Chapter Text
"Greg. Greg, it's all right. Stop fighting us Greg. We're trying to help you."
Lestrade hears the voice of his friend from a long way away. He has been hearing it for hours, he thinks.
"John?"
He forces himself awake. He is in hospital. Why? The memories flood back and he heaves, vomits into a bowl that John Watson is holding.
"Try to relax, Greg. Are you in pain?"
Watson frowns. There shouldn't be pain. Lestrade has been given a spinal block. He should be numb, in spite of the major injury he has sustained.
"John. Is Billy okay?"
Lestrade's voice is small and shaky.
"He's fine, Greg. He's outside. Do you want to see him?"
"No. Not Billy. I don't want him seeing… John, I need to see Mycroft. Don't let Billy in here yet. Please. I don't want him to see me like this."
Watson decides the best thing is to humour his friend for now.
"All right, Greg. Try to keep still now. I'll get him. I won't bring Billy."
"John. Wait. I can't feel anything…"
Watson pats his hand. He thinks he's paralysed.
"You've had a spinal anaesthetic, Greg. It numbs everything below the waist."
"He had a machete, John. He said he was going to castrate me. Did…"
Lestrade sobs, starts to panic again.
"He didn't, Greg. You've still got your wedding tackle. There's a lot of damage to your abdominal muscles though, and your left thigh. From the pattern of injuries, it looks like he tried to cut you in half. Good job he didn't know how to use his weapon properly. Amateur."
Lestrade laughs a little hysterically. The laugh turns into a wail.
"You're not telling me everything."
"All right. He sliced your femoral artery. You lost a huge amount of blood and went into shock. If Billy hadn't acted quickly to put pressure on it… We had to deal with that first, Greg. I've told you about the muscle damage. He nicked your urethra, up close to your abdomen, just at the base of your penis. That's been repaired, but you'll have a catheter for a while…"
"John…"
"There's damage to the suspensory ligament. That's what holds the penis up when it's erect. It can be repaired Greg. That's what the spinal block is for. We can't keep you under general anaesthetic too long."
"So he did what he said."
"No. Even without the ligament repair you'll still get erections. They just won't be as perky as before."
"Perky."
Lestrade flushes.
"Is my dick going to be any use? If it's not… perky?"
"Greg. You're going in for the reconstructive surgery this afternoon. I can pretty much guarantee perkiness once you've recovered. Trust me. I'm a doctor."
Lestrade huffs out a pitiful attempt at a laugh.
"Get me Mycroft."
*****
"Did they get him, Mycroft?"
"They did not. He managed to evade capture. I'm not quite sure how. He shouldn't have been able to escape. My people are deployed to search. Sherlock is assisting."
"Fuck. Mycroft, he might go after Billy. You need to dissociate Billy from me. If Billy's not linked to me he'll be safer. You need to get him away from here quickly. Send Dimmock back with him. He's got a quick head on his shoulders."
"Yes. Of course, I will arrange for him to be taken back to London straight away. But how can he be dissociated from you? You are his fiancé."
"Tell him I've broken off the engagement. Tell him I don't want to see him. Make him believe it. Dimmock can help him get over me. Seduce him or something…"
He breaks off, crying.
"I can't see him. I won't be able to tell him if I see him. Do this for me please? He's got to be kept safe. I couldn't bear it if Knox went after him because of me…"
*****
It is January 2nd. Bill Wiggins has held the title of "Doctor" for a little more than a week.
"I'm really sorry, Mr Dimmock. Your holiday's been a disaster…"
"Not your fault, Dr Wiggins. I can't believe they let the bastard go so quickly after the first time he had a go at you. The Scottish legal system is fucked. Mr Holmes was right to call me in. I'm glad I was close enough to be useful, even if I did get shot."
Mycroft Holmes had wasted no time getting Billy back to London. He had swiftly dispatched assistants to St Andrews to pick up Billy's guitar, sketchbook and overnight things; and to Dundee, to collect similar items, minus guitar and sketchbook, for Detective Inspector Dimmock. Within minutes of leaving the hospital, Billy and Dimmock had been in a helicopter, and within two and a half hours, they had landed on the roof of New Scotland Yard.
Billy and Dimmock walk into the outer office of the serious crimes command.
"Happy New Year, sir."
"Happy New Year, sergeant. Sir, this is Sally Donovan, she's DCI Lestrade's sergeant. Donovan, this is Dr Bill Wiggins. I'm not at liberty to say more than that at the moment. Have you got a parcel for me? Should have arrived around lunchtime?"
"Yes sir. Came by special delivery. Government courier. Sir, we weren't expecting you back for another week…"
"I'm not back. Just stopped by to pick up the parcel. Do you think you could do me a huge favour and get us a couple of coffees? We'll need to use Lestrade's office for about half an hour."
"Okay, sir. But I'm not making a habit of it."
Dimmock ushers Billy into Lestrade's small, glass-walled office. He looks around, curious to see where his fiancé works.
"It's a bit plain…"
"Yeah. He's never been one for decoration, at least, not as long as I've known him."
Dimmock opens the package. Car keys. Parking permit for Camden Lock. Debit card and PIN. Two iPads, one black, one white, with headphones and chargers. He looks at the keys. Not electronic. Not a new car then. The fob is a plain metal disc, embossed with a registration number.
His phone pings several times in rapid succession.
* To: TD: Inspector. Look at the notes in your iPad. It is the mini one. MH*
* To: TD: Bill should not be left alone. He has already mentioned needing "something". Please make sure he does not have an opportunity to find anything illegal to take away his pain. MH*
* To: TD: Try to persuade him to attend his interview at Brunel on the 6th. It is marked in both your calendars. MH*
* To: TD: The car is parked in the underground garage. MH*
Dimmock hands the bigger iPad to Billy, who puts it in his despatch bag. He opens and checks his own.
A mooring address for the "SeaGlass" at Camden Lock. A list of recommended shops, restaurants and nightlife. A campus map of Brunel University. Background information on Billy's potential line manager. Photographs of a houseboat and its surroundings.
Dimmock and Billy finish their coffee, Billy shuddering. It is nothing like Lestrade's coffee. They leave the office, Dimmock telling Sergeant Donovan that he will be away for at least another week, possibly longer. Dimmock waves Billy towards the staircase. Lestrade doesn't use the lift, and his colleagues have got into a similar habit.
They walk rapidly down to the car park, carrying their bags and Billy's guitar case. Dimmock looks around for the car that matches the registration number on his key fob. Blinks when he spots it. Can't stop himself grinning.
"It's a fucking DeLorean."
Dimmock walks warily around the car, pops the gull wings open, throws his overnight bag onto the back seat. Billy piles his gear in with Dimmock's, then they both climb into the front seats.
Dimmock pats Billy's knee.
"You all right?"
"I expect I will be. I didn't think there really were cars like this. Thought they were science fiction. Where are you taking me?"
"Camden Lock. Apparently, there's a houseboat…"
"Oh. Yeah. The SeaGlass. I didn't think it was habitable yet. I thought we'd be going to a hotel. Or your place."
"I've only got a bedsit. Only just enough room for me. This all looks like a directive to take you to this boat. I'm to stay with you for a while, sir. Just till Mr Holmes is sure you're all right."
Billy sighs with relief. His shoulders have been stiff with tension all day. Now he sags, closing his eyes.
"I was scared you'd leave me on my own. Thanks, Mr Dimmock."
*****
Billy looks around the boat. It is in good condition on the outside. The paintwork looks as if it has not been done too long ago, mainly white with the name "SeaGlass" painted on bow and stern. The deck is varnished, handrails are solid, and the wheelhouse looks like a new addition.
Inside, some work has clearly been done, but more is needed. The kitchen range and sink have been cleaned up and look usable. There is electricity, and a pile of logs for the wood burning stove in the living area.
"Mr H said I would have a free hand in doing up the inside. He told me I have a good eye. I thought it would be in a worse state than this, though. I knew he'd got some people working on it. He must have hurried them up."
Billy's phone rings.
"It's Mr H. Hello?"
"Hello Bill. How do you like your boat?"
"It looks okay. In better nick than I expected. Mr Dimmock's been very kind. How is he, Mr H? "
Billy's voice breaks.
"He's in surgery, Bill. Last night's repair work was successful, but he needs a further operation today. Try not to worry. Your prompt actions saved his life, and John is the very best possible consultant for this type of procedure. He has seen similar injuries in his army career, has performed surgery successfully in the field. The medical team here are lucky to have him on hand. I will call you as soon as I hear more."
"Why couldn't I stay there with him?"
"Knox is still at large, Bill. He eluded capture somehow. He has hurt you before, we need to keep you safe. And Gregor was very insistent that you go to Brunel. Try not to worry too much. I will speak to you soon. I will be sending someone round later with some things for you, and have taken the liberty of providing dinner for you and Detective Inspector Dimmock. It will arrive with your other things. Try to relax. I will speak to you soon. Good afternoon, Bill."
"Thanks, Mr H. Goodbye."
"You didn't do much talking, there."
Dimmock's stomach growls.
"I'm starving. What say we find somewhere to eat?"
"Mr H is sending us a food parcel. And some other stuff."
Dimmock's phone pings.
*To:TD: I will contact you later to discuss matters when you have settled in. The DeLorean is mine, but you are now insured as a named driver. Use the debit card to buy petrol. MH*
*****
"Holmes thinks of everything. How does he do it?"
Mycroft's assistant had arrived, as promised, with "things" for them. In a van.
Among the 'things' was a Heckler & Koch handgun and holster (which Dimmock hissed at and appropriated immediately). There was also a small Fender practice amplifier (Billy smiled at that, the first proper smile Dimmock had noticed all day).
There were other personalised items, pyjama pants, clothing, toiletries, Ajaccio Violets and Rose, both from Trumpers, obviously Mycroft's favourite brand. Billy had quickly claimed the violet-scented products, Dimmock had scowled at being given rose-scented anything.
There was bedding, including a mosquito net and an oversized sheepskin, which Billy smiled at, recalling nights spent under a similar one, with Lestrade.
The promised "dinner" had included a case of Barolo,which Billy had learned to love; another of Prosecco, Dimmock's sparkler of choice; two bottles of vodka. There was also a case of sparkling water. The actual dinner had been a good lamb tagine, with flatbread and fennel salad.
"He's observant, and I think he probably does that mind palace thing 'Lock does, keeps a catalogue in his head. He gave us stuff like this went we went to Scotland."
Billy yawned.
"I feel a bit sleepy. Um, Mr Dimmock , what are we going to do about …"
The only furniture on the boat is a mattress on the floor in the bedroom. They have been sitting on it to eat.
"We'll have to make the best of this for tonight, sir. I think we'd better put that mosquito net up. We're on the water, don't want to get bitten. We've got new sheets and we can use that rug to keep warm. Do you think you'll be all right sharing? We can go out and look around for some furniture tomorrow if you like. We'll need a table and chairs at least. Another bed or a couch, or both…"
"I think I'll be all right sharing tonight, Mr Dimmock . I don't really want to be on my own. I'm really tired now though. Do you mind if I lie down for a while?"
*****
Dimmock jumps as a hand touches his shoulder. He pulls his headphones off, twisting to see who is there.
"Why are you sitting in the dark?"
"Sorry sir. Didn't really notice it getting dark. Listening to some tunes…"
Dimmock had had a long phone call with Mycroft. He had poured himself a glass of vodka, sat on the floor against the living room wall, plugged in his iPad, using headphones so as not to disturb Billy, and has been mindlessly online for hours, looking at Twitter, Facebook, YouTube. He is cold, stiff and has pins and needles in his backside from sitting on the cold floor.
"You must be freezing. Shall I make some tea or something?"
"No thanks, sir. I think I probably just need to get some sleep."
He stands, stretching out his shoulders and spine, wincing as his wounded arm twinges. He walks into the small, newly tiled bathroom, eyes narrowed against the fluorescent strip lights. He hisses as he sees that blood has soaked through his sleeve from the bullet wound.
"Sir, have we got a first aid kit in amongst that stuff Mr Holmes sent?"
"Yes. What's wrong?"
Billy is in the bathroom with him in moments, carrying a portable medical kit.
"I think I've probably popped a stitch. Can you help me?"
Billy helps Dimmock to pull his arm out of his jacket and shirt sleeve, then unwraps the bandage covering the wound. He gasps when he sees the damage the bullet has done. A through wound, bigger on the back of Dimmock's arm where the bullet has exited. The surrounding skin is bruised and a bit swollen.
"I didn't realise it was so bad. You didn't say anything. Has this been hurting all day?"
"On and off. It needs a bit of glue in it, I expect. Can you do it for me?"
"We should call Dr Watson and check with him first. Just in case…"
"All right, but it's a bit late…"
"He won't mind."
Billy makes the call via FaceTime on Dimmock's iPad.
"What's up T? Bloody hell. Are you losing much blood?"
"No, Dr Watson, it's just Dr Wiggins panicking. I've overworked the arm a bit today and it's made it seep a bit. Will it be all right to glue it?"
Billy holds the iPad so that Watson can get a good look at the damage.
"Derma-flex should do it. I assume you have some, or you wouldn't be asking. Bill, prop the iPad up somewhere so I can see what you're doing. You'll need to rinse the wound with antiseptic first, then dry it with a sterile cloth. Then carefully drip the glue in and push the sides of the wound together. Bandage firmly afterwards."
Billy follows Watson's instructions, wincing in sympathy when Dimmock swears as the disinfectant stings.
"That should do it. T, try not to go crazy with that arm tomorrow. No driving, no heavy lifting. No wanking. Just be sensible. Call me if you have any problems"
"No wanking? Really? Have a heart."
Watson snorts.
"Use the other hand then. Goodnight, T. Billy, Greg's asleep. He's okay. I'll call you tomorrow. Goodnight."
Billy sighs and scuttles out of the bathroom. His ears are faintly pink.
Dimmock pulls his jacket and shirt all the way off, rinses the bloodied clothes under the tap,and hangs them over the bath. He rummages through the clothes Mycroft has sent, finding pyjama trousers and a t-shirt which he changes into before heading to the bedroom. Billy is standing at the window, looking out at the street lights.
"It's weird. We're on the water, but I can hear traffic. Doesn't feel quite right."
"You'll soon get use to it. I need to go to bed, sir. How are we going to do this? Do you want to sleep head to foot? Or will you be okay if we both have our pillows at the same end? I've had to change out of my clothes because of the blood, but you can keep yours on if you're more comfortable. No boots though. That's an absolute rule. I'll need to sleep on my right side, because of this arm."
"No boots. Okay."
"All right then. Elbow me if I snore."
He climbs into bed, pulling sheets and sheepskin up over his shoulders. Falls asleep in seconds.
Billy finds his own pyjama trousers and changes into them. Thinks hard, then pulls his jumper off, leaving his t-shirt on. He waits until he is really sure Dimmock is asleep before climbing into his own side of the bed.
*****
Lights flash, red, blue. There is smoke, thick, choking. A tight press of sweaty bodies. Music. Billy can feel panic rising. Something is wrong. He hears the scream from miles away. A burbling scream of terror.
*Greg?*
He pushes through the crowd. Someone is holding on to him, holding him back. He shakes them off, angrily, keeps going, pulled on by the scream.
"Greg! Where are you?"
He runs, sobbing, the scream reeling him in. There. On the ground. Lestrade. Blood. Far too much blood. He slips in it, falls. Scrabbles forward, hands on his lover, trying to stop the pumping, pumping blood. Blood up to his elbows. Lestrade screaming, screaming.
An explosion next to his ear deafens him. He can't hear the screaming any more, but can smell the blood, taste it in the air, blood and gunpowder. He knows he is screaming himself, but can't hear his own voice. Only blue lights flashing now. Only blackness…
"It's all right, it's all right. Nightmare…"
Hard arms around him. A hand stroking his hair.
"Greg?"
"Greg's all right. You saved him. It's okay. You've had a nightmare."
Dimmock is holding him tight. Dimmock? Billy rolls off the mattress, runs to the bathroom. Vomits. And again. Dry-heaves for what seems like hours. Dimmock hands him a glass of water.
"Here. Sip this. It'll help your throat. You were screaming. Flashback?"
"Yeah. I was there again. Blood up to my elbows…I couldn't stop the blood… you got shot…"
"Yes. But I'm okay. You're okay. Greg's going to be okay."
Dimmock is worried. Billy has gone too quiet and still, glazed eyes not really seeing the room he is in.
"Talk to me, sir."
"Stop calling me sir. It's freaking me out."
"All right. What shall I call you?"
"Bill. My name's Bill. Why do people call you T?"
"Short for Theodore."
"Theodore. Why not Theo? Did you decide on T yourself?"
"No. Lestrade gave me that. Saw how everyone sniggered when someone called me Dora…"
"He calls me Billy. I'm still not used to being Dr Wiggins. What do you call yourself?"
"Dimmock, mostly, at work. Theo, otherwise. Greg and John call me T. Mycroft calls me Theodore. He's the only one."
"T's a bit weird. Theodore Roosevelt used to be called Teddy. I could call you that. Or Ted?"
"Bill and Ted?"
They both laugh. Even Billy has heard of Bill and Ted.
"Theo then, if you don't mind. Sorry I woke you up. It was so real. I could smell the blood."
"You can probably smell it on me, where I got shot. And the sirens outside probably triggered you. Are you okay now?"
"Yeah. But I'm twitchy. Craving… I need to go and see a man about a tattoo in the morning. Will you come with me?"
Dimmock knows about Billy's strategies for dealing with his old addiction. Mycroft's call has given him a lot to think about.
"Yeah. Of course I will. Now, will you be able to sleep?"
"I think so. Will you hold me? Just so I know I'm not on my own?"
Dimmock wraps his arms around Billy's waist. One hand on his shoulder, the other on his abdomen. Billy gradually relaxes and sleeps.
Dimmock lies awake for a long time, thinking about the events of the last two days.
He had been in Scotland for the new year, visiting relatives, a duty visit. He had escaped and gone to a karaoke club in Dundee to let off some steam, and been dumbfounded when Lestrade *Lestrade?* had jumped up on stage to sing an ABBA song with a pretty young man, half his age.
He had tried to shrink back into the shadows, but had been spotted and grabbed in a bear hug. Shock had been followed by further shock when Lestrade had introduced the young man as Dr Bill Wiggins, his fiancé.
Things had started to go bad when the young man had turned a white face to Lestrade and whispered "Knox". Lestrade had forced his way across the dance floor and out of the club, his fiancé and Dimmock following.
They had reached the door when they heard unmistakeable sounds of violence coming from the alleyway at the side of the building. Three men had Lestrade on the ground. One of them, blond, Knox, Dimmock found out later, was snarling over him. There had been a bright flash of steel, then another, and Lestrade had started screaming. A man shouldn't scream like that, Dimmock remembered thinking.
He had tried to keep Lestrade's fiancé back, but had been shrugged off. The young man was stronger than he looked, he had knocked the blond assailant aside, fallen in a puddle of Lestrade's blood and tried to stem the obvious arterial bleeding from a slash wound on Lestrade's upper thigh.
Billy had screamed for an ambulance. Screamed for Dimmock to get his phone from his pocket and hit all the speed dial numbers. Screamed at Lestrade not to die. One of the assailants had pulled out a gun and aimed at Lestrade's fiancé. Dimmock had knocked him out of the way, had taken a bullet through the fleshy part of his arm for his trouble.
Police cars and helicopters and armed men had appeared. And faces Dimmock knew. Sherlock Holmes. How? and John Watson. They had all been airlifted to a hospital. Dimmock didn't know which one, but it had the look of a military facility of some sort.
Mycroft Holmes had been there, had thanked him for helping. Had explained about a previous attack that Knox had been involved in. Had given him the job of guarding Bill Wiggins.
A local uniformed inspector, Logan, Dimmock recalled, had brought tea, made sure that Dimmock was patched up, had spoken about Knox's apparent obsession with Lestrade, had taken charge of cleaning Wiggins up. The young man was covered in blood, elbow deep from where he had tried to help Lestrade. He had done it, though. Had saved his lover's life.
John Watson had come from the emergency room to talk to Wiggins, to explain that Knox's blade had sliced transversely from the right hip to mid-thigh on the left leg, that he would need extensive surgery, but was expected to make a full recovery.
Lestrade had asked to speak to Dimmock. He had been semi-sedated, prepped for surgery. In his drugged-up state, Lestrade had cried, asked Dimmock to look after his Billy for him. Had claimed Billy was in danger because of his link to him. Had asked Dimmock to help Billy come to terms with losing his lover. Had instructed Dimmock to tell Billy the engagement was off.
Dimmock has not followed that instruction.