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]

[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.]

[gallowshumour]

[Moriarty gives an exaggerated gasp, his mouth an O of surprise as his hand comes up to his chest in a flutter.]

You wound me, do you not think I'm hot? Not even a little bit?

[He can sort of see why Sherlock likes this one now, look at how fierce he is. So determined, so passionate. Stupid, of course, but interesting. The seam cracks all of a sudden and the little device breaks open in John's hand.

It's completely empty. No wires, no nothing.]

Twenty seven seconds, Johnny.

[jumpthegun]

[Chance multiple people dying because they didn't make it in time or definitely kill Molly? The choice is an easy one. He dials 9-9-9 on his phone, staring up at the television with a steely, defiant gaze.]

This is Dr. John Watson. I'd like to report that James Moriarty, also going by the name James Davidson of Monkton and Milnes, and Caroline Matthews, have rigged the Westridge Clinic to explode within the next minute. I called in a bomb threat to the clinic to try to get them to evacuate several seconds ago.

Please send emergency services to the area immediately and inform Detective Inspector Lestrade of New Scotland Yard.

[He hangs up again on the operator.]

I choose the left button.

[John has to hope and pray that Sarah's experience with him will mean she's prompt in getting everyone out. She has to be. He has to rely on her. Because Molly isn't in a position to save herself.]

[gallowshumour]

[He can tell this man is a soldier, facing these decisions unflinchingly. It's so delightful, he wants to savour this moment. It doesn't even matter if the police come for him, which he's sure they will after that particular 999 call, because he has contingencies set in place.

He very deliberately presses down, though it's off camera, and then makes an apologetic face, sucking in his lips as though guilty.]

Oopsie, did you mean your left or my left? That's definitely my bad.

[Is he telling the truth, or lying?]

You'll forgive me, though, right? Because we have such a special little friendship already, don't you think that? You're going to help me to woo my Sherlock. Not romantically, I don't think he's interested. More's the pity, I bet he's wild in the sack when he lets go, don't you think? Or maybe you already know, that's what all the rumours say. Tell me the truth, Johnny, does he pull your hair? Do you like it?

[jumpthegun]

[It doesn't matter if it's true or not. It's galling and John can't help snapping as he throws the empty casing at the wall, regretting the harsh movement as it pulls at his ribs and sears across his shoulders.

He raises the scalpel in his hand at the television, tone going icy cold.]

If you hurt her or touch Sherlock, it's not the police you're gonna need to worry about, you fucking bastard.

[gallowshumour]

[In contrast, Moriarty's tone drops to almost a purr.]

Promises, promises. Well, this has been fun, but I'm afraid I have to dash. Toodles.

[The television screen goes dark, leaving John with only the broken casing, the dead woman, and the flower arrangement for company.]

[jumpthegun]

[It takes a great deal of will power not to grab the arrangement and chuck that at the wall, as well. There are more important things to do than rage. He dials the clinic again. That first, then... god, he's not even sure. He can try dialing Molly's mobile after that.]

[howdull]

[The first number, the clinic, just rings over and over. Either because it's blown up, or because everyone has evacuated, it's impossible to tell. Sadly, so does Molly's phone, both numbers ringing endlessly.

It's about twenty seconds into trying to ring Molly that Sherlock finally appears in the morgue, cheeks flushed slightly pink with exertion and a smile at his lips that dies away as soon as he sees John's expression.]

Molly?!

[jumpthegun]

I don't know. He's bombed the clinic or he's blown her up somewhere. [Or both.] Phoned the clinic before he did. Might've got them out.

[After a moment, he heads for where he threw the casing. It might be important. John pockets the scalpel again, as well.]

Take a look at the body. Not sure if it's relevant. He had a fake remote control detonator sitting on top of her. Flowers had a picture of my mum and dad.

[The next number that gets dialed is Lestrade's mobile. He might be able to let them know if there's a scramble for explosions in the city.]

[howdull]

[Sherlock immediately turns to look at the body as directed, mind already whirring, refusing to accept that Molly may have been killed. He can't be too late, he can't have sent her out to her death, that would be an unacceptable miscalculation.]

Estranged, John, she has to be somewhere associated with your parents. She's not here-- were they cremated or buried?

[The phone rings twice before Lestrade answers, sounding unimpressed.]

Bloody hell, John, where are you? I went round to that godforsaken flat earlier and you're both gone.

[jumpthegun]

[... they were supposed to meet with Lestrade. Bloody hell.]

Morgue. Not Barts. Following a lead on Jim and Caroline. Sorry, it sort of... came up last minute. Have there been any reports of explosions? They might have just blown up the Westridge Clinic near our flat on Baker Street or...

[He thinks for a long moment.]

Or the South London Crematorium in Streatham.

[howdull]

[Why does he do this job?

There's a long moment of silence and the sound of tapping keys as he gets into the main system, as his particular department wouldn't be called to deal with something like that. Though God only knows why he's helping them out with more information, considering how reckless they've both been.]

Reports of a bomb scare in the Westridge Clinic, everyone was evacuated, and the bomb squad are sweeping the building. --wait, reports coming in now, someone's just called in an explosion at the Crematorium. All emergency services on the way.

[jumpthegun]

Oh, god...

[John’s heart sinks, but only for a moment before anger takes its place. Pure unbridled fury. He grips the phone tighter.]

Molly was there. Jim, her boyfriend Jim Moriarty, kidnapped her and blew her up there.

[The desire to put a bullet through the man’s head is intense. John starts walking for the exit, making a small motion for Sherlock to follow him out. They need to get down there. They need to do something.]

[howdull]

[Sherlock's head whips around and within the next half a second he has hold of John by the elbow and is trying to drag him out of the morgue at top speed. They can't be here. If Molly has been-- If she's dead, the least they owe her is to be on the scene of the crime to deduce what they can.

Lestrade gives a sharp intake of breath. He knew Molly vaguely from his work, quite liked her, and the body count in this case was just rising.]

I'll put out an arrest warrant for him, but you're going to need some proof for those allegations. Now listen to me, John, neither of you go anywhere near that explosion. Do you hear me?

[jumpthegun]

[It’s easy enough for John to follow along.]

I can’t promise you that, Greg. But I have the casing from the fake remote detonator he put here. [He briefly explains the set up of the scene at the morgue for Lestrade as he and Sherlock wait for the lift... or as Sherlock keeps dragging him to find the stairs.]

I tried to find another way round it all. The flower arrangement’s still in there. I have the photo he put in the center of my mum and dad. And I dunno if that body we found has anything to do with it.

[howdull]

I'm going to need you to come in and give a proper statement, so why don't you stop whatever stupid harebrained thing you're doing and come into the station instead? I don't want to have to do this, but if my officers see you at the scene, I'll have them bring you in.

[Sherlock makes a face from what little he can hear of the conversation, but doesn't slow his progression through the hospital and back outside. He flags down a taxi almost at once, a skill he's perfected over years, and directs the driver to the correct crematorium.]

[jumpthegun]

I have a couple of appointments this morning, but we're come 'round after those. [He really hates doing this to Lestrade. He knows it's making the man's life harder. It's for the greater good, though.] They won't see us.

Need to call Sarah, but I wanted to let you know what was happening. Talk to you soon, mate. [He hangs up before Lestrade can get a word in edgewise and offers Sherlock his phone back.]

Don't want to call Sarah on your phone. She might call back. [And god knows she doesn't need to speak to Sherlock.]

[howdull]

[Sherlock really wants the driver to hurry, but they're statistically far more likely to be delayed if he does convince the driver to speed, so he just keeps his mouth shut.

He hands over John's phone back to him, and pockets his own.]

Must you call her now? Don't you think there are more important things than your failed relationship?

[jumpthegun]

[The look John shoots Sherlock is something close to murderous at the moment. He's really not in the mood, and he doesn't reply, just dials Sarah's mobile number.]