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[prettybirdy979]

Title: Chains, Kidnappers and Yellow Teddy Bears
Author: prettybirdy979 
Fandom: Sherlock
Work Type: Fic
Characters: Sherlock, John, Lestrade, Donovan 
Rating: PG13 (for safety)
Spoilers: None really
Written For: morganstuart 
Summary: It was just a cup of coffee...What was the worse that could happen?
Author's Note: Thanks heaps to morganstuart, who donated to the Help Japan appeal and gave me the ideas behind this story. I hope you like it!
Thanks to Razz and Fifi for betaing. =D

 

“And that is why…Oh!” Sherlock had been in the middle of one of his monologues that boiled down to stating how clever he is when he suddenly stopped and his eyes widened.

Lestrade recognised the look immediately as the one Sherlock got when he had had an epiphany about a case. This case currently consisted of an elderly man, Mr Johnston, being murdered in his home as part of a string of robberies involving Napoleon figures. The thing was the robbers seemed to be able to walk through walls, as far as the evidence was concerned. Sherlock had been called in on the last robbery and had predicted this one, but sadly not the location or the escalation of the crime. 

“What is it Sherlock?!” he demanded. Sherlock ignored him instead he turned and with a twirl of his coat was gone. Lestrade sighed, resigned to yet again play second fiddle in his own investigation.

It was then John Watson strolled into the room, gloves still on from where he had been treating the victim’s wife’s small cuts and shock. He and Sherlock had arrived at the scene too late to save the man, but in time to ‘get a look’ at the fleeing intruders. They had managed to leave a blood spatter across the alley while doing so.

Lestrade wasn’t sure which one of them had fired the gun, but until he had hard evidence of its existence he wasn’t going to act. Sherlock was too valuable, and anyway they both seemed to have some higher up looking out for them… He was quite sure no charge short of murder or treason would stick and even then he had his doubts-

“Has Sherlock taken off again?” John’s patient but slightly annoyed voice broke into Lestrade’s thoughts. He clearly wasn’t happy about being left behind again.

“’Fraid so. He had his brain wave and left without filling in the rest of the class.” Lestrade grumbled.

John smiled, and then sighed. “I wish he wouldn’t keep doing this. This is the third time in a month.”

“He was worse before you. Never used to give us anything then, just texted me the killer’s name anything up to a week later. Now he actually hand delivers the bastards.” Lestrade voice was matter of fact, not expressing the fact he liked the ‘new’ Sherlock.

John picked that up anyway and smiled again. “Want to grab a coffee while we wait for the madman to text me?” he offered.

Lestrade checked his watch. He really shouldn’t, he had a crime scene to look after…but he had been on shift since six o’clock this morning. It was now nearly five pm and Sally was always waiting in the wings to prove how well she could handle running a crime scene…

One coffee, and then he would come back and supervise. It couldn’t hurt.

“Sure.”

 

********

 

“Detective Inspector.”

Lestrade rolled his head sideways a little, trying to ignore the voice. He vaguely recognised it but whoever it was would have to wait until he had finished his nap. He had been working long hours aft-

“Inspector Lestrade!”

Lestrade groaned and turned his head away from the voice. He tried to drift back into the pleasant darkness surrounding him but the voice did not seem to like that.

“Come on Lestrade, stay with me. Don’t go to sleep.”

His eyes opened and then squeezed them closed as the light blinded him. He tried to curl up but found as he did his left hand was jerked back a few inches by something cold around it. He reopened his eyes; slowly this time and saw the hand had a metal cuff around it, which was attached to the wall by a foot long chain.

“Inspector? You with me?” the voice that had being talking to him earlier now registered in Lestrade’s mind as being worried. His confused mind scrambled to identify it, but could only come up with the image of a cuddly, jumper wearing, yellow teddy bear.  He groaned again.

“I’m very sorry, normally I would use your first name now but Sherlock’s never mentioned it and we were never really introduced. All I know is it starts with a ‘G’ so I’m going to call you G until you tell me your first name Lest- G.”

Slowly it dawned on Lestrade that the voice speaking to him was John Watson and that somehow his eyes had closed without him noticing. He forced his eyes open and finally saw the man by the wall on the other side of the room. John too had a chain tying him by his left hand to the wall and was clearly injured. How exactly, Lestrade couldn’t tell, beyond the fact there was blood on his jumper and he was holding his left shoulder funny, being tied to the wall notwithstanding.

John’s focus was entirely on him, and he began to smile when Lestrade’s eyes stayed open. “That’s it. I was scared they had used a different drug on you, something stronger than chloroform.”

“What happened?” Lestrade slurred out.

“Don’t you remember G? We went for coffee after Sherlock left the scene-“

“And we…we” Lestrade floundered around for a few moments before suddenly the last few moments came to him. John walking just before him down the empty lane way towards the coffee shop, laughing at a joke, when a hand holding a cloth had grabbed him from behind. He remembered hearing yelling, both John’s familiar voice and an unfamiliar one, as the darkness overtook his senses.

“And we got attacked from behind.” Lestrade summed up. John breathed a sigh of relief. “And my name is Greg. Gregory Lestrade.”

“Dr John Watson. Now we’ve been formally introduced, can you see a way out of here?”

“Not until you tell me how badly you’re injured.” Lestrade admonished. At John’s confused look he nodded towards the blood on his jumper.

“Oh that. I had more warning of the attack and I tried to fight back…got a nice bruise on the arm for my trouble.” He smiled sheepishly.

“And the blood-?”

“Isn’t mine.” John gave Lestrade a look that dared him to contradict him. Against his better judgement, Lestrade didn’t. John was a doctor after all…

It was that moment the door Lestrade hadn’t noticed burst open and three very angry men marched in. They made a beeline for Lestrade, completely ignoring John which sent a wave of relief through him. After all, the doctor was a civilian and it was his job to protect him…at all cost if necessary.

“Where is he?!” the man in front demanded. He grabbed the front of Lestrade’s jacket and shoved him against the wall in order to enforce his words.

“You are going to have to be more specific. I’m not really thinking very straight at the moment, what with the kidnapping and all.”

He was backhanded for his trouble. “Sherlock Holmes! You are not Sherlock Holmes!”

“Obviously. I am Detective Inspector Lestrade.” A punch this time, directly to his stomach. He doubled over and the man dropped him, causing him to fall on his face. He couldn’t help the cry of pain that escaped him at the sudden drop.

“Stupid pig! We’re going to have fun with you tonight!” the man said as he grabbed Lestrade’s hair and pulled, making it so he could look into Lestrade’s eyes. The amount of glee he could see in the man’s eyes at the idea made Lestrade sick.

“He took off after you.” John suddenly piped up, his voice anxious. “He’ll find you very soon. If you had any sense you would release us now, turn yourselves in and save everyone the trouble.”

The man who had been holding Lestrade, who Lestrade had decided was the leader and that he should call ‘Leader’, turned his attention to John. He laughed. “I doubt it. By the time Sherlock Holmes arrives, we’ll be gone and you’ll be dead. Unless...” He paused and signalled his two men to stand beside John, “unless you tell us everything he has on the Johnston robbery and how best to destroy the evidence. Then we might just leave you alive.”

The pain in his stomach had faded a little by now, enough for Lestrade to look up and see John’s face as he replied.

“I won’t tell you anything.” John said, defiant.

“Really?” Snarled the leader. “Even if I do-” He suddenly reached out and slammed Lestrade’s head into the floor. “This?”

John flinched, or at least what Lestrade could see of John did. His head hurt beyond comparison, and things were getting a little dark and blurry. Something dripped down his face and he blinked it away when it got into his eye. It took him a second to realise it must be blood, blood dripping down his face.

“Keep doing that and you won’t have a Detective Inspector.” John snapped. “He’ll die, and then you’ll lose both bargaining chips as I’m quite willing to die for Sherlock.”

Leader ignored the second part of John’s statement to focus on the knowledge behind the first part. “How do you know that, I wonder?”

“Firstly I have common sense which states slamming a man’s head into the floor until he bleeds is not a way to keep him alive.” John growled out, “And secondly, I’m a doctor-“

“A doctor?” the henchman on John’s right interrupted. He appeared a second away from jumping for joy after John’s statement and Leader looked like all his Christmases had come at once.

“Yes.” John said curtly. He eyed the men wearily.

“Excellent. I have a patient for you. If you treat him, I will let you go.” Leader stated, smiling at what was a perfectly reasonable offer. In fact, Lestrade felt a wave of relief go through him as the man spoke.

John didn’t even think about the offer. “No.” he replied.

It was the right henchman who reacted violently to John’s answer, to Lestrade’s surprise. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO?!” he screamed, grabbing John’s shoulders and shaking him. Lestrade could see the pain on John’s face but before he could speak the left henchman pulled his…co-worker (friend? Lestrade couldn’t be sure…) off of John.

“I mean,” John said his voice low and angry, “I won’t treat anyone until you let him go.”

“And why would you want that?” Leader moved across the room and got into John’s face. “Why would you bargain away your freedom for him?”

“Because you need me. If your friend is as injured as I think he is, you’ll need me for a long time. So, if you want my help you let him go, unharmed and I go with you calmly.”

“What does it matter?” the left henchman suddenly said. “He’s a doctor, just take him to Bruce and he has to treat him.”

“Yeah Doc. He’s dying, and you have to help him, it’s in your oath or something.” The other henchman chipped in, sounding a little bit desperate.

“I won’t touch him until Lestrade is free.”

“And if he dies?” Leader asked, his smile slowly drifting off his face.

“He dies. I’m an army doctor; I’ve had to let far better men than yours die. One I injured is hardly going to make me feel guilty.”

With that statement the Leader suddenly clocked John with a left hook to his face. Turning to his henchmen he grabbed something from the belt of the one to his right and moved to Lestrade.

The knife was plunged into Lestrade’s right shoulder.

Lestrade’s world now only consisted of pain. Dimly he could hear John’s shouts and a slamming door but it didn’t register over the throbbing pain from his right side.

“Put…hand…it! Greg!” the voice was loud enough for Lestrade to hear in his new world, but it didn’t make much sense…

“Greg! Left…on…shoulder!” He could feel something wet on his right hand and suddenly it occurred to him he was bleeding. Slowly he moved his left hand to the source of pain on his right.

He nearly screamed when the hand touched but John’s voice (for it was his voice he could hear) encouraged him. “That’s it! Keep it there and push down. …pressure…it” John’s voice was a little clearer as the shock of the stabbing faded. Well didn’t fade so much as Lestrade began became used to the pain.

“You…okay?” he wheezed out. Opening his eyes, he could see John on the other side of the room straining at the end of his chain, trying to get to him.

“You’re asking me that?!” John asked incredulously. “I’m not the one who’s been stabbed!”

“Oh…still, are you okay?”

John laughed, a wet choked off laugh, but a laugh. “I’m fine. Did you hear what they said as they left?”

Lestrade shook his head minutely.

“The leader told me I can’t treat you until I treat their man.”

“Do… it. Keep yourself…alive.”

“Greg, I-“

“Don’t. Do…what they want. I’m not…worth dying…for.”

John sounded heartbroken as he spoke. “Greg, the man who’s injured… I did it, caught him with a punch as he tried to escape the scene through the window and he fell…by the time we reached the alley they were all gone but he fell at least a storey.” John shook his head. “I don’t think I can save him, not without a surgical team at least and definitely not with my hand. I'm surprised he’s still alive now…”

“John-“ Lestrade tried to speak, to reassure John but he interrupted.

“That’s not the point. The point is, even if I agree to help them I won’t be back in time to help you-“

The sounds of shouting above them distracted John, which gave Lestrade a moment to think over what he had said. A calm acceptance washed over him as he realised this was where he was going to die.

At least he died nobly (well…sort of) and doing what he loved and Sherlock would still have John to help him figure out human beings and their society-

The door to their cell suddenly burst open again, interrupting Lestrade’s dying thoughts. Leader was standing there with eyes wide open in fear. He moved towards John, bloody knife still in his hand.

It was then Lestrade saw the man in the dark coat and woman behind him. Sally had her baton and Sherlock had… Well Sherlock was completely unarmed. It didn’t stop him analysing the situation in a millisecond and performing what to him was the most rational action.

Namely tackling Leader from behind, a move with such force behind it that they slid along the floor and ended up just before John’s foot. The air fled Leader’s chest with an audible ‘ooooof’ and Sherlock took that moment to grab the knife hand. Leader started to wriggle as the air returned to his lungs, but Sally was there. She stepped on the hand Sherlock held, the detective barely removing his own hand in time. The hand produced a crunch as the bones in it snapped.

Leader howled in pain and Sally kicked the knife away. Sherlock grabbed the broken hand and pulled it up behind Leader’s back before reaching for the other hand. Sally pulled out her handcuffs and slipped them on his wrists, making this arrest the first time Lestrade had ever seen the pair cooperate.

John chose to mark this historic moment by screaming at them. “Took you long enough. Now, quickly! Help Lestrade!” he cried.

The world was beginning to darken around the edges for Lestrade but even as he lost consciousness he could hear Sally and Sherlock barking orders at another.

Wasn’t that working together…?

 

********

 

It took Sherlock two seconds to evaluate the situation as he chased a man who was clearly the leader of the gang into the basement. John and Lestrade were each chained to a wall each; both injured, though Lestrade more seriously, and both in some form of shock.

John was also in danger of being stabbed. It was this observation that burst into Sherlock’s mind and took over, erasing all previous thoughts. For a split second he was acting on instinct, not intelligence and his next move showed it.

He came back to himself lying on top of the murderer, having tackled him. Luckily, for what had to be the first time in her career, Sally was thinking and she moved to assist him. In seconds they had the man handcuffed, and Sherlock made a mental note to do something for her...something nice if he could manage it.

Then John spoke and all thoughts of Sally disappeared. “Took you long enough. Now, quickly! Help Lestrade!” It was typical of John, that even with his own injuries, other people came first.

“Call an ambulance, Sherlock.” Sally barked at him as she moved to stand beside her bleeding boss.

“Put pressure on the wound.” He barked back. He paused for a second, and then removed his coat and suit jacket, throwing the jacket at her. “Use that. Ambulance should be here in two minutes.” Mycroft was handy for some things, but Sherlock would never admit that to him. Ever.

He went to shrug his coat on, but thought better of it. Instead he bent down by John, and for the first time, examined him clearly. He slowly ran his hands over John’s shoulder, flinching at John’s hiss of pain when he touched it (Broken? No, dislocated. Previous wound on other shoulder- should have made him treat it then..) and then again when he lightly touched his head (Injured in abduction then. Wonder if John would allow experiment on pain using captors? Probably not- Ask Mycroft if able to be legalised.). Sherlock pulled his coat over John, trying to treat the shock John clearly had.

“Frea-Sherlock, are you sure the ambulance is coming?” Sally suddenly asked.

Sherlock looked over his shoulder at her. “Yes.”

“Sherlock…Greg?” John asked softly.

Sherlock knew the problems with false comfort, and found it pointless. But this time, with the sounds of the paramedics pounding down to the basement, Lestrade still breathing and John by his side again it wasn’t lying to say, “He’s going to be fine. It’s all going to be fine.”

At least, he hoped it wasn’t lying.

 

********

 

Epilogue

 

“Are you complete idiots?! The horse is still here, it has just had its coat dyed.” Sherlock was in one of his usual “You-are-all-complete-idiots,-why-do-I-bother?” rants, which John was used to by now. This time, the focus of his rant was Sally, who had made the mistake of questioning Sherlock about the location of the victim’s valuable horse.

After a moment John sighed. Sherlock was really getting into it, and so was Sally…this could take a while. Though he did notice Sally hadn’t called Sherlock ‘Freak’ and Sherlock was not commenting on her sex life. Well, not so far.

A presence by his side made John turn and he smiled at the man beside him.

“How are you doing, Gre-Inspector?” Lestrade and he had become very friendly during Lestrade’s recovery and while calling him Greg was fine, John was going to try for a small amount of professionalism at crime scenes. “Enjoying your first day back?”

“Tremendously.” Lestrade dead-panned. He looked over at the arguing figures. “You know, we never did get that coffee-“

“NO!” Sherlock broke off this argument to interrupt Lestrade and John’s conversation. “You two are not getting coffee together ever again. Not after last time, I don’t have time to train another D.I to your standards.“ Sherlock seemed unaware of the compliment he had just given Lestrade as he quickly grabbed John’s arm and pulled him away. “Come John. We’ve got to see a man about a horse.”

Sherlock’s comment caused Lestrade to laugh as the pair walked off. He was about to resume his work at the scene when his phone beeped.

 

Welcome back. SH

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