The silent prisoner

"Come on John!"

"Look, I'm coming as fast as I can. Do you have to run everywhere?"

"This is important! If we don't get there in time anything could happen!"

Gasping for breath, Sherlock and I eventually arrived at the station. Lestrade was waiting impatiently by the door. "Come on Sherlock, we needed you here ten minutes ago!"

Quickly, Sherlock flung the door open and I followed him into the room. It was a small room, soundproof by the looks of it. Inside sat an unclean looking man, with a huge smile on his face that showed off his lack of teeth.

He had been arrested for attempted murder, and had shot another policeman as he tried to escape. Sherlock had been called in to see if he could get the man to speak. So far he had only spoken to make fun of the police.

Sherlock turned to me. "John. You might as well get a coffee. I don't think it will be very interesting in here." Shrugging dismissively I turned to leave the room and made my way along the corridor.

In the kitchen, I bumped into Lestrade again. "How's Sherlock doing with this one?" he said, "I trust he has managed to get something out of the prisoner, or at least be able to tell me something about him."

I mumbled something about making coffee and him not really starting and Lestrade let me go. After about ten minutes I was finally able to return to the interrogation room, brandishing my coffee mug. I had made one for Sherlock too, just in case he wanted it.

As I entered the room I knew something was wrong. Suddenly, a blow to the back of my head jarred my vision and I felt myself losing consciousness. But I wasn't in the army for nothing.  Clenching my teeth against the stabbing pain in my head I spun around and caught my attacker in a headlock, then pinning him to the ground.

I shouted for help through the still open door. I could see Sherlock lying, unconscious, on the floor beside me. I hoped against hope that he was alive.

Soon I heard footsteps running through the corridor, and Lestrade and Anderson came to take the prisoner away from me. As soon as I was free, I ran over to where Sherlock lay, examining his head for signs of serious injury.

As I looked at it, Sherlock stirred and sat up. "John, are you ok?"

"Yes Sherlock, I'm fine. I just need to make sure you are too."

As I looked I saw large gash on the back of Sherlock's head. It was bleeding profusely but didn't look too deep. I asked Lestrade if he had a first aid kit and soon Donovan appeared with one.

I reached into the box for some antiseptic wipes, but as soon as I touched them to Sherlock's head he cried out. "Ow! John, please don't!" I could see tears in his eyes but I knew that I had to do this in case the wound became infected. I tried again, but the detective screamed and came away sobbing. "Look Sherlock, you have to sit still otherwise I can't help you." I quickly finished what I was doing, and then went to put the first aid kit away.

When I came back, I saw a furious Sherlock facing away from Anderson, who had a smug smile on his face. "I was Just wondering, Sherlock, how you manage to live a life of danger with such a low pain tolerance."

"SHUT UP" yelled Sherlock, as he marched from the room. I quickly followed suit.

When we arrived back at 221B Sherlock's face was still like thunder. "Why did you do that? You made me look like an IDIOT in front of Anderson! How dare you? You know I hate the man, so you decide to torture me in front of him!"

        "Sherlock, I had to do it. It would have gotten infected…"

        "I don't bloody care! Never do that again! I'm never going to hear the last of it, why do you have to embarrass me like this?"

"Yeah, well You remember the Red Pickle?" Sherlock fell silent "Well, think of this as payback for then."

Sherlock looked like he was about to start shouting again, but then looked at me strangely. "Are you Ok John? You look… out of it."

I wasn't really paying attention to Sherlock. It didn't matter anyway. Nothing really mattered… "John. Did you get hurt? What happened?" I had a throbbing headache, and when I made to hold my head I felt dried blood encrusted on my scalp. I realised I was sitting down.

I could hear Sherlock talking to someone, then a man came in with a case just like mine… I sat in silence whilst he cleaned the wound on my head, and spoke softly to Sherlock. When he had gone, Sherlock addressed me.

"Are you feeling Ok? I had to make sure… I'm sorry for behaving like I did. I know you were only trying to help. How come you could sit there without making a sound?"

I shook my head dismissively and the sides of Sherlock's mouth turned up into the closest thing to a smile he can get.