New chapter. Still another chapter of introduction to subsequent events.
I hope I haven't made too much grammatical mistakes.
III
One week later, Sherlock started over again his own routine. Lestrade asked him some help for a case, but it was a very trivial one, as usually are the crimes of passion. He solved easily.
Even though the days passed by, he still was thinking about that night, and about the events of last months. Now he wasn't even more annoyed about it. He doesn't talk with anyone about it. He had already decided what to do.
He had told to his homeless network to keep him informed about all movements around some targets like Mycroft's house and the Dyogenes Club.
He had knew till now, all about Her displacements in the recent days. She was in a secret location ( not for him, obviously) waiting for transferring Her elsewhere. Sherlock has understood that Mycroft hadn't put Her under arrest. She was kept in his custody only until the expatriation. This meant that She was totally without protection once She left Great Britain. Sherlock couldn't trust his own brother. And Mycroft has always tried to manage his life.
Mycroft also came to visit him, few days ago, obviously to check the situation. He tried to talk about Her, but Sherlock avoided the topic. However, in that visit, Sherlock was able to pick some information. As always, Mycroft had got a phone call and went on the kitchen, to talk in private. He spoke in a language code, but was easy for Sherlock to figure out who he was talking about.
He heard that She was being transferred abroad, next evening, with a flight to Paris.
Probably Her destination was to be further away.
When his brother left, and while John was at work, he continued his investigations.
He couldn't share this thing with John. John was practically his family, he trusted him blindly, but he couldn't share it with him. That was only his own affair. He felt this sensation, but he couldn't explain to himself why. In the end, he just wanted to know her safe.
On the next days, he continued to follow Her movements. He found out, still by the phone calls of Mycroft, and even spying on some of his documents, the new identity of The Woman, and through her phone's GPS he knew always Her position. ( Mycroft left Her keep the phone, his interest was on Her camera phone only.)
He even got to hack the site of the provider, to know Her position if the GPS was disabled.
A morning, a few weeks later, Sherlock was having his breakfast, when John returned home from work. He brought the newspaper with him. A news hit Sherlock as a fist.
He had to use all his self-control to not show his reaction when he read the news of a hijacking to Karachi of a Paris-New York flight.
Most of the passengers was safe but some Westerners were kidnapped, probably to ask ransom to their governments. He knew that She was on that plan.
The day before, following her movements, he had discovered thebooking, made with Her new alias. His head seemed to explode.
He felt an unpleasant sensation of panic and a sharp pain at the top of his stomach.
Clearly he couldn't hide his sensations because John noticed it.
" What's wrong in the newspaper? You seem… strange…I mean, stranger than usual." He said, biting a slice of toast.
" Nothing." He replied with a grin "No interesting murders in the City today. I'll die of boredom. I'm bored. "
" It's not good to rejoice over people's death, Sherlock…"
"As if you were not bored to death, you too! But my mind can't bear all this calm! I'm going into my bedroom, maybe I can find something on the blog." He said, folding the newspaper, and he got up from his chair.
" Oh, Sherlock, wait.. I'm going out for a few days. Harry is sick, and it's been a while since I visit her…We've no case and I've not seen her at Christmas…so" John said quickly.
Sherlock looked at him " You must be really bored to go visit your sister!"
"I'm leaving in a couple of days…I'll back in a week, I think…" He couldn't finish his sentence that Sherlock was already in his own bedroom and shut the door behind himself.
John was worried about to leave him alone for a while. But in the end he was a grown man, and, anyway, Mrs. Hudson was here to look after him. He tried to not feel too guilty. After all, it was not for fun, and he wasn't happy at the idea to facing her sister.
Meanwhile Sherlock was sitting on his own bed, with the laptop.
He was sitting with folded hands, elbows on knees and he was trying to order the millions of thoughts that crowded as ever in his mind. He had to think of a solution, quickly. He went through several possibility. He was sure that the terrorists had hijacked the flight for her. He had to do something or She would die soon. Really, this time. He stood up and began to walk through the room frantically.
There must be some way, and he had to find it. Suddenly he found the only possible solution. The panic was replaced by excitement.
He clung to the laptop and began to send mail. He knew who to contact in such Countries, and in such circumstances. In the past, to fight boredom he had traveled extensively and he had knew several people who still owed to him . He also knew the worst criminals. And also they owed something to him.
Quickly he contacted everyone that could be useful, he urgently needed false documents and bookings with an alias. It took him two days to organize everything, but in the end everything was perfect. He had planned it at night without sleeping, to try not to make suspicious John. John wasn't so stupid and he would have easily understood if he had not taken every precaution.
The night he finished to plan everything, he sat in his own armchair. He hesitated. He lingered in a memory. The memory of Her eyes locked on him.
Why was he doing that? Sense of guilt? Only this? And why should he feel guilty? She was the only one to blame, for all her own misfortunes. She had played with fire, and she got burned. However the punishment seemed excessive, disproportionately high, for such a good player. She already had her punishment that night, and he had inflicted it. She had already paid. And he had not grudge against Her. He could only remember those moments, strangely pleasant moments in Her company. Was it for this reason, then? Because of that feeling of confusion? Because of that mental game with The Woman, so exciting for him? Because of that sense of constant challenge that had prompted him to show off his intelligence to impress Her? Because of that chemical reaction? Chemistry? It was only a matter of chemistry? This was the point. He couldn't understand it. Feelings. He wasn't made for this things. He only knew he had to do it. He had to, absolutely.
Next morning John was leaving to go to see Harry.
Sherlock was having his breakfast when John came down, with a small suitcase.
He left it near the door and he sat at table. In recent days had acted as usual, although he seemed more excited than annoyed. But since there was nothing to be excited about, for the lack of cases, he thought that he was just the usual Sherlock.
He was glad that he was not still bored till the point to get back to shoot around the house. John tried to give him some recommendations, hoping not to find when he would back home the house totally destroyed by some of his experiment or by one of his attacks of boredom. Sherlock listened distractedly, he seemed absorbed by his newspaper. John would have wanted to investigate, but had to go because the taxi would arrive shortly. "I go now, please, take care." Said John.
"Take care of what?" Sherlock said, with surprise.
"Nothing, nothing ..." John murmured sadly, shaking his head. He knew that Sherlock hadn't heard a word of what he had said. "I'll call you later," he said, taking the suitcase and ran down quickly.
Sherlock waited to hear the door close. He got up and looked out of the window, down in the street. John took a taxi cab. He heard noises on the stairs, he sat down, picking up the newspaper. Mrs. Hudson's steps.
"Sherlock, dear. John is already gone? Too bad! I wanted to say goodbye to him! You need something? But just for this time, because you're alone. I'm not your housekeeper! " She said, moving herself around the flats, waving her hands, clearly undecided if to tidy up something or not.
"John will be back in a few days, don't worry about me, Mrs. Hudson," he replied, raising his head from the newspaper, " We'll be fine, the skull and I. In that regard, could you give it back to me? Once again? "
Mrs. Hudson sighed.
While she was descending the stairs, Sherlock said, "Oh, I'll not spend much time at home, probably. I just received an email with a case. It looks interesting "
"Well, Sherlock, try to be careful, because there's John with you, dear." She said and she went downstairs.
As soon as the door of her apartment was closed, he stood up and took off his dressing gown, took the ready suitcase in his room, the fake documents, and he put on his coat. He quickly went down in the street, where he took to taxi to the airport.