I froze in anguish as the sound of Die Forelle combined with the sound of Holmes's screams wrenched through me and Watson was forced to wrap one arm tightly around my waist in case I tried to run off into the building. But I couldn't have moved even if we weren't being targeted by Moran because the mixture of all the feelings surging inside me now had me clasping my hands to my face and wishing it would just stop. Those screams, those screams which hurt me so much more than any poison or gunshot were torturing me in a way that rendered me completely useless to Watson, who was looking around for away to get rid of the colonel so we could in turn save Holmes. Realising that I forced myself to be strong- if I wanted to help Holmes then acting like a frightened baby wasn't going to help. I looked about for those tell-tale earmuffs whilst Watson held out his hat experimentally, Moran quick to shoot a hole in it and smiling as I spotted the headgear. I got Watson's attention my elbowing him sharply, pointing to them and letting him figure out the rest.
"Go forward quickly and climb onto the platform," he whispered into my ear, as though afraid Moran could hear us. "I'll be right behind you."
I didn't need further persuasion and I ran across to the ladder which led up to the platform. Watson was indeed right behind me, soon joining me on the platform and handing me the earmuffs as he set about aiming the device. It didn't take him long to figure out how it worked so we worked on loading it and then I stood back and let him aim it. The sheet covering the weapon soon fell off and we could once again see the lighthouse, the sudden exposure making me feel vulnerable again and making me stand just a bit closer to the doctor as the weapon found its target. When he fired it I automatically covered my ears, the loud bang penetrating the earmuffs and making my head ring. That sound was then replaced by a rumbling as the tower collapsed, Watson and I watching silently as it fell towards the building in which Holmes was being interrogated. There was an almighty crash as it hit the building, caving the roof in and bringing down most of it.
There was a few second pause before I threw off the earmuff and we were both climbing off the weapon, running towards the rubble as we went to find Holmes. Watson was ahead of me despite his limp, and was quick to uncover the detective.
"How did you know we would find you?" asked Watson, I having mentioned that I couldn't remember the exact details when I told them about the film.
"You didn't find me, you collapsed a building on me," he replied weakly, and we both flinched as Watson pulled the meat hook out of his shoulder. "Perhaps I should have listened to you, Alex."
"It's a bit too late for that," I pointed out, kissing him lightly on the forehead and then setting to work helping Watson uncover the rest of him. Helping him to his feet, Watson pulled one of his arms around his shoulder to support him whilst Holmes used his other arm to hold his bleeding shoulder. I stayed close to them as we made our way across the rubble, watching to help them if it seemed like they were struggling and keeping an eye out for when Moriarty's forces would begin there assault on us.
"Can you take him for a sec?" asked the doctor as we entered the weapons storage, moving over to support Holmes as he set about getting some new weapons and I tried my best not to hurt Holmes.
"Were you worried?" he asked quietly, when Watson was out of earshot and I looked at the detective so he could see my face properly. "You were worried then."
"Worried? I was scared out of my mind! All of that screaming!" I shuddered at the thought, feeling tears come to my eyes and trying hard to dismiss them. He wouldn't want to deal with me if I was crying, even if we were together overemotional women weren't something he wanted to deal with and I knew that. "I was actually considering marching in and taking on Moriarty myself."
He chuckled weakly, though we both knew that if I could have I probably would have and I shifted him slightly so he was easier to support. Watson came back with the guns, but I offered to continue to support him seeing as guns were something I'd never used and never wanted to- so he took up guard behind us as the first of the soldiers arrived. One appeared in front of us, quickly took down by Holmes and I flinched at the bang, him using the arm that was around my shoulder to hold his gun- the other still holding his shoulder.
"Sorry," apologised the detective and I just shook my head in dismissal.
"Worse things have happened," I replied, just as a bullet whipped between us and barely missed hitting Watson. Holmes quickly retaliated and caught the soldier in the leg, knocking him to the ground. "Those were just a few examples."
"We need to hurry up!" Watson shouted, just as he began to fire the machine gun that he was carrying around his waist and the loud banging drowned out his voice.
"Agreed," replied Holmes and we sped up, walking as fast as he could manage without straining himself too much and still being able to shoot the soldiers approaching from the front.
"Come on!" shouted Madam Simza as she came over, and we followed her outside the building as we met up with the other gypsies. I focused on helping Holmes as more and more soldiers arrived, guns being fired in all directions along with words of hurry from the gypsies. We arrived at a wall, which was much taller than me but they scaled with ease and we had to stop.
"I don't think we can climb over that," I commented, just as there was a loud explosion and a huge hole was blown in the wall by the enemy. "Much better."
We were now in the woods, but still not free as we all ran as fast as we could away from the place and prayed to god that none of the bullets that were being fired hit us. Holmes and I were unable to keep up with the others, falling behind slightly as we ran in a bizarre twist to the three-legged race.
"I think I can manage on my own now," he managed to say, just after a bullet grazed my neck, and before I could protest he had pulled away and we were able to catch up with the others. But the worst wasn't over, and there was a loud explosion followed by a shockwave which knocked all of us to the ground. I lay there stunned for a moment before I saw the soldiers converging on us and made a quick decision. I ran other to where Holmes was as a soldier approached him, delivering a roundhouse kick to the face and snatching his gun from him. An age of watching movies with guns in gave me a basic idea about how this worked, and I put aside my morals as I aimed. I paused for only a millisecond before firing it and hitting one of the soldiers between the eyes.
"Are you sure you've never used a gun before?" asked Holmes as he got to his feet and we continued to run. "You have a very good aim."
"It helps with the kyusho," I replied, before twisting around and firing at another soldier.
There was a noise in the distance which I immediately recognised as the train- we were almost there, we were almost safe. More shots were fired and I watched in horror as one of the gypsies was shot, but quickly recovered and kept up my pace as my muscles began to burn and ache. I may have been fit, but none of the things I had ever done included running for my life with a hurt stomach, a cut neck and people trying to kill you. But it was that will to survive that kept us going and we were soon boarding the train. Simza and I got on first, both helping Holmes to get up, then the other gypsy and finally Watson- there was one man left and I turned away as he was shot down by Moran.
I collapsed onto the floor with a sigh, sitting cross-legged and half-tempted to meditate in order to clear out my troubled mind. Instead I settled for humming, picking Still Alive by Lisa Miskovsky, and shifted slightly as Holmes chose that moment to lie down, resting his head in my lap with Simza and Watson sitting either side of him. Absentmindedly I began to stroke his hair, still humming as I closed my eyes and imagined. I imagined that we were back at Baker Street, in his room and on the tiger skin rug as he puzzled over the latest case, I imagined that we were on holiday in the countryside- anywhere except here on this train with all the misery and death.
"He's not breathing."
Those three words shattered the walls I'd created and I was dragged back to reality, opening my eyes as I looked down at the still form of Holmes. Watson immediately checked to see if he had a pulse, and I lifted Holmes's head from my lap as he attempted CPR on. Simza placed her hand on mine in an effort to stop me from panicking as tears began to well up in my eyes and I held my breath. What if he died? What if he actually died? I was trapped in painful suspense which I cannot describe in words, how is it possible to describe the pure agony and fear that comes with the thought of losing the one you love? It isn't something you can understand until it has happened to you.
"I know you can here me you selfish bastard!" shouted Watson, his attempts to revive Holmes getting more violent and I quickly went over to pull him off, also reaching into his pocket for the syringe. I may not have been a doctor but I knew where his heart was and I injected him with the adrenaline before Watson had realised what I'd done. A few seconds passed, during which I wondered if I had been too late, when Holmes suddenly shot up and ran across the box car and into the wall.
"I just had the most peculiar dream," he commented, as I allowed the relief of the moment to sink into me. "It was Watson, Alex, Mary, Gladstone and I at a restaurant- there was a satanic pony with a fork in its hoof and it was laughing at me! What have you administered?"
"Your wedding present apparently," Watson replied, myself struggling to find the ability to speak and retreating over to the opening in the car and sitting down with my legs over the edge- he's alright, I reminded myself- he's alright.
But if this much shocked me how was I to deal with the falls?