Hey guys! This is my first time writing Sherlock, so I'm working on getting all the characters correct! That, and I haven't written or read anything in third person in forever! This…may be a little rough. This takes place right after the season three finale!
An unknown location in London
"Is everything in place?"
"Soon, sir. Soon."
"Good. My message has been airing for about two minutes. He's bound to have seen it by now."
"What will our first move be?"
A chair scratched against the floorboards as a man stood abruptly. "Have you ever played a game of chess?"
"No, sir, I can't say I have."
"The overall objective of chess is simple," The man stated as he walked around the splintering table, sliding his fingers over the crumpled mess of papers that stained the tabletop. "You must take the opponent's King."
"Ok?" His companion questioned.
The man slowly picked up a mobile phone and turned it around in his hands. "So, pretend that Mr. Holmes and I are playing a game of chess."
"Oh…so you want to take the King. And Sherlock Holmes is the king on the opposing side."
"Exactly!" The man exclaimed, clutching the phone tightly in his hand. "There are many ways to checkmate a King. You could take him on directly…or you can go after his army. And who is the highest ranking in an army under the king?"
The man flipped open the phone and scrolled through the small pool of numbers stored on the device.
"Um…"
"Think about it." The man grinned as he hit the call button, knowing that the call would go to voicemail as the person in question never had their phone near them when they were where they were now.
"Hello, you've reached the voicemail of Molly Hooper. I'm sorry I can't take your call right now - "
He flipped the phone shut, effectively ending the unanswered call.
"Who is Molly Hooper, sir?"
Moriarty sauntered over to the lone window in the room, grinning from ear to ear.
"The second highest ranking under the King. I sent her a package just a bit ago."
"Oh…she's the - "
"She, my good man, is the Queen."
…
"Did you miss me? Did you miss me?"
Molly could honestly say she had never been more frightened in her life. She had seen plenty of mutilated bodies and even helped a man fake his death, and yet here she was shaking in her shoes. Moriarty's face covered the screen, mocking her constantly. Gaining a flash of courage, she jumped for the remote sitting next to the telly, and frantically hit the power button. The telly flashed off, but the image still burned in her mind. She took a moment to catch her breath, just listening to the sudden chaos that was happening outside the lab.
Finally, she reached for her phone, needing to dial one number although she knew he probably wouldn't answer. Before she could call it though, a missed call from an unknown number flashed on her screen. She decided the missed call could wait as her shaking fingers typed in the number she knew by heart. It rang a few times, until a ruff voice answered.
"Hello?"
"John? Why are you answering Sherlock's phone?"
"He's a bit…occupied at the moment. He and Mycroft are in a heated discussion. What do you need?"
"Have you…have you seen the telly?"
"We did." He stated.
"What's going to be done about it? Is he really alive?"
"I - "
Suddenly, Molly could hear a loud voice from John's side of the conversation.
"John! Who are you speaking to!"
"It's Molly!" John called back. There was a slight scuffle, then Sherlock's deep bass voice fluttered over the line.
"Molly. Are you safe?"
"Um, yeah, I'm ok. I'm at the lab, what's - "
"Stay there. We're on our way."
The line went dead as he hung up on her. A bit annoyed, she let her phone clatter onto a nearby table.
"He never even says goodbye." She muttered. Before she could think another thought however, the doors to the lab flew open.
"Dr. Hooper?" A small voice asked.
"It's alright, Lynn, just stay in here."
Lynn was Molly's newest protege, following her around like a little assistant. It was only her first week on the job, and Molly felt bad for how much the girl had already been put through. And she hadn't even met Sherlock yet.
"What's going on? Who is that man?"
"A bad, bad man. But you don't need to worry about him. The government will take care of it."
"It seems like they can't even get the broadcast under control, though."
Molly grimaced. Moriarty must still have a large network if he could control every telly in London. Was the two years that Sherlock spent in a fantasy grave all for nothing?
"They'll get it. Why don't you finish cleaning the instruments? That'll take your mind off of everything, trust me."
"Thank you, Dr. Hooper." Lynn walked past Molly, her lab coat brushing against her leg. The lab was silent for a few lovely minutes until the doors were forced open again, this time a tall man draped in famous Belstaff coat walking through. His eyes locked with hers for only a brief moment, and Molly could swear she saw a flash of relief in his cold gaze.
"Ah, Molly. I'm sure you've seen the telly."
"Yes, I have." There was a clang behind her as poor Lynn dropped a scalpel in surprise.
"And you are?" Sherlock demanded.
"This is Lynn. My…assistant. Be nice." She scowled at him as he quickly glanced over the girl. "Lynn, this is - "
"Sherlock Holmes. I know, I've seen the papers."
"Have you seen the pictures with him in that hat of his? They're wonderful," John joked, coming in behind Sherlock. Molly sent him an appreciative glance as Lynn giggled a little and smiled at John.
"Yes, I've seen them."
Sherlock scowled.
"Lynn, why don't you just take the rest of the day off. I'll handle everything from here."
"Are you sure Dr. Hooper?" Lynn asked as she picked up the discarded scalpel.
"Yes. Now get going, you. Enjoy your day."
Lynn nodded and waved goodbye to John and Sherlock before ducking out of the lab.
"She's nice." John noted.
"You're confusing nice for timid, John. But yes…I suppose she is nice." Sherlock muttered as he walked behind the lab table to stand next to Molly.
"Stop analyzing my assistant, Sherlock. She's too innocent to handle you." Molly sighed.
Sherlock gazed at her with an expression that Molly hadn't seen before. Was it something like guilt? Or was it just her imagination? She finally spoke to break the silence.
"So, what's going on?"
"It seems that Moriarty has made a monumental comeback like I did. Just in a more…public fashion."
"Do you really think he's alive?" Molly whispered. Sherlock looked at her again while John coughed. When he didn't answer, John turned to her.
"We don't know. This broadcast is the only thing we've heard from him."
"Okay. What do you need from me?"
John looked at Sherlock and shrugged. "I'm not sure. Sherlock just insisted we came here, so you'd better ask him."
Molly turned to ask the man in question, but he was already talking. "I had wished that you could have done the autopsy on Moriarty when he killed himself, Molly. But it has come to my attention that you didn't. So, who did?"
"That…um, let me check." She skimmed past Sherlock to grab her logs, flipping through the years to the dreadful date she was searching for. "Dr. Williams. He did it."
"Where could we find Dr. Williams now?"
"You can't. He retired last year. But, I could pull some strings with administrative and get his papers?"
Sherlock smirked a little and nodded. "Excellent."
He proceeded to saunter out of the lab, beckoning John to follow him. "Call me when you get the results!"
Molly's response was lost on him and John as the doors closed behind them but she still said, "Of course!"
As she made her way to the administrative desk, thinking about how she was going to pull this one off, Lynn came up behind her with her arms full with a package.
"Dr. Hooper, this package came in for you just now."
"Oh, thank you, Lynn." She took it from the girl and placed it under her arm. As Lynn walked off, she checked the return address on the box and was surprised to find that there wasn't one.
"That's odd," she mumbled. "How could a box without a return address get past security?"
She shrugged off the twinge of anxiety she felt and placed the box on the administrative desk.
"Hey, Jill?"
"Hello, darling," Jill responded, looking up at Molly over her spectacles. "What can I do for you?"
Molly put on her best innocent face. "Do you think I could get Dr. William's records from before he retired?"
Jill grimaced. "Well…I'm not supposed to, but…"
"Come on, Jill, please? I'll make it up to you. I'll make you my famous lemon bars?" She countered.
Jill smiled. "Alright, alright. I was going to give them to you anyway, but the lemon bars sealed the deal. Just give me a moment."
She quickly typed into her computer and found a number that corresponded with a file cabinet in their records. It didn't take her long to come back with a large manila file full of papers.
"There you are, dear. Do what you'd like with them."
"Thank you, Jill." Molly smiled at her, grabbed her box and made her way back to the lab, depositing the box on a slab. She spent the next couple minutes flipping through the file looking for Moriarty's autopsy report, but the curiosity about her package was distracting her. She only hesitated in opening it because she had no idea where or who it was from.
Yet, despite her initial fear, she slid the box closer to her and grabbed a nearby scalpel. The box made it through security, didn't it? So there couldn't be anything dangerous inside. Sliding the scalpel across the top of the box, it opened easily. An odd smell reached her nostrils as she opened the box farther and peered inside. When she saw what was inhabiting the box, she screamed and scrambled backwards, causing the box to fall to the ground. A single amputated head rolled out of the box towards her, a note pinned to its forehead.
This is only a warning, Miss Hooper. The longer you deal with Mr. Holmes, the more gruesome your death will become. Choose wisely.
Despite her better judgment, all she could do was scream again.
Well? How'd I do? I will gladly take any and all constructive criticism! I love it! Try not to flame though please, I'm new to the Sherlock fandom. :) Please read, review, and enjoy!
