Sherlock Holmes (
howdull) wrote in
fossilised2016-11-06 04:25 pm
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For John Watson
[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.]
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.]
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You might as well come and sit down. I know you're very intimidating, hiding out in the shadows and pretending the big bad wolf doesn't scare you, but it's much more civilised to sit and share a cup of tea.
[His grin gets wider.]
And maybe if you're good, I'll answer your questions.
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I'm not thirsty, thank you, and I think I'll stand. What exactly are we doing here?
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[It's more that she'd been overextending her allowed influence, trying to get him more and more involved, and he had to punish her for what happened when he got caught and interrogated.]
It's a new board now.
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My sister is dead, my flat is destroyed, my flatmate and one of my friends were almost murdered, some random kid was almost murdered, and I'm being investigated for war crimes I didn't commit. This is not a game, you bastard!
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[He looks faux surprised, still not moving from his position reclining on one of the seats.]
Because I'm having a blast.
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Either get to the point, or I'm going back to the other train, Mr. Moriarty. You're not nearly as funny as you think you are.
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You're not very observant, are you? That's why he's more fun, it's a real game when we play together. Or it will be.
[He already said what his point was. It's not his fault if John didn't get having a blast might be taken literally as well as figuratively.]
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I know you've blown up the tunnel at either end the tracks. So... what? You're planning to trap everyone down here 'til they starve or something? You made it down here. You're going to show me the way out. And then everyone else is coming with us and I'm handing you over to DI Lestrade.
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[He grins, and there's something just a little manic in it.]
Now that you've stepped onto the carriage in that oh-so-manly way to threaten me, you've activated the weight related pressure pad beneath us. If we step out... kaboom. Fun, right?
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You... you're lying. You're lying or you're absolutely mad. Why the hell would you risk your life like that? How are you expecting this to end if you've got pressure traps?
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[He gestures to the corpse of Caroline off to one side.]
You've got two hours, or we both lose.
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Molly's gonna come looking for me well before then. I'll tell her to follow this tunnel to the nearest station and get help.
[John doesn't actually expect that will work, but maybe Molly can get the people on the other train out of here, at least. In the meanwhile, the doctor let's go of Moriarty, still feeling feverish and ill. These are not ideal circumstances for a puzzle. Moriarty had gestured to Caroline, though. Is that a hint?
John pockets his phone and approaches the body to get a closer look at it. He doesn't touch yet, but he's looking for anything that might be a bulge in her pockets or elsewhere on her person.]
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Moriarty watches John move with a small smile always at his lips. He does enjoy a good game, after all.]
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Phone a friend? Really?
[He hates this man and he knows Sherlock is going to be in more danger the moment he calls him. And what about the little boy?
The note means nothing to him. John isn't all that interested in classical music apart from what Sherlock plays on his violin, and John's never bothered to ask which songs are which.]
And this means there's a six in the combination?
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[He sniggers to himself and crosses one leg over the other. He won't stop John putting a six somewhere in the combination if he wants to.]
You win the game when the briefcase opens. Properly, Johnny boy, no breaking it or we still go boom.
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If you wanted me that way, sweetheart, you only had to say.
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[John starts going through Moriarty's cards, turns them over and tries to divine some sort of code from any numbers he sees. He doesn't put them back in order, just dumps them and the wallet in the man's lap and checks his phone to see if it's unlocked, as well. Either way, he's keeping it for now.]
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Littering on the underground, tut tut. That's a fifty quid fine.
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I could just go through all the combinations I can think of. Four digits? Probably could get through all the potential combinations.
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[He raises an eyebrow, this seems an unlikely strategy to work given that he'd need to enter 95 combinations every minute. There's nothing written in the blood, the smears seem to be at random.]
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Probably a six in there. Cuts down the potential combinations.
[That's less of an argument and more of a petulant snipe. John's decent at numbers puzzles, but that's for something like Sudoku, not... whatever the hell this is supposed to be. Maybe if he had any idea what the clues were supposed to look like beyond-
John stands up a little straighter and looks out the windows of the carriage in the direction that he'd come from.]
Are all of the clues in this carriage?
[Because there had been that alphabet book out there he'd passed by without touching.]
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His patience is starting to wear a little thin. This is why he doesn't usually play with the normal people, they lack the intelligence to keep things moving, but John is a necessity now.]
What did I tell you about cheating?
[But, seriously, isn't the phone and the preprogrammed number enough of a clue?]
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What would you do if I were to step off this carriage? I don't know you're even telling the truth. I'll be dead, but so will you.
[John takes a step toward the man, putting as much menace into it as he can when he's sickly and in pain.]
Or I could kill you, myself. Don't even get to enjoy the fireworks.
[He knows he's going to need to call Sherlock, but dammit, maybe if he can stall until Molly comes looking...]
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[He'll still weigh enough for the pressure sensors even if he's dead, though Moran is out in the darkness ready to act if it looks like Johnny boy really isn't going to be good.]
I don't think you'll let those fireworks happen. You won't just kill me and you, there's all those others down the tunnel, and on the street above.
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Agh! I thought I responded to this ages ago. Sorry!!!
Don't worry about it!
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cw: allusion to suicidal ideations/suicide
cw: allusion to suicidal ideations/suicide
Happy 3-year Anniversary on this PSL, by the by!
oh wow, that's nuts! Happy 3 years to you too.
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