Posted by Bowen Cates on 4/7/2008, 9:47 pm, in reply to "Chapter 22 part two"
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Chapter 23: In Which Praise Is Bestowed, Courage Is Restored and Insults Are Exchanged
The first thing Theodore noticed when he opened his eyes, was that everything around him was a shade of bluish green.
His surroundings were distorted slightly, morphing, swimming a bit each time he moved.
The floor underneath him was slanted, cold, and very uncomfortable all and all he had the strange impression of being on the bottom of a fish bowl.
He was still a bit dizzy from the knock on the head, but he forced himself into a sitting position. Squinting once again out into the green abyss, he realized that he was somewhere back in the laboratory which Fenwick has escorted them through. His thoughts stopped suddenly, as the events leading up to his injury raced through his brain.
The tank.
He was in the tank.
Quickly he swerved around, there, lying about two or three feet away from him, sprawled out on the floor against the other end of the chamber, clearly unconscious, was 1800 Holmes.
Theodore jumped to his feet, but regretted it immediately as - due to both the indented, slippery ground and great amounts of dizziness - he fell forward onto his knees, sending pain shooting up his legs.
“ARGH!” he curled into a ball quickly, as the urge to vomit washed over him in a disorienting wave. He had to control it, there was no way he was going to allow himself to barf inside a clear tank with so little room.
After a few moments, he felt ready to rise to his knees once again, and crawl over to the detective.
Slowly he did so, concentrating on his breathing as he endeavored to stop his surroundings from spinning. After what seemed like a year, he managed to pull himself up against the wall beside the Victorian.
Theodore quickly realized that Holmes must have been dropped into the tank from above and upon closer inspection; it was evident that the criminal had no intention of complying to his credo after all.
A small pool of blood was visible beneath the detective’s head. Theodore took hold of his shoulder and gently turned him to face the transparent wall. Immediately an open cranial wound appeared on the back of his skull.
Theodore paled as panic began to overtake him.
“Oh god, Oh god, Mr. Holmes, Please wake up, please!”
He didn’t move.
“This can’t be happening! Not again!” Theodore felt tears spring to his eyes, the room was finally beginning to slow and he was able to keep his balance as he reached down, and exerting pressure, ripped a large piece of fabric off one leg of his tough brown trousers.
Folding this into a square, he put it down next to him and gently arranged Holmes’ limp form so that he would stay on his side.
Theodore then pressed the fabric to the wound. The blood soaked through it quickly but he continued to hold it in place, exerting a bit more pressure.
He and Holmes had been through too much together for it to end this way.
Theodore waited patently for a while, his surroundings slowly becoming more and more detailed.
The tank was large, and the only way into it was through a hatch in the top, he knew that he must have been lowered into it, probably for the soul purpose of avoiding harm so that he could keep 1800 Holmes alive until Moriarty could go back in time and, in the criminal’s mind, prevent all this from becoming necessary.
Deidre and Greg had certainly been right; it was 1800 Holmes that the group had seen upon passing through the laboratory.
Theodore looked around, wondering what would happen when Moriarty found out that he had been the cause of all this in the first place.
He wondered how the criminal would kill him when he returned from the twentieth century, would he shoot both Theodore and 1800 Holmes? Or would he just drown them in the tank?
Theodore winced as a vision of the result of the latter surfaced in his mind.
Shaking himself, he looked up just in time to see Holmes move his hand. In an instant, Theodore was trying to rouse him.
“Mr. Holmes! Please wake up, it’s important! Please!”
Holmes’ eyes flew open and he immediately attempted to sit up, throwing the makeshift bandage aside, Theodore managed to grab him just in time.
“Mr. Holmes, you have to lie down.” Theodore begged, desperation seeping into his voice as he tried and failed to control his emotions.
Holmes looked at him.
“Mr.…Mr. Trent, what…where are we-” he cut himself off, his gaze swerving this way and that, taking in even the most minute details of their surrounding atmosphere.
Theodore remained silent, allowing the detective a chance to adjust to their situation.
Holmes closed his eyes once more and sighed, sitting up, slowly this time. Theodore didn’t try to stop him, knowing that it was best just to let the detective take charge of the situation.
“Well, I am sorry to see that you have been obliged to join me here Mr. Trent.” He smiled sadly, feeling the back of his head tenderly as he eyed the piece of cloth lying on the floor next to him, and in turn, Theodore’s torn clothing.
“It’s okay; I’d rather be here then back in that room with Mr. Sadistic.”
Holmes’ smile widened into a grin “I assume by that you mean Professor Moriarty”
“Ya” Theodore smirked back, he had worked his way back to his side of the tank, a great sadness had suddenly begun to overwhelm him.
The faces of his mother, father and brother floated through his head, it was only just now that a real fear that he would never see them again was manifesting it’s self. Before, other then when he had been falling through time, he had always had some hope, some small speck of belief that everything would be okay.
But now, that feeling of assurance had left him.
And it hurt.
He was never going home.
He remembered the time Matt had pushed him off a swing and into the mud by accident when trying to give his brother an under-duck.
Theodore had laughed so hard that he had almost inhaled half the puddle.
And he remembered the time their dad had promised to build them a tree house and had worked hard at it every day for a month; when he had suddenly realized that he’d read the plans wrong.
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