Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or Alice in Wonderland. Everything else is used fictitiously.

The Time Has Come

The time has come, the walrus said,

To speak of many things

Of Shoes

And Ships

And Sealing Wax

Of Cabbages

And Kings.

John Watson couldn't get that little ditty from Alice in Wonderland out of his head. He'd been stuck with it since finding the envelope sealed with red wax on the doorstep. He should have known.

Shoes. The kidnappers. Sherlock's obsession with the chemical analysis.

Ships. Wood. Books. The Grimm Brothers' book of fairy tales. The bread crumbs.

Sealing wax. The envelopes. Red sealing wax. Red. The color of valentines. Valentines decorations. Hearts. The Queen of Hearts. Cold-hearted. Professor Moriarty. Mathematical genius. Of course he would know that binary code.

Cabbages. A term of endearment used by French parents, similar to the American term "pumpkin". The two missing children. The fairy tales. The bread crumbs. Hansel and Gretel.

Kings. Moriarty. The Crown Jewels. It all makes sense now.

He unconsciously whispered that as he watched the orderlies, led by Molly, load Sherlock—was it really him?—onto the gurney and cart him off into St. Bart's.

What would Sherlock have done if it was someone else? John tried to think as Lestrade helped him home. Of course Molly had called Lestrade. Donovan had caused this.

"Of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings," John muttered.

Lestrade looked at him oddly. "Sorry, I didn't catch that."

John repeated it. "Alice in Wonderland. Recited to Alice by Tweedledee. The Walrus and the Carpenter. It's this case, rather perfectly."

Lestrade's phone rang then. He answered, his face becoming grim as he listened. "Driver, take us back to St. Bart's," he ordered.

"What happened?" John murmered. He was feeling cold and numb now.

"There's another body on the roof."

"Suicide," John said, staring at the body of James Moriarty. He'd seen it enough in the Army.

"You're certain?" Lestrade asked.

"Yeah. Self-inflicted."

"And Sherlock jumped—that wasn't his own decision, I take it." Lestrade was thoughtful.

"I would bet my life that Moriarty had it planned that if Sherlock didn't jump, then Sherlock would be killed. Likely he threatened Sherlock with something. Mrs. Hudson or myself, I think."

"You've picked up an awful lot from him, you know that?"

John didn't look at Lestrade. "He sent me back to beyond the carriage houses twice. I wonder what he was planning to do."

"If he had help, it would have been someone in St. Bart's…" Lestrade trailed off as realization hit him. "We need to speak to Molly."

And there you have it. That's really the way my brain works most of the time. I've had to use Sherlock's skills in my jobs…being an anthropologist, you notice those things. Not sure if this will continue, so unless I get another brilliant idea for it, I'll keep this marked as complete.