John Watson placed his bag on the table and walked quietly into the front room of22b Baker Street.
Sherlock was sat, fingers in a steeple, contemplating the wall. Of course, Watson knew the look on his face.
"Another gruesome murder today, Sherlock? A bank raid?" He joked, and sat in the opposite chair. Sherlock said nothing, but spun a new newspaper towards him from his end of the desk. John picked it up. The front headline leapt off the page in thick black capitals.
LADY IN BLACK ESCAPED FROM MENTAL PRISON
Guards are baffled by the sudden disappearance of a well-known criminal
The Guards at The London Institute for the Criminally Insane have been shocked to find the empty cell of the well-known female criminal, Lint Remizov. She is infamous for her merciless corruption of well-known computer databases, which put a top-secret British agency on high alert when all of their internal archive data was deleted.
Remizov was last seen on Tuesday morning by guards, but their last check found her cell empty yet still locked and bolted. Specialists are baffled, and have warned the areas surrounding the prison to be on high alert, although they think she cant go far in her state. [cont. pg 4]
John finished reading and looked up at Sherlock. "This could be really dangerous, couldn't it?"
"Yes. It seems we have another case on our hands."
"Well..." John searched for the right words. "Have you heard of her?"
"Of course." Sherlock got up from his seat and faced the window. "I put her in jail. Its all digital stuff with her - programming and infecting and hacking and so on. She's Russian, around 25 years old. Been in the institute for a while now. " Sherlock resumed his thinking. Watson decided not to probe any further and instead opened his laptop.
He typed Lint Remizov and found a hell of a lot of information. Her picture, attached to her criminal folder, was of a platinum-haired, high cheekbones, heavy-lidded young girl. The first information listed was of her first offence - breaking into the UK military website and deleting every other word. When she was only 12. John frowned, looking down the other offenses. Hacked the Toshiba password database, and replaced everyone's password with the words of Shakespeare's Midsummer Nights Dream in under a minute. Broke into the MI6 criminal profile database and replaced everything, everything, with smiley faces. Broke into the Bank Of England online and stole £41.57 from almost four million bank accounts. All massive undertakings, which could have ended up much more chaotically, but resulted in comparatively little.
"Sherlock, with all these things, why didn't she delete all the information? Take all the money? She could of had the country in ruins."
Sherlock waited for a moment. "Her name. It means Infinite Discord and Corruption. She's mad, John. That's why she's in a mental institute... or was..." Sherlock leapt over the table and landed in his chair. "What I need to know is how she escaped. Why. What she was planning to do." He ruffled his chestnut curled hair agitatedly, trying to spawn ideas. "Oh, this is an interesting case."
"Well, you said it - She's mad. How can we predict a mad person?"
"Exactly, exactly, we can't, but its for that reason that we can." Sherlock said.
"...What?"
"Doesn't matter."
Suddenly, interrupting the tension, both Sherlock and Johns phone beeped. They both reached for them. John opened the new text, not recognising the number.
You two are slooooooooooooowww thinkers aren't you?
John looked to Sherlock, and noticed he was looking just as confused.
"Did you just get..?"
"Slow thinkers? Mmm." Sherlocks hands were flying across the phones touchscreen, and John waited patiently. "I'm trying to trace the number. She might have left it open-"
His phone rang and he almost dropped it, catching it just in time to answer it, turning speakerphone on. Sherlock spoke while John listened.
"Hello? Who is this?" Sherlock said loudly. But it was obvious who it would be.
"Guess." The voice was cracked and sarcastic, and it played with Johns mind. He felt mesmerised yet terrified. The voice had... an insane echo.
"Remizov? If that is you, then tell me what you are planning. What you are doing."
"I'm not going to give away the surprise, Sherlock. It will be better if you had a realistic shocked expression." She murmured a laugh down the line. "I feel hurt that you left me to that place, Sherlock. I don't belong there."
"You do, Remizov. You need help - let me help you."
"Be quiet." She said, and the edge in her voice actually made Sherlock stop talking. "It'll be done by tomorrow, Sherlock. That's all the time you've got. You're going to like you're present, Sherlock. Everyone will."
"You said you wanted to meet, where? Why?"
"For your present. I want you to be there when it aaaallll comes to a head. We'll discuss it soon, Holmes. We've got time to spare. Well, I have..."
"What are you planning? Remizov? Tell me, and I can help you."
"Yeah. Sure. Whatever, Sherlock. I'll believe you. Not. And know this, if you tell anyone, if you even speak my name, then this world will die." The way she finished the sentence made a cruel chill whistle in John's bones. The phone cut off.