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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You sound like my first therapist.

[He grins as if in wistful memory, not really that put off by John's deductions about his childhood. It's true that he never had any friends, but that was by choice, and he had never been the target of the bullies. Jim has always known how to be a chameleon, to fit in and manipulate his surroundings to his benefit.]

But look around you, Johnny boy, all of this is 'my scheme', as you put it - I like that, by the way, very Bond villain - and you're well and truly caught in this spider's web.

[John just narrows his gaze, more than a little irritated that his sneering didn't get more of a rise. He looks at Moriarty, then over at the briefcase.]

I usually just hoover the spiders up at home, y'know?

[He walks over to the briefcase and will try to pick it up. If it's coming, he'll carry it over to the door and hold that out onto the tracks. If he can't get the briefcase, he'll carefully tip Caroline out of her chair and carry that over.]

How sensitive is the weight trigger on this bomb, Mr. Moriarty?

[This is probably extremely inadvisable, but John's blood is boiling metaphorically and a bit literally. He's had it up to the neck with this game. And he's going to press at the boundaries of it to see what happens while he's waiting for Sherlock.]

[The briefcase is attached to the floor, and John will find that he needs to use his secondary plan of shifting Caroline's body. Her sightless eyes stare at him as he moves her, seeming to still accuse him.

Moriarty stands up and sidles over to where John is threatening to tip quite a large portion of the weight out of the carriage.]

I didn't know you had such a death wish, Johnny boy, but you do what you feel like you need to.

[A slight shifting in the darkness outside, visible only for a second, might tell John that someone is watching and ready for if he does overstep the bounds of the game. Moriarty has protection, even if he claims to be cavalier with his own life.]

[He catches the movement, and that, at least, settles John to an extent. The unknown dark is far more anxiety-inducing than some bloke sneaking around. If it were only him on the line, he'd be more inclined to actually tip the chair and let the dice fall where they may.]

Does your man think he can grab the chair before I drop it? Or maybe shoot me and hope you can get it? And me, considering I might just tip out. Not much of a game if you have it rigged. Let Molly get the others out of here and I'll be a good boy until Sherlock gets here, hmm?

You'll be a good boy anyway, it's who you are. Got to make up for the failings of big sis, right? Be the one to be proud of.

[Moriarty's eyes flick out to the darkness before returning to John.]

Though I suppose you don't have to worry about that now, hm?

[John would throw the bloody chair at the other man if he didn't feel likely to keel over in the process. Damn it. His bluff has been well called, though.]

I swear, I will kill you, Mr. Moriarty. It's a matter of when at this point.

[He pulls the chair back a bit and turns it to sit down. There had been a corpse here, but it feels a safer seat than any other in the house. John doesn't expect Moriarty would have predicted him tipping Caroline out of the chair.]

[Somehow, Moriarty severely doubts it. Watson might have violent tendencies and be willing to pull the trigger, but he's not nearly smart enough to catch him off guard. This game is between him and his new pet, Johnny boy is just flavouring on top.]

Should've, would've, could've.

[He carols it in a sing-song voice.]

It's all just words, Johnny.

Give me a gun, I'll turn it into actions.

[He shouldn't keep giving the man entertainment material. If they're going to sit and wait, then maybe he should make it as boring as possible? Would that be the better tactic? John isn't sure. He is tired and unwell, though, so staring blankly at the floor and not moving from the chair is sounding like a relatively good idea.

[It's not actually too much longer when a noise sounds further down the tunnel, and a bobbing beam of light gets closer.]

Hello? John?

[Sherlock doesn't bother to keep his voice down, it's not like Moriarty won't have known he's coming.]

[John looks up, rising and heading to the door. He doesn't step out, but he calls from there.]

Sherlock! Be careful. Jim's got one of his men out there! Did you see the other train? Molly?

[Sherlock frowns to himself, squashing the seed of worry under characteristic dismissive tones.]

The other train, yes. Molly, no. It's possible she left under her own power.

[John is dubious.]

You've already contacted Lestrade?

[If he's getting out of here, he needs to know what there's still to do. Hopefully, Sherlock has kept his word about contacting someone to take care of the kid and to start clearing people from the street above.]

Naturally, though he's spitting mad.

[Moriarty shifts on his seat, interested, but he doesn't interrupt. Sherlock's footsteps come a bit closer, enough that he can see the outline of John in the carriage.]

I believe I may have uncovered some vital information, but it might not be wise to speak about it now.

[Well, fair enough. John knows he and Sherlock have probably aged Lestrade a half a dozen years in the span of a couple of weeks at this point. To be fair, John feels he's put on at least a decade.]

Whisper it to me as you're getting on?

[He doesn't want Jim to hear it if it's important.]

[Sherlock's silhouette finally appears properly out of the darkness, right up to the edge of the train carriage.]

Give me a hand up, then.

[He reaches out, bracing himself. He knows John isn't in a fit state to be helping anyone onto train cars, but he doesn't really want help, he's planning on trying to pull John out of the car as soon as he has hold.]

[John assumes it's more so that he can lean in. He offers his hand to the other man. And is promptly dragged out of the car as the consulting detective puts his weight on. Not being in a particularly fit state to be flung about, either, the doctor's knees give out on the impact, and he collapses nearly face-first onto the ground.

It's a moment before he will himself to get up with a groan.]

Warning would've been nice, Sherlock.

Warning wouldn’t have been necessary if there really had been a pressure sensitive bomb aboard, as we’d both have been dead before you hit the ground.

[He looks almost insufferably smug for someone who just gambled with both of their lives.]

But it seems my hypothesis was correct, and there is no bomb. Or, at the very least, it’s rigged in a different way. More likely, an entirely different location.

[John scowls. He went to all of that damn trouble with the chair, and Moriarty had managed to get him to back down when he didn't need to. Bloody hell.]

I swear to god, London's got more bombs in it than Afghanistan... Are you coming out, Jim, or are you staying in there?

[There's no response from inside the car, and when Sherlock heaves himself up to peer in Moriarty is nowhere to be seen.]

Gone. At least for now.

[Damn it. He hadn't even heard the man leaving. They should look for Molly. Or maybe they need to follow the clues? Or he could just lie down for a bit... no. Not an option on that one. John will direct Sherlock to the case.]

That's the thing he said we needed to unlock. And that's... Well. Not sure how much there is to see for Caroline.

[At least beyond the obvious.]

He really is after you, Sherlock. Whatever this is, Jim wants you, not me.

Do you think that's why he killed Caroline? Her obsession was clearly with you, and their goals may have diverged enough to make her an annoyance rather than a useful pawn.

[He peers further into the car at the bloodied corpse of Caroline Matthews. He doesn't seem at all concerned by the news that there's a criminal mastermind set on toying with him.]

No. Irrelevant. Off-topic, irritating.

[If he's not focusing on Moriarty this easily, it seems the transport's need for sleep is getting the better of him. Stupid body.]

[He'd answer, but apparently, it doesn't matter.]

We should try to find Molly and the others. Check the car they were in. Maybe they went down another tunnel.

[Or should they go after Moriarty? John doesn't particularly want to split up to do both, even though that might be sensible.]

No, I’m going to a hotel and sleeping.

[He doesn’t realise how callous that sounds when there are people missing and in danger. It makes the most sense to him. If his transport is being so incapable of focus, then he won’t be able to help anyone effectively until he’s slept. Therefore sleep is the most productive thing he can be doing now.]

What? [John stares at the man, incredulous.]

Sherlock, Molly's missing along with more than a dozen people. Moriarty's on the loose with some... some bloke with a gun.

[He cuts himself and his outrage off. No. Maybe this is good. Maybe this is okay. Sherlock can be put out of harm's way. Maybe.]

We need to call Lestrade and have him get you an escort. Someone to make sure you're protected. I'll do the hand-off for you to him, then I can- [John turns a little too quickly to look down the tunnel and pain sears hot across his shoulders once more. The doctor gasps, thinking maybe he should get this dressing his has on changed before making any more moves.

But Molly. He can't physically help her right now and that's becoming more and more clear.]

Let's, mm... lets get up to the surface. We'll send Lestrade's men down to find the missing people. And check for any real bombs. That's the safest, right?

[Sherlock snorts and simply sets off up the tunnel towards the engineering access ladder that allowed him to get down to the tunnel, fully expecting John to follow. Molly wasn’t to be seen when he came in, and there’s very little for her that he can do without having his mind at full capacity.]

You’re hardly in a position to be conducting a hand-off, John, you’re approximately eighteen minutes from collapse. You ought to return with me to a hotel and rest, there’s little of use you can accomplish otherwise.

[Plus he doesn’t want to face Lestrade at the moment, the man is sure to be incredibly tedious about things like procedure and risk and public security.]

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Agh! I thought I responded to this ages ago. Sorry!!!

Don't worry about it!

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