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

[gallowshumour]

[He nods as if he wasn't expecting any other answer at this point.]

Just one more question, Captain. Do you recall how accurate your records at the firing range were?

[jumpthegun]

[That causes some momentary confusion.]

You mean how well did I shoot or how well did they keep track of when I was at the firing range, sir?

[gallowshumour]

How well did you shoot.

[There were other shots associated with the death of this woman, and all could only have been taken by a talented sniper.]

[jumpthegun]

Very well, sir. I was occasionally asked to assist with our sniper team.

[gallowshumour]

Thank you, Captain. That's all we need from you today, we'll be in touch with you when you are formally charged.

[When, not if.]

[jumpthegun]

I hope you'll find the truth before that point, General, whatever resources Mrs. Matthews has called on to convince you of something else. I would ask, sir, that you have men who have your utmost faith and confidence to investigate the identity of this man. [He points to Jim.]

He's not who he says he is, and he's done something to falsify documents in a major way if he's managed to infiltrate a military base.

[gallowshumour]

You're welcome to look into my background all you like, I have nothing to hide.

[He smiles, sudden and bright and cheeky, as the general is looking away to tidy up his briefcase. His expression rearranges to professional straight after, though.]

I'm sorry that we couldn't see eye-to-eye on your representation.

[jumpthegun]

[Is that a clue? A code? Just a taunt? E is next. D is for Disgrace or Dishonor. Then E. E is for Eye?]

Maybe have him followed and you might find out that he does, sir.

Expecting to see Molly tonight, Jim? I'd say tapping his phone wouldn't hurt, but he can have CCTV footage altered. Probably not hard to hide all of that for you. How many people d'you have working for you? Did Caroline hire you or did you find her?

[That cheeky smile hadn't escaped John and it's absolutely galling. He wants to slam Jim against the wall, but he simply rises with a wince and stands at attention for the General.]

[gallowshumour]

[Oh, this was just delightful, it's all he can do to keep himself from laughing out loud. John is such a fierce little thing, isn't he?]

I'm sorry, Dr. Watson, but you have me confused with someone else. I don't know what you're talking about, and if you speak to me in such a threatening manner then I may have to ask for you to be restrained for my safety.

[The general frowns at that, but it's fairly clear that he thinks John is a paranoid nut.]

Interview terminated, I suggest you leave without speaking again, Captain Watson.

[jumpthegun]

Did you coach her on how to threaten Jake?! [He can't help it. John's been trying to hold himself back, but that smug bastard is just standing there. The doctor holds his pose at attention, but absolutely snarls as he snaps his head in Jim's direction. The sudden motion hurts, but he ignores it, nails digging into his own palms as he struggles to keep himself physically held back, even as his tongue flies free.]

That was his name, did you know? He's a cellist at university. Dvorak's Concerto in B minor was what got him into music. He heard it and fell in love and and he's worried he won't be able to get a job after school because he's got colored hair. And he's worried about letting his mum down and he was just a bloody kid, and she shot him in the stomach for no reason. She didn't have a single reason. She's a bloody psychopath and you're a sick bastard!

[gallowshumour]

Captain!

[It's snapped out by the general, this has gone far too far, and he's obviously a very dangerous and unbalanced man. It's a wonder he made it past the psychiatry assessment to enlist in the first place.]

Stand down immediately. Mr. Davidson, I suggest you leave now, I'll escort the Captain out after.

[Jim nods and apparently chooses not to reply, but as he passes John to get to the door he hums just loud enough for him to hear, almost under his breath, the opening refrains to Dvorak's Concerto in B minor.]

[jumpthegun]

[John's all but shaking with suppressed rage and energy. He hates this. He hates Jim. He hates Caroline. And there's nothing he can do right now except hold himself at attention and not let the bastard break him so far to the point that he physically lashes out. Wouldn't that just delight him? John in lock-up for assault and Sherlock left alone and vulnerable.

The doctor is breathing hard, staring ahead at nothing, silent until Jim makes his way out.]

Royal London Hospital. Gunshot wound to the abdomen several days ago near the Thames. Feel free to confirm my story, General. I called 9-9-9. That man played a part in nearly murdering an innocent civilian. I dunno what his goal is, ultimately, but he's helping Caroline Matthews somehow. And she nearly murdered Jake.

[gallowshumour]

Believe me, Captain, every aspect of your story will be wholly investigated.

[Regardless of the evidence against him and the general's growing personal belief that the therapist was right and he has paranoid delusions, this is still going to get done properly and by the book.]

You should note that you're not permitted to leave the country, and if you intend to spend more than two nights from your current listed address then you need to inform someone at the base.

[Standard procedure for someone undergoing such serious investigation.]

[jumpthegun]

My current listed address has been destroyed, sir. I'm staying wherever I can find a place to sleep, at the moment. My phone is also being tapped periodically by both Mrs. Matthews and the British government so I'm not sure how safe it is to be constantly giving away my position. [A pause.] And I realize that sounds mental, but it's Sherlock's brother, Mycroft Holmes. He's involved with the government and hovers. He's also angry at me at the moment, just so you know if you decide to interview him.

[gallowshumour]

If you have no current permanent address, then you'll need to sign in at the police station every morning between 9 and 12 to prove you're still in residence in the city. Any police station within the bounds of the City of London will do.

[There are strict laws for people under suspicion of the sort of crimes that John is under suspicion for.]

[jumpthegun]

Fine. [It's shorter than he means it to be.] Acknowledged, sir. Am I dismissed?

[howdull]

Yes, you're dismissed.

[He leads Captain Watson out of the little room and back through the reception area, to gesture out of the building. Unfortunately, the car he came in is gone, as is Sherlock.]

[jumpthegun]

[Of course they're not. John refrains from shouting profanities. Sherlock just got bored. He's probably fine. He was just bored.]

TO: SHERLOCK
Where are you? Interview is over. If you're kidnapped again, I'm killing you myself, this time.

[howdull]

[The reply takes a couple of minutes to come through, but at least it doesn't go ignored.]

FROM: SHERLOCK
TO: JOHN
Saw Jim going in and coming out of interview, following him now. Had to take the car, so you'll have to find another way back to the flat.

[jumpthegun]

[Brilliant.]

FROM: JOHN
TO: SHERLOCK
He was pretending to be my 'counsel.' Going by James Davidson of Monkton and Milnes. I'm being investigated for war crimes. Plural. They have a list as a long as my arm, apparently. Some kid I was deployed with who's serving time now said that I was his accomplice. They have photos of me with some blokes I don't recognize and some charred dog tags with WATS on them.

This is insane. And Jim's pretending like the doesn't know me, the bastard. He made me look a proper loon in there. They knew about my service pistol, by the way, said they were going to send someone to look for it in the rubble. Surprised they didn't try to lock me up on charges straight out for admitting to that. This general they've assigned to the case, he's already made up his mind. I can tell.

Also, how the hell are you expecting me to get home? I don't have any money and I'm not calling Molly to ask her to drive out here. Have you contacted Lestrade with Jim's license plate information? Someone needs to be tracking you in case something happens.

[howdull]

[Insane? Yes. But also incredibly invigorating, Sherlock is having more fun now than he has in literal years. Not that he can say as much to John, he has such boring notions about the right way to behave, and enjoying the investigation ruining his life probably isn't allowed.]

FROM: SHERLOCK
TO: JOHN
Call Molly and have her drive you, or walk if you can't bring yourself to do that. I don't have time to bring you money for a cab.

[That's all he sends, having no interest in replying to the rest and being a bit busy driving.]

[jumpthegun]

[John makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat when he reads that and is very tempted to just throw the damn phone. He's still keyed up from the encounter with Jim and interview. The doctor closes his eyes and takes a few deep, painful breaths to center himself.]

TO: GREG LESTRADE
FROM: JOHN

Sherlock is on the tail for one of our prime suspects as an accomplice to Caroline Matthews. Could you contact him and get the car details? I'm stuck at one of the bases about three hours outside the city. Working on finding a way back. Suspect is Jim Moriarty who works IT at Barts or James Davidson who's a lawyer with Monkton and Milnes. Don't know which (if either) is real name. He was using both. Has credentials for the Davidson alias, at least. He was able to get onto a secure base and impersonate counsel from Legal Aid.

[That text sent, John, heads back inside to the reception area to see if the woman from earlier is still there. Whomever it might be, he offers them an apologetic smile.]

Hey, hi! Sorry, my ride seems to have left without me for an emergency. Is there any kind of... ride service or shuttle back to London that I could catch? I'm afraid I didn't bring any money with me.

[howdull]

[Sometimes, Lestrade thinks, it would be nice not to know these two. He could be a nice normal police detective, he could solve crimes in the usual way and not get dragged into crazy conspiracies with people who didn't have a single ounce of self preservation between them.

But then he wouldn't have the exhilaration. Then he wouldn't get to see greatness at work, and he'd rather have that any day. So, after a brief delay where he spends his time massaging his temples in frustration, he does respond.]

FROM: GREG LESTRADE
TO: JOHN WATSON
On it.

[The receptionist gives him a small professional smile, and shakes her head.]

This is a military base, sir, not a taxi firm. If you don't have the money for a cab, I can let you use our phone to call a friend or family member, if you know someone who could give you a lift or lend you the money for a taxi?

[jumpthegun]

[He's not calling Molly. He's not doing that to her. Clara is out as an option. Mrs. Hudson doesn't drive, as far as he knows. John looks toward the guarded gate and the long, empty stretch of road beyond it. Well. He'd hitchhiked before and if Caroline manages to carjack this driver, that will just be bloody impressive, really.

John starts walking as he texts Molly.]

TO: MOLLY HOOPER
FROM: JOHN

Molly, please be very careful the next while. Sherlock is tailing Jim back to the city. If you have anywhere but your own house that you can stay tonight, that'd be good. Friends or family. You could probably even stop over at Baker Street, the flat next door to ours. Mrs. Hudson and Mrs. Turner are there. Tell them you're Sherlock's friend from the morgue.

I just want you somewhere not alone if you can help it.

[gallowshumour]

[Unlike with the other two, Molly's response comes almost immediately. She's been playing with her phone most of the day, turning it on and off to make sure there's been no missed messages, so to get one is a relief. Not that she's worried about these stupid boys or anything.]

I've been thinking maybe I could come and help you? I have some portable equipment that I could bring to Sherlock's flat in case any testing needed to be done, and I don't mind sleeping on the sofa.

[She wants to help.

Not just because she worries about them, but because she feels intensely sick with guilt. She's the one Jim used to get to them, she's the one that might have inadvertently provided the information that could have got Harry killed or the flat bombed. Which makes this partly her fault, and she's desperate to do anything she can to try and fix what can be fixed.]