fossilised | For John Watson

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.]

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[Moriarty rolls his eyes without even bothering to try and conceal it.

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?]

[He doesn't want to drag Sherlock into it is the problem.]

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...]

If you want to, but you'll still have to solve the game before the time.

[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.

[John's hands ball into tight fists. Moriarty isn't wrong. He'd be willing to sacrifice himself, but not everyone else. He glares down at his feet for a long moment before finally pulling out Caroline's phone and stabbing the button to dial Sherlock's number. As soon as he hears the click of someone picking up, he's talking.]

Don't speak. Just let me get this all out. I'm in the Tube somewhere between... [He gives the stations.] The tunnel at each end has been blocked off. the carriages for the train Molly and I were on were disconnected from the engine. People are trapped down here. One of them is severely injured.

I'm in a different carriage with Jim. He's murdered Caroline Matthews... or had someone murder her. He says we're playing a game. The carriage we're on has some sort of pressure-based bomb under it. If we get off, it goes off. Only thing I can think of apart from defusing the damn thing is doing a weight exchange. We're also on a timer, though. One hour and forty-five minutes.

I have clues from Caroline and some sort of briefcase with a four-digit code, but Sherlock, what I need you to do is figure out how to get those people out of here and get Lestrade to clear the street and buildings anywhere above the tube between those stations. Have you got that?

Edited 2018-09-12 19:45 (UTC)

[Concern rapidly melts into excitement. Sherlock had been wondering where they were, they should have been back by then after enticing Matthews to come after them and retrieve her son, this explains what went wrong.

It's typical of John to be more concerned with ignoring the puzzle and going for the linear solution of getting everyone else out. Self sacrificing, and utterly unacceptable.]

I'll inform Lestrade, of course, but you and I will work on the briefcase. Tell me everything about the clues you already have.

[His voice is rapid fire, and John may be able to hear his footsteps as he paces in sudden agitated enthusiasm.]

[He really doesn't want to play Moriarty's game, but there doesn't appear to be much way around it for the moment.]

Found this phone with your number pre-programmed into it on Caroline's body. She's in the carriage with us. She's been brutally murdered and her blood is smeared everywhere. Doesn't look like there's any particular pattern to it on the wall or on the seats.

There was a piece of paper in her hand. It says "Boudicea's Sixth." Searched Jim. He just had a wallet and his mobile. I'm keeping his mobile, but it's locked. He's sitting there looking like smug little snake I wouldn't mind chucking in a wood chipper.

[It's maybe a little aggressive, but god if that man isn't pressing every single button.]

[Conversely, Sherlock very much wants to play Moriarty's game. He understands that there are lives at stake, but that just makes it much more exciting to him, because he honestly doesn't think that he can fail.]

A wood chipper might be overkill, John, but a punch might not go amiss. Just be sure to look out of the windows at the same time if you do.

[He doubts Moriarty is unprotected, after all, and threatening him with actual violence might unveil any guards hiding around.]

Boudicea's Sixth? Does that mean anything to you, John? Who's Boudicea?

[History, at least that part of it, had not been deemed important enough to escape deletion.]

He's blown up our flat, had me accused of war crimes, helped orchestraight Harry's murder, your kidnapping and near murder, a kid's near murder, and Molly's kidnapping and near murder. The wood chipper's the least he deserves. [John has exceptionally strong opinions on that front. He tries to set aside his anger to focus on Sherlock's question.]

Boudicea isn't some composer? Thought it might be his sixth symphony or something. [Now that he's thinking a little more about it, though, the name does ring a very distant bell.] I think... I thought I'd heard of it somewhere. Can't remember...

Can you just look it up on your phone?

Definitely not a composer.

[At least not a classical one, and not many modern ones wrote numbered symphonies to his knowledge. Or not ones worth knowing about, anyway.

The sound changes as Sherlock shifts him to speakerphone so that he can search the internet at the same time. He reads out rapid-fire from the Wikipedia page.]

Boudicea. Boudica or Boudicca (Latinised as Boadicea or Boudicea, and known in Welsh as Buddug) was a queen of the British Celtic Iceni tribe who led an uprising against the occupying forces of the Roman Empire in AD 60 or 61, and died shortly after its failure, having supposedly poisoned herself. She is considered a British folk hero.

O... kay. [That's coming back to him now, but the clue still doesn't make much sense.] Does it have a list of her battles? Maybe something to do with her sixth battle? Her sixth child? Sixth... sense?

[He looks toward Moriarty, expression uncertain now, hoping he might be able to pick a clue off the man as to whether he's even in the vicinity of 'warm.']

[Sherlock doesn't answer for a moment, too busy scanning both that article and other sites about her.]

There's a statue here in London, perhaps that will have more detail, I see nothing about six of anything significant. I doubt the six itself is important as a number for the briefcase, giving it away is too obvious.

Do you think six isn't a part of the combination, then?

[Another glance at Moriarty before John moves to grab the suitcase. Maybe there are details on the thing itself?]

Um... there might've been another clue, but I don't know if it was. When I was walking along the tracks, I saw one of those kids alphabet books. I didn't touch it. Also... Molly's supposed to be coming looking for me soon if she isn't already.

Perhaps, but not due to Boudicea. Judging by the phone with my number, I have to be able to be involved somehow, so I assume that the clue will be on the statue in some way. Like a treasure hunt with you there and me here.

[He really hopes that's what it is!]

When Molly appears, tell her to fetch you the book and then to go back and get everyone to the far end of the other train to minimise damage if there should be an explosion.

You're going to call Lestrade on the way over to the statue, right? He's... I think he's sort of a bit busy with the explosions blocking things off.

[A pause.]

What are you going to do with Caroline's son? Whatever's at that statue could be a trap.

Edited 2018-09-14 06:24 (UTC)

Caroline's son?

[There's a moment of utter confusion. Sherlock is so focused on what's coming next, the thrill of the chase, that he's almost forgotten all about the child.]

Oh, right. There's some food in the cupboard, I'm sure he'll be fine here.

Sherlock, he's a little boy. Don't you dare leave him alone in that bloody crack den of a flat. Call Mrs. Hudson to pick him up. Or the police.

Edited 2018-09-18 14:03 (UTC)

[He makes a sound of frustration.]

Very well, I'll call Mrs. Hudson, but I don't think that we have time to waste in me sitting here waiting for her. I'm sure he'll manage not to do any major damage to himself alone for half an hour or so.

[He hates that Sherlock is right.]

Can you just take him to the statue and have Mrs. Hudson meet you there? You know how some people can be about kidnapping.

[John looks pointedly at Moriarty as he says this.]

You'd rather I take him to a potential trap during a serial killer's treasure hunt?

[Really, John?]

That seems more irresponsible than half an hour alone.

[There's no way to win in this situation. John pulls the phone away from his ear and speaks to Moriarty this time.]

Is that boy part of this game?

[The boy has nothing to do with this, other than now being a piece on the game board that could change variables, but Moriarty smiles as if the boy could be the lynchpin. It's fun to mess with normal people.]

That would be cheating, and remember what I said about cheating? Tut tut, such a lack of moral fibre.

[John takes the bait and his temper flares hot and bright.]

He's a child, you weaselly little bastard. Even you have to have some bloody limits!

[Sherlock is either going to need to draw John's attention back to the conversation or make a decision on his own and hang-up.]

I'm leaving him here.

[Sherlock's voice echoes tinny and far away from the mobile phone speaker, while Moriarty just smirks at John's reaction.]

I'll call back in fifteen minutes. And John, focus. I find that I'd rather you weren't actually blown up.

[John brings the phone up to his ear again, but Sherlock's hung up. He doesn't want to entirely distract the other man, and he knows he should be looking for other clues, but it's difficult when he's so wound up. The doctor lowers the phone again and takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to center himself. Ignore Moriarty. Ignore him and just focus on what you can find here.

How did Caroline die?

He moves back over to the body and begins to examine her more closely to ensure that all of the blood splashed around probably came from her. This is harder to do when he's feverish, but at least it's not doctoring. He'd be miserable at taking temperatures and the like right now.]

[Caroline has had her throat slashed. Up close, the injury looks professionally done, a clean swipe cutting through the major artery with a sharp blade, perhaps even a scalpel for how precise it looks.

The spray of blood nearest to her seems to be hers, but there are a few anomalous spots near the end of the carriage he came in from. As well as a light bobbing closer, that slowly coalesces into the shape of Molly using her phone as a torch.]

John? John? Are you down here?

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