / ..-. .. ..-. - . . -. / -.-- . .- .-. ... / --- .-.. -.. .-.-.- / -... --- .-. . -.. .-.-.- / .... ..- .-. .-. -.-- / ..- .--. .-.-.- / ... .... .-.-.-

FROM: Sarah Sawyer: Fine, don't call me. Text me your address, I'm coming over.

[jumpthegun]

[Mycroft's text is ignored until John gets down to the Unknown Sender. It's a moment for him to mentally translate the Morse Code, but when he does, his eyes go wide. To hell with waiting for Lestrade.

Well, all right. He can wait a moment to reply to the others. Should he tell Mycroft? Sherlock will probably be annoyed. And he knows the Alphabet Woman is tapping his phone somehow. But then does she not know Morse Code?]

TO: Clara: It's fine. I'm sorry. I've just been out of it.

TO: Sarah Sawyer: I'm sorry. I can't see you right now, Sarah. Someone has Sherlock. Working to get him back.

TO: Mycroft Holmes: How goes the hunt, Mr. Holmes? Did your camera's catch her getting into the car on Oxford Street?

[Mycroft having been sufficiently sassed for his apparent incompetence, John rings the call button for the nurse. He feels bad going back on his word to Lestrade, but he doesn't want to tip the Alphabet Woman off, and this is the best lead he has right now.]

[howdull]

[Neither Clara nor Mycroft text back right away, either they're not by their phones or they have nothing to say to the doctor right now, but Sarah's response comes through almost at once.]

FROM: Sarah Sawyer: Forget sodding Sherlock Holmes for one minute and think about yourself. Where ARE you????

[Only a moment after that a nurse is poking her head inside, dark skinned and with a thick Nigerian accent, she smiles warmly at him.]

How are you feeling, Dr. Watson? You slept for a long time, hm? Are you in any pain?