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

I need to track this properly with my Watson account because I keep missing this... /facepalm

[brotheryours]

You will stay at the accommodations. The remaining terms are acceptable.

[He hadn't thought it would work, certainly, but negotiation is the art of asking for things beyond the goal and working back to it.]

[howdull]

Done.

[He could argue more, but it's not worth the risk. Now that Mycroft is back within range of contact again, it means he'll likely be reviewing his spy footage and discover Sherlock's seizure, something that might change any price mid-negotiation. Better to get this done quickly.

He hangs up and texts Mycroft the phone number he has for Molly, that's the one he wants a trace on, and glances back over at John.]

Mycroft is tracing Molly's phone and will provide us with a bomb disposal expert to conference call with if we do find an explosive we need to diffuse. [He frowns, small lines of worry pinching at the corners of his eyes.] ...perhaps, John, you were right. I should have disclosed Caroline's location to the police last night, if I had then perhaps Molly wouldn't be in this position today.

[jumpthegun]

[John's not in the mood for 'I told you so.' He's still reading through websites, trying to commit everything to memory.] We can still do that. Might not be a bad idea to have Lestrade waiting in the wings.

[He glances over.]

Not the same as stopping it before it happens, but we do have more resources than just your brother who hates me.

[howdull]

No.

[Sherlock's mouth turns down, he would have liked to have Lestrade in on this but it's simply not possible.]

Any police presence is likely to prove fatal to Molly, she'll be being watched even if it's from a distance. You should tell me a little about the estrangement from your parents, it might help in determining where exactly this path leads.

[jumpthegun]

[John balks. He recognizes that what Sherlock's saying is true, but he's not sure where to start.]

What's there to say? I went off to uni, I didn't write to them or call. They didn't either. Next time I heard about them, it was a call from Harry telling me they'd died. Went to the funeral, said a few words. [He shrugs.] It wasn't a fight or anything. We just... didn't talk. I worked, kept up with classes. Wasn't really any need to talk to them.

[howdull]

Hardly surprising that you didn't talk to them. Children from an abusive household rarely feel an obligation to keep in contact once they've left, unless there's a younger sibling still in the family home.

[The cab driver's eyes flick towards the rear view mirror, but Sherlock doesn't seem to notice that their conversation has been gaining interest.]

Perhaps it has something to do with any final conversations had, the date of the last time you spoke to them?

[jumpthegun]

[John's hyperaware of the attention, and he lowers his voice, body stiffening. That just makes his ribs and shoulders hurt, and he winces for the pain.]

I wasn't abused.

[Abuse is verbal, it's physical. Not... nothing.]

I don't remember when I last spoke to them. Summer, probably. Summer of '93? [He'd have been 18 back then, heading off to uni. That sounds about right. 17 years ago is a long time to remember the details for.] We probably talked about them converting my room to a study or something. Does it matter? How would anyone even know about it?

[howdull]

Abuse takes many forms, it doesn't necessarily have to end in bruises. Neglect is a form of abuse when taken to the extreme it was in your case, otherwise you and your sister wouldn't have turned out this way.

[That's not an insult, just an observation.]

How would they have known about your sister and her issues? Obviously we've been under surveillance for some time, and extensive research has been done. Moriarty is clever, he's probably read the signs of your childhood as easily as I have -- well, perhaps not quite as easily.

[Summer of '93 is that relevant? Maybe? Maybe not?]

Try to think back and be specific, if you can.

[jumpthegun]

I wasn't abused. [It's a low snarl and clear warning to Sherlock to drop it. John isn't looking at him now, just glaring down at the phone still in his grip. He's not going to claim that, not when there are victims of real abuse out there. There's a part of him that also wants to believe he would have stood up to something like that more, at least where Harry was concerned. If he hadn't... no. It wasn't abuse. Sherlock's just being obtuse.] They were just busy people.

It was almost twenty years ago, how the hell should I know what we talked about? Nothing. We never talked about anything. [Nothing of importance. In spite of the waspish response, he is attempting dredge up anything he can.] The car. There was something about the car. I'd taken some things over to the dorms in it. They wanted me to fill up the tank.

[Not an argument, just... the usual.]

[howdull]

[The car might be useful, but it's so specific. They'd have to have been spying on the conversation at the time, which would be remarkably prescient considering even John hadn't known he would definitely be successful at applying to be a doctor in the army at the time.

He closes his eyes and tries to picture it. John, younger, docile but resentful, a familiar situation that had occurred too many times to count. It's not useful for this, is it?]

Do you know if Molly talks to her parents? I tune her out when she speaks.

[jumpthegun]

[John knows virtually nothing about Molly. That one question makes him realize that. She's been learning more about him, but it's been about him, mostly, not her.]

I dunno. I think... she has a blog?

[He brings up Sherlock's website and searches for Molly and her profile to find it.]

Thirty-one, lives alone... couple of friends. She's got a cat named Toby. Doesn't talk about her mum and dad at all.

[howdull]

How painfully stereotypical of her.

[Could she be any more the quintessential single and socially awkward woman?]

I doubt the cat will have any relevance to this, so-- another dead end. I suppose the hospital is our best bet, I will cause a distraction and you head down to the morgue, I'll follow as soon as I'm able.

[jumpthegun]

[John casts Sherlock an irritated look on Molly being 'stereotypical,' but doesn't say anything.]

You think Jim'll be there?

[howdull]

In person? No, but I have no doubt that he'll have people there that work for him.

[Jim seems like the sort of person to not be a one-man operation, not with the ease he's switched personas already. The cab finally pulls up outside the hospital and the driver turns around for the fare, but Sherlock has already got out and is striding away.]

[jumpthegun]

Um... I... [John checks his pockets, but it's not like he's going to find anything there.] Just a moment, please. [He flashes a smile at the cabby before he opens the door and calls after Sherlock.] Sherlock! I need your card. What d'you want me to do, give him your bloody phone?

[Is this meant to be the distraction. All it's going to do is get the cabby snarling at them. It's also making John's cheeks burn with embarrassment and shame. He really needs to do something about the money situation. Maybe they can stop by the bank. His pension check should be hitting at some point. And it's not like he has rent to pay. He'd settle for getting a starter bank account and card from some random place that would let him start with a £500 limit.]

[howdull]

Just pay him, John.

[Sherlock pauses on the pavement and glances behind, annoyed at being interrupted when he's on a mission. But he does reach into his pocket for his wallet and toss the whole thing towards John.

A few people around the entrance are watching in amusement, the cab driver is watching with less amusement.]

Oi, mate, I don't care who pays but one of you better have the money for this.

[jumpthegun]

He does. We do! [John fumbles to catch the wallet and hands off Sherlock's card to run. He hates this. The feeling of helplessness that washes over him is intense and thoroughly unwelcome given what they're about to do. It's done, though, and John beats a hasty retreat out of the cab, pocketing both Sherlock's phone and wallet as he chases after the other man.

They're not actually meant to stay together, though, so as soon as he enters into the building, he looks around for the hospital map, then strolls toward the hallway he needs, waiting for Sherlock to cause a commotion.]

[howdull]

[Sherlock doesn't notice that John is once more having a crisis about monetary issues, such things don't even register for him more often than not, and right now he has far more important things to focus on.

It's not hard to hear his distraction when it comes, it's a loud and belligerent and very drunk sounding shouting, as Sherlock weaves and leans heavily against the initial reception area. He's deliberately being aggressive, accusing the nurse on staff of not returning his calls and of stealing from him, and ignoring all attempts to calm the situation down.

It's not long before most of the nurses around the area have abandoned the other hallways to come over and try and help out, security also being called to this area and therefore away from other parts of the hospital.]

[jumpthegun]

[That's certainly one way to do it. John doesn't rush or try to sneak as he moves down the hallway to the morgue. He strides with deliberate purpose, looking like he knows where he's going and belongs here. Subterfuge has never been the doctor's particular strength, but when he's called on to act like he belongs somewhere openly? Well, a hospital is his domain, anyway.

The morgue itself is down a level and seems to require a key card to access, so he stands off to the side, pretending to check his phone until he spots a couple of orderlies press the down button on the lift. He rides down with them, still focused on his phone--Sherlock's phone--and then gets off and heads toward the morgue proper while they seem to take off in another direction. He texts his phone.]

TO: JOHN WATSON
FROM: SHERLOCK HOLMES

At morgue. You need key for lift. Ride down with someone. Heading in.
-J

[At the door, John peers in through the windows to see if there's anything to see from here.]

[howdull]

[The morgue seems unattended at the moment, though there's a very prominent floral display that says MUM AND DAD on one table. Not that unusual, even though these things aren't dealt with at the morgue, some people unused to dealing with the process of death get confused and send the arrangements there instead of the funeral home.

Nothing too unusual, unless John happens to notice that the photographs pinned inside the flower arrangement are that of his own mother and father. There's a television screen on one of the walls, obviously used to plug microscope equipment into in order to get a better view, and one body covered with a sheet.

There's no reply to John's text for the moment, Sherlock is still a bit busy evading the security that he riled up.]

[jumpthegun]

[He sees the photograph and something twists inside him. It’s an invasion. Everything Caroline and Jim have done is invasive, but this is striking at things John just flat out doesn’t talk about, hasn’t talked about in years.

He enters into the morgue and looks around for a scalpel to pocket for a weapon if he can before moving over to the flower arrangement. He doesn’t disturb the arrangement itself, but he plucks the photo and has to resist the temptation to tear it up. This place is almost certainly being monitored. John simply folds the photo carefully and slides it into another pocket.

That covered body is almost certainly Molly. John doesn’t really want to pull back the sheet, but he steals himself and does so in a smooth and unflinching motion.]

[gallowshumour]

[It's not Molly.

It's just a random body, a woman in her late fifties, naked now that the sheet has been pulled back. She might not be who he is looking for, but there is what looks like a remote detonator on her chest with two buttons. As soon as the sheet whips back, the television on the wall comes into life and Moriarty beams down.]

Good morning, Johnny boy. I think it's time that you and I played a little game so that I can see what he sees in keeping you around.

[His hands spread, grin widening.]

The button on the left of the controller will send a rather explosive sort of message to your GP surgery - oh no! Shock and horror, what will happen to all of the old dears coming in for flu cures? - and the button on the right of the controller will send that same message, but just to Miss Molly. If you don't press either button in the next minute, both messages will be sent.

Tick tock, Doctor.

[jumpthegun]

[John's head jerks toward the sound of the voice, the scalpel coming out. His hard expression gradually shifts to horror, though, and as soon as he realizes what's happening, he pulls out Sherlock's phone and dials the clinic. Whomever picks up will get a very direct message.]

This is a bomb threat. Get every single person out of your clinic in the next fifty seconds, or they will die.

[He hangs up and turns his attention to the device. Can he disarm a remote detonator? Well, if it doesn't have power it can't send a signal... Christ. John looks for a seam in the casing and will jam the scalpel into that, trying to pry it open.]

[gallowshumour]

Ah, ah, ah.

[Moriarty wags a finger at the screen.]

Didn't your Mummy ever teach you not to break someone else's toys? Do you really want to risk not having a choice at all? So callous, hm?

[There is a seam, though, and John can get his scalpel inside.]

[jumpthegun]

This isn't a choice, you bloody psychopath!

[He's not sure the clinic can evacuate in such a short period of time. Especially if they second guess, thinking it's a prank. Not to mention the number of patients will make a difference. It's not like the clinic is isolated. It's in an urban area. There might be more damage.

And Molly... logically, he knows he's supposed to choose her. The good of the many outweighs the good of the few or the one. But to hell with logic. He wants to learn about Molly. He wants to meet her cat. He wants her journals to read as something more than the sad, stereotypical ramblings of a lonely 30-something.

He goes for the seam. No risk, no reward. And if this ends up backfiring... at least he'll have tried. It won't much help the guilt, but he can maybe live with that a little more easily.]

I'm not destroying the clinic or killing Molly. She's cleverer, more talented, and hotter than you are, Jim. Shame you turned out to be a lying bastard. You could've been marrying up.

[He'll make an Option C for himself.]