Posted by Bowen Cates on 3/7/2008, 2:39 pm, in reply to "Chapter xis part one"
24.207.121.197
2103, England, London, 221B Baker Street, 2:44pm standard London time
Chapter 6: In Which Theodore Has Rather A Hard Time.
“WHAT THE ZED WAS THAT!” A tall, brown haired woman - in some kind of skintight blue and black uniform - screamed from somewhere amid the swirling wreck that was the living room in which she had been sitting, enjoying a much needed quiet evening.
“I have no idea Lestrade!” Answered a bewildered voice, with a delicacy of speech far outstripping that of the coarse verbs of his Companion, “Wiggins, Deirdre, Tennyson! Are you three all right?”
“Ya, I’m fine Watson!” assured a tall black boy in a long sleeveless trench coat, and tight blue jeans who was slowly pulling himself out from under an overturned arm chair “but I don’t know about the others.”
“Beep! Beep! Whir!” Pinged a small blonde boy that was wearing what looked like a sort of stylistic headband. He was trapped in what appeared to be some kind of metal chair, which had fallen over on its side, its keyboard lighting up in a foreboding manner, which warned of impending malfunctions.
“Ah Tennyson! Thank god!” a relived Watson sighed, clunking over to help right the boy’s chair.
Now that the dust was settling, one could see that this Watson was a very strange site indeed, metallic from the neck down; Only his head looked human, it seemed to be some sort of mask that, had one not seen the metal body and limbs, would have thought to be flesh and blood. The mask had a dark brown beard and hair with matching brown eyes, over one of which was placed a monocle, which had only been replaced a moment ago after being knocked off as a result of the confusion of a few moments before.
“But where’s Deidre?” He enquired, eyeing the surrounding carnage.
“Ya, I was wondering the same thing” Lestrade admitted hesitantly.
“I’m, over ‘ere! Something fell on me! Give me an ‘and will ya!”
“Sure” Wiggins volunteered “one sec” he was half way over to her and was reaching out his hand when he suddenly recoiled pointing ecstatically to a bandaged arm protruding from the wreck
“WATSON! ZED!” he yelled, “There’s someone in there! And whoever it is, landed on Deidre!”
Disbelief was the first response, action the second “Deidre don’t move” Lestrade ordered and racing over to the two teens, began to dig in around the rubble “He’s right, I found someone, looks like a kid! Give me a hand will you Watson?”
“Certainly inspector.”
“Oh wait, there’s one more here!” she announced, pulling a tall black haired boy off of Deidre who got slowly to her feet. “Looks like a man…almost got him…HOLY ZED, HOLMES!”
“WHAT!” Watson bounded over to where she was kneeling.
“Ya! It’s Holmes! Dressed kind ‘a funny, but it’s him alright and…Zed he looks bad.”
Reaching Lestrade, Watson lifted his friend into his arms, the inspector did the same for the boy, as Deirdre - a brown haired girl with a tan coat and multi colored fingernails –, Wiggins, and Tennyson cleared spaces on the chairs and sofa for the two injured.
Watson immediately set to work, “He seems to have been shot, with a revolver.”
“A what?”
“A revolver, a nineteenth century weapon, and it looks bad, although, thankfully, all is not lost if we act quickly. He will be alright as long as he has not lost too much blood.”
“I know what a revolver is Watson, Just patch it up already!” he could just hear the suppressed anxiety she was feeling, even as she struggled in vain to conceal it.
Everyone was quiet while Watson worked. Until Lestrade, as she usually did, broke the silence.
“All I want to know is how he ended up falling through his own roof in the first place.”
“You will have to ask him that when he awakes, one moment, I’ll put him in his room, and then I will see to the boy.”
He was gone about three minutes “there, he should come to within the next day or so, there must have been a weakened area of the roof and he just stepped on it, for, had he fallen from any height, no matter the state of the roof, he would have been killed, especially in his condition.”
“I don’t know, I didn’t hear him up there, and that doesn’t seem like Holmes, does it? I mean…He’s like a cat, always falling on his feet; I’ve never known him to make a mistake like that, have you?”
“No, but what other explanation is there? At any rate, I am sure Holmes will explain all upon his awakening, now to see to the boy.”
“Could he be some sort of street beggar? I mean he looks like it.” Wiggins’ offered, indicating the boy on the couch while dusting himself off with his other muscular arm.
“Possibly, and yet Holmes was dressed in much the same manner.”
“Well, Maybe-”
“Impossible!”
“What?” Lestrade and the three kids all asked at once.
“Aside from some small cuts and scrapes, some of which are the result of an earlier experience, this boy is completely unharmed; his arm, as well, has been set and bandaged as the result of some earlier injury.”
“Are you sure?” Lestrade enquired eagerly.
“Positive I- by Jove! I do believe he’s coming to.”
Indeed, Theodore was opening his eyes, images of his fall flooding through his head; he wanted to die! Holmes! Oh, what had he done to Holmes! He was a murderer! He must find him! He must try to save him if it wasn’t too late!
“HOLMES!” he screamed, not realizing that there were other people in the room, all staring at him as though he were insane.
He was frantic, he didn’t care about anything anymore, where or when he was, he leaped off the couch and began shoving rubble aside with both arms, throwing it this way and that with fierce energy, ignoring the pain mounting under his tattered bandages.
“Really, my boy!” Watson tried to interject, but he had not reacted fast enough to stop Theodore sprinting out from under him, the boy had been too quick, and, as far as Watson could tell, was obviously delirious.
However, upon Watson’s exclamation Theodore recognized the voice, not even bothering to turn around, he started to speak very quickly.
“Please Watson! You have to help me find him before its too late! If I survived maybe he did! Please help me! There isn’t much time!”
“Slow down lad!” Watson soothed “Holmes is safe and sound in his room I saw to him myself a few moments ago, now, stop a moment and let me look at that arm of yours.”
Theodore whirled around; he could still feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins. The first thing that caught his eye was the metal dominating the greater part of Watson’s body.
“You’re not Watson! Stay away from me! Where’s Holmes!” there were more people in the room then he had expected. To many of them, he stood no chance of defending himself!
Fatigue overtook him, tears sprang to his eyes and he screamed “it’s all my fault, everything!” his knees fell from under him; the last thing he heard before he blacked out again was the fake Watson exclaiming:
“My word! He’s fainted!”
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