It had been 27 hours and 16 minutes since the broadcast heard 'round the nation and Sherlock Holmes finally found the source.
"Are you positive this one was his?"
"ehm, yeah, he said he liked sitting by the window. Liked to watch the birds" Molly said from the door with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Only the toe of her shoe crossing the threshold into Bart's IT Department.
"Brilliant, you, Matthews-"
"It's Marbles, Mr Holmes" Kevin Marbles said with all the confidence he could muster, considering this was the seventh time he had corrected the detective. For a genius, he was shit with names.
"-Maples, who has used this desktop since the illustrious Jim abandoned his post 5 years ago?"
Just over a day beforehand when his mission to Eastern Europe had been disrupted 'for England' he should have guessed it would end up right where all of this started. Tracking the signal had been disgustingly complicated, layered with red herrings and various tricks that lead the detective and his specialized team of homeless hackers through hours of data and binary nonsense. But there they were, Jim's old desk. The office of the devil himself.
"Andrews used it for about a year, then there was Kelley. He's been there for the last four, good worker." Marbles was tired, he didn't understand why this man was so interested in who used a computer five years ago, it had been updated so far beyond that point. Five years ago the sad little Dell ran Vista.
A phone buzzed in Sherlock's pocket as he considered the tech in front of him.
CAMERAS WIPED NO EVIDENCE OF ANYONE OUT OF THE ORDINARY ENTERING I-T BEFORE BROADCAST. -JW
"Thank you, John. Helpful as always. Ah, well back to this. Mathers, do you know what we have in front of us?" Sherlock said as he stood to his full height and adjusted his scarf.
"It's Marbles, as in what you've clearly lost, and what we have in front of us is a bloody old computer a psychopath sat in front of for a month and a half while trying to get into both of your pants."
"Oh God" Molly mumbled hiding her embarrassment with her hands.
"I assure you Mr Martle, James Moriarty wanted nothing to do with my pants. And also, you're an idiot because what we have in front of us is the very last tie to a dead man haunting England through technology. Somehow, someone is using this piece of equipment to keep his twisted legacy moving forward. I want to know who, I want to know why, and I want to stop them. And I get what I want." The Great Detective bent over the keyboard and began typing in a username and password he had lifted off an administrator ages ago.
"So he's definitely dead?" Molly asked quietly from behind her hand.
Sherlock paused and looked at the woman "Dr. Hooper, you did the autopsy, you know he's dead."
"Well, yeah, but... I did yours too."
"Molly, don't be obtuse. The man's dead we both know it..." and he finished typing in the password.
MSTAMFORD
1Password1
Then the computer exploded.