For John Watson

[howdull]

[Sherlock is still finding pieces of the melted laptop in the carpet.

It had actually been quite an ingenious booby trap to be devised by a fourteen year old boy with only household chemicals to work with but, as Sherlock surmised, rather overkill to keep his mother from finding his extensive porn collection. Not one of their more illustrious cases, but it had been quite entertaining to watch both the boy and mother's faces as he revealed that he did know the how and why. He lost interest after the mother started shouting and John started shouting and the whole thing turned tedious.

He rather thinks John won't actually be doing a full write-up of this one on his blog.

It's been two days since their last case and he's beginning to get more than a little antsy. Lestrade has sent him nothing, just a boring hit and run that he refused to even leave the flat for, and nobody interesting has appeared through the blog. Said blog he is currently scrolling through on John's laptop, having borrowed it again.

He did ask, it's not his fault John hadn't been in the room at the time.]

Bored, John.

[He doesn't even know if his flatmate is even in, but that's hardly a necessity for him to actually speak to John. Frustrated, he throws the laptop across the room to hit the wall, where it summarily breaks. Which is where he can be found whenever John appears, sulking amidst pieces of laptop, both from the melted one of their last case and John's poor broken one.]

Comments

[howdull]

[She looks utterly blank until John mentions the missing finger, and then it's like a light bulb goes off in her head.]

Oh yes, I remember her, she was really nice. It was about two weeks ago now that she came in, she was kind of plump, uh, pale skin? Blonde hair, but I don't think it was real. Really nice pink nail polish. She said the cards were for her friend who'd just passed out of the police academy and made PC, like a well done present. It's not-- oh no, nothing's happened to her friend, has it?

[jumpthegun]

[Blonde. Okay.]

No, no. Nothing like that. Thank you, very much, Helen. We'll see ourselves out. Thank Adam for us, as well, and keep up the good work here.

[And now to head out and hopefully not be stopped. They're actually going to get away with this. John doesn't know if he should feel this excited when they're in the middle of a potentially deadly situation for Sherlock. He can hear the other man's voice echoing in his head, though.

'The game is on.']

[howdull]

[Molly looks almost as excited as John might be feeling when they make it outside, cheeks flushed and grin stretching wide across her face.]

I can't believe that worked! Oh my gosh, we have to do that again someday!

[She gives him a spontaneous hug, and then hurriedly pulls back looking mortified.]

Oh, um... sorry.

[jumpthegun]

[John goes stiff and gasps. He tries to offer Molly a smile, though, and a light pat on the shoulder as he resists the urge to just curl over and breathes for a few seconds.]

Y-yeah. Good job in there. Not a bad team.

[He's a little slow as they start back toward Molly's car, but picks up his pace as the immediate pain subsides.]

We can head to that location, then, see what there is to see. D'you have any weapons in your car? Mace or a pocket knife?

[John really wants his gun, but they'll make do.]

You can drop me off, and guard the car while I check the building. Hopefully, our Alphabet Woman won't be home, I can grab Sherlock, and then we'll head out.

[howdull]

[She doesn't like the idea of being left outside. Perhaps some tiny portion of her brain, one she will not be acknowledging any time soon, kind of hopes that if she comes riding in like the white knight then Sherlock will notice her.]

No. No weapons. But if we make a stop back at the morgue then I have all my tools.

[A scalpel might not be as good as a gun, but it has to be better than nothing.]

John... what if he's really hurt? We don't know anything about her, if she's capable of killing or...

[He should really tell her about Harry.]

[jumpthegun]

[He's quiet for a moment, but this is the point that Molly needs to understand there is very real danger, and not just from bombs.]

She murdered my big sister two days ago, Molly. And shot a kid through the stomach and just stood and watched while I was trying to stop him bleeding out. I think she's honestly lost some piece of her sanity. You need to understand that when I say, going into that building with me could mean you may not be coming out again.

I don't want anyone else to be hurt because of me.

[howdull]

[Molly stops dead in the street, face paling and hand going to her mouth in shock. There are tears brimming even if she doesn't know him that well, even if she never met his sister.]

Oh, God. I'm-- I'm so sorry.

[What else can she say? That's truly horrible.]

[jumpthegun]

[And that's part of what he was afraid might happen. John takes her arm gently.]

It's okay, Molly. [It's really not.] Let's just keep moving, okay?

[It's easier not to think about it when he's moving.]

We need to focus on getting Sherlock back and keeping you safe, then we can worry about everything else.

[howdull]

It's not okay.

[Instead of letting herself get tugged along, she reaches out and takes him so carefully by the shoulders.]

John, your sister... You shouldn't have to be doing this, you-- have you even let yourself cry?

[jumpthegun]

[His jaw tightens.]

There's no time for that right now, Molly, and it's really not gonna help. There's a woman out there targeting me and the people I care about. I'll deal with it once she's brought in.

[howdull]

[Her heart twists for him and a tear rolls down her cheek as if to mock his dry ones, but she does take her hands away from his shoulders.]

Will you?

[It's asked quietly.]

Or will you just let Sherlock pull you along on the next case and the next one, until it's been long enough that you can pretend you've dealt with it?

[jumpthegun]

[That is uncomfortably perceptive of her, and John lets go, pulling away from Molly. People have slowed down and are starting to stare. He knows they're probably thinking he's just broke up with her. Why else would a woman be crying in front of him in the middle of the pavement? People are watching, Mycroft might be watching, the Alphabet Woman might be watching.

Every moment they spend here is another that Molly's car might be destroyed or booby-trapped, or Sherlock might be killed. He tries to keep his own voice soft and gentle. This is a bridge he can't afford to burn right now.]

Molly, come on. Come on, we can't do this here. Sherlock's waiting. Please.

[howdull]

[She scrubs the heels of her hands into her eyes and nods, but she's not going to forget this. She didn't really know John before today, but now she sees a man going above and beyond to save a friend that most people think is just an insufferable twat. She'll make sure to check in on him when this is all done.

It's the least she can do.]

Y-Yeah, sorry.

[Stupid, Molly. Always babbling on where people don't want it. She ducks her head and starts hurrying along, aware now of the people staring.

It's not too far to the car, which is safe and where they left it, and they're soon on their way out towards Walthamstow. The drive will take a while, and every so often Molly glances over at him as if she wants to pick up the conversation again. Eventually, she chooses a way to do it.]

What was her name, your sister?

[jumpthegun]

[John is very aware of her glances, but just keeps his eyes forward. At the question, there's little to do but sigh and respond.]

Harry. Her name was Harry. She's commented on my blog a few times. I appreciate what you're doing right now, Molly, you don't need to do this, too.

[howdull]

Harry... Harriet, right? How much older than you was she?

[Her voice is soft. Not pitying, she knows too well the harm that pity can do, but compassionate. She ignores the second part of what he says, keeping her eyes on the road now.]

[jumpthegun]

[All right, they're doing this, then. John keeps his tone rigidly neutral, still not looking at Molly.]

Yeah, Harriet. She hates that name. Hated it. We've got about a year between us. She didn't have much time to enjoy being the baby.

[howdull]

Right-- Harry, not Harriet.

[She has no idea if this will work, but sometimes all someone needs is the peace of an hour or so with nothing else but memories to work through.]

Tell me about her when she was a kid? Did you play a lot together?

[jumpthegun]

[John's jaw tightens. He doesn't want to start thinking about Harry right now. That's almost guaranteed to put him in the wrong mindset for dealing with the Alphabet Woman. His replies are short, but polite. Molly may be able to tell by his bristling body language that he's not terribly happy continuing this conversation.

Her compassion is appreciated once more, but this just isn't the time for it.]

I guess so. I dunno. She had her friends, I had mine. She played with me a lot when we were really little. Mum and Dad weren't home much. We entertained ourselves. She's always been the artistic one. She was a graphic designer. We'd paint or draw or whatever.

[howdull]

[She can feel the hostility rolling off him in waves and it does make her want to stop. She's not naturally confrontational, and she doesn't know him well enough to push, but-- No, no but, she's overstepping her mark again, isn't she?

Her shoulders hunch a little and she bites her lip, falling silent.

The remaining twenty minutes are incredibly uncomfortable to her, so much so that she's almost grateful when she pulls up a few doors down from a possible psychotic killer's house.]

It's that one.

[She gestures to a red front door, peeling a little.]

[jumpthegun]

[John keeps quiet, himself. He feels a little bad about shutting Molly down, but he'll apologize after they have Sherlock safely in-hand.]

Okay. Here's the plan. Stay in the car and keep the motor running and the doors locked. We may need to make a very quick get-away, depending on whether or not she's home. I'm gonna check for other points of entry, and check the windows for any sign of Sherlock. If you see the Alphabet Woman, get out of here and phone the-

[John breaks off. Why is he thinking like Sherlock?]

Nevermind. Just call the police while you're waiting and ask for DI Lestrade. Explain what's happened and where we are. You haven't got anything? Not even a tire lever in the boot?

[howdull]

No, sorry. I have AA membership, they come if I get a flat.

[She shrugs, but she's already got her phone out ready to call for Lestrade. Which likely means that John only has ten to fifteen minutes before the police converge on this street in full force.

The house is a standard terraced house. There's the front door and two ground floor windows, and then down an alleyway around the back there's a small yard, a shed, and a back door leading into the kitchen. There's no sign of movement, though the curtains are drawn in the upper back bedroom.]

[jumpthegun]

[Breaking and entering. Okay. Again, this is more Sherlock's area of expertise. John steels himself and heads into the alleyway, not keen to tip off the Alphabet Woman if she's at home. He heads toward the back door and tests it. If it's locked, he'll check around for any sort of hide-a-key object or under any mat.

If that goes nowhere, he'll check if the shed is open or try to find something he can break a window with in the yard. It's a bad neighborhood, right? People can expect break-ins.]

[howdull]

[Unfortunately for John, the Alphabet Woman is either too clever or too paranoid to leave a key just sitting around for anyone to find, and so he will have to resort to a broken brick in the back yard.

At least it's the middle of the day so most people should be at work, and this is a bad neighbourhood so the crime won't be seen as too unusual. Nor does anyone come running when he does break a window, suggesting that nobody is home.

The house is completely empty and covered in dust, it's clearly not anyone's actual home but more an abandoned property that is being used as a base of operation. Footprints in the dust show recent activity.

On the stairs is a note.]

Dear Captain Watson,

If you are reading this then you have succeeded in finding him within your three day limit. Don't get too comfortable. I'm still going to take him and everyone else away from you.

Yours,

Harry.

[jumpthegun]

[There's a sense of relief that floods through him, but it's tempered with suspicion. John keeps an eye out for boobytraps as he heads upstairs and checks the room that had had the drawn curtains.]

Sherlock?

[His voice is careful, tight.]

[howdull]

[Sherlock is sat in the corner of the room attached to the plumbing pipes that lead into the en suite bathroom with ziplock ties at his ankles and wrists. He has on a blindfold, army fatigues, and dog tags. He tilts his head at the sound of the door opening rather than at his name.]

John, good of you to join me.

[He grimaces, voice matter of fact.]

I strongly advise you to hold your breath while untying me, two days of stationary confinement does not allow for a pleasant odour.