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Bilbo was happy. He had a steady, well-paying job. His conservative relatives have cut contact with him, despite their desires for a portion of his inheritance got when his parents died. The only relatives that still kept in touch were his cousin Drogo and his wife, and their wonderful son and his nephew, Frodo, who loved his uncle. He had a partner, a loving partner, and they were going to get married.
Truly, he was happy, after all that he had gone through. He thought it would stay like that. That he would always be happy, and not have anything too terrible to worry about ever again.
He learned quite quickly how naïve he was when the doorbell rang, and two familiar faces were waiting for him when he answered the door.
Bilbo was tempted to slam the door in the faces, but his manners got the best of him. “Detective Inspector, Mister Holmes…” He greeted with a terse nod. “How can I help you?”
“Mister Baggins…” The DI greeted grimly. “Can we speak with you?”
“You may…” He replied, unable to fight the correction down. He felt a little guilty for it, even though Sherlock Holmes’ lips quirked up slightly. “Would you like to come in?”
“That might be for the best.”
Dread filled Bilbo, even as he let them in and shut the door behind him. He took a few steadying breaths before he lead them to the sitting room. He offered them a seat and some tea, but only the DI accepted the seat and nothing else, while Sherlock continued to stand, looking at the pictures that sat on the shelves.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Bilbo asked after a moment, sitting himself, trying to fight the urge to demand that the tall man in the billowy coat had to take a seat.
“I’m afraid, Mister Baggins, that we have some bad news.” The DI stated, and Bilbo clenched his hands into fists.
“Oh?”
“Yes.” Bilbo watched as the DI leaned forward in his seat. “I’m afraid it’s about-.”
“He escaped.”
Bilbo whirled around in his seat, staring at Sherlock still staring at the pictures as if he didn’t speak at all. “Er-Pardon?”
“Sherlock.” He heard the DI chastise, causing said man to finally turn to them.
“It’s best to be as blunt as possible with this kind of news, Lestrade.” He explained, moving to tower over Bilbo. “Hamfast Gamgee, as you know, was sent to a correctional facility after being charged with the murders of nine people, two of which were your parents. He escaped last night.”
He was glad that he forgot breakfast that morning, for Bilbo felt sick. “Wha…? H-How is this possible?” He demanded, looking at the DI, Lestrade. “How can anyone just walk out of a high-security mad-house?”
“Mister Baggins-.”
“How could you let this happen!?” He snapped, standing. “You promised me, you promised me that everything would be fine! That he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone!”
He recalled that night of the arrest, of Hamfast’s crazed rants and how he tried to attack his partner. “Kíli…” He breathed. “Someone needs to get Kíli. He’s in danger-!”
“Someone is already at his office, and they’re escorting him here as we speak.” Sherlock cut in. “You have nothing to worry about. He’s the best man for the job.”
“Who?” Bilbo asked, and Sherlock only smirked.
“Only an army doctor who may or may not be in the possession of a Browning.” He cut in. “He’s rather strong, and quite the shot.”
There was an electronic chime then, and Sherlock pulled out his phone. “Ah, and it seems that they’re already in a cab en route to your flat.” He said. “They should be here shortly.”
“Shouldn’t the police be handling this?” Bilbo asked, looking back and forth between his guests.
“I said the exact same thing earlier.” Lestrade groused, and Sherlock merely scoffed.
“You forget that my brother keeps tabs on everyone in my life.” The taller man answered. “John is no exception. Your partner, Mister Baggins, couldn’t be safer.”
Bilbo merely rubbed a hand over his face, trying to hide how it shook. “Now what do we do?”
“We wait.”
Wait they did, and Bilbo hated every moment of it.
He had tried to offer them something to drink again, maybe even something to eat, but they both declined. At least Sherlock decided to finally sit down, even if he only played with his phone. Lestrade had left to use the toilet after Bilbo gave him brief instructions on how to locate it, when Sherlock’s phone, of all the possible things, farted.
Bilbo blinked, unable to laugh, even when Sherlock scowled and flushed at his cheeks.
“John did it as a prank.” He explained. “Revenge for setting a pair of his pants on fire.”
“Why did you set a pair of his pants on fire in the first place?” Bilbo asked, even as Sherlock straightened.
“Experiment.” The man replied briefly, flicking through some things in his phone before straightening even further. “Ah.”
“What?”
Sherlock looked at him, steely eyes revealing nothing. “You’re on the third floor, correct?”
“Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“Your landlord likes walking vines far too much. The fencing he used for it leads right up to the window in your kitchen.”
There was a thump in the kitchen, even before the implications of Sherlock’s words finally hit home. They both stood, Sherlock pushing Bilbo to stand behind him, shielding him.
“What do we do?” He hissed.
“Do you remember what I told you about my colleague Doctor Watson and the possible weapon in his possession?”
“Yes.”
“I should’ve also informed you that I tend to borrow it on occasion.” And with that, Sherlock pulled a gun out from somewhere on his person, even as he ushered them towards the bedroom. “I really should try to convince my brother to let me have one.”
“What does your brother even do!?” Bilbo hissed, even as they heard footsteps.
“Unimportant.” Sherlock quipped sharply before quickly turning and shoving Bilbo back into the room, rushing in after him and shutting the door as quietly as he could manage.
“We just left Lestrade out there!” Bilbo muttered. “He could be hurt!”
“He already is.” Sherlock replied darkly, and Bilbo winced when he heard him arm the gun. “Right now, my main priority is to keep you safe.”
“How? We’re trapped!” Bilbo retorted. “There are no vines near the window!”
“Backup is on the way as we speak.” Was Sherlock’s answer, and really, it was as if he had an answer to everything.
“But-!”
There was a knock on the door, and Bilbo shut his mouth so quickly he almost bit his tongue clean off. Sherlock, after making sure the door was locked, stepped back, keeping Bilbo standing behind him.
“Bilbo?” Said man paled at the sound of Hamfast’s voice. “Bilbo, I need to talk to you!”
“He’s not here!” Sherlock called. “I suggest you drop the knife and put your hands behind your head!”
“I know he’s here!” Hamfast called right back. “I saw him! Don’t try to keep him from me!”
“You’re far more delusional if you believe that I would simply hand over an innocent man into your care!”
“He’s mine!” Bilbo whimpered, covering his mouth with his hands. “Now open the door!”
“I don’t think so.” He shut his eyes. “I’ve had my fill meeting madmen face to face this month.”
“I’ll break down the door!”
“I’m armed! And the police are on their way!”
“The police are dead!”
“Only injured.” Sherlock snarled darkly, and Bilbo clenched his eyes shut. “And if there’s one thing you should know, Hamfast Gamgee, it’s that you should never injure a man who happens to be the object of the British Government’s affections! As sickening as it sounds…”
There was silence, then. Dead silence, and Bilbo thought that Hamfast was getting ready to act on his threats.
He wasn’t, but in Bilbo’s mind, it was much worse.
“Bilbo, please!” He heard Hamfast cry, and Bilbo just shook his head at the sound. “Bilbo, I only want to talk to you! I only want to help make you see! Kíli, he’s not good enough for you! No one is! I just want you to see that! I just want you to see me! I’m the one you need, the one you really want! I’m perfect for you! We’re perfect for each other! Why can’t you just-!”
Bilbo screamed when Hamfast was cut off with a loud bang and a thump. He was unaware of the tears streaming down his face. Unaware that his entire body was trembling. It was only when Sherlock had turned to him that he let out a sob and realized how wrecked he must seem.
“He’s dead.” Sherlock told him, even as Bilbo began to sob. “He’s gone.”
He continued to sob, even as he heard shouts and thundering steps go through the flat he shared with Kíli. He didn’t care what damage they caused, nor did he care to see what carnage awaited him when a voice told Sherlock to finally open the door. Even when officers, men in black Kevlar, Doctor Watson, and even Kíli, moved through, Bilbo just continued to cry. When Kíli held him outside, keeping his face in his shoulder, it was a comfort, but only a small one.
Hamfast might be dead and gone, but that didn’t mean it was all suddenly okay.
It probably wouldn’t be okay for a long, long time.