Reichenbach Falls- A Different Take- 8/10
Title: Reichenbach Falls- A Different Take (Part 3 Of A Different Take Series/Universe)
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters that are part of the BBCverse of Sherlock.
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Moriarty, Moran, DI Lestrade, Sally Donovan, Molly Hooper, Mrs Hudson with Mycroft Holmes appearance a couple times.
Genre: Suspense, Drama, Angst, General, Friendship, Humor (as much one can be with this story), Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: Death, Murder, Violence, Language, Threats
Spoilers: Reichenbach Falls is the title of the third episode/season finale (or episode 6) of Season 2.
Summary: It's February. John and Sherlock have known each other for a year now, their friendship strong, the bond that is between them is understood by them, but not by everyone else. Moriarty's plans for the two of them have been coming to fruition since January. Everyone they know, have helped and are close to them (as close one can get to Sherlock that is) are in danger.
Word Count: 2,390
**************************
Chapter 8:
Tick Tock...Tick Tock
**************************
**************************
Date: February 10th, 2011
Time: 3:05 pm
Location: Aeroplane
**************************
Sherlock ignores the jolt that comes when a plane lands on a tarmac.
The usual instructions come over the intercom.
He ignores them.
He hears John's intake of breath, and remembers John did the same thing during take off.
It's not motion sickness, air sickness, nerves, fear of take off or fear of landing.
Just a quirk of his it seems.
"Shouldn't be much longer," John says quietly.
No. Just a few more minutes and they can depart from the plane, walk through the airport and quickly catch a taxi that will hopefully be there.
**************************
Date: February 7th, 2011
Location: The Rooftop Of A Building
Time: Just at 3 pm.
**************************
Sébastienne Moran kneels down on the hard tiles of the roof, setting her case down in front of her. She opens it, then withdraws her scope first.
Using it, she scans the location across the street with it. Some parts have too many objects in the way. Trees mainly. She'll need the target to come out the front doors.
It took a little bit more planning to work this out. While she worked on this excellent set up, she took care of two others. Loose ends during that bombing game he played with Holmes.
Plus, Boss wanted a lovely seat for this one.
She knows he's here somewhere. Just not sure where.
Moran smiles then, as she recognizes two police cars pull up and park. Moments later, so does a taxi. The recognizable figures of John Watson and Sherlock Holmes get out of the taxi. Much to her delight, Detective Inspector Lestrade, Seargent Sally Donovan and a few other Yarders get out.
Her mobile rings then.
Setting her scope down, Moran picks up it up.
"Yes, Boss?"
"When you are done here, take a trip to the surgery. Then go on to Birmingham. Take care of both of them there."
"Right. What about the mother and brother?"
"Too well protected," Boss says with irritation. "No idea where the mother is. We'll have to make do without them. Same with Tilly Briggs, which is annoying. Once the ex girlfriend, sister and the former sister in law are taken care of, we move on."
Anticipation brings a grin on. "John Watson?"
Boss laughs. "You will get your turn with him before I finish it.
"I may have not been trained to kill as expertly as you," John Watson's voice comes across the line, cold and hard, "but I'm going to promise you something, Sébastienne Moran. Think of it as a vow."
He had surprised her there. She was enjoying his defeated voice. It took her a minute to regain her bearings.
"I'm going to fucking kill you."
She believed him. His words were dark and full of intent.
Thing is, he won't be able to fulfill that vow. Not if she has her way. She will too.
"Have fun my dear. Also, if I did not say it, excellent work with Deborah Moore, and Nicholas Gadd."
The call ends. She sets her phone down and sets about putting together her rifle.
In thirty minutes, she will make her call.
Five minutes after that, she will take out this latest target.
**************************
Date: February 7th, 2011
Location: St Barts
Time: 3:09 pm
**************************
"He hasn't made anymore deliveries?"
"No," Molly responds, pulling at her coat. Sherlock notices that while tense, she's still trying to maintain a demeanor of being together.
"Has he rung you?" Lestrade asks sharply.
Molly bites her lip. "Possibly. I don't know. I've had a few calls late at night, but when I answer it's a hang up. It doesn't seem like him though. Jim would say something. Taunt me perhaps. Maybe he's decided I'm not worth the trouble anymore."
She sounds so hopeful to Sherlock's ears.
Two more people died in the last two days.
Deborah Moore, the woman that was the first victim of the five pips game. The first puzzle that he had to solve. He saved her life. Now she's dead.
Nicholas Gadd. The second victim of the game. He solved that puzzle too, saving his life.
Now he is dead.
So far the only two others that were part of the game, and are still alive is the young boy during the fourth pip and John.
Unfortunately, Molly is still being followed.
By whom, and who's orders, that is the problem and question. John said that whoever it is, the watcher does not seem to enter any building Molly goes in, but remains hovering outside.
"We are sorry to bother you Doctor Hooper, we're just--"
"I know what you're doing. I've been watching the news. Scotland Yard is taking a lot of heat with all these murders."
An unbelievable amount of heat. Lestrade's been quite ill tempered from all the press conferences and meetings with his superiors that past few days. Then again Sherlock can understand.
Several murders, all in the same modus operandi, spread out over the past few weeks. From the States (A decidedly overzealous reporter had found that information out, linking it to these) to the Mainland back to London.
Luckily nothing about Moran, Moriarty, Sherlock or John has been leaked to the media. The less known is best right now, despite what the public wants.
"Detective Inspector Lestrade, I know you have more questions. Right now, I am quite eager to have a cup of coffee. Criterion coffee," Molly stresses. Sherlock smiles, not many here are quite fond of the cafeteria coffee. "Let me have some java first, get something to eat, and then I'll answer the rest of your questions, even though I answered them already."
Lestrade blinks, surprised by the forcefulness in Molly. Sherlock approves of it.
The DI nods. Molly exhales, then takes off her coat and slips out of the morgue.
"Donovan, go with her, please. Take someone else too."
"Yes, sir," Donovan turns around, and waves a hand to one of the other Sergeants. They leave to go catch up with Molly.
'The last press conference rougher than usual?"
"Unbelievably so," Lestrade rubs his face. "Right now it feels as if I have no arse left, with the amount of chewing out I got from my superiors and those bloody reporters. That one keen reporter found out the connection of Deborah Moore and Nicholas Gadd to that five pips thing. What's surprising is she hasn't put that out there yet."
"Perhaps someone has convinced her not to."
"If it's your brother Sherlock, I'm grateful." Lestrade pauses in the act of rubbing his neck. "Speaking of your brother--"
"He is safe. Far too much protection, and excellent protection I might add. Mummy happens to be taking an unscheduled holiday in the Mainland right now," Sherlock interrupts and decides to leave the morgue. No bodies in, but he doesn't feel like staying in there.
"I swear it's still strange hearing the word Mummy come from his mouth," he hears Lestrade mutter to John.
He doesn't hear John's response as his mobile rings. A quick check and the number, unsurprisingly, is blocked.
Moran.
Or Moriarty.
"Sherlock Holmes."
"How are you dear Sherlock?"
Moriarty.
"Just swell, thank you. You?"
"A little cold. English winters can be quite chilly, especially during February, as you well know."
"I see. What do I owe the honor for you ringing me?" Sherlock drawls.
"Well, it's been so long since we last chatted. I can't let my guard dog do all the talking. Although, she does do it quite well, does she not? Your pet took her by surprise a few mornings back."
"John Watson is not a pet," Sherlock's jaw clenches, but he's able to keep his voice calm.
"That's right. Friend, colleague, flatmate. Or flatmate, friend, and colleague. Whichever order you prefer."
"They are concepts you do not understand."
"Well you did not seem to understand the concept of backing off," Moriarty snarls, reminding Sherlock of the back and forth personality during the pool stand off. "I gave you two warnings, my dear. Two. Look where it got you. Close to two dozen people, ones who knew you and helped you, dead. Their blood is on your hands, dear Sherlock."
That damned guilt threatens to breach the wall. Sherlock batters it back.
"No."
"No?" His tone is curious now.
"No, their blood is not on my hands. I'm not the one that killed him. Your assassin did. Moran took their lives, not me. You won't force me to feel something unwarranted to the situation, Jim Moriarty."
"Well, you already feel so much, Sherlock. Ever since Doctor John Watson, formerly a Captial of the Royal Army Medical Corps, entered your life." His voice turns from warm to cold with the next few words. "I'm going to have my pet kill his family, and that lovely Sarah Sawyer too once we finish here," he hisses. "I am going to make you suffer my dear. Every moment. I will make you watch, bounded and gagged, unable to do anything but watch as I end John Watson's life. I will let you live afterwards, if only because I doubt you'll have much will left for it. When your life ends, either by your hand or mine, I'll be there."
Sherlock's hand grips the mobile, passion gripping the inside of him, a passion he normally only lets himself feel when he's in a middle of a case. Determination rips through him, a strange focus that he had not felt before takes hold.
"Neither you, nor Moran will be able to end John Watson's life, nor mine," he says coldly.
"Oh? Tell me why?"
"Because the both of us will end you," he promises, the weight of each word bearing down on him and he feels it gladly. "Before that happens. I will personally end you if you even dare to go after John's family, or John. Enough is enough, Jim Moriarty," he sneers the name, "You hide behind your shadows, your assassin, your games. This is not a matter of you not wanting to get your hands dirty. They already are. You're just a coward."
Before Moriarty can respond, Sherlock ends the call and pockets his mobile. He turns to see John standing behind him.
The strange focus and the passion he usually feels for cases recedes slowly.
"Yes?"
"You called him a coward."
"I believe I did."
John smirks. "I told Moran I'd kill her the other day."
"I think both of us have had enough."
"Oh, quite."
**************************
Date: February 7th, 2011
Location: Outside St Barts
Time: 3:20 pm
**************************
Moriarty stares furiously at his mobile. Rage builds to the point where he can hardly think.
How dare he?!
How DARE he?!
Oh things have just changed. They have most certainly goddamn changed!
To hell with the original plan. To hell with the rest of them! Time to make a change, he's quite capable of adapting and making changes.
"Sorry boys! I'm soooo changeable! It is a weakness with me. But to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness."
He dials a number.
"Moran."
"Change in plans," he snarls.
Silence. "Boss?" He scowls at her nervous tone.
"I SAID CHANGE IN PLANS!"
"Right. What's the change?"
"When you take out the primary, take out John Watson first, then put two bullets in Sherlock Holmes head."
"Really?"
He grins at her eagerness. "Just so." He ends the call, the anger now draining from him. He leans against the wall, feeling much better now.
Moriarty turns his attention back across the street, to the sight in front of him.
Time to make another call.
He shakes off his anger towards Sherlock (Because Sherlock will now properly pay for that remark) and then dials the number.
"Hello?"
Ah, there is that sweet, hesitant, voice.
"Hello my dear Doctor Molly Hooper," he croons. He hears her intake of breath and smiles. "I thought I'd call. After all, I left you in such a lurch the last time we talked."
**************************
Date: February 7th, 2011
Location: Inside St Barts
Time: 3:30 pm
**************************
"Hold that thought Sherlock," Lestrade tells him as he answers his ringing mobile. They stop halfway to their destination.
Sherlock scowls at being cut off, finding it quite annoying.
He turns in a huff, only to be nudged by John. He sees John gesturing back to Lestrade, and Sherlock turns back around to see Lestrade paling a bit.
He holds his phone out and presses a button. Speaker.
"Hello boys," Moran's voice greets them.
"Moran," they say at the same time, this time in a bored manner.
"I spy with my special little eye," she croons, "a certain beauty that can be quite shy."
Sherlock's boredom fades instantly. She's pointing to a target.
Sarah Sawyer perhaps? Harry Watson? Wait no, Harry Watson is certainly not shy.
Molly.
"Tell you what boys, I have a challenge for you. To see if you can save your beauty before my special eye helps stop her heart."
Sherlock stills.
"I will give you one hundred and twenty seconds. Two minutes to get where you are to where the beauty is. I don't think you are quite far and you can run quite fast the both of you."
Two minutes. From where they are that's about fifty feet, then three hallways, about ten steps up to the main lobby, and to the outside. Molly would most likely be returning to have her lunch, so she'd be halfway to the door.
If she's halfway to the entrance, the both of them can make it.
"So if my calculations are correct, then you have your two minutes to race towards Doctor Molly Hooper and save her life. Detective Inspector Lestrade, do not hang up your mobile to ring your Sergeant, you'll need help to keep track of the time. So boys, the time starts.. now. One.. two... tick tock.. tick tock..."
Sherlock does not hesitate.
He and John run.
NEXT CHAPTER
Author's Note: Nicholas Gadd and Deborah Moore were the actors names of the first two victims of being in those bomb vests for that Five Pips thing. They had no names given for their characters, so I went with their actual names.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters that are part of the BBCverse of Sherlock.
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Moriarty, Moran, DI Lestrade, Sally Donovan, Molly Hooper, Mrs Hudson with Mycroft Holmes appearance a couple times.
Genre: Suspense, Drama, Angst, General, Friendship, Humor (as much one can be with this story), Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: Death, Murder, Violence, Language, Threats
Spoilers: Reichenbach Falls is the title of the third episode/season finale (or episode 6) of Season 2.
Summary: It's February. John and Sherlock have known each other for a year now, their friendship strong, the bond that is between them is understood by them, but not by everyone else. Moriarty's plans for the two of them have been coming to fruition since January. Everyone they know, have helped and are close to them (as close one can get to Sherlock that is) are in danger.
Word Count: 2,390
**************************
Chapter 8:
Tick Tock...Tick Tock
**************************
**************************
Date: February 10th, 2011
Time: 3:05 pm
Location: Aeroplane
**************************
Sherlock ignores the jolt that comes when a plane lands on a tarmac.
The usual instructions come over the intercom.
He ignores them.
He hears John's intake of breath, and remembers John did the same thing during take off.
It's not motion sickness, air sickness, nerves, fear of take off or fear of landing.
Just a quirk of his it seems.
"Shouldn't be much longer," John says quietly.
No. Just a few more minutes and they can depart from the plane, walk through the airport and quickly catch a taxi that will hopefully be there.
**************************
Date: February 7th, 2011
Location: The Rooftop Of A Building
Time: Just at 3 pm.
**************************
Sébastienne Moran kneels down on the hard tiles of the roof, setting her case down in front of her. She opens it, then withdraws her scope first.
Using it, she scans the location across the street with it. Some parts have too many objects in the way. Trees mainly. She'll need the target to come out the front doors.
It took a little bit more planning to work this out. While she worked on this excellent set up, she took care of two others. Loose ends during that bombing game he played with Holmes.
Plus, Boss wanted a lovely seat for this one.
She knows he's here somewhere. Just not sure where.
Moran smiles then, as she recognizes two police cars pull up and park. Moments later, so does a taxi. The recognizable figures of John Watson and Sherlock Holmes get out of the taxi. Much to her delight, Detective Inspector Lestrade, Seargent Sally Donovan and a few other Yarders get out.
Her mobile rings then.
Setting her scope down, Moran picks up it up.
"Yes, Boss?"
"When you are done here, take a trip to the surgery. Then go on to Birmingham. Take care of both of them there."
"Right. What about the mother and brother?"
"Too well protected," Boss says with irritation. "No idea where the mother is. We'll have to make do without them. Same with Tilly Briggs, which is annoying. Once the ex girlfriend, sister and the former sister in law are taken care of, we move on."
Anticipation brings a grin on. "John Watson?"
Boss laughs. "You will get your turn with him before I finish it.
"I may have not been trained to kill as expertly as you," John Watson's voice comes across the line, cold and hard, "but I'm going to promise you something, Sébastienne Moran. Think of it as a vow."
He had surprised her there. She was enjoying his defeated voice. It took her a minute to regain her bearings.
"I'm going to fucking kill you."
She believed him. His words were dark and full of intent.
Thing is, he won't be able to fulfill that vow. Not if she has her way. She will too.
"Have fun my dear. Also, if I did not say it, excellent work with Deborah Moore, and Nicholas Gadd."
The call ends. She sets her phone down and sets about putting together her rifle.
In thirty minutes, she will make her call.
Five minutes after that, she will take out this latest target.
**************************
Date: February 7th, 2011
Location: St Barts
Time: 3:09 pm
**************************
"He hasn't made anymore deliveries?"
"No," Molly responds, pulling at her coat. Sherlock notices that while tense, she's still trying to maintain a demeanor of being together.
"Has he rung you?" Lestrade asks sharply.
Molly bites her lip. "Possibly. I don't know. I've had a few calls late at night, but when I answer it's a hang up. It doesn't seem like him though. Jim would say something. Taunt me perhaps. Maybe he's decided I'm not worth the trouble anymore."
She sounds so hopeful to Sherlock's ears.
Two more people died in the last two days.
Deborah Moore, the woman that was the first victim of the five pips game. The first puzzle that he had to solve. He saved her life. Now she's dead.
Nicholas Gadd. The second victim of the game. He solved that puzzle too, saving his life.
Now he is dead.
So far the only two others that were part of the game, and are still alive is the young boy during the fourth pip and John.
Unfortunately, Molly is still being followed.
By whom, and who's orders, that is the problem and question. John said that whoever it is, the watcher does not seem to enter any building Molly goes in, but remains hovering outside.
"We are sorry to bother you Doctor Hooper, we're just--"
"I know what you're doing. I've been watching the news. Scotland Yard is taking a lot of heat with all these murders."
An unbelievable amount of heat. Lestrade's been quite ill tempered from all the press conferences and meetings with his superiors that past few days. Then again Sherlock can understand.
Several murders, all in the same modus operandi, spread out over the past few weeks. From the States (A decidedly overzealous reporter had found that information out, linking it to these) to the Mainland back to London.
Luckily nothing about Moran, Moriarty, Sherlock or John has been leaked to the media. The less known is best right now, despite what the public wants.
"Detective Inspector Lestrade, I know you have more questions. Right now, I am quite eager to have a cup of coffee. Criterion coffee," Molly stresses. Sherlock smiles, not many here are quite fond of the cafeteria coffee. "Let me have some java first, get something to eat, and then I'll answer the rest of your questions, even though I answered them already."
Lestrade blinks, surprised by the forcefulness in Molly. Sherlock approves of it.
The DI nods. Molly exhales, then takes off her coat and slips out of the morgue.
"Donovan, go with her, please. Take someone else too."
"Yes, sir," Donovan turns around, and waves a hand to one of the other Sergeants. They leave to go catch up with Molly.
'The last press conference rougher than usual?"
"Unbelievably so," Lestrade rubs his face. "Right now it feels as if I have no arse left, with the amount of chewing out I got from my superiors and those bloody reporters. That one keen reporter found out the connection of Deborah Moore and Nicholas Gadd to that five pips thing. What's surprising is she hasn't put that out there yet."
"Perhaps someone has convinced her not to."
"If it's your brother Sherlock, I'm grateful." Lestrade pauses in the act of rubbing his neck. "Speaking of your brother--"
"He is safe. Far too much protection, and excellent protection I might add. Mummy happens to be taking an unscheduled holiday in the Mainland right now," Sherlock interrupts and decides to leave the morgue. No bodies in, but he doesn't feel like staying in there.
"I swear it's still strange hearing the word Mummy come from his mouth," he hears Lestrade mutter to John.
He doesn't hear John's response as his mobile rings. A quick check and the number, unsurprisingly, is blocked.
Moran.
Or Moriarty.
"Sherlock Holmes."
"How are you dear Sherlock?"
Moriarty.
"Just swell, thank you. You?"
"A little cold. English winters can be quite chilly, especially during February, as you well know."
"I see. What do I owe the honor for you ringing me?" Sherlock drawls.
"Well, it's been so long since we last chatted. I can't let my guard dog do all the talking. Although, she does do it quite well, does she not? Your pet took her by surprise a few mornings back."
"John Watson is not a pet," Sherlock's jaw clenches, but he's able to keep his voice calm.
"That's right. Friend, colleague, flatmate. Or flatmate, friend, and colleague. Whichever order you prefer."
"They are concepts you do not understand."
"Well you did not seem to understand the concept of backing off," Moriarty snarls, reminding Sherlock of the back and forth personality during the pool stand off. "I gave you two warnings, my dear. Two. Look where it got you. Close to two dozen people, ones who knew you and helped you, dead. Their blood is on your hands, dear Sherlock."
That damned guilt threatens to breach the wall. Sherlock batters it back.
"No."
"No?" His tone is curious now.
"No, their blood is not on my hands. I'm not the one that killed him. Your assassin did. Moran took their lives, not me. You won't force me to feel something unwarranted to the situation, Jim Moriarty."
"Well, you already feel so much, Sherlock. Ever since Doctor John Watson, formerly a Captial of the Royal Army Medical Corps, entered your life." His voice turns from warm to cold with the next few words. "I'm going to have my pet kill his family, and that lovely Sarah Sawyer too once we finish here," he hisses. "I am going to make you suffer my dear. Every moment. I will make you watch, bounded and gagged, unable to do anything but watch as I end John Watson's life. I will let you live afterwards, if only because I doubt you'll have much will left for it. When your life ends, either by your hand or mine, I'll be there."
Sherlock's hand grips the mobile, passion gripping the inside of him, a passion he normally only lets himself feel when he's in a middle of a case. Determination rips through him, a strange focus that he had not felt before takes hold.
"Neither you, nor Moran will be able to end John Watson's life, nor mine," he says coldly.
"Oh? Tell me why?"
"Because the both of us will end you," he promises, the weight of each word bearing down on him and he feels it gladly. "Before that happens. I will personally end you if you even dare to go after John's family, or John. Enough is enough, Jim Moriarty," he sneers the name, "You hide behind your shadows, your assassin, your games. This is not a matter of you not wanting to get your hands dirty. They already are. You're just a coward."
Before Moriarty can respond, Sherlock ends the call and pockets his mobile. He turns to see John standing behind him.
The strange focus and the passion he usually feels for cases recedes slowly.
"Yes?"
"You called him a coward."
"I believe I did."
John smirks. "I told Moran I'd kill her the other day."
"I think both of us have had enough."
"Oh, quite."
**************************
Date: February 7th, 2011
Location: Outside St Barts
Time: 3:20 pm
**************************
Moriarty stares furiously at his mobile. Rage builds to the point where he can hardly think.
How dare he?!
How DARE he?!
Oh things have just changed. They have most certainly goddamn changed!
To hell with the original plan. To hell with the rest of them! Time to make a change, he's quite capable of adapting and making changes.
"Sorry boys! I'm soooo changeable! It is a weakness with me. But to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness."
He dials a number.
"Moran."
"Change in plans," he snarls.
Silence. "Boss?" He scowls at her nervous tone.
"I SAID CHANGE IN PLANS!"
"Right. What's the change?"
"When you take out the primary, take out John Watson first, then put two bullets in Sherlock Holmes head."
"Really?"
He grins at her eagerness. "Just so." He ends the call, the anger now draining from him. He leans against the wall, feeling much better now.
Moriarty turns his attention back across the street, to the sight in front of him.
Time to make another call.
He shakes off his anger towards Sherlock (Because Sherlock will now properly pay for that remark) and then dials the number.
"Hello?"
Ah, there is that sweet, hesitant, voice.
"Hello my dear Doctor Molly Hooper," he croons. He hears her intake of breath and smiles. "I thought I'd call. After all, I left you in such a lurch the last time we talked."
**************************
Date: February 7th, 2011
Location: Inside St Barts
Time: 3:30 pm
**************************
"Hold that thought Sherlock," Lestrade tells him as he answers his ringing mobile. They stop halfway to their destination.
Sherlock scowls at being cut off, finding it quite annoying.
He turns in a huff, only to be nudged by John. He sees John gesturing back to Lestrade, and Sherlock turns back around to see Lestrade paling a bit.
He holds his phone out and presses a button. Speaker.
"Hello boys," Moran's voice greets them.
"Moran," they say at the same time, this time in a bored manner.
"I spy with my special little eye," she croons, "a certain beauty that can be quite shy."
Sherlock's boredom fades instantly. She's pointing to a target.
Sarah Sawyer perhaps? Harry Watson? Wait no, Harry Watson is certainly not shy.
Molly.
"Tell you what boys, I have a challenge for you. To see if you can save your beauty before my special eye helps stop her heart."
Sherlock stills.
"I will give you one hundred and twenty seconds. Two minutes to get where you are to where the beauty is. I don't think you are quite far and you can run quite fast the both of you."
Two minutes. From where they are that's about fifty feet, then three hallways, about ten steps up to the main lobby, and to the outside. Molly would most likely be returning to have her lunch, so she'd be halfway to the door.
If she's halfway to the entrance, the both of them can make it.
"So if my calculations are correct, then you have your two minutes to race towards Doctor Molly Hooper and save her life. Detective Inspector Lestrade, do not hang up your mobile to ring your Sergeant, you'll need help to keep track of the time. So boys, the time starts.. now. One.. two... tick tock.. tick tock..."
Sherlock does not hesitate.
He and John run.
NEXT CHAPTER
Author's Note: Nicholas Gadd and Deborah Moore were the actors names of the first two victims of being in those bomb vests for that Five Pips thing. They had no names given for their characters, so I went with their actual names.