The Reichenbach Falls (Part 1)
John Watson sits in a chair as rain pours down outside the window and thunder rumbles. He looks tired and his face is full of pain.
"Why today?" Ella asked, nearby.
John frowns enquiringly. His therapist is sitting opposite him.
"D'you want to hear me say it?" John asked.
"Eighteen months since our last appointment." Ella said.
"D'you read the papers?" John asked, his voice becoming quietly angry.
"Sometimes." Ella said.
"Mmm, and you watch telly? You know why I'm here." John said, while there's a pained groan in his voice as he ends the sentence. "I'm here because ..."
John's voice breaks and he can't continue as he looks down, swallowing hard while he fights not to weep.
Ella leans forward sympathetically, "What happened, John?"
John closes his eyes, trying to get control of himself, then looks up at her again, his eyes full of loss. He clears his throat and breathes heavily.
"Sher..." John said, his voice breaking as he can't continue and he clears his throat again, swallowing hard.
"You need to get it out." Ella said, gently.
"My best friends ... Sherlock Holmes ... and Jared Shay..." John said, softly, his voice full of pain and tears and he sniffs, forcing his voice through the anguish. "... are dead."
John breaks and begins to cry.
(Jared's POV)
Art gallery...
Three months earlier, the Director of the gallery is finishing his speech as he stands near a painting.
"Falls of the Reichenbach, Turner's masterpiece, thankfully recovered owing to the prodigious talent of Mr. Sherlock Holmes." The gallery director said, while the patrons applaud as Sherlock, John, andI are standing nearby with him giving a small gift-wrapped box to Sherlock. "A small token of our gratitude."
Sherlock takes the box and looks at it, "Diamond cufflinks. All my cuffs have buttons."
"Sherlock means thank you for the diamond cufflinks." I said, looking at the gallery director.
"Do I?" Sherlock asked.
"Just say it." John said.
"Thank you." Sherlock said, insincerely to the gallery director.
He starts to walk away but John holds him back.
"Hey." John said.
Sherlock unwillingly stops and the press start taking photographs. Later, one of the photographs appears in a newspaper article headed 'Hero of the Reichenbach'. The straplines read 'Turner masterpiece recovered by 'amateur' ; 'Scotland Yard embarrassed by overlooked clues'. The text of the article reads: 'A Turner masterpiece worth £1.7million that was stolen from an auction house ten days ago has been recovered by an amateur detective from North London. Sherlock Holmes of Baker Street has been investigating the art crime simply as a hobby, and yet he was able to follow the trail that led him to the famous work – a trail that Scotland Yard missed completely. Sherlock Holmes has gained cult following following the publication of his website – The Sci- ...'.
A new newspaper article reads 'Top Banker Kidnapped' and the text reads: 'Sherlock Holmes was last night being hailed a hero yet again for masterminding the daring escape of the kidnapped man. // Scotland Yard had to secretly bring in their special weapon (in the form of Mr Holmes) yet again. The case has drawn a huge amount of attention as the nation became divided about the outcome of the kidnapping. Bankers are certainly not the nations sweethearts any more, but Mr. Holmes certainly seems to be. As huge crowds gathered for the press conference, Mr Holmes was presented with a gift from ...'
Outside the banker's house...
The rescued man is standing with his arms around his wife and young son and the press film and photograph them while Sherlock, John, and I stand uncomfortably nearby.
"Back together with my family after my terrifying ordeal; and we have one person to thank for my deliverance – Sherlock Holmes." The father said, as the public applaud, the boy smiles and offers a small gift-wrapped box to Sherlock.
"Sherlock..." I said, and Sherlock takes the box and rattles it briefly.
"Tie pin. I don't wear ties." Sherlock said, looking between John and I.
"Shh." John said.
A photograph of the scene appears in the next edition of the newspaper, headed 'Reichenbach hero finds kidnap victim'.
New article: 'Ricoletti evades capture'. The man named in the headline was responsible for the banker's kidnap. We cut to Scotland Yard where D.I. Greg Lestrade is addressing a press conference. Sherlock and John stand nearby, and D.S. Sally Donovan and Doctor Anderson are at the back of the room.
Press conference...
"Peter Ricoletti: number one on Interpol's Most Wanted list since 1982. But we got him; and there's one person we have to thank for giving us the decisive leads ... with all his customary diplomacy and tact!" Lestrade said, while Sherlock smiles insincerely towards Greg while John leans closer to Sherlock and speaks quietly.
"Sarcasm." John said.
"Yes." Sherlock said, as the press applauded, Lestrade walked over to him and gave him a gift-wrapped package, smiling cheerfully.
"We all chipped in." Lestrade said, and Sherlock tears open the wrapping paper with Sally and Anderson grin expectantly.
Sherlock pulls out a deerstalker hat.
"Oh!" Sherlock said, trying to smile.
"Put the hat on!" The first reporter said, angrily.
"Put the hat on!" The second reporter yelled.
"Yeah, Sherlock, put it on!" Lestrade said, annoyed.
"Seriously, Sherlock. Put it on." I said, while Sherlock looked at the reporters as if he'd like to kill them.
John clears his throat uncomfortably.
"Just get it over with." John said, quietly before glowering at Sherlock who shoves the wrapping paper into his hands, then unhappily puts the hat on his head.
Flashbulbs go mad and everyone applauds. At the back of the room, Sally claps with sarcastic delight while Anderson, the douche, grins smugly. Sherlock smiles at the press through gritted teeth and glances at Greg as if promising him a world of pain later.
Some time later, the 'Daily Star' prints a World Exclusive on its front page: 'Boffin Sherlock solves another' with the strapline: 'Hero 'Tec cracks 'unsolvable' case'.
221B BAKER STREET...
John is sitting on the sofa reading the papers, I am playing the Apollo Justice Trilogy on my Nintendo Switch, while Sherlock, wearing his blue dressing gown over his shirt and trousers, stomps across the room and throws the Daily Star onto the pile of newspapers on the coffee table.
"'Boffin.' 'Boffin Sherlock Holmes.'" Sherlock said, indignantly.
"Everybody gets one." I said, sadly.
"One what?"
"Tabloid nickname: 'SuBo'; 'Nasty Nick.' Shouldn't worry – Jared and I will probably get one soon." John said.
"Page five, column six, first sentence." Sherlock said, while John turns to the relevant page as the consulting detective goes over to the fireplace, picks up the deerstalker, holds it up and punches it angrily. "Why is it always the hat photograph?"
"Ugh! You have got to be kidding me." I said, as I loaded up the newspaper article on my phone. "'Bachelors John Watson and Jared Shay'?"
"What sort of hat is it anyway?" Sherlock asked.
"'Bachelors'? What the hell are they implying?" John asked.
"Is it a cap? Why has it got two fronts?" Sherlock asked, holding up the hat and twisting it back and forth rapidly.
"Just because I'm not around Clara Oswald in the time period..." I said, glancing up briefly. "Doesn't mean I'm a bachelor! Sherlock, that hat is called a deerstalker." I read more of the article. "John, listen to this. 'Frequently seen in the company of bachelors John Watson and Jared Shay ...'"
"You stalk a deer with a hat? What are you gonna do – throw it?" Sherlock asked.
"Jared, you're less of a bachelor than I am! You have Clara Oswald!" John said, looking at another part of the article on his newspaper copy. "'... confirmed bachelors John Watson and Jared Shay'!"
"Some sort of death frisbee?" Sherlock asked.
"Why did I become more public hanging out with you two than Team RWBY?" I asked, looking between Sherlock and John. "This is too much. Becoming internet phenomenons. We need to be more careful."
"It's got flaps ... ear flaps. It's an ear hat, Jared." Sherlock said, accurately skims the hat across the room to me, and I caught it with my hand. "What do you mean, 'more careful'?"
"Well, this isn't a deerstalker hat. It's become a Sherlock Holmes hat." I said, looking at Sherlock. "You're no longer a private detective, Sherlock. 'Reichenbach Falls' is your breakthrough into mainstream media." I am holding my thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "You're this close to famous. That's how you became popular back home for me."
"Oh, it'll pass." Sherlock said, slumping down into his armchair and folds his hands in the prayer position in front of his mouth.
"It'd better pass. The press will turn, Sherlock. They always turn, and they'll turn on you." John said.
Sherlock lowers his hands and looks more closely at John and I, "It really bothers the both of you."
"What?" John asked.
"What people say." Sherlock said.
"Yes." John said.
"About me? I don't understand – why would it upset you two?" Sherlock asked.
"Because it does." I said, looking at Sherlock for a moment before picking up my Nintendo Switch and went back to playing the Apollo Justice Trilogy. "'The Hound of the Baskervilles' is one of many people's favorite cases of yours back home for me. Shiori Novella loves that case."
John holds his gaze for a moment, then looks away, "Jared's right, Sherlock. It got so far that a virtual YouTuber knows and loves you. Just try to keep a low profile. Find yourself a little case this week. Stay out of the news."
(Open POV)
TOWER OF LONDON...
It is 11 AM and tourists are walking about in the grounds, looking around, talking to the Beefeaters, taking photographs. One tourist wearing jeans, trainers, a light grey jacket and a cap with 'London' printed on it and with a union flag on the peak is aiming his camera phone around and taking pictures like all the others, but this person appears to be more interested in the security staff than anything else. The other thing that piques his interest is the sign pointing the way to the Crown Jewels. He lowers his camera, chewing nonchalantly on a piece of gum, and we see that this is none other than Jim Moriarty.
221B Baker Street...
A phone in the living room trills a text alert. Sherlock is sitting at the table in the kitchen, looking into his microscope. John comes along the corridor leading from Sherlock's bedroom with wet hair, wearing a bathrobe and rubbing the back of his neck with a towel. Jared is am eating jelly babies and drinking some green tea.
"Sherlock, it's your phone." Jared said, sadly. "You got a text."
"Mm. Keeps doing that." Sherlock siad, disinterestedly.
John walks into the living room, goes past the body in a suit which is hanging by its neck from the ceiling, sits down in his chair and picks up a newspaper. The body sways gently in the breeze.
"So, did you just talk to him for a really long time?" John asked.
Sherlock looks up and glances across to the body, which is a mannequin.
"Oh. Henry Fishgard never committed suicide." Sherlock said, picking up an old hardback book from the table and slams it shut in a flurry of dust before going back to his microscope. "Bow Street Runners: missed everything."
"Pressing case, is it?!" John exclaimed.
"They're all pressing 'til they're solved. " Sherlock said.
White Tower in the Tower of London....
It is 11 AM and tourists are passing through a metal detector on their way to see the Crown Jewels. A security man gives some items back to a tourist.
"Put this in your bag, please." A security man said, while Jim walks through the detector which beeps an alarm. "Excuse me, sir." Still chewing on his gum, Jim stops and steps back again. "Any metal objects – keys, mobile phones?" Smiling apologetically, Jim takes his phone out of his pocket and puts it into the tray. "You can go through."
Jim steps through the detector again, which stays silent this time. The security man slides the tray across and Jim takes the phone again.
"Thank you." The security man said, while Jim walks on and enters the room.
Moriarty stops at the large display case in the middle of the room and looks at the throne inside the case. On the throne is a red velvet cushion with an ornate crown resting on it. An equally ornate orb is balanced on one arm of the throne and a sceptre rests across the other arm. As other tourists walk around the case, Jim takes a pair of earphones from his pocket and pokes them into his ears. Bending his head from side to side to crack his neck, he lifts his phone and switches it on, then closes his eyes in bliss, still rolling his head on his neck and spreading his arms either side of him and then slowly beginning to lower them as the Overture to Rossini's 'The Thieving Magpie' begins to play.
In the nearby surveillance room, one of the two men watching the security footage from all around the Tower turns to his colleague.
"Fancy a cuppa, then, mate?" Surveillance man 1 asked.
"Yeah, why not?" Surveillance man 2 asked.
The first man stands up and walks away.
BANK OF ENGLAND...
It is 11 AM as a man brings a tray containing a cup and saucer and a milk jug into the office of the bank's Director.
"Gilts at seven; Dutch telecoms in freefall. Thank you, Harvey." The bank director said, looking at his computer screen.
Harvey puts down the tray onto the table and leaves the room again.
PENTONVILLE PRISON...
It is 11 AM and the prison's governor, with an enormous 'Keep calm and carry on' mug full of tea on his desk, slams a file down onto his desk while several warders sit or stand nearby.
"What do you say: refuse them all parole and bring back the rope! Let's begin." The prison governor said.
White Tower...
Jim finishes lowering his arms and then lifts up the phone and scrolls through the app icons on it. He pushes aside the one that has a cartoon of a prisoner with striped prison clothes and standing behind bars, scrolls past the one of a piggy bank with the English flag on it, and selects the one with a crown on it. The icon of the crown unfolds like a padlock being unlocked and digital code begins to stream out into the air, and in the surveillance room alarms begin to beep in warning as some of the TV screens go blank. An automated voice plays into the White Tower.
"This is an emergency. Please leave the building." A voice said, repeatedly over the intercom.
The tourists start to hurry out of the room. A security guard walks over to Jim, perhaps assuming that he can't hear the alarm through his earphones, and puts a hand onto his shoulder to attract his attention.
"Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave." The security guard said, while Jim turns and sprays something into his face and he immediately collapses.
The security door closes and locks, and Jim takes off his cap and smoothes out his hair. In the surveillance room, the man slams down the cups of tea he was bringing back, grabs a phone and starts to dial.
Scotland Yard...
Sally Donovan hurries across the office and opens the door to Greg's office.
"Sir, there's been a break-in." Donovan said.
Greg has his feet up on the desk and is drinking coffee and eating a pastry.
"Not our division." Lestrade said, with his mouth full.
"You'll want it." Donovan said.
White Tower...
Jim scrolls through the apps on his phone and selects the English piggy bank. The piggy bank breaks open to reveal many gold coins, and digital code streams out into the air.
Bank of England...
The Director looks down at the cup of tea he is holding as the liquid inside begins to shimmer and the building vibrates gently.
"The vault!" The bank director said, as alarms blare and his screen flashes the alarm 'VAULT OPENING'.
A graphic on the screen shows the door to the vault swinging slowly open. The Director's jaw drops and he stares in disbelief, his tea cup slowly tilting in his hand until the tea pours out into his lap.
Car...
Greg is driving Sally over a bridge across the river with sirens blaring. Sally has just got an update on her phone.
"Hacked into the Tower of bloody London security?! How?!" Lestrade exclaimed, and Sally's phone rings and she answers it. "Tell them we're already on our way."
"There's been another one; another break-in." Donovan said, while Greg stares across at her while she listens. "Bank of England! "
White Tower...
Jim is chomping on his gum while he flamboyantly scrawls a message onto the glass of the display case with a white crayon. Finishing the message – which we can't yet clearly see – he draws a smiley face inside the letter 'O.' Lifting his phone once more, he selects the app with the prisoner on it. The bars over the prisoner lift away and the striped top which the icon is wearing turns into a plain black one, then the image changes to a keyhole. Digital code streams out into the air.
Pentonville Prison....
The governor is just lifting his mug to his mouth when alarms begin to sound. A prison warder bursts into the room.
"Sir, security's down, sir. It's failing!" The prison warder said, as the governor surges to his feet, accidentally sweeping his mug off the table and onto the floor.
Car...
On the road, Sally gets another phonecall. Greg looks across to her.
"What is it now?" Lestrade asked.
"Pentonville Prison!" Donovan said, angrily.
Lestrade stares at Donovan in disbelief, "Oh no!"
White Tower...
Jim holds his piece of chewing gum between his teeth and pulls the end of it out towards the case and sticks it onto the glass. Leaving the whole piece of gum stuck there, he takes a tiny diamond from a box and, grinning manically, carefully presses the jewel into the gum. Turning away from the case, he slips off his jacket and drops it to the floor, revealing a plain white V-necked T-shirt underneath, then raises his arms upwards either side above his head in an almost balletic flourish. Outside, police cars and vans begin to pour into the Tower grounds. Jim continues to dance around the White Tower while outside, the last of the tourists are hustled out of the building. Pulling black leather mitts onto his hands, Jim goes to the wall and picks up a fire extinguisher. Outside, armed police leap out of a van and run into the Tower. Inside, Jim dances dramatically towards the case, raises the fire extinguisher with the bottom end pointed towards the glass and, grinning happily, rams it towards the chewing gum and diamond. The glass shatters around the impact point. The armed police charge through the metal detector, repeatedly setting off the alarm. Jim smashes the extinguisher into the glass a couple more times and eventually the entire pane disintegrates and falls to the floor.
Greg's car screams into the grounds and he and Sally jump out and race into the White Tower. Inside, the armed police disable the lock to the door and it swings open. They charge inside and are greeted by the sight of Jim Moriarty sitting on the throne inside the case, wearing an ermine trimmed robe, the crown on his head, the orb between his knees and holding the sceptre across his lap, with his earphones still in. He has his eyes closed in bliss as the music comes to an end. He opens his eyes and smiles at the new arrivals.
"No rush." Jim said, calmly.
221B Baker Street...
Sherlock's phone trills another text alert. John lowers his newspaper.
"I'll get it, shall I?" John asked, tetchily standing up and walks over to the phone, picking it up and checking the message while Sherlock continues to look into his microscope as Jared is playing on his Nintendo Switch.
John's face slowly fills with shock.
John turns and takes the phone into the kitchen, holding it out to Sherlock, "Here."
"Not now, I'm busy." Sherlock said, not looking up.
"Sherlock ... Jared..." John said, worried.
"Not now."
"He's back." John said, breathing heavily.
"Not Moriarty." Jared said, breathing heavy.
Sherlock lifts his head and takes the phone. The message on the screen reads:
Come and play.
Tower Hill.
Jim Moriarty x.
Sherlock's eyes widen and he sinks back on his chair and gazes into space.
White Tower...
Jim is smiling calmly as he is being put into the back of a police car. Behind him, Greg and Sally come out of the building and watch, then Greg looks down at Jim's phone which he is holding.
(Jared's POV)
Later, Sherlock, John, and I have arrived at the Tower and we are watching the recorded security footage taken from behind Jim as he sticks the gum onto the glass. From a distance, it's not clear what he then pushes into the gum.
"That glass is tougher than anything." Lestrade said.
"Not tougher than crystallised carbon. He used a diamond." Sherlock said, while Lestrade adjusts the footage, which shifts to a recording taken from the other side of the glass.
The footage also goes into reverse, showing the glass rising back up into place before it shattered. As Jim pulls back the fire extinguisher again and the glass becomes whole, the message which he scrawled onto it becomes clear. He deliberately wrote the words backwards on the glass so that they would be seen from the camera on the other side of the case. With the smiley face inside the 'O', the message reads:
GET
SHERLOCK
"I hate him, I do." I said, as John and I turned and stares at Sherlock but his eyes are fixed on the screen. "I hate Moriarty as much as the Master."
The 'Daily Express' has somehow obtained the security image with the message clear on the glass, and has run it on its front page with the headline: 'Crime of the Century?'. The rest of the text reads: 'Questions are being asked in parliament as to how the Tower of London, Pentonville Prison and the Bank of England were all broken into at the same time by the same man – James Moriarty. // There are unconfirmed reports that Scotland Yard's favourite sleuth Mr Sherlock Holmes has been called in to help the team piece together the most audacious crime ... Turn to page 5'.
Some indeterminate time later, a new front page headline from the 'Daily Mail' reads: 'Jewel Thief on trial at Bailey' and the first few paragraphs read: 'Crown Jewel thief is to be tried at the Old Bailey and Sherlock Holmes is named as a witness for the prosecution. // Master criminal Moriarty taunted Holmes with his graffitied GET SHERLOCK at the scene of the crime. The crime is attracting huge attention internationally too. // Irish born Moriarty – of no fixed abode, seems to be taunting the master detective. // Boffin Holmes, accompanied by confirmed bachelors John Watson and Jared Shay – refused to comment. // Crowds gathered yesterday for what is being described as the trial of the century.'
'The Guardian' leads with the headline 'Amateur detective to be called as expert witness' and the strapline 'Scotland Yard calls upon 'nation's favourite detective' in Moriarty trial'. The picture is of Sherlock putting on the deerstalker hat at the Scotland Yard press conference and the text reads: 'In a twist worthy of a Conan Doyle novella, Mr Sherlock Holmes was yesterday revealed to be an expert witness at the trial of 'Jim' Moriarty. Described by many commentators as the trial of the century, the case has all the ingredients of a block buster film. The royal family, Scotland Yard, the world of finance and greed, the 'underclass' of prisoners out to seek revenge as they enjoy their own fifteen minutes of freedom. The case is riddled with irony and intrigue but perhaps reflects a deeper malaise that seems to be at the heart of a society. // Mr Holmes, a man of few words, declined to comment when asked his involvement in the case. It is understood that a woefully depleted Scotland ...'
221B Baker Street....
John is standing in front of the mirror in the living room. He is wearing a suit and finishes tying his tie before putting on his jacket. I am wearing a RWBY hoodie and some jeans as I am not a big fan of a suit and tie. Near the sofa, Sherlock is buttoning up his own jacket while watching John's reflection. Sherlock leads the way downstairs and goes to the front door, then stops and turns to the side to allow John and I to pass him and reach out towards the door.
"Ready?" John asked, looking between Sherlock and I.
"Yes." Sherlock said.
"I'm ready. Let's do this, John." I said, as John is bracing himself before opening the door. "I'm glad it's Moriarty than the Master."
Police officers are trying to hold back the large crowd of journalists who immediately start photographing the three of us and calling out questions as the police clear the way and allow Sherlock, John, and I through to the waiting police car. John points Sherlock towards the nearest rear door of the car.
"Get in." John said.
As Sherlock does as instructed, John and I go round the back and the two of us get on the other side and the car pulls away and races off with its sirens wailing. I closed my eyes to imagine what was going on with Moriarty.
Old Bailey...
Jim is in a cell wearing a smart light grey suit, white shirt and pale grey tie and silver tie pin with matching grey handkerchief in the breast pocket. A prison guard is checking the handcuffs which shackle him to two nearby officers. Not long afterwards and surrounded by prison officers, he is being escorted along the corridors towards the court. As he walks along, a small smile begins to creep onto his face.
Trafalgar Square...
The police car is just going around Trafalgar Square.
"Remember ..." John said.
"Yes." Sherlock said, instantly.
"Remember ..." John said, insistently.
"Yes." Sherlock said, even more quickly.
John looks away in frustration, then goes for broke and speaks quickly, "Remember what they told you: don't try to be clever ..."
"No." Sherlock said, talking over John.
"Sherlock. Just keep your testimonies simple and brief." I said, looking at Sherlock.
"God forbid the star witness at the trial should come across as intelligent."
"'Intelligent,' fine; let's give 'smart-arse' a wide berth." John said, annoyed.
There's a slight pause.
"I'll just be myself." Sherlock said.
"Are you listening to us?!" John exclaimed, irritated.
I closed my eyes again as I imagined what Moriarty is up to now.
Old Bailey...
Jim is marched up the stairs into the courtroom, two prison officers holding him by the shoulders.
Police car...
I took out my phone onto YouTube TV to watch three news reports at once.
Outside the Old Bailey, TV reporters are talking into various cameras as they record pieces for the news programmes.
"... here today standing outside..." the ITN reporter said.
"... This is the trial of the century ..." The Sky News reporter said.
"... the trial of James Moriarty ..." The BBC news reporter said.
"Great. They're covering the trial." I said, while I am looking at their broadcasts as seen on television through YouTube TV. "This is just great..."
"... James Moriarty, earlier today, accused of attempt..." The Sky News reporter said.
"... of attempting to steal the Crown Jewels ..." The ITN reporter said.
"... at the Old Bailey, we have Reichenbach Hero Sherlock Holmes ..." The BBC News reporter said.
I placed my phone back inside my pocket as I know what is going to happen next will be a long one. I then closed my eyes to imagine what Moriarty is doing now in the court room.
Old Bailey...
Jim and his prison escort reach the top of the stairs and he is turned sideways and walked into the dock. As a female prison officer comes across to check his restraints, he turns his head and murmurs into her ear.
"Would you mind slipping your hand into my pocket?" Jim asked, as the officer looks at one of her male colleagues, who nods in agreement.
Looking rather uncomfortable, the officer slides her fingers into Jim's trouser pocket and pulls out the contents while Jim breathes very close to her face and gazes into her eyes before poking out his tongue. She puts what she has found in his pocket – a piece of chewing gum – onto his tongue and he draws his tongue back in and begins to chew, smiling at her creepily.
"Thanks." Jim said.
(Open POV)
Sherlock is in the toilets at the Old Bailey washing his hands.
"Crown versus Moriarty – please proceed to Court Ten." Someone said, over the speakers.
As Sherlock turns off the taps, a woman standing behind him and wearing a deerstalker hat stares at him in awestruck amazement. Her bag slips out of her fingers and drops to the floor.
"You're him." Kitty said.
Sherlock sees that Kitty's also wearing an 'I (heart) Sherlock' badge on her jacket, "Wrong toilet."
"I'm a big fan." Kitty said.
"Evidently." Sherlock said, turning towards Kitty.
"I read your cases; follow them all." Kitty said, stepping closer, gazing at him adoringly. "Sign my shirt, would you?"
Kitty peels back her jacket to reveal that her blouse is opened quite low and she is showing a lot of cleavage. She offers him a pen which she already has in her hand.
"There are two types of fans." Sherlock said.
"Oh?" Kitty asked.
"'Catch me before I kill again' – Type A ..."
"Uh-huh. What's Type B?"
"'Your bedroom's just a taxi ride away.'"
Kitty grins, her eyes still locked on his, "Guess which one I am."
Sherlock runs his eyes down her body and does a speed deduction:
pressure marks
ink
"Neither." Sherlock said.
"Really?" Kitty asked, blinking a little nervously.
"No. You're not a fan at all." Sherlock said, looking at the indentations in Kitty's skin just below her right wrist. "Those marks on your forearm: edge of a desk. You've been typing in a hurry, probably. Pressure on; facing a deadline."
"That all?" Kitty asked, looking away.
"And there's a smudge of ink on your wrist; and a bulge in your left jacket pocket." Sherlock said, as he and Kitty look down to her pocket from which is protruding the edge of a dictaphone, which has a red light shining on it showing that it's recording.
"Bit of a giveaway."
"The smudge is deliberate, to see if I'm as good as they say I am." Sherlock said, lifting Kitty's hand and sniffs the ink on her wrist. "Hmm. Oil-based, used in newspaper print, but drawn on with an index finger; your finger."
"Hmm!"
"Journalist. Unlikely you'd get your hands dirty at the press. You put that there to test me."
"Wow, I'm liking you!"
"You mean I'd make a great feature: 'Sherlock Holmes – the man beneath the hat.'" Sherlock said.
"Kitty ..." Kitty said, taking off the hat. "... Riley. Pleased to meet you."
Kitty offers her hand for him to shake.
"No. I'm just saving you the trouble of asking. No, I won't give you an interview; no, I don't want the money." Sherlock said, as he pushed past Kitty and heads for the door.
Kitty chases after Sherlock, "You and John Watson – just platonic? Can I put you down for a 'no' there, as well?"
Kitty stops Sherlock from opening the door and gets in his way, stepping well into his personal space. He breathes loudly and angrily.
"There's all sorts of gossip in the press about you. Sooner or later you're gonna need someone on your side ..." Kitty said, reaching into her pocket, she holds up her business card and then tucks it into his breast pocket. "... someone to set the record straight."
"And you think you're the girl for that job, do you?" Sherlock asked, smiling sarcastically.
"I'm smart, and you can trust me, totally."
"Smart, okay: investigative journalist. Good. Not like Sarah Jane Smith or my friend, Jared Shay. Well, look at me and tell me what you see." Sherlock said, as Kitty stares at him blankly, perhaps a little overwhelmed by the way he is swaying gently in front of her. "If you're that skilful, you don't need an interview. You can just read what you need." Kitty looks awkward and can't continue to meet his eyes. "No? Okay, my turn." Sherlock paces around her and looks her over before doing a quick fire deduction. "I look at you and I see someone who's still waiting for their first big scoop so that their editor will notice them. You're wearing an expensive skirt but it's been re-hemmed twice; only posh skirt you've got. And your nails: you can't afford to do them that often. I see someone who's hungry. I don't see smart, and I definitely don't see trustworthy, but I'll give you a quote if you like – three little words."
Sherlock reaches down and takes the dictaphone from her pocket, holding it up to his mouth as she steps closer hopefully.
"You ... repel ... me." Sherlock said, slowly, deliberately, before turning and leaves the room.
OLD BAILEY, COURT TEN...
Sherlock has been called to give his evidence and is standing in the witness box. Jim is in the dock opposite him, nonchalantly chewing on his gum. John is sitting in the public gallery upstairs.
"A 'consulting criminal.'" The prosecuting barrister said.
"Yes." Sherlock said.
"Your words. Can you expand on that answer?"
"James Moriarty is for hire."
"A tradesman?"
"Yes."
"But not the sort who'd fix your heating." The prosecuting barrister said.
"No, the sort who'd plant a bomb or stage an assassination, but I'm sure he'd make a pretty decent job of your boiler." Sherlock said, while there's muffled laughter from some people in the court, and the prosecuting barrister tries to hide her smile.
"Would you describe him as ..."
"Leading." Sherlock said, interrupting the prosecuting barrister.
"What?"
"Can't do that. You're leading the witness." Sherlock said, looking towards the defending barrister. "He'll object and the judge will uphold."
The judge looks exasperated – apparently this isn't the first time Sherlock has done this during his evidence.
"Mr Holmes." The judge said.
"Ask me how. How would I describe him? What opinion have I formed of him? Do they not teach you this?" Sherlock asked, looking at the prosecuting barrister.
"Mr Holmes, we're fine without your help." The judge said, as Kitty comes into the public gallery.
"Who's that?" John asked.
John and Jared look round at Kitty as she finds a seat.
"Kitty Riley. Don't like her. Not even nice like Sarah." Jared said, sadly.
"How would you describe this man – his character?" The prosecuting barrister asked.
"First mistake." Sherlock said, raising his eyes and locks his gaze onto Jim. "James Moriarty isn't a man at all – he's a spider; a spider at the centre of a web – a criminal web with a thousand threads and he knows precisely how each and every single one of them dances."
Jim almost imperceptibly nods his head as if approving of the description.
The prosecuting barrister clears her throat awkwardly, "And how long ..."
"No, no, don't-don't do that. That's really not a good question." Sherlock said, closing his eyes in exasperation.
"Mr Holmes." The judge said, angrily.
"How long have I known him? Not really your best line of enquiry. We met twice, five minutes in total. I pulled a gun; he tried to blow me up." Sherlock said, sarcastically. "I felt we had a special something."
Jim raises his eyebrows in an 'ooh!' expression.
"Miss Sorrel, are you seriously claiming this man is an expert, after knowing the accused for just five minutes?" The judge asked.
"Two minutes would have made me an expert. Five was ample." Sherlock said.
"Mr Holmes, that's a matter for the jury."
"Oh, really?" Sherlock asked, his eyes turning towards the jury box with John raising his hand to his head in an all-too-recognisable 'oh, shit, NO!' gesture and Jared looked down at the floor as he grabbed the army doctor's hand.
"If only this was Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth as the defense and prosecutor." Jared said, and Sherlock turns the full force of his gaze onto the twelve people sitting in the jury box and has deduced all of them within a couple of seconds. "Then they would do their 'Ace Attorney' quips towards Sherlock."
"One librarian; two teachers; two high-pressured jobs, probably the City." Sherlock said, focusing on the woman at the far left of the front row. She has a notebook resting on the ledge in front of her and is writing in shorthand. "The foreman's a medical secretary, trained abroad judging by her shorthand."
"Mr Holmes!" The judge said, angrily.
"Seven are married and two are having an affair – with each other, it would seem! Oh, and they've just had tea and biscuits." Sherlock said, scanning rings on the jury members' fingers before turning to the judge. "Would you like to know who ate the wafer?"
"Mr Holmes. You've been called here to answer Miss Sorrel's questions, not to give us a display of your intellectual prowess." The judge said, angrily.
Sherlock takes a breath but can't help looking up towards John and Jared and smiling a little at the acknowledgement of their 'intellectual prowess.' John and Jared stares at him sternly.
"Keep your answers brief and to the point. Anything else will be treated as contempt." The judge said, while Sherlock raises his eyes in a 'We're surrounded by idiots' type way as Jim smiles slightly as if agreeing. "Do you think you could survive for just a few minutes without showing off?"
Sherlock pauses while he gives the question some thought, then opens his mouth and draws in a breath.
Shortly afterwards, a prison officer marches Sherlock into one of the cells under the courts and shoves him inside, slamming the door shut behind him. A recess has apparently been called in the trial and so a little later two more officers walk Jim to the adjoining cell and lock him inside. As if sensing each other, the two men turn and look at the wall separating them. Jim's expression slowly becomes murderous.
Some time later Sherlock is being released. While he signs for his personal property, John and Jared are standing beside him leaning back against the desk with the two having their arms folded.
"What did I say? I said, 'Don't get clever.'" John said.
"I can't just turn it on and off like a tap." Sherlock said, taking the bag of items from the custody officer, he turns to John and Jared as they begin to walk away. "Well?"
"Well what?" Jared asked. "What do you want to know, Sherlock?"
"You two were there for the whole thing, up in the gallery, start to finish." Sherlock said, looking between John and Jared.
"Like you said it would be." John said, referring to Jim's defending barrister. "He sat on his backside, never even stirred."
"Moriarty's not mounting any defense." Sherlock said.
"Which is good for him. And bad for you." Jared said, frowning.
221B Baker Street...
The boys and their fanboy walk into the living room.
"Bank of England, Tower of London, Pentonville. Three of the most secure places in the country and six weeks ago Moriarty breaks in, no-one knows how or why." John said, as he sits down in his armchair while Sherlock begins to pace. "All we know is ..."
"... he ended up in custody." Jared said, and Sherlock stops and turns to John.
John takes a breath, "Don't do that."
"Do what?" Sherlock asked.
"The look." John said.
"Look?"
"You're doing the look again."
"Well, I can't see it, can I?" Sherlock asked, while John points to the mirror above the fireplace as if the consulting detective's an idiot for not realising it's there with the detective turning his head and looks at his reflection. "It's my face."
"Yes, and it's doing a thing. You're doing a 'the three of us know what's really going on here' face." John said.
"Well, we do." Sherlock said.
"No. I don't, which is why I find The Face so annoying."
"If Moriarty wanted the Jewels, he'd have them. If he wanted those prisoners free, they'd be out on the streets. The only reason he's still in a prison cell right now is because he chose to be there." Sherlock said, as he starts to pace again. "Somehow this is part of his scheme."
OLD BAILEY...
It is now the next day, presumably, because there can't be that many more witnesses for the prosecution.
"Mr Crayhill, can we have your first witness?" The judge asked.
The defending barrister rises to his feet, "Your Honour, we're not calling any witnesses."
There are cries of surprise around the court, and John – sitting in the public gallery – frowns in confusion.
"I don't follow. You've entered a plea of Not Guilty." The judge said.
"Nevertheless, my client is offering no evidence. The defence rests." The defending barrister said, sitting down.
Jim purses his lips ruefully at the judge, then turns, looks up towards the public gallery and shrugs.
221B Baker Street / Old Bailey...
It is now the following day. Sherlock – who, like on the previous day, either chose to stay at home or more likely has been banned from the court – sits sideways on the sofa with his back against the arm nearest the window. Wearing his blue dressing gown over his clothes, he softly recites the only words that the judge can possibly say in his summing-up speech. Jared is sipping on a mug of Earl Grey tea, knowing what is going to happen next. He is beyond scared of encountering Jim Moriarty again.
Sherlock's recitation is interspersed with the actual words from the judge, and frequently their lines overlap.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. James Moriarty stands accused of several counts of attempted burglary, crimes which – if he's found guilty – will elicit a very long custodial sentence; and yet his legal team has chosen to offer no evidence whatsoever to support their plea. I find myself in the unusual position of recommending a verdict wholeheartedly. You must find him guilty." Sherlock and the judge said, at the same time.
Sherlock and Jared close their eyes.
"Guilty." Sherlock said, in a whisper.
"You must find him guilty." The judge said.
The court adjourns at 10:42.
"Please..." Jared said, still sipping on his Earl Grey tea. "Time can be rewritten. Moriarty must be sent to prison."
At 10:50, John is sitting on a bench just outside the courtroom when the Clerk of the Court hurries out of a side room.
"They're coming back." The clerk said.
John looks at his watch, "That's six minutes."
John takes into account how long it took the jury to leave the court and go to their allocated room.
"Surprised it took them that long, to be honest. There's a queue for the loo." The clerk said, hurrying into the court.
John stands up, takes a moment to brace himself and then follows. A few minutes later the Clerk rises to his feet in the courtroom and turns to face the jury.
"Have you reached a verdict on which you all agree?" The clerk asked, while one of the jury members lowers his head and shakes it in tiny despairing motions as the foreman gets to her feet and stares unhappily at the Clerk.
(Jared's POV)
221B Baker Street...
Sherlock's phone begins to ring. His eyes snap open. Outside the court, John is hurrying along the pavement.
"Not Guilty. They found him Not Guilty. No defence, and Moriarty's walked free. I know Jared was expecting the timeline to change for Moriarty to be in prison but it didn't." John said, his voice coming out of Sherlock's phone while the consulting detective lowers it. "Sherlock. Are you listening? He's out. Moriarty's out. You-you know he'll be coming after you and Jared. Sher..."
"Jared, you can go now." Sherlock said, switching off the phone and gets up off the sofa. "I know how scared you are of Moriarty."
"I can handle it." I said, walking to the kitchen and switches on the kettle and slams down a small tray beside it, putting a jug of milk, a sugar bowl, a teapot and three cups and saucers with teaspoons onto the tray. "I promise."
"Are you sure?" Sherlock asked, as the kettle comes to the boil and switches off and the consulting detective, now wearing a jacket in place of the dressing gown, makes the tea and takes the tray to the table beside John's chair, then walks over to his own chair and picks up his violin and bow. "You are sure."
"Yeah." I said, and Sherlock begins to play Bach's Sonata No. 1 in G minor, downstairs the front door is expertly lockpicked and pushed open. "I am."
Jim's easily-recognisable shadow precedes him as he slowly walks along the hall and up the stairs. Partway up, one of the stairs creaks noisily and Jim pauses for a moment, as does Sherlock's playing. A couple of seconds later, Sherlock resumes from a few notes before where he stopped and Jim starts to climb the stairs again. Sherlock and I, standing with our backs to the living room door, with the consulting detective keep playing until Jim pushes open the door, then he stops but doesn't yet turn around.
"Most people knock." Sherlock said, shrugging. "But then you're not most people, I suppose." He gestures over his shoulder with his bow towards the table. "Kettle's just boiled."
"Thought you'd like some tea." I said, while Jim walks further into the room and bends to pick up an apple from the bowl on the coffee table.
"Johann Sebastian would be appalled. Jared, history said you met him with the Doctor, Sayaka Miki, and Kyoko Sakura." Jim said, tossing the apple and catching it in an Arthur Shappey-like attempt to be really happy for a brief moment, he looks around the living room as if searching for a seat. "May I?"
"Please." Sherlock said, turning to face Moriarty and gesturing with the end of his bow towards John's chair.
Jim immediately walks over to Sherlock's chair and sits in that one instead. Sherlock looks slightly unnerved. Jim takes out a small penknife and starts to cut into the apple while Sherlock puts down the violin and begins to pour tea into the cups.
"You know when he was on his death bed, Bach, he heard his son at the piano playing one of his pieces to a girl with blue hair and a girl with red hair. The boy stopped before he got to the end ..." Jim said.
"... and the dying man jumped out of his bed, ran straight to the piano with Sayaka and Kyoko smiling and finished it." I said, looking at Moriarty.
"Couldn't cope with an unfinished melody." Jim said.
"Neither can you. That's why you've come." Sherlock said.
"But be honest: you're just a tiny bit pleased."
"Why would I be pleased with the verdict? I think Sherlock might." I said, picking up one of the teacups, adds a splash of milk and turns and offers the cup to Jim, who sits up straighter and takes it.
"With me ..." Jim said, softly. "... back on the streets." He gazes up into Sherlock's eyes, smiling. "Every fairytale needs a good old-fashioned villain. Like the Doctor needs the Master or how Railgun needs Accelerator." He grins as Sherlock turns away and adds milk to his own cup while I add some milk and cream to my own cup. "Sherlock, Jared, you need me, or you're nothing. Because we're just alike, the three of us – except you two are boring." He shakes his head in disappointment. "You and Jared are on the side of the angels."
Jim sips his tea as Sherlock and I picked up our own cup and stir our drinks.
"I got to the jury, of course." Sherlock said.
"And I got Railgun and the Puella Magi Holy Quintet in this world." I said, smiling. "I have my friends on my side."
"I got into the Tower of London; you both think I can't worm my way into twelve hotel rooms?" Jim asked, looking between Sherlock and I.
"Well, of course you would have a cable network."
Flashback to the foreman of the jury in her hotel room sitting on the side of the bed and looking at her TV screen.
"Every hotel bedroom has a personalised TV screen ..." Jim said, as I closed my eyes to imagine a TV screen showing the Westhampton Hotel's Information Service.
At the top of the page the message reads 'Hello Ms Williams'. The information underneath instantly changes to a photograph of two young children and a baby. A message in red above the photograph reads, 'IF YOU WANT YOUR BEAUTIFUL CHILDREN TO STAY BEAUTIFUL THEN FOLLOW MY INSTRUCTIONS'.
"... and every person has their pressure point; someone that they want to protect from harm." Jim said, while I imagine the foreman staring at the TV screen in horror.
I opened my eyes to see Moriarty lifting his teacup to his mouth again.
"Easy-peasy." Jim said, softly.
By now Sherlock has unbuttoned his jacket and sat down in John's chair. In a perhaps unconscious mimicking of the man seated opposite him, he too has his cup lifted close to his mouth.
"So how're you going to do it ..." Sherlock siad, pointedly blows gently on his tea. "... burn me and Jared?"
"Oh, that's the problem – the final problem." Jim said, softly. "Sherlock, have you worked out what it is yet? I know Jared has all the answers since he is from a parallel world where all this was a fairy tale. Your cases were stories told in Victorian times or on the telly. Harold Saxon told me all about it, Jared's foreknowledge." Sherlock has taken a sip of his tea and looks across his cup to Moriarty then looked at me. "What's the final problem?" Moriarty smiles across his own cup. "I did tell you ..." He talks in a sing-song voice but still softly. "... but did you listen?"
Morarity takes another sip of tea and then puts the cup down into the saucer. Putting his hand onto his knee, he starts idly drumming his fingers. Sherlock's eyes lower to watch the movement.
"It's not Morse." I said, while Moriarty is still drumming his fingers. "You know this, Sherlock."
"Jared, don't ruin the fun for us." Jim said, as Sherlock puts his cup into its saucer and shrugs. "How hard do you find it, having to say 'I don't know'?"
"I dunno." Sherlock said, nonchalantly.
"Oh, that's clever; that's very clever; awfully clever." Jim said, chuckling in an upper class tone. Sherlock smiles humourlessly while putting his cup back onto the tray. "Speaking of clever, have you told your little friends yet? And Jared, have you called Railgun and her friends yet?"
"Tell them what? What should I tell them?" I asked, still sipping on my tea.
"Why I broke into all those places and never took anything." Jim said.
"Nope. I haven't. You're too dangerous to have them be around you. Going off of my last meeting with you, Moriarty. Hell, I wouldn't let Team RWBY near you."
"I know you won't, Jared. You are so overprotective of your friends. But you and Sherlock understand."
"Obviously." Sherlock said.
"Off you go, then, Sherlock." Jim said, carving a piece off his apple and puts it into his mouth with the flat of his penknife.
"You want me to tell you what you already know?"
"No, I want you to prove that you know it."
"You didn't take anything because you don't need to."
"Good." Jim said, softly.
"You'll never need to take anything ever again." Sherlock said.
"Very good. Because ...?"
"Because nothing ... nothing in the Bank of England, the Tower of London or Pentonville Prison could possibly match the value of the key that could get you into all three."
"I can open any door anywhere with a few tiny lines of computer code. No such thing as a private bank account now – they're all mine. No such thing as secrecy – I own secrecy. Nuclear codes – I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order. In a world with locked rooms, the man with the key is king; and honey, you should see me in a crown. I know Jared has already seen me in a crown due to watching your cases on the telly." Jim said, smiling in delight at Sherlock and I.
"You were advertising all the way through the trial. You were showing the world what you can do." Sherlock said.
"And you and Jared were helping. Big client list: rogue governments like HYDRA, intelligence communities like Torchwood ... terrorist cells. They all want me." Jim said, lifting another piece of apple to his mouth with the penknife. "Suddenly, I'm Mr Sex."
"If you could break any bank, what do you care about the highest bidder?"
"I don't. I just like to watch them all competing. 'Daddy loves me the best!' Aren't ordinary people adorable? Well, you know: Sherlock, you've got John, and Jared, you've got Team RWBY and Railgun with her friends. I should get myself a live-in one."
"Moriarty. I know the timeline hasn't changed. But why are you doing all of this?" I asked, sipping on my tea again.
"It'd be so funny." Jim said, still thinking about having a live-in ordinary person.
"Well, you don't want money and power." I said, sadly. "Not really. Because you're the consulting criminal."
Jim digs the point of his penknife into the apple.
"What is it all for?" Sherlock asked.
"I want to solve the problem – our problem; the final problem." Jim said, sitting forward and speaking softly before lowering his head. "It's gonna start very soon, Sherlock, Jared: the fall." He raises his head and whistles a slowly descending note while simultaneously lowering his gaze towards the floor. "But don't be scared. Falling's just like flying, except there's a more permanent destination."
"I know." I said, while Moriarty's gaze reaches the floor and he makes the sound of something thudding to the ground. "I know what that's like."
"Of course you do." Jim said, raising his head slowly, he glowers across at Sherlock and I, while the consulting detective bares his teeth slightly and then stands and buttons his jacket.
"Never liked riddles." Sherlock said.
Jim stands as well and straightens his jacket, locking his gaze onto Sherlock's eyes and my eyes.
"Learn to. Because I owe you a fall, Sherlock, Jared. I ... owe ... you. Especially you, Jared, with Lake Silencio. I know that one was faked earlier in the year. I had a wire placed in the home of your Ponds. That was how I found out." Jim said, continuing to gaze at Sherlock and I for about six seconds, sealing his promise, then slowly turns and walks away. "Melody Pond. Good girl. For spilling all that information to her parents. Of course your beloved Doctor loves her to the point of them being married."
Sherlock doesn't move as Jim leaves the room, but after a while he moves towards the apple which Jim left on the arm of his chair with the penknife still stuck in it. He picks it up by the knife handle and looks at it. Jim has dug a large circular piece out of the apple, and on the left of the circle he has carved an 'I' shape while on the right of the circle is a 'U' shape, forming the letters 'I O U'. Sherlock's mouth twitches into the beginning of a smile.
The next morning the 'Daily Express' front page headline screams 'MORIARTY WALKS FREE' with the strapline 'Shock verdict at Old Bailey trial'. The opening paragraph reads: 'The Judge could only look on dumbfounded as the Jury found 'Jimbo' Moriarty 'Not Guilty'. Gasps were heard around the courtroom as the Jury declared their verdict'. 'The Guardian' declares 'Shock verdict at trial' and the article begins, 'In an unbelievable turn of events, Moriarty walked free today after putting up no defence at all for what has been described as the Trial of the Century. Star witness Sherlock Holmes was not present for the verdict as in another twist to the case was thrown out of court by the Judge. Questions have been asked in Parliament and the Prime Minister was quoted as saying 'This is a disgrace, a sign if ever we needed one that broken Britain is still broken...'. The 'Daily Star' goes with 'How was he ever acquitted?'.
Some time later 'The Guardian' declares 'Moriarty vanishes' while on one of its inside pages is a cartoon caricature of Sherlock holding a crystal ball with the caption underneath reading, 'What Next for the Reichenbach Hero?'.