Chapter 6

Chapter: six
Beyond the Looking Glass

Sherlock’s eyes opened with snap, his body quickly jolting up as he looked around the area he was in, he scarcely remembered where he was until the sound of muffled grunts filled his ears. Getting up quickly he soon regretted it the swirling of his head along with the fierce pounding alluded to him that he had been served a mighty blow to the head, grunting and gasping he quickly tried to compose himself before finding the source of the grunting noises.
Taking a few careful steps forward he made his way over to a nearby wall in which he used to support himself while his senses came back to him. Rounding a corner Sherlock’s vision quickly focused on a figure before him that seemed to move around.
“John?” he muttered as he slowly stood up “John is that you?”
The figure upon hearing this name grunted loudly a muffled ‘Sherlock’ validating Sherlock’s question. Quickly with as much haste as he could muster he made his way over to John quickly untying the gag that had be around his mouth.
“Well you took your sweet time didn’t you Sherlock, mind me asking what took so long?” asked John as he assisted Sherlock with the rope that bound him.
“Had to deal with some internal issues but not to worry it’s all fixed now.” Replied Sherlock as he helped his friend up.
“Is it really?”
“No, not really but all in due time, or as the saying goes I suppose.”
“Sherlock your head good Christ what happen to it?” asked John as he noticed his friends head was in fact bleeding.
“Ah, yes it would appear that I also have sustained head trauma I would have gotten medical help but my doctor was a bit tied up.”  Chuckled Sherlock
“You little smart-ass is now the time to be making wise cracks? Come on we need to get you out of here and to a hospital.” Stated John, as he helped his friend.
“Yes lets hurry I’m sure Lestrade is growing impatient waiting on us.” Commented Sherlock as he leaned on his friends shoulder.
John looked to his friend with a confused look on his face. “What do you mean Lestrade will be waiting on us? Did you call in for back up Sherlock?”
Sherlock let out a loud grunt of pain before answering. “No John I came alone on this endeavor but never say that the dead is not kind and generous.”
After what seemed like hours of walking the two fellows arrived back at the entrance that lead them down to the cellar bellow, one after the other the two climbed out of the dark hole into the morning rays of sunlight that shined through the broken glass of the greenhouse. Quickly the two picked up on the sounds of shouting and yelling quickly John ran out hollering at the voices as Sherlock slowly followed behind, but before leaving he quickly took a look back smiling ever so slightly he muttered to himself.
“Through the looking glass we go dear sister, and we will meet again.”

(*****)
On a dull Sunday morning Mycroft Holmes waltzed into elegant looking café filled to the brim with people drinking their brew of choice paying no mind to anyone around them. Looking around the café he made his way to the back where two men stood blocking a doorway, Mycroft walked up to them both his head held high.
“Name.” Grunted one of the men, as they looked at Mycroft their faces showing no traces of emotion.
“White Rabbit” He replied. The two men looked at each other before giving a nod and allowing Mycroft access upstairs. Making his way upstairs, he quickly came to another door in which he pulled a simple but elegantly made brass key, putting the key in the hole, he turned it upon hearing the clicking noise he pushed the door open.
“Sorry I’m late” he said as he walked into the room; the door he quickly shut behind him. “Traffic was hell and I had to check on Sherlock after all you lot did do a number on him.”
“Rosemarie sends her apologizes.”
“I’m sure she dose and what of Claire? What has she discovered?”
“Not much but not to worry we will figure this out all while helping our dear Sherlock along.”
“That’s all well and good but I must ask how you are?”
“I’m grand why do you ask?”
“Well you tell me, after all are you not supposed to be dead? Eh Scarlet?” asked Mycroft as a he stared into the eyes of a young short auburn haired woman who only smiled at him.