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

[jumpthegun]

[John feels a stab of guilt at Sherlock's airy reply. It reminds him of Mycroft's admonishments about the man's health and it all being John's fault.

'Ignore it,' Sherlock says. John doesn't think he'll be able to, but he can pretend for the moment as he hurries after his friend.]

Things like Molly. Right.

[John will leave Sherlock to contemplate in silence as he watches for the cab and flags it down when he notices it creeping along the road, the cabbie obviously checking street numbers.]

[howdull]

[Sherlock impatiently steps into the road to wave it down, and they're finally both ensconced in the back seat and heading towards Caroline's house. Sherlock is deep in thought, trying to pull the clues from the conversation with Moriarty about where Molly would be.

The morgue, of course. But it would never be so simple, that would be a poor clue to be spelled out for them so cleanly. A different morgue? Perhaps. No. He refused to believe she was dead-- what was that noise? It's cutting through his thoughts and scrambling his deductions. He glares over at John, because it's his phone ringing with an unknown number.]

Shut that up.

[Or he will throw it out of the window. This is why his phone is so often off at inopportune moments, or why the doorbell ends up in the fridge.]

[jumpthegun]

[John's just staring out the window trying to figure out whatever clue Moriarty might be trying to give and startles slightly at the sound of the phone. And of course Sherlock has to start snapping two seconds later. He just gives the other man a look as he pulls the thing out. The lack of Caller ID doesn't bode well. Caroline?]

Hello?

[gallowshumour]

John?

[It's Molly, voice trembling a bit, barely above a whisper.]

John, I've got to give you a clue, are you listening? Just-- just say yes.

[jumpthegun]

[His eyes widen, and he snaps a hand out to grab Sherlock's shoulder and pull him toward the center of the cab. That hurts, but nevermind it for now. John leans in, as well, trying to get the phone situated so that they can both hear Molly's trembling voice.]

Yes, Molly.

[gallowshumour]

[Sherlock's glare at being interrupted thinking disappears at once when he hears the voice on the other end, barely audible thanks to having to share the speaker between the two without letting the cab driver hear.]

E is for estranged.

[She draws in a shuddering breath.]

You have five hours.

[jumpthegun]

We'll find you. I promise. Can you tell me anything else, Molls?

[He'll just go ahead and use a nickname for comfort.]

[gallowshumour]

[There's the tiniest little hitch of a sob, but she forces the words out.]

There's a bomb, he's listening, I can't...

[jumpthegun]

Okay. It's okay. We're coming for you now. We'll figure it out. Hold tight, Molly. You've done really great through all of this so far. I'm so proud of you. Just hold out a little bit longer.

['And escape, if you can,' he doesn't say. He's not sure which of them is supposed to hang up here, but he glances up to Sherlock see if there's anything else he wants to ask or if the look he's giving John says hang up.]

[howdull]

[Sherlock opens his mouth as if to say something, offer some comfort of his own, but only ends up swallowing and nodding at John to hang up. He didn't expect to feel so frightened for her, she's just an acquaintance isn't she? He doesn't really do friends, that's sentiment, the death of logic.

But he is scared for her.

He only speaks when the line has been hung up, voice pitched low in case the cab driver is listening.]

Estranged, John?

[It has to be personal to him, after all.]

[jumpthegun]

Harry?

My parents are dead, and I don't have any secret brothers, or anything.

[John frowns in thought, keeping his own voice low. The fact that his thoughts immediately jump to his dead parents for the 'estranged' category might tell Sherlock more about him than he's really meaning to, but that's not his focus for the moment. Harry's already dead, so he's not sure how much sense that makes.]

Maybe the morgue where they took he from the crime scene? The funeral parlor?

[howdull]

[Interesting, though not exactly surprising information given John's mannerisms and personality, all of which have clearly been shaped by a difficult and likely abusive home life.]

Your parents or Harry, could be either, which do you think is more likely?

[He assumes they went to different morgues and funeral parlours. It could even be the grave, if they're buried rather than cremated.]

[jumpthegun]

[He glances to the side.]

She's already used Harry. Dunno if she's the sort to do repeats. Jim doesn't seem like the type. Parents, probably? Harry ID'd their bodies at Royal London Hospital after the crash. [He clarifies after a moment.] Car crash. I'm, uh... d'you think they'd have forgotten me by now if we go back there? I sort of had to break out after they dragged me over there along with the kid Caroline shot.

[howdull]

Soundly deduced.

[He's not entirely sure it'll be the hospital, but it's their best lead for now and so he leans forwards to instruct the cab driver to change course and take them to the Royal London Hospital.]

I doubt they'll remember each patient, and we shouldn't be going anywhere near the same ward.

[jumpthegun]

[John nods.]

You really think he could hide Molly with a bomb down in their morgue without any problems?

[He's not incredulous, just confused as to how that would be possible. Hospitals might not be-]

Her credentials and vest. Bloody hell.

[Jim could easily turn Molly into a suicide bomber. She has precisely the sort of ID that would get her into any hospital motuary in London, minimal questions asked.]

How much d'you know about defusing bombs?

[howdull]

Nothing.

[Sherlock never likes to admit when he has gaps in his knowledge, but even he's not egotistical enough to put Molly's life in danger by pretending otherwise.]

But we can't risk drawing the police down onto the hospital unless there's no other choice, it could be that he would automatically detonate should they get involved.

[jumpthegun]

[This is going to be a problem. John tries to think.]

You've got a smartphone. I suggest you study up on the drive over. Probably some sort of suicide bomber vest. Jim seems like he has the resources for something higher end, not your typical IED.

[howdull]

[It's a little chastening that the suggestion for the obvious had to come from John, before Sherlock pulls his phone out and immediately begins trawling the web for everything he can find on diffusing bombs.]

Do you have your gun, still?

[It's low, for John's ears only. He hadn't paid attention to if it had been saved from Baker Street or not.]

[jumpthegun]

No. They're looking for it in the wreck at Baker Street. The investigators at the base knew about it.

[He doesn't even have a pocket knife at the moment, which he is sorely regretting.]

I can improvise if we need to.

[John's very good at improvising weapons, for better or worse.]

[howdull]

[Not ideal, but as long as he knows then he can work it into any potential scenario outcomes that he devises in his head.]

The number Molly called you from, was it hers? Was it unlisted? It's possible we may be able to track the phone itself.

[jumpthegun]

Unlisted. It's not either of the numbers from Jim's business card. Might just be a burner.

[He's probably watched too many crime scene procedurals with his mind going there, but when your life becomes one...]

I can try calling it back?

[howdull]

No.

[That's immediate and firm.]

The mobile might be in some way linked to the detonation device, or might even trigger the bomb itself. We can't possibly risk that... here. [He thrusts his phone at John and holds his hand out for John's phone in return.] You keep researching the diffusing of bombs, I need to call Mycroft.

[Much as it galls him to have to ask for big brother's help after things went so sour before, he's not going to risk Molly for the sake of pride. He's actually a little curious where his brother is, he's surprised no calls have been made regarding his fit on camera last night. Mycroft never goes anywhere, where could he be?]

Agh! I ask you about this and then I lose the tag. /o\

[jumpthegun]

[John hands over the phone Molly bought and takes Sherlock's to begin searching the web. He tries to think of anyone he can remember from the bombs squad over in Afghanistan that they could call, but he's been terrible about keeping in touch with people. He'd just kept an eye on the lists for wounded and checked in with Bill now and again to see who might have gone missing. If he'd just known about Matthews, maybe some of this could have been avoided.

When Sherlock calls Mycroft, he'll actually find it rings through to voicemail on the first attempt.]

<3

[howdull]

[Irritating.

Where is Mycroft? His brother never goes anywhere except work, home, and the Diogenes club. Even if he's in this stupid silent room, he would never have his phone off or out of his sight in case an important notification came in. If it were anyone else, he might actually be worried.

As it is, he's more concerned for whatever country Mycroft is probably currently invading.

He hangs up and tries again, if he gets no answer this time then he'll leave a voicemail.]

[brotheryours]

Am I allowed to speak to you once more? I thought I was banished, brother mine. What is it? I'm in the middle of something.