A Scandal in Belgravia (Part 2)
Christmas....
Fairy lights are strung up around the window frame of 221B Baker Street and it's snowing outside. Inside, the living room is festooned with Christmas decorations and cards, and Sherlock is walking around playing 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas' on his violin. Mrs Hudson is sitting in his chair with a glass in her hand, watching him happily. Lestrade is standing at the entrance to the kitchen holding a wine glass, and John – wearing a very snazzy Christmassy jumper – walks across the room with a cup and saucer in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. Team RWBY and I are wearing warm clothing during this holiday season. I made hot chocolate for Ruby, Weiss, Blake, and Yang. As Sherlock finishes the tune with a fancy flourish, Lestrade whistles in appreciation.
"Lovely! Sherlock, that was lovely!" Mrs Hudson said, happily.
"Marvellous!" John said, as Sherlock sketches a small bow to his audience.
"Weiss, you could have sung with Sherlock playing the song." I said, looking at Weiss.
"Maybe next time." Weiss said, sadly.
Mrs Hudson, apparently a little bit squiffy, giggles up at Sherlock, "I wish you could have worn the antlers!"
"Some things are best left to the imagination, Mrs Hudson." Sherlock said.
"Mrs H." John said, handing Mrs Hudson a cup of tea, perhaps in an attempt to sober her up.
A dark-haired woman in her thirties brings over a tray containing mince pies and slices of cake and offers it to Sherlock.
"No thank you, Sarah." Sherlock said, politely and the woman's face falls.
John hurries over to her and puts his arm around her as she turns away, "Uh, no, no, no, no, no. He's not good with names."
"No-no-no, I can get this." Sherlock said, as the woman puts down the tray and straightens up, folding her arms and looking at the consulting detective rather grimly. "No, Sarah was the doctor; and then there was the one with the spots; and then the one with the nose; and then ... who was after the boring teacher?"
"Nobody." Jeanette said.
"Jeanette!" Sherlock said, and he grins falsely at Jeanette. "Ah, process of elimination." John awkwardly shepherds Jeanette away with the consulting detective looks across to the door as a new arrival comes in. "Oh, dear Lord."
Molly Hooper walks in, smiling shyly and carrying two bags which appear to be full of presents.
"Hello, everyone. Sorry, hello." Molly said, while John and I walked over to greet her, smiling. "Er, it said on the door just to come up."
Everyone greets her cheerfully.
"Molly is a nice one, isn't she?" Weiss asked.
"She is." Blake said, as Sherlock rolls his eyes.
"Um, why does he like Molly?" Ruby asked.
"It's because Molly is one of Sherlock's closest friends." Yang said, happily.
"Oh, everybody's saying hullo to each other. How wonderful!" Sherlock said, and Molly starts to take her coat and scarf off while smiling at him nervously.
"Let me, er ... holy Mary!" John said, standing ready to take Molly's coat.
Lestrade gawps in similar appreciation as Molly reveals that she's wearing a very attractive black dress, "Wow!"
"Having a Christmas drinkies, then?" Molly asked.
"No stopping them, apparently." Sherlock said, sitting down at the dining table.
"It's the one day of the year where the boys have to be nice to me, so it's almost worth it!" Mrs Hudson said, and Molly giggles nervously, her eyes still fixed on Sherlock as he starts typing on John's laptop.
Weiss brings a chair over for Molly, "Have a seat."
"John?" Sherlock asked, looking at John.
"Mmm?" John asked, going over to see what Sherlock is looking at.
Lestrade touches Molly's arm to get her attention.
"Molly?" Lestrade asked, with Molly turning to look at him. "Want a drink?"
"Why did you invite us for Christmas?" Weiss asked, while Molly accepts Lestrade's offer, John leans over Sherlock's shoulder to look at the screen. "Couldn't you have invited us at any other time?"
"But Christmas is a relaxing holiday." I said, as I am eating some Christmas cookies.
"Weren't they dangerous?" Blake asked, and Sherlock points to the side bar which has one of the press pictures of him in his deerstalker. "Christmases?"
"Only while traveling with the Doctor."
"That is true..." Ruby said, sadly.
"No they don't. What people?" Sherlock asked, continuing looking at the laptop as John walks away.
Molly turns to Mrs Hudson, "How's the hip?"
"Ooh, it's atrocious, but thanks for asking." Mrs Hudson said.
"I've seen much worse, but then I do post-mortems." Molly said, with an awkward silence falls while looking embarrassed. "Oh, God. Sorry."
"Molly, don't make jokes like that. Especially on Christmas." I said, sadly.
"No. Sorry." Molly said, and Lestrade hands her a glass of red wine. "Thank you. I wasn't expecting to see you. I thought you were gonna be in Dorset for Christmas."
"That's first thing in the morning, me and the wife. We're back together. It's all sorted." Lestrade said, grinning at Molly.
"No, she's sleeping with a P.E. teacher." Sherlock said, without looking from the computer, Lestrade's smile becomes rather fixed and Molly turns to John who is sitting on the arm of his armchair.
Jeanette is sitting in the chair itself.
"And John. I hear you're off to your sister's, is that right?" Molly asked.
"Yeah." John said.
"Sherlock was complaining." Molly said, while Sherlock raises his eyebrows indignantly as the brunette corrects herself. " ... saying."
"There there." I said, as Lestrade has been running Sherlock's comment through his mind, and his face slowly becomes a picture of exasperation when he seems to realise that it's probably true. "Everything is going to be okay, Greg."
"Are you sure?" Lestrade asked, looking at me.
"I do."
"Team RWBY is a fascinating group, aren't they?"
"I see you've got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you're serious about him." Sherlock said, looking at Molly.
"Sorry, what?" Molly asked.
"In fact, you're seeing him this very night and giving him a gift."
"Sherlock, shut..." I said, quietly, exasperated. "Up..."
"Jared's right, Sherlock, take a day off." John said, quietly, exasperated.
"Shut up and have a drink." Lestrade said, taking a glass across to the table and putting it down near Sherlock.
"Oh, come on. Surely you've all seen the present at the top of the bag – perfectly wrapped with a bow. All the others are slapdash at best." Sherlock said, standing up and walks towards Molly, looking at the other presents which aren't so carefully wrapped. "It's for someone special, then." He picks up the well-wrapped present, looking at the colour of the paper. "The shade of red echoes her lipstick – either an unconscious association or one that she's deliberately trying to encourage. Either way, Miss Hooper has lurrrve on her mind. The fact that she's serious about him is clear from the fact she's giving him a gift at all." John and I look anxiously at Molly as she squirms in front of Sherlock. "That would suggest long-term hopes, however forlorn; and that she's seeing him tonight is evident from her make-up and what she's wearing." Smiling smugly across to John and Jeanette, he starts to turn over the gift tag attached to the present. "Obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts ..."
"Sherlock..." I said, and Sherlock trails off as he looks down at the writing on the tag. "That gift was for you..."
Written in red ink, the greeting reads:
Dearest Sherlock
Love Molly xxx
"Oh. I see." Sherlock said, gazing at the words in shock when he realises the terrible thing that he has just done.
Molly gasps quietly.
"You always say such horrible things. Every time. Always. Always." Molly said, while she fights back tears, Sherlock turns to walk away ... but then stops and turns back to her.
"I am sorry. Forgive me." Sherlock said, as John looks up, startled and amazed at such a human reaction from his friend.
Sherlock steps closer to Molly.
"Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper." Sherlock said, softly leaning forward and gently kissing Molly on the cheek.
"Irene..." I said, while the sweet and beautiful moment is instantly ruined by the sound of an orgasmic sigh. "Worst timing..."
Molly gasps in shock, "No! That wasn't ... I – I didn't ..."
"No, it was me." Sherlock said.
"My God, really?!" Lestrade exclaimed.
"What?!" Molly exclaimed.
"My phone." Sherlock said, reaching into his jacket pocket to get the phone.
John narrows his eyes, "Fifty-seven?"
"Sorry, what?" Sherlock asked.
"Fifty-seven of those texts – the ones I've heard." John said.
Sherlock looks at the message which reads simply:
Mantelpiece
"Thrilling that you've been counting." Sherlock said, walking over to the mantlepiece to pick up a small box wrapped in blood-red paper and tied with black rope-like string. Instantly he flashes back to the colour of Irene's lipstick, which was identical to this paper. "'Scuse me."
"Irene..." I said, as Sherlock walked toward the kitchen. "Sherlock, is something wrong?"
"What – what's up, Sherlock?" John asked.
"I said excuse me." Sherlock said, continuing walking.
"D'you ever reply?" John asked, calling after Sherlock.
Ignoring John, Sherlock walks into his bedroom, sits on the bed and opens the box. Inside is Irene's camera phone. He takes it out of the box and looks at it closely, then gazes off into the distance thoughtfully.
(Open POV)
Mycroft's home/221B Baker Street...
In his own house – or possibly in an official government residence or even just a fancy office – Mycroft is sitting in an armchair by the fireside. His phone rings and he takes it from his jacket, looks at the Caller ID and then, with a look of 'Good grief!' on his face, he puts the phone to his ear.
"Oh dear Lord. We're not going to have Christmas phone calls now, are we? Have they passed a new law?" Mycroft asked.
"I think you're going to find Irene Adler tonight." Sherlock said, and John and Jared came to the door of the bedroom and stands there listening to the conversation.
"We already know where she is. As you were kind enough to point out, it hardly matters."
"No, I mean you're going to find her dead." Sherlock said, hanging up the phone, he stands up and walks towards the bedroom door.
"You okay?" John asked.
"Yes." Sherlock said, pushing the door closed, shutting John and Jared out.
At his place, Mycroft stands at the window and gazes out at the falling snow.
221B Baker Street...
Team RWBY and Jared are drinking hot chocolate by the fireplace. They know Sherlock is at the morgue with Mycroft and Molly is there too.
"So, Christmas with Sherlock Holmes." Yang said, wearing comfortable clothing.
"It wasn't what I was expecting." Blake said, holding her mug of hot chocolate. "Why did Sherlock act cold?"
"I think he's worried about Irene Adler." Ruby said, sadly.
"Well, Irene Adler knows how to have Sherlock intrigued." Weiss said.
"I know this adventure is a slow one." Jared said, frowning. "But I didn't know which one you would all like."
"I wouldn't consider Christmas entertaining."
"What? You don't like presents?"
"I do. But what does presents have to do with it?"
"Unless you're dead." Blake said.
"Was, um, what Sherlock said true?" Ruby asked, looking at Jared. "Is Irene Adler dead?"
"Spoilers." Jared said, sadly.
"No hints? Not even a tiny one?"
"Nope."
"No fair! Why is this different from our adventures with the Doctor?" Ruby asked, tilting her head.
"Because Moriarty has moles."
"Ugh. Of course he does..."
"So we have no hints from the fanboy." Weiss said, rolling her eyes. "Isn't that just great?"
"Yeah." Blake said. "You could have told us you can't provide anything."
"I mean, he could. If Moriarty isn't around." Yang said, smiling.
"Goldilocks' right. Moriarty needs to be gone if I want to spoil things for Sherlock."
"How long would that take?" Blake asked.
"A year."
"Oh. I see."
ST BARTHOLOMEW'S HOSPITAL/ 221B BAKER STREET...
As Sherlock continues down the corridor, flicking the ash from his cigarette onto the floor, Mycroft gets out his phone and hits a speed dial.
"He's on his way." Mycroft said, talking to John and Jared who is still back at the flat. "Have you found anything?"
"No. Jared doesn't want to tell me because it's spoilers." John said.
"Did Sherlock smoke a cigarette yet?" Jared asked, his AirPod Pros in his ears.
"Yes." Mycroft said.
"Shit." John said, looking round to Mrs Hudson. "Sherlock's coming. Ten minutes."
"There's nothing in the bedroom." Mrs Hudson said.
"Looks like he's clean. We've tried all the usual places. Team RWBY even tried helping too. Are you sure tonight's a danger night?" John asked, talking into his phone.
"No, but then I never am. You have to stay with him, John, Jared." Mycroft said.
"I will. I promise." Jared said, smiling.
"Well, I can't. I've got plans." John said.
"No." Mycroft said, hanging up.
"Mycroft. M..." John said, while the line goes dead.
"So..." Blake said, as John is chewing the inside of his mouth, the army doctor walks across to where Jeanette is sitting on the sofa and sits down beside her. "Why did Sherlock check on Irene Adler anyway?"
"It's because he wanted to." Ruby said, sadly.
"Yeah." Jared said, frowning.
"Why does Irene Adler need looking after?" Weiss asked. "Can't she take care of herself?"
"Without Kate? No."
"Oh yeah. You mean her assistant." Yang said.
"Why have you been rotating your friends for this case?" Weiss asked.
"It's because 'A Scandal in Belgravia' is a long one." Jared said, letting out a sigh. "A really long one."
"Oh. I see. What are you going to do now?"
"You can do anything." Yang said, happily. "If you put your mind to it."
"I know."
"Um, what's next?" Ruby asked.
"We're waiting for Sherlock to come back."
"No, because that was ... the last one. Okay." John said.
"Jesus!" Jeannette said, picking up her bag and storming out.
"I'll call you." John said.
"No!"
"Okay." John said, exasperated and he turns back into the room as Jeannette runs down the stairs.
Mrs Hudson looks at John sympathetically, "That really wasn't very good, was it?"
221B Baker Street...
Shortly afterwards, John is sitting in his chair reading a book. Team RWBY has gone back home with the help of River Song visiting and picking them up for Jared to take those four back to Remnant. Sherlock comes up the stairs and stops in the doorway of the living room. John and Jared look round at Sherlock.
"Oh, hi." John said, as Sherlock stands there, his eyes roaming all around the living room. "You okay?"
Sherlock continues to scan the room for a long moment, then turns and walks back to the kitchen door, heading for his bedroom, "Hope you didn't mess up my sock index this time."
Sherlock's bedroom door slams shut.
"Oh Sherlock..." Jared said, and John puts down his book and sighs heavily. "Why do we put up with your crap?"
(Jared's POV)
221B Baker Street...
It is now morning and Sherlock is standing at the left-hand window with his back to the living room and playing a sad lament on his violin. John walks into the room and sighs at the sight of him. I am playing Apollo Justice Ace Attorney Trilogy on my Nintendo Switch. Mrs Hudson walks across to the table and picks up the plates, looking at John and I pointedly to make us realise that Sherlock hasn't touched his breakfast. John hums resignedly as he takes his jacket from the back of a chair and puts it on. Sherlock stops playing and picks up a pencil to make a notation on a piece of sheet music.
"Lovely tune, Sherlock. Haven't heard that one before." Mrs Hudson said.
"You composing?" John asked, looking at Sherlock.
"Helps me to think." Sherlock said, turning back to the window, lifts the violin and begins to play the same tune again.
"Sherlock, what are you thinking about?" John asked.
"It's hard to know with him, John." I said, while Sherlock suddenly spins around and puts down the violin to point at John's laptop. "Oh. Your laptop."
"Yes. Your laptop. The counter on your blog is still stuck at one thousand eight hundred and ninety-five." Sherlock said, rapidly.
"Yeah, it's faulty. Can't seem to fix it." John said.
"Faulty – or you've been hacked and it's a message." Sherlock said, taking out Irene's camera phone and pulls up the security lock with its 'I AM ---- LOCKED' screen.
"Hmm?" John asked, as Sherlock types '1895' into the phone.
"1895." I said, and the phone beeps warningly and a message comes up reading: 'WRONG PASSCODE. 3 ATTEMPTS REMAINING'. "'Black Peter'. Not relevant here. But still funny regardless. But in my world, it is regarded as your best year."
"A case I don't know about with a year that is regarded as my best year." Sherlock said, while the enthusiasm in his eyes dies again. "Just faulty."
Sherlock turns away and picks up his violin again.
"Right." John said, as Sherlock began to play the sad tune once more. "Right. Well, I'm going out for a bit."
Sherlock doesn't respond. John turns and walks to the kitchen where Mrs Hudson is tidying up and where I walked back towards with my Nintendo Switch.
"Listen: has he ever had any kind of ..." John said, quietly before sighing. "... girlfriend, boyfriend, a relationship, ever?"
"I don't know." Mrs Hudson said.
"Neither do I." I said, sadly. "Besides Irene Adler and the other is well, spoilers."
"Spoilers! Again." John said, sighing in frustration. "How can we not know? Besides Irene Adler who he is constantly getting messages from."
"He's Sherlock. How will we ever know what goes on in that funny old head?" Mrs Hudson asked, and John smiles sadly.
"Right. See ya." John said, trotting off down the stairs.
"So, are you going to talk to your friends?" Mrs Hudson asked, looking at me.
Mrs Hudson and I look at Sherlock playing his violin at the window, and the two of us leave the room.
"Yeah. John will be safe with his rival." I said, happily.
London...
Downstairs, John goes out of the front door and pulls it closed. As he turns to go to the left, a woman is standing just to the right of the flat. She calls out to him.
"John?" A woman asked.
"Yeah." John said, stopping and turns around to her as she looks at him flirtatiously. "Hello." It takes him a moment but then he realises that she's very pretty and her body language appears to be saying, 'Take me big boy I'm all yours.' "Hello!"
"So, any plans for New Year tonight?" The woman asked, walking closer to John.
John laughs while his eyes continually roam over her body, "Er, nothing fixed. Nothing I couldn't heartlessly abandon. You have any ideas?"
The woman looks over her shoulder towards the road, "One."
John follows her gaze and sighs in exasperation when a black car pulls up and stops beside them, "You know, Mycroft could just phone me, if he didn't have this bloody stupid power complex."
They get into the car and it pulls away. I then exited 221B Baker Street knowing that John is going to talk with Irene Adler and Sherlock close behind them. I remembered also that Mrs Hudson is going to be held captive by American burglars.
For me to bide my time, I have decided to walk around London, knowing I need time to pass and I immediately opened my telepathic connection Sayaka Miki and Kyoko Sakura.
"Hey." I said, walking away from Baker Street.
"Hey. What's up?" Sayaka asked, telepathically.
"Oh. I'm biding my time, Blue Bell."
"Blue Bell ice cream?"
"Ugh." Kyoko said, telepathically. "It's been a while."
"Hello to you too, Red Sox." I said, smiling.
"The baseball team in Boston? Seriously? Of all the baseball teams you could have chosen."
"I know. But what else could I have chosen?"
"The Cincinnati Reds?"
"An Ohio baseball team?" I asked, rolling my eyes.
I am now walking towards Regent's Park, knowing that it is going to be peaceful and I can talk to my friends in peace.
Regent's Park...
"I have a question. Why didn't you get rid of this telepathic connection?" Sayaka asked, telepathically.
"I know phone calls, video calls, and texting are more convenient." I said, taking out some strawberry Pocky to eat it. "But I need to save battery just in case."
"In case..." Kyoko said, telepathically.
"In case something goes wrong."
"You don't need to worry that much." Sayaka said, telepathically. "We've got your back."
"How?" I asked, looking around the park.
"A melody stopped by." Kyoko said, telepathically.
"River? Has she been making house calls to all of my friends in Japan?"
"Yeah." Sayaka said, telepathically.
"Great..."
"I thought you liked her!"
"I do. It's just..."
"Complicated?" Kyoko asked, telepathically.
"Yeah." I said, typing in space time coordinates into my vortex manipulator. "Thanks for the little chat. I've got to go."
"Stay in touch, okay?" Sayaka asked, telepathically.
"Got it. I promise."
I then teleported away in a flash of blue light towards the time period I wanted to be in in this episode with the TARDIS' help.
221B Baker Street...
I reappeared inside the living room to see Sherlock slowly pushing open the door to said room and in front of the fireplace, Mrs Hudson is sitting on a dining chair facing the sofa, and behind her stands Neilson, the CIA man who led the raid on Irene's house. He is holding another pistol with an over-compensatory silencer attached and is aiming the gun at the back of Mrs Hudson's head. One of his men is standing looking out of the window but turns when the door opens; the other stands near the sliding door into the kitchen. As Sherlock slowly strolls into the room with his hands clasped behind his back, Mrs Hudson – already crying quietly – begins to sob a little louder.
"Oh, Sherlock, Sherlock! Oh, Jared, Jared!" Mrs Hudson said, worried.
"Don't snivel, Mrs Hudson. It'll do nothing to impede the flight of a bullet." Sherlock said, looking at Neilson. "What a tender world that would be."
"Oh, please, sorry, Sherlock, Jared." Mrs Hudson said, sobbing quietly as she gazes up at Sherlock and I.
"I believe you have something that we want, Mr Holmes and Mr Shay." Neilson said.
"That being Irene Adler's phone." I said, walking closer with Sherlock as he held out his right hand towards Mrs Hudson. "Why don't you ask for it?"
Mrs Hudson flails towards it, whimpering, and he gently turns back the sleeve of her right hand and looks at the bruises on her wrist.
"Sher..." Mrs Hudson said, crying.
"I've been asking this one. She doesn't seem to know anything." Neilson said, as Sherlock's gaze rises a little and he sees that the right shoulder of Mrs Hudson's cardigan has been ripped at the seam, exposing her skin underneath. "But you know what I'm asking for, don't you, Mr Holmes, Mr Shay?"
"Should I leave it to you?" I asked, and Sherlock looked a little higher and saw a cut on Mrs Hudson's right cheek.
"Yeah." Sherlock said, while his eyes flick across to Neilson's right hand holding the pistol while the burglar has a silver ring on his third finger and there is blood on it. "I can handle it."
"Okay. He's all yours." I said, as Sherlock raises his head and looks directly at Neilson – but he isn't deducing him. "You've got this. I have faith in you, Sherlock."
In very rapid succession, Sherlock is picking out target points on his body:
Carotid Artery
Skull
Eyes
His eyes drop to Neilson's arm and chest:
Artery
Lungs
Ribs
He raises his eyes to Neilson's again.
"I believe I do." Sherlock said, and Mrs Hudson whimpers as he releases her hands and straightens up, putting his hands behind his back again.
"Oh, please, Sherlock, Jared." Mrs Hudson said.
"First, get rid of your boys." Sherlock said, looking at Neilson.
"Why?" Neilson asked.
"Jared and I dislike being outnumbered. It makes for too much stupid in the room." Sherlock said.
Neilson hesitates for a moment, then glances at his colleagues, "You two, go to the car."
"Then, they'll get in the car and drive away." I said, looking back to Neilson. "I have two friends. Someone that has an ability of electromagnetism and another that has extraordinary teleport abilities. Your friends can't get back up because mine would bring them back here."
"He's right." Sherlock said, also looking back to Neilson. "Jared has them on speed dial. Don't try to trick us. You know who we are. It doesn't work." Sherlock loudly clicks the 'k' of 'work' while the two men leave the room and head down the stairs. "Next, you can stop pointing that gun at us."
"So one of you can point a gun at me?" Neilson asked.
"I'm unarmed." Sherlock said, stepping back and spreading his arms to either side.
"Mind if I check?" Neilson asked.
"Oh, I insist." Sherlock said, and Neilson comes around from behind Mrs Hudson.
Mrs Hudson whimpers nervously, "Don't do anything."
Neilson walks over to Sherlock and pats his breast pocket and flicks the coat open while Sherlock stands meekly with his arms still spread. Walking around behind him, Neilson starts patting for any hidden weapon at his back. Sherlock rolls his eyes dramatically at Mrs Hudson, but he is already covertly starting to bend his right arm towards himself. Sherlock whips out the sanitizer spray can, twists around and sprays the contents directly into Neilson's eyes. As Neilson screams, Sherlock rears back and then savagely headbutts him in the face. Neilson falls back onto the coffee table, unconscious, and Sherlock triumphantly flips the can into the air.
"Moron." Sherlock said, slamming the can onto the dining table, he hurries over to Mrs Hudson and, tutting – probably in annoyance at what the man has done to her – he drops to his knees in front of her.
"Oh, thank you." Mrs Hudson said, tearfully.
"It's okay, Mrs Hudson." I said, running up to Mrs Hudson to gently stroke her face. "You're safe now. I really do have Tokiwadai's Ace and her right hand gal on speed dial. If things didn't go as I remembered it."
"Yes. I know. Thank you for having friends that could do things Sherlock couldn't." Mrs Hudson said.
Sherlock looks over his shoulder towards Neilson's prone body, his expression still promising murder.
London...
Not long afterwards, the black car pulls up outside 221 and John gets out. The car drives away and he walks to the door, then stops when he sees a handwritten note attached underneath the knocker. He looks around the street for a moment, then pushes the door open and goes inside. Written on the note is:
CRIME IN PROGRESS
PLEASE DISTURB
221B Baker Street...
John goes upstairs and hurries into the living room.
"What's going on?" John asked, stopping at the sight of Neilson, bound and gagged with duct tape and sitting on the chair near the fireplace. His nose is broken and blood has run down his face and is dripping from his chin. I am sitting on the sofa with Mrs Hudson and Sherlock is in a chair nearby, holding Neilson's pistol aimed at him with one hand, and his phone to his ear with the other. "Jeez. What the hell is happening?"
"Mrs Hudson's been attacked by an American that isn't our fanboy. I'm restoring balance to the universe." Sherlock said.
John immediately hurries over to sit down on the other side of her.
"Oh, Mrs Hudson, my God. Are you all right?" John asked, glaring at Neilson as he puts his arm around her shoulders. "Jesus, what have they done to you?"
Mrs Hudson breaks down in tears again and covers her face with her hands, "Oh, I'm just being so silly."
"No, no." John said, pulling Mrs Hudson closer.
Sherlock gets to his feet, still holding the phone to his ear while aiming the gun at Neilson.
"Downstairs. Take her downstairs and look after her." Sherlock said, looking at John.
John stands up and helps Mrs Hudson to her feet.
"All right, it's all right. I'll have a look at that." John said, gently.
"I'm fine, I'm fine." Mrs Hudson said, tearfully walking over to the room with John steps over to Sherlock and I, with the consulting detective's eyes fixed on Neilson.
"Are either of you gonna tell me what's going on?" John asked.
"I expect so. Now go." Sherlock said, as he, John, and I looked at each other, then we turned our gazes to Neilson and now the consulting detective's got two murderous expressions aimed at him.
"I'll keep Sherlock grounded. You keep Mrs Hudson safe." I said, and John turns to leave the room but just before his head is completely turned away, a small smile begins to form on his face as if he wants Neilson to understand that he is about to encounter a whole world of hurt. "We'll be fine. I promise."
"Okay." John said, looking at me. "I trust you with Sherlock, Jared."
"Lestrade. We've had a break-in at Baker Street. Send your least irritating officers and an ambulance." Sherlock said, talking into the phone as John walks away with him finally taking his eyes off Neilson, he walks across to the dining table and lays the pistol down on it. "Oh, no-no-no-no-no, we're fine. No, it's the, uh, it's the burglar. He's got himself rather badly injured."
"Tell him where you hurt him." I said, while Neilson looks nervous and Sherlock listens to Lestrade's question. "Greg needs to know."
"Oh, a few broken ribs, fractured skull ... suspected punctured lung." Sherlock said, looking over his shoulder at Neilson.
"Don't forget to tell Greg that the burglar fell out of a window."
"He fell out of a window." Sherlock said, talking into the phone as he is still looking into Neilson's eyes, he hangs up before looking at me. "That is a good idea. Are you ready for this?"
221A Baker Street...
Downstairs in Mrs Hudson's kitchen, she and John are standing by the sink while he gently applies some antiseptic to the cut on her cheek with a piece of cotton wool. She flinches.
"Ooh, it stings." Mrs Hudson said, as John nods as he continues cleaning the cut.
A moment later a shape plummets down past the window and lands with a crash. John and Mrs Hudson look at the window.
"Ooh. That was right on my bins." Mrs Hudson said, and there's an agonised groan from outside. "Did Sherlock and Jared agree on something?"
London...
Some time later, it's fully dark outside and an ambulance is only now pulling away from 221. Sherlock and I are standing outside Speedy's café with Lestrade, who apparently decided that his least irritating officer was himself.
"And exactly how many times did he fall out the window?" Lestrade asked, looking between Sherlock and I.
"It's all a bit of a blur, Detective Inspector. I lost count." Sherlock said.
"It was enough times that the man realized he fucked up." I said, while Lestrade walked away after not bothering to comment. "He's lucky I didn't send Mikoto Misaka and Shirai Kuroko here."
221A Baker Street...
A little later, Sherlock comes in through the kitchen door of 221A and carefully wipes his feet on the doormat with me behind him. Mrs Hudson and John are sitting at her small kitchen table. Mrs H still looks very shaken.
"She'll have to sleep upstairs in our flat tonight. We need to look after her." John said.
"No." Mrs Hudson said.
"Of course, but she's fine." Sherlock said.
"No, she's not. Look at her." John said, as Sherlock opens the fridge door and peers inside before picking something up. "She's got to take some time away from Baker Street. She can go and stay with her sister. Doctor's orders."
"Mrs Hudson staying with her sister?" I asked, and Sherlock kicks the fridge door shut and frowns at John and bites into a mince pie. "Are you crazy?!"
"Yes. Jared's right. Don't be absurd, John." Sherlock said.
"She's in shock, for God's sake, and all over some bloody stupid camera phone. Where is it, anyway?" John asked.
"Safest place Jared and I know." Sherlock said.
"Yeah. With Mrs Hudson." I said, while Sherlock wipes crumbs from his mouth. "I gave them a hint yesterday."
"Who did you tell?" John asked, as Sherlock looks down at Mrs Hudson who reaches down inside her top and pulls the phone out of her bra before handing it to the consulting detective.
"Mrs Hudson."
"Jared told me that Sherlock left it in the pocket of his second-best dressing gown. Sherlock, you clot." Mrs Hudson said, laughing briefly. "I managed to sneak it out when they thought I was having a cry."
"Thank you, Mrs Hudson and Jared.." Sherlock said, tossing the camera phone into the air before putting it in his coat pocket as he looked at John. "Shame on you, John Watson."
"Shame on me?!" John exclaimed.
"Mrs Hudson leave Baker Street?" Sherlock asked, putting a protective arm around Mrs Hudson's shoulders and pulling her closer to him before going for a stern tone. "England would fall."
"It would fall. Mrs Hudson is as graceful as the Queen." I said, and Mrs Hudson laughed and stroked Sherlock's hand.
"Me as graceful as the Queen?" Mrs Hudson asked, while Sherlock chuckles gently. "I don't know about that."
John smiles at Sherlock, Mrs Hudson, and I.
221B Baker Street...
Later, the boys and I are back upstairs. John fixes himself a drink in the kitchen and then comes into the living room where Sherlock is taking off his coat as I am drinking some taro bubble tea.
"Where is it now?" John asked.
"Where no-one will look." Sherlock said, walking across to the window, he picks up his violin and turns his back to the room.
"Whatever's on that phone is more than just pictures." John said.
"Yeah. It is. And I know what's on there." I said, sadly. "It could end the world."
Sherlock tinkers with his violin and checks its tuning.
John watches Sherlock and I for a moment, "So, she's alive then. How are we feeling about that?"
"Her circumstances are different from Clara Oswald." I said, as Big Ben began to toll the hour in the distance. "Clara coming back into my life was a miracle."
"For you, it was." Sherlock said, pulling in a sharp breath. "Happy New Year, John, Jared."
"Sherlock, do you think you'll be seeing her again?" John asked, and turning around but not yet meeting his eyes and my eyes, Sherlock picks up his bow and flips it in the air before catching it and then starting to play 'Auld Lang Syne,' looking pointedly at the blonde and I.
"It's Sherlock, him meeting Irene Adler was destiny." I said, while John gets the message and sits down in his chair while Sherlock turns back to the window and continues to play. "At least she isn't Moriarty."
"Why would Irene Adler be Jim Moriarty?"
Not far away, within sight of St Paul's Cathedral, Irene is walking along the street when her phone trills a text alert. Taking the phone from her bag and checking the message, she sees that it reads:
Happy New Year
SH
She looks at the message for a long time before continuing onwards.
(Open POV)
ST BART'S...
It is now daytime and they're in the lab. Sherlock is looking at an X-ray on a computer screen which is showing the interior parts of a phone. Molly and Jared are nearby. He leans closer to the screen and sees four small round dark areas scattered around the phone. He looks exasperated.
"Is that a phone?" Molly asked.
"It's a camera phone." Sherlock said.
"And you're X-raying it?"
"Yes, I am."
"Whose phone is it?"
"It's a woman's." Jared said, happily.
"Sherlock's girlfriend?" Molly asked, looking at Jared.
"You think she's my girlfriend because I'm X-raying her possessions?" Sherlock asked.
"Well, we all do silly things." Molly said, laughing nervously.
"Yes." Sherlock said, lifting his head as if suddenly inspired and he looks round to Molly. "They do, don't they? Very silly."
"Well, 'The Woman' isn't silly." Jared said, as Molly looks confused as Sherlock gets to his feet and takes the phone out of the X-ray machine and holds it up. "Sherlock, tell Molly where you got that phone."
"Alright. She sent this to my address, and she loves to play games." Sherlock said.
"She does?" Molly asked.
"Yeah. According to Sherlock." Jared said, and Sherlock pulls up the 'I AM ---- LOCKED' screen and types '221B' into the phone. "Sherlock! Two attempts remaining."
"I know." Sherlock said, while the phone beeps warningly and a message comes up reading: 'WRONG PASSCODE. 2 ATTEMPTS REMAINING'. "I honestly thought that would work."
"You'll get it." Jared said, as Sherlock looks exasperated and sits down again. "I know you will."
221B Baker Street...
Some months have passed and Sherlock reaches the top of the stairs and then stops abruptly outside the kitchen door. He sniffs deeply. Taking a couple more deep breaths, he turns and looks into the kitchen, then walks across to the window and checks it, realising that it is open. Turning and sniffing again, he starts to walk slowly towards his bedroom just as the downstairs door slams and feet start trotting up the stairs. Reaching his room, he pushes the door open as John comes into the kitchen with bags of shopping and Jared comes in sipping on a mocha frappucino from Starbucks. Sherlock walks into the bedroom and turns to stand and look down at the bed. John and Jared notices him.
"Sherlock ..." John said.
"We have a client." Sherlock said.
"What, in your bedroom?!" John exclaimed, and he walks along the passage and into the bedroom, then his jaw drops when he sees the bed. "Ohhh."
"Irene Adler is our client." Jared said, looking at Irene – fully clothed – asleep in Sherlock's bed. "This is gonna be good."
Some time later, Irene has apparently showered, as her hair is loose and damp. She is wearing one of Sherlock's dressing gowns and is sitting in his chair in the living room. The boys and the fanboy are sitting at the dining table looking at her.
"So who's after you?" Sherlock asked.
"People who want to kill me." Irene said.
"Who's that?"
"People who want to kill Irene." Jared said, enjoying his mocha frappuccino. "In other words, killers."
"It would help if the both of you were a tiny bit more specific." John said, looking between Jared and Irene.
"So, Irene Adler, you faked your own death in order to get ahead of them." Sherlock said.
"It worked for a while." Irene said.
"Except you let John know that you were alive, Jared knew you were alive, and therefore me."
"I knew you'd keep my secret."
"You couldn't."
"But you did, didn't you? Where's my camera phone?"
"Your phone isn't here, Irene." Jared said, smiling. "We're not idiots to leave it at Baker Street."
"Then what have you done with it? If they've guessed you've got it, they'll be watching you."
"If they've been watching me, they'll know that I took a safety deposit box at a bank on the Strand a few months ago." Sherlock said.
"I need it."
"Well, we can't just go and get it, can we?" John asked, looking round to Sherlock, inspired. "Shirai Kuroko. She could collect it, take it to Bart's where Molly is; then Mikoto Misaka could bring it here, leave it in the café, and Saten Ruiko downstairs could bring it up the back with Uiharu Kazari."
"Very good, John. Excellent plan, with intelligent precautions." Sherlock said, smiling.
"Thank you." John said, picking up his phone. "So, why don't ... Oh, for ..."
"Honestly." Jared said, while he and John have just seen Sherlock take the camera phone out of his jacket pocket and hold it up. "Asking Misaka and the others to come from Academy City to deliver us a cell phone."
Sherlock looks at the phone closely as Irene stands up, "So what do you keep on here – in general, I mean?"
"Pictures, information, anything I might find useful." Irene said.
"Irene doesn't use her phone for blackmail. She uses it for protection." Jared said, sadly.
"Jared's right due to his foreknowledge. I make my way in the world; I misbehave. I like to know people will be on my side exactly when I need them to be." Irene said.
"So how do you acquire this information?" Sherlock asked.
"I told you – I misbehave."
"But you've acquired something that's more danger than protection. Do you know what it is?"
"Yes, but I don't understand it."
"I assumed. Show me." Sherlock said, as Irene holds out her hand for the phone with the consulting detective holds it up out of her reach. "The passcode."
"I know the passcode but I'm not telling you it, Sherlock." Jared said, and Irene continues to hold her hand out, and eventually Sherlock sits forward and hands her the phone. Activating it and holding it so he can't see the screen or the keypad, she types in four characters. The phone beeps warningly. "It would make the game less fun for the two of you."
"It's not working." Irene said.
"No, because it's a duplicate that I had made, into which you've just entered the numbers one oh five eight." Sherlock said, standing up and taking the phone from Irene before walking over to his chair in which she was just sitting and retrieves the real camera phone from under the cushion. "I assumed you'd choose something more specific than that but, um, thanks anyway."
Sherlock pulls up the 'I AM ---- LOCKED' screen and types '1058' into the phone. He looks at her smugly but then the phone beeps warningly and a message comes up reading: 'WRONG PASSCODE. 1 ATTEMPT REMAINING'. He stares in disbelief.
"I told you that camera phone was my life. I know when it's in my hand." Irene said.
"Oh, you're rather good." Sherlock said.
"You're not so bad." Irene said, smiling at Sherlock before holding out her hand again and takes the phone from him.
"Hamish." John said, abruptly and they both turn to look at him. "John Hamish Watson – just if you were looking for baby names."
"Wait for someone 'Beloved.' Jared said, while Sherlock frowns in confusion.
"There was a man – an MOD official. I knew what he liked." Irene said, walking a short distance away from the boys and the fanboy so they can't see her screen or keypad, she types in her real passcode and calls up a photo. "One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn't know it, but I photographed it." She hands the phone to Sherlock. "He was a bit tied up at the time. It's a bit small on that screen – can you read it?"
Sherlock sits down on the other side of the table to John and narrows his eyes at the photograph. The top of the email – possibly the subject line – reads:
007 Confirmed allocation
Underneath in smaller print is a string of numbers:
4C12C45F13E13G60A60B61F34G34J60D12H33K34K
"Yes." Sherlock said.
"A code, obviously. I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it – though he was mostly upside down, as I recall. Couldn't figure it out. " Irene said, as Sherlock leans forward, concentrating on the screen. "What can you do, Mr Holmes?" She leans over his shoulder. "Go on. Impress a girl."
Time slows down as she begins to lean towards him. Oblivious to her approach, the numbers in the code race through Sherlock's mind and begin to form into shapes for him. Opposite him, John has taken a drink of tea and is lowering his mug in slow motion towards the table. By the time the mug reaches the table and Irene has leaned in and kissed Sherlock's cheek, he has already solved it. His eyes drift momentarily in her direction as she pulls back smiling, but then he concentrates on the screen again.
"There's a margin for error but I'm pretty sure there's a Seven Forty-Seven leaving Heathrow tomorrow at six thirty in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it's going to save the world. Not sure how that can be true but give me a moment; I've only been on the case for eight seconds." Sherlock said, speaking rapidly before looking at John's blank face in front of him, then glanced round at Irene who hasn't even fully straightened up yet. "Oh, come on. It's not code. These are seat allocations on a passenger jet. Look ..." He shows the screen to John and Jared before talking at a quickfire rate. "There's no letter 'I' because it can be mistaken for a '1'; no letters past 'K' – the width of the plane is the limit. The numbers always appear randomly and not in sequence but the letters have little runs of sequence all over the place – families and couples sitting together. Only a Jumbo is wide enough to need the letter 'K' or rows past fifty-five, which is why there's always an upstairs. There's a row thirteen, which eliminates the more superstitious airlines. Then there's the style of the flight number – zero zero seven – that eliminates a few more; and assuming a British point of origin, which would be logical considering the original source of the information and assuming from the increased pressure on you lately that the crisis is imminent, the only flight that matches all the criteria and departs within the week is the six thirty to Baltimore tomorrow evening from Heathrow Airport." By now he has stood up, and now he lowers the phone and looks down at Irene, who gazes up at him in admiration. "Please don't feel obliged to tell me that was remarkable or amazing. John's expressed the same thought in every possible variant available to the English language."
"I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice." Irene said, intensely.
The two of them stare at each other for a long moment before Sherlock speaks again.
"Jared, please can you check those flight schedules; see if I'm right?" Sherlock asked, with his eyes still locked on Irene's.
"Yeah, I'm on it." Jared said, starting to type on his phone to load up the Torchwood software on it.
Sherlock and Irene continue to stare at each other.
"I've never begged for mercy in my life." Sherlock said.
"Twice." Irene said, empathetically.
"You got the information correct. It's flight double oh seven." Jared said, looking at his phone.
"What did you say?" Sherlock asked, looking round at Jared.
"I'm not gonna get us sidetracked. It's flight double oh seven."
"Double oh seven, double oh seven, double oh seven, double oh seven ..." Sherlock said, quietly to himself and pushing Irene out of the way to begin to pace. "... something ... something connected to double oh seven ... What?"
As Sherlock continues to pace and mutter the numbers to himself, Irene puts her other phone behind her back and begins to type blind on it:
747 TOMORROW 6:30PM HEATHROW
Westminster...
The message is sent to the phone of Jim Moriarty. Standing in Westminster very near the Houses of Parliament, he takes out his phone and reads the message.
221B Baker Street...
Sherlock has walked to the fireplace and is standing in front of the mirror with his eyes closed.
"Double oh seven, double oh seven, what, what, something, what?" Sherlock asked, quietly and his eyes snap open as he begins to remember and he turns and looks at the living room door, remembering Mycroft standing on the landing talking into his phone.
"James Bond." Jared said, as Sherlock walks towards the door. "His code name was 007, Sherlock."
While the words 'Bond Air is go' continue to echo in Sherlock's mind, at Westminster, Jim is typing a message onto his phone:
Jumbo Jet. Dear me Mr Holmes, dear me.
Westminster...
Jim presses Send and the message wings its way up into the air. As if watching it go, Jim raises his eyes towards Big Ben, the very image of the seat of the British government, and blows a long and loud raspberry at it.
Mycroft's house...
Mycroft, he picks up his phone from the dining table and looks at a newly arrived message. It reads:
Jumbo Jet. Dear me Mr Holmes, dear me.
Time passes and Mycroft returns to the chair at the end of the dining table and sinks down into it, running his hand over his face and clearly still shocked by the turn of events.
More time passes and Mycroft has removed his jacket and has a glass of brandy in front of him. His hands are folded in front of his mouth and he is lost in wide-eyed and horrified thought.
Much later, as night begins to fall, Mycroft's face is furrowed with anguish and his eyes are still wide at the horror which only he knows about. The glass beside him is empty. Slowly he closes his eyes and sinks his head into his hands in despair.
(Jared's POV)
221B Baker Street...
It is now nighttime and Sherlock sits in his armchair gently plucking the strings of his violin. In his mind he can still hear Mycroft's phone call.
"Did you figure it out?" I asked, when Sherlock finally rouses a little and looks up.
"I did." Sherlock said, as he looked at me. "Coventry."
Irene, still wearing Sherlock's dressing gown and with her hair down, is curled up in John's chair watching him closely.
"I've never been. Is it nice?" Irene asked.
"Where's John?" Sherlock asked.
"John left a couple hours ago." I said, sadly.
"I was just talking to you and him."
"Come on, Sherlock. You've been spacing out for a while. What does Coventry have got to do with anything?" I asked, smiling.
"It's a story, probably not true. In the Second World War, the Allies knew that Coventry was going to get bombed because they'd broken the German code but they didn't want the Germans to know that they'd broken the code, so they let it happen anyway." Sherlock said.
"Have you ever had anyone?" Irene asked.
Sherlock frowns at Irene blankly, "Sorry?"
"And when I say 'had', I'm being indelicate."
"I don't understand." Sherlock said.
"Well, I'll be delicate then." Irene said, getting up from the chair she walks over and kneels in front of Sherlock, putting her left hand on top of his right hand and curling her fingers around it. "Let's have dinner."
"Why?"
"Might be hungry."
"I'm not."
"Good." Irene said, while Sherlock hesitantly sits forward a little and slowly turns his right hand over, curling his fingers around her wrist.
"Why would I want to have dinner if I wasn't hungry?" Sherlock asked.
Slowly Irene begins to lean forward, her gaze fixed on his lips.
"Oh, Mr Holmes ..." Irene said, softly and Sherlock's fingers gently stroke across the underside of her wrist. "... if it was the end of the world, if this was the very last night, would you have dinner with me? And Jared, can you choose the location for me and Sherlock?"
"I'd be happy to!" I said, excitedly. "I was thinking about a restaurant called Manhatta in New York City."
"Sherlock! Jared!" Mrs Hudson said, calling up the stairs.
Sherlock's eyes slide towards the door.
"Too late." Irene said, ruefully.
"That's not the end of the world; that's Mrs Hudson." Sherlock said.
"I'm sorry, Irene." I said, and Irene pulls her hand free and stands up, walking away from Sherlock as Mrs Hudson comes in with none other than Plummer from the Palace. "I really am sorry."
"I know." Irene said, while I took out my psychic paper from inside my pocket and opened it to see a Business Class boarding pass for Flyaway Airways in the name of Jared Shay for flight number 007 to Baltimore, scheduled to leave at 18.30. "What do you think? Me using the psychic paper."
"Sherlock, Jared, this man was at the door. Is the bell still not working?" Mrs Hudson asked, turning around to Plummer and pointing at Sherlock and Jared. "He shot it."
"Have you come to take me away again? This time with Jared?" Sherlock asked, tetchily, to Plummer.
"Yes, Mr Holmes." Plummer said.
"Well, I decline." Sherlock said.
"I don't think you do. And neither does your friend." Plummer said, taking an envelope from his jacket and offering it to Sherlock. "He got his already."
"Unfortunately." I said, as Sherlock snatches the envelope from Plummer and opens it. "Let's go, Sherlock."
Inside is a Business Class boarding pass for Flyaway Airways in the name of Sherlock Holmes for flight number 007 to Baltimore, scheduled to leave at 18.30.
London...
"How long did you know about this case?" Sherlock asked, putting on his coat and getting into the back of a car outside the flat with me. "Tell me."
"As long as you knew about Irene Adler." I said, and Plummer gets into the passenger seat and the car drives away, Irene stands at the window of the flat and watches us go. "I wish I could have told you. But this was meant to happen."
Car...
Sherlock gets out the plane ticket again, then tells Plummer and I what he has deduced.
"There's going to be a bomb on a passenger jet. The British and American governments know about it but rather than expose the source of that information they're going to let it happen. The plane will blow up. Coventry all over again. The wheel turns. Nothing is ever new." Sherlock said.
Neither Plummer nor the driver respond to him in any way, but I do.
"It's an endless cycle, Sherlock." I said, sadly. "I hate what they had planned."
Heathrow Airport...
Some time later the car arrives at Heathrow Airport and is driven past hangars to a 747 Jumbo Jet parked on the tarmac. The car stops near the plane and Sherlock and I get out and walk over to the steps which lead up to the entry door. A familiar figure is standing at the bottom of the steps. It's Neilson.
"Well, you're lookin' all better. How ya feelin'?" Sherlock asked, nonchalantly, in a deliberately fake American accent.
"Like putting a bullet in your brain ... sir." Neilson said, as Sherlock lets out a quiet snigger and starts to walk up the steps with me. "They'd pin a medal on me if I did ..."
Sherlock and I stop.
"... sir." Neilson said, insincerely.
AIRPLANE...
Sherlock half-turns back towards him, then apparently decides he can't be bothered and continues up the steps. Inside, he pulls back the curtain obscuring the passenger seating and walks into the aisle. The lighting is very low and it's hard to see. There are people sitting in almost all the seats but none of them is moving or speaking or showing any signs of life at all. Frowning, he walks forward and looks more closely at the nearest passengers. An overhead light shows more clearly the faces of two men sitting beside each other and Sherlock now realises the truth: they are dead. Although they're not yet showing any signs of decomposition, their skin is very grey and they've clearly been dead for some time. He turns and looks to the passengers on the other side of the aisle, turning on another overhead light to get a better view. The man and woman sitting there are also long dead. As he straightens up, realising that everyone on board the plane must be in the same condition, his brother speaks from the other end of the section. I then decided to walk over to where Mycroft is to stand next to him, by hiding behind the curtain.
"The Coventry conundrum." Mycroft said, while Sherlock turns as his brother pushes back the curtain and steps through into the cabin. For the first part of the ensuing conversation he talks softly, almost as if out of respect for the dead bodies in front of him. "What do you think of my solution?" Sherlock gazes around the cabin, still taking it all in. "The flight of the dead."
"The plane blows up mid-air. Mission accomplished for the terrorists. Hundreds of casualties, but nobody dies." Sherlock said.
"Neat, don't you think?" Mycroft asked, as Sherlock smiles humourlessly. "You've been stumbling round the fringes of this one for ages – or were you too bored to notice the pattern?"
"He was, Mycroft." I said, frowning. "Thank you for reminding me of this case."
"It was not a problem, Jared. You knew about this anyway. We ran a similar project with the Germans a while back, though I believe one of our passengers didn't make the flight." Mycroft said, and Sherlock flashes back to the car with the body in the boot and the passport stamped in Berlin airport. "But that's the deceased for you – late, in every sense of the word."
"How's the plane going to fly?" Sherlock asked, while he answers himself immediately. "Of course: unmanned aircraft. Hardly new."
"It doesn't fly. It will never fly. This entire project is cancelled. The terrorist cells have been informed that we know about the bomb. We can't fool them now. We've lost everything. One fragment of one email, and months and years of planning finished." Mycroft said.
"Your MOD man."
"That's all it takes: one lonely naïve man desperate to show off, and a woman clever enough to make him feel special."
"Hmm. You should screen your defence people more carefully." Sherlock said, quirking an eyebrow.
"I'm not talking about the MOD man, Sherlock; I'm talking about you." Mycroft said, loudly, furiously slamming the tip of his umbrella on the floor with Sherlock frowns, genuinely confused before talking in a more softly tone. "The damsel in distress." He smiles ironically. "In the end, are you really so obvious? Because this was textbook: the promise of love, the pain of loss, the joy of redemption; then give him a puzzle ...." His voice drops to a whisper while he twirls the end of his umbrella in the air. "... and watch him dance."
"Don't be absurd."
"Absurd? How quickly did you decipher that email for her? Was it the full minute, or were you really eager to impress?" Mycroft asked.
"I think it was less than five seconds." Irene said, from behind Sherlock.
"It was." I said, and Sherlock spins around to see Irene standing at the end of the cabin, dressed beautifully, fully made up and with her hair perfectly coiffured. "I knew the entire time about this case. I was excited for it."
I am now looking at The Woman at her immaculate best.
"We drove you into her path." Mycroft said, ruefully to Sherlock before pausing momentarily. "I'm sorry." He lowers his eyes. "I didn't know. But Jared knew due to his foreknowledge."
Sherlock is still looking at Irene as she walks towards him.
"Mr Holmes, Jared, I think we need to talk." Irene said.
"So do I. There are a number of aspects I'm still not quite clear on. The aspects Jared won't tell me." Sherlock said.
"Not you, Junior. You're done now." Irene said, walking past Sherlock and continuing down the aisle towards Mycroft and I with Sherlock turns and watches her go as she activates her phone and holds it up to show his brother and I. "There's more ... loads more. On this phone I've got secrets, pictures and scandals that could topple both of your worlds. You have no idea how much havoc I can cause and exactly one way to stop me – unless, Mr Holmes, you want to tell your masters that your biggest security leak is your own little brother. And unless, for you, Jared, you want to tell the Master that your biggest security leak is Team RWBY."
Mycroft and I can no longer hold Irene's gaze and the two of us turn our heads away, lowering our eyes.
Mycroft's home...
Mycroft brought Irene, Sherlock, and I to his residence/office. The older brother sits at the dining table with Irene seated opposite him. Sherlock is in the armchair near the fireplace a few yards away, half turned away from the pair of them. The fingers on his right hand are repeatedly clenching while he listens to the other two speak. Mycroft points down at the camera phone which is lying on the table in front of him. There is no aggression or threat in his voice as he speaks to Irene.
"We have people who can get into this." Mycroft said.
"I tested that theory for both of you. I let Sherlock Holmes try it for six months." Irene said, while Sherlock closes his eyes briefly, grimacing slightly. "Sherlock, dear, tell them what you found when you X-rayed my camera phone."
"There are four additional units wired inside the casing, I suspect containing acid or a small amount of explosive." Sherlock said, flatly.
"Shit." I said, as Mycroft lowers his head into his hand. "Nothing has changed like how it was back home."
"Afraid so. Any attempt to open the casing will burn the hard drive." Sherlock said.
"Explosive." Irene said, looking at Mycroft and me. "It's more me. No matter the reality."
"Some data is always recoverable." Mycroft said, lifting his head and looking at Irene again.
"Take that risk?"
"You have a passcode to open this. I deeply regret to say we have people who can extract it from you."
"Jared?" Irene asked, calmly.
"Well, there are two passwords. One to unlock the phone and one to burn the harddrive within said phone. Even if you force Irene, you don't know which one she'll give you. One wrong move and there won't be a second attempt." I said, looking down at the floor.
"He's good, isn't he? With his foreknowledge. He has learned from your brother, Mr Holmes. I should have Sherlock Holmes on a leash – in fact, I might." Irene said, gazing intensely at Sherlock but he remains turned away from her and can't see her expression.
"We destroy this, then. No-one has the information." Mycroft said.
"Fine. Good idea ... unless there are lives of British citizens depending on the information you're about to burn." Irene said.
"Are there?"
"Telling you would be playing fair. I'm not playing any more." Irene said, reaching into her handbag on the table in front of her and takes out an envelope which she pushes across the table to him. "A list of my requests; and some ideas about my protection once they're granted." Mycroft takes the sheet of paper from the envelope and starts to unfold it. "I'd say it wouldn't blow much of a hole in the wealth of the nation – but then I'd be lying." Mycroft raises his eyebrows in amazement as he reads through the demands she has listed. "I imagine you'd like to sleep on it."
"Thank you, yes." Mycroft said, still reading the piece of paper.
"Too bad." Irene said, and Mycroft looks up at her.
"Irene..." I said, while Sherlock snorts in the armchair in almost silent amusement. "Why?"
"Because you knew deep down, nothing would change, Jared." Irene said, as she looks at Mycroft. "Off you pop and talk to people with Jared."
Sighing, Mycroft sinks back in his chair, "You've been very ... thorough. I wish our lot were half as good as you."
"I can't take all the credit. Had a bit of help." Irene said, looking across to Sherlock and I. "Oh, Jim Moriarty sends his love along with Missy."
"Moriarty and the Master?" I asked, and Sherlock raises his head. "I so hate how that is a thing here. Two crazy people together. Now if Loki became a part of this. Oh boy..."
"Yes, Moriarty has been in touch. Seems desperate for my attention ..." Mycroft said, his voice becomes more ominous. "... which I'm sure can be arranged."
Unseen by the others except me, Sherlock's gaze begins to sharpen as Irene stands up and walks round the table to sit on its edge nearer Mycroft.
"I had all this stuff, never knew what to do with it. Thank God for the consultant criminal. Gave me a lot of advice about how to play the Holmes boys and their fanboy. D'you know what he calls you?" Irene asked, softly. "The Ice Man ..." She looks across to me. "The Companion..." Irene finally looks across to Sherlock. "... and the Virgin." Sherlock's eyes are starting to flicker back and forth, though it's not yet clear whether in reaction to what Irene is saying or whether he's working something out. "Didn't even ask for anything. I think he just likes to cause trouble. Now that's my kind of man."
Sherlock closes his eyes, sighing softly.
"And here you are, the dominatrix who brought a nation to its knees." Mycroft said, while Sherlock's eyes snap open again.
"How's it going with it?" I asked, as Sherlock is definitely working something out. "Are you getting close?"
"Yes." Sherlock said, and Mycroft stands and appears to bow slightly to Irene.
"Nicely played, Miss Adler." Mycroft said, turning away, about to go and begin meeting her demands.
Smiling in satisfaction, Irene stands up, confident that she has won.
"No." Sherlock said, while Irene, Mycroft, and I turn to him.
"Sorry?" Irene asked.
Sherlock turns his head towards Irene, Mycroft, and I.
"I said no. Very very close, but no." Sherlock said, standing and starts to walk towards Irene. "You got carried away. The game was too elaborate. You were enjoying yourself too much."
"No such thing as too much." Irene said.
"Oh, enjoying the thrill of the chase is fine, craving the distraction of the game – I sympathise entirely – but sentiment? Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side." Sherlock said, walking closer and looking at Irene, baring his teeth slightly as he finishes the sentence.
"Sentiment? What are you talking about?"
"You. You're exactly like Jared whenever he loses."
"Oh dear God. Look at the poor man. You don't actually think I was interested in you? Why? Because you're the great Sherlock Holmes, the clever detective in the funny hat?" Irene asked, smiling calmly.
Sherlock steps even closer to Irene, their bodies almost touching.
"No." Sherlock said, softly, reaching out and slowly wraps the fingers of his right hand around Irene's left wrist, then leans forward and brings his mouth close to her right ear to whisper something into her ear. "Because I took your pulse." Irene frowns in confusion, while Sherlock tightens his grip a little around her wrist to whisper something softly into her ear. "Elevated; your pupils dilated." Sherlock releases her hand and leans past her to pick up the camera phone from the table before speaking in a more normal voice. "I imagine John Watson and Jared Shay think love's a mystery to me but the chemistry is incredibly simple, and very destructive."
"Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler, a relationship so destructive, you two will be texting for years." I said, while Sherlock turns and walks a few paces away from Irene.
"I'd like to see that." Irene said, following behind Sherlock until he turns and faces her again. "Someday."
"Irene, when we first met, you told me that disguise is always a self-portrait. How true of you: the combination to your safe – your measurements; but this ..." Sherlock said, tossing the phone into the air and catches it again. "... this is far more intimate." He pulls up the security lock with its 'I AM ---- LOCKED' screen. "This is your heart ..." Without breaking his gaze into her eyes, he punches in the first of the four characters with his thumb. "... and you should never let it rule your head." Irene stares at Sherlock, trying to stay calm but the panic is beginning to show behind her eyes. "You could have chosen any random number and walked out of here today with everything you've worked for ..." Sherlock punches in the second character, his eyes still locked on Irene's. "... but you just couldn't resist it, could you?" Irene's breathing becomes heavier. Sherlock smiles briefly and triumphantly. "I've always assumed that love is a dangerous disadvantage ..." Sherlock hits the third character, still gazing at her. "Thank you for the final proof."
Sherlock lifts his thumb again but before he can type in the fourth character, Irene seizes his hand and gazes up at him intensely.
"Everything I said: it's not real." Irene said, softly in a whisper. "I was just playing the game."
"I know." Sherlock said, in a whisper before gently pulling his hand free, he types in the final character. "And this is just losing."
Slowly Sherlock turns the phone towards Irene and shows her the screen. She looks down at it, tears spilling from her eyes as she reads the sequence which says:
I AM
SHER
LOCKED
Irene gazes down at the screen in despair for a few seconds, then Sherlock lifts the phone away and holds it out towards Mycroft even as the phone unlocks and presents its menu.
"There you are, brother. I hope the contents make up for any inconvenience I may have caused you and Jared tonight." Sherlock said, his eyes still fixed on Irene's.
"I'm certain they will." Mycroft said, taking the phone and Sherlock turns and begins to walk towards the door.
"If you're feeling kind, lock her up; otherwise let her go. I doubt she'll survive long without her protection." Sherlock said.
Irene stares after Sherlock, her eyes wide with dread.
"Are you expecting me to beg?" Irene asked.
"Yes." Sherlock said, flatly, calmly.
Sherlock stops near the door, his face in profile to her. She stares at him in anguish for several seconds, then realises that she has no choice.
"Please." Irene said, while Sherlock doesn't move. "You're right." Now Sherlock turns to look at her before Irene stares at him pleadingly. "I won't even last six months."
"Sorry about dinner." Sherlock said, turning away and walks to the door, opening it and walking through with me behind him. "Let's go Jared."
"I am truly sorry, Irene." I said, as Irene watches Sherlock go with me, her eyes full of horror as the door closes behind Sherlock and I. "Really. I am so, terribly sorry."
Kirito and Asuna's home...
"Is that it?" Asuna asked, sipping a cup of tea.
"That's it." I said, sitting on the couch. "The adventure is almost over."
"How's Irene Adler?"
"According to this." Yui said, looking at a report. "She died."
"She didn't."
"But the report..."
"Lies."
"You did not!" Asuna said, happily. "You and Sherlock?"
"Yup."
"I can't believe it!"
"When did you do this?" Yui asked, tilting her head.
"Oh. A while ago." I said, smiling.
"How did you find her?"
"River. She told me where in Karachi. And I relayed that information to Sherlock."
"River. She's a smart girl." Asuna said, smiling. "Reminds me of Yui."
"What about me?" Yui asked.
221B Baker Street...
I opened my eyes with the Augma still on my head and I saw Sherlock sitting at the kitchen table looking into his microscope. Footsteps can be heard coming up the stairs and he speaks before John even comes into view.
"Clearly you've got news." Sherlock said, and John stops in the doorway with the wallet in his hand with the consulting detective doesn't lift his head. "If it's about the Leeds triple murder, it was the gardener. Nobody noticed the earring."
"Hi. Er, no, it's, um ..." John said, taking a couple of steps into the kitchen. "... it's about Irene Adler."
Sherlock looks up, his face unreadable, "Oh? Something happened? Has she come back?"
"No, she's, er ... I just bumped into Mycroft downstairs. He had to take a call."
"Is she back in London?" Sherlock asked, standing up and walking around the table towards John.
"No. She's, er ..." John said, gazing at the table for a long moment, then drags in a sharp breath and raises his eyes to Sherlock's as his flatmate steps closer, frowning.
"She's in America." I said, looking at Sherlock.
"America?" Sherlock asked.
"Mmm-hmm. Got herself on a witness protection scheme, apparently. Dunno how she swung it, but, er, well, you know." John said.
"I know what?"
"Sherlock, you won't be able to see Irene Adler again." I said, letting out a sigh.
"Why would I want to see her again?" Sherlock asked.
"Didn't say you wanted to." I said, smiling ruefully as Sherlock turns away and walks back around the table.
"Is that her file?" Sherlock asked.
"Yes. I was just gonna take it back to Mycroft." John said, offering the wallet to Sherlock. "Do you want to ...?"
"No." Sherlock said, sitting down and looking into his microscope again.
"Hmm." John said, looking at Sherlock for a long while, considering his options. Eventually he steps forward again. "Listen, actually ..."
"Oh, but I will have the camera phone, though." Sherlock said, holding out his hand towards John, not lifting his gaze from his work.
"There's nothing on it any more. It's been stripped."
"I know, but I ..." Sherlock said, pausing for a long moment before continuing. "... I'll still have it."
"I've gotta give this back to Mycroft. You can't keep it." John said, and Sherlock keeps his hand extended and his eyes fixed on the microscope. "Sherlock, I have to give this to Mycroft. It's the government's now. I couldn't even give ..."
"Please." Sherlock said, extending his hand a little further.
"Jared, what do I do?" John asked, looking at Jared.
"Give him the phone." I said, walking over to John.
"Oh, alright." John said, finally reaching into the wallet, takes out the phone and lays it gently into Sherlock's hand. "You do know what's best for us."
"I do." I said, while Sherlock closes his fingers around it, draws his hand back and puts the phone into his trouser pocket before returning his hand to the microscope.
"Thank you. Both of you." Sherlock said.
"Well, I'd better take this back." John said, raising the wallet.
"Yes." Sherlock said, as John turns and walks out onto the landing, then pauses as if wondering whether to ask the question that has now come into his mind.
After several seconds, John turns round and comes back into the kitchen. Sherlock still doesn't lift his eyes from his microscope.
"Sherlock, did she ever text you again, after ... all that?" John asked.
"Once, a few months ago." Sherlock said.
"What did she say?"
"'Goodbye, Mr Holmes.'" Sherlock said, as John looks at him thoughtfully.
"Huh." John said, softly before pacing around in front of the kitchen door for a few seconds, wondering if there's anything more he can say, then eventually turns and heads off down the stairs.
"Thank you, Jared." Sherlock said, and as soon as John is out of sight, Sherlock raises his head and gazes across the room for a moment, then he reaches down to his own phone which is on the table and picks it up, calling up his saved messages. "Thank you for helping me."
"Don't thank me." I said, while Sherlock gets up and walks into the living room, he scrolls through the messages sent by 'The Woman', all of which he has kept. "Thank Tokiwadai's Ace and her right hand gal."
The messages Irene left Sherlock go on for a long time:
I'm not hungry, let's have dinner.
Bored in a hotel. Join me. Let's have dinner.
John's blog is HILARIOUS. I think he likes you more than I do. Let's have dinner.
I can see tower bridge and the moon from my room. Work out where I am and join me.
I saw you in the street today. You didn't see me.
You do know that hat actually suits you, don't you?
Oh for God's sake. Let's have dinner.
I like your funny hat.
I'm in Egypt talking to an idiot. Get on a plane, let's have dinner.
You looked sexy on Crimewatch.
Even you have got to eat. Let's have dinner.
BBC1 right now. You'll laugh.
I'm thinking of sending you a Christmas present.
Mantelpiece.
I'm not dead. Let's have dinner.
Then comes the one reply he sent to her:
Happy New Year
And at the bottom of the list is her last message to him:
Goodbye Mr Holmes
"I will." Sherlock said, reaching the living room window, he looks down at the final message for a long time before lifting his eyes and gazing out at the pouring rain. "I promise."
(Open POV)
Flashback to (presumably) two months earlier in Karachi. It is night time and there is background noise of male voices shouting in a foreign language. Shaky camera footage eventually resolves into clearer resolution, revealing Irene kneeling on the ground in front of a military vehicle. She is dressed in black robes, her hair covered by a black headscarf, and is typing one-handed onto her phone. Standing to her right is a man holding a rifle with one hand while he repeatedly gestures for her phone with the other. She ignores him, refusing to hand it over until she has finished her message, which reads:
Goodbye Mr Holmes
She presses Send and then gives the phone to the man. To her left, a second man walks over and raises a wide-bladed curved sword above her head, bringing it slowly down towards the back of her neck while he checks that his aim will be correct. Another man before the man that has the sword at the back of Irene's neck is there. Irene stares ahead of herself, fighting her tears, then the screen fades to black as she slowly closes her eyes.
A couple of seconds later, an orgasmic female sigh fills the air. Irene's eyes snap open and fill with hope as she turns her head to look at her executioner and his assistant. The first man's face is completely shrouded apart from his eyes, but a very recognisable blue-grey gaze meets her own. The first man's assistant with his brown eyes also meets Irene's gaze.
"When I say run, run!" Sherlock said, quietly.
Irene turns her head to the front again.
"Shirai? Mikoto?" Jared asked, as Sherlock pulls back the sword as if he's about to strike the death blow, then he spins and begins to strike out at the nearby militia. "We need you!"
"Me fighting with Sherlock Holmes." Mikoto said, and Irene stares ahead of herself, her eyes wide with disbelief that she is going to live.
"She's happy, sissy." Shirai said, teleporting to them and slowly Irene begins to smile. "Let's go."
221B Baker Street...
In the present, Sherlock smiles at the memory, then chuckles to himself as he takes Irene's camera phone from his pocket. Tossing it into the air and catching it again, he looks at it for a couple of seconds.
"The Woman." Sherlock said, opening the top drawer of a nearby cabinet, he puts the phone into it and is about to withdraw his hand when he pauses, then puts his fingers onto the phone again and looks at it thoughtfully. "The Woman."
"Irene Adler. A match made for Sherlock Holmes." Jared said, while Sherlock lifts his head and gazes out at the rainy city for a while, then turns and walks away with his fanboy. "I'm thinking of ice cream."