Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

XLIX • 49

"Where were you when the victim was poisoned?"
The inspector who had brought me in stood across the table from me, his hands supporting him as he glared down at me. He and another officer had been grilling me for the past hour.
"I've already told you! Upstairs in my flat!" I said impatiently.
"What were you doing at the time?"
I rolled my eyes and thought a moment. "Reading. I was reading a medical journal to prepare for work the next day."
"Or to calculate the exact dose of poison you'd need." The burly officer, Inspector Massey, growled.
I groaned. "I'm a doctor! I fix people, I don't poison them!"
"Doctor Cavalard of St. Bart's tells me you knew exactly what she'd been poisoned with before any report had been made. What do you have to say?"
I sighed, completely exasperated. "Again, I'm a doctor. I've been trained to know the signs and reactions of many different poisons. I had simply made an observation and wanted to confirm my suspicions."
"And who else had been in contact with the victim within the hour?"
"Sebastian." I said, grinding my teeth. "Sebastian Moran."
Massey turned to the other officer. "Has he been brought in?"
He shook his head, then stepped out.
"Mr. Wa-"
"It's Doctor." I interrupted him, clenching my jaw.
"Doctor Watson," He exaggerated the title, "You will stay here while we question Mr. Moran."
"More like moron." I muttered under my breath.

Third person's POV:

Sebastian sat down in a room adjacent to the one John was in.
"What's this about officers?" He asked, concern lacing his voice.
"(F/N) Watson has been poisoned. Her brother said you had been in contact around the time of her poisoning. Where were you at one o'clock this afternoon?"
Shock and horror crossed his face. "Oh God.. Is- is she alright?"
"Answer the question." The steely faced inspector made no move to assure Sebastian of your safety.
"Of course. Uh, one o'clock... I was at home. My flat mate can confirm."
Massey nodded to his partner, who once again stepped out of the room. He returned a moment later, phone in hand.
"His alibi checks out, sir."
"I thought it might." Massey said with a angry glance toward John's room.
"You're free to go Mr. Moran."
"Thank you. But is she alright, sir?" The concern had returned to his voice and face.
"She's comatose, currently at St. Bart's."
"Oh." His face fell.

John's POV:

Sebastian couldn't possibly get out of this one. All of the evidence pointed toward him. And yet, I saw him leave the room un-cuffed and head toward the door. As he passed my room he gave me a sly smile and continued walking. If I hadn't been flanked by two officers I would have chased him down and punched his lights out.

Massey returned to my room.
"Doctor John Watson, you're under arrest for the attempted murder of your sister, Ms. (F/N) Watson." He pronounced, standing me up and cuffing me once again.
"What? No! It had to have been Sebastian!" I protested.
"His alibi checks out." The inspector growled, shoving me toward the door. Oh God. The sly bastard created an alibi.
"Can't I at least text my friend? Tell him what's going on?" I begged.
Sherlock was my last hope at this point.
Massey gave me a sideways glance, suspicion on his features, but nodded.
I was allowed one text and I needed to make it count. I thought a moment, then began.

She's sick again, poisoned or virus?
Jail time again. Come back soon, help us all.

I had no idea if it would be intercepted, certainly not by whom. I knew he would understand, or if he didn't he could figure it out quick enough. He'd gotten plenty of people out of false charges before, I just hoped he could do it from Germany, or better yet, that he would come back.

Sherlock's POV:

I frowned at the text. It made no sense. She? Did he mean you? You weren't sick before. Poisoned or virus? Jail time again?
This had to be a code of sorts.
I closed my eyes, mentally running through every code or cipher I'd ever encountered. Morse, binary, Caesar shift, Vigenère, skip- yes. It had to be a skip code.
I stared at the message again, blocking out groups of words until it made sense. Oh God.
She's poisoned. Jail. Come help.
Had you been poisoned? Was John being arrested for it?
How much more could go wrong? I felt so bad, and so guilty. I'd ruined both of your lives.
Suddenly an even worse thought crossed my mind.
John wouldn't be texting me if you could bail him out. Which meant that you were incapacitated. Coma? Or worse yet, had it been fatal?
These thoughts brought on the most consuming wave of depression I'd felt since I'd left London.
But I knew I couldn't make assumptions.
I had to concentrate on getting myself out of the German Intelligence Agency so I could get John out of prison.