A/N: Sorry that it's been a while. Here is more story for you. Chapter 4 is part way done.
Sherlock was pacing with a book open in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. The television interview had grown dull. While June had been out, Sherlock had dug up a map of London and had the incidents mapped out. He had reached for one of her monographs while June sketched and sipped her wine.
"Several of your monographs push the historical boundaries for early industrialization" Sherlock said with a glance at the book in his hand. "Some might say that your work suggests that Europe was simply slow and not ready for industrialization, that it almost had to be forced before it ever took off."
"Perhaps that's part of the reason why my monographs are not the most popular" June replied. Her phone buzzed and she glanced down at the text.
Care to grab a drink tonight? We can talk about the case. Lestrade.
"How did Lestrade get my number?" June asked. Sherlock set the book down and swirled his wine around in his glass.
"I sent it to him earlier, in case of emergency" Sherlock replied. June gave a soft snort and tilted her head a little.
"He just asked me out for drinks" June stated. She set her phone onto the arm of the chair and went back to drawing.
"Just ignore him" Sherlock shrugged. An hour passed with talk about the case mixed with texting and laptop use. "I've coerced extra information on the dead officials." His thumbs were tapping away at his phone as he sent a snide reply to his brother. "I have names and times of death."
Sherlock wrote down the information onto a pad of paper and was silent for a moment.
"Those outbursts, do you do that often?" June asked. Sherlock stood up, paced for a moment, and finally reached for his violin. He sat down in his chair with glazed-over eyes. "Sherlock?"
"I have terrible news." Sherlock said. June stopped drawing and watched Sherlock. "The first person to die was Abraham Nissle. He worked for the Ministry of Defense doing office work. He died at 3:56pm and his note from Diane gave a time of 12:01am."
"I didn't know him" June replied. Sherlock plucked at his violin.
"The next died at 11:35am with the time on his note as 18:40pm" Sherlock said. "After that the time of death was 1:17pm with a note of 7:22pm. The latest person, Clare, died at 10:40am and her note said 3:45pm." June's eyebrow twitched and she shrugged. "Don't you see the pattern?"
"I'd have to write down the times and figur-" June said.
"You're slated to die at 10:50pm, tonight" Sherlock told her. June let her foot bob as she processed the information. "15 hours, 55 minutes. 16 hours, 55 minutes. 17 hours, 55 minutes. 18 hours, 55 minutes. You have been given 19 hours, 55 minutes from 2:55am."
June stared at Sherlock, who absently plucked out the first few bars of notes from something that sounded like Chopin. June's mind ran through scenario after scenario; a lone gunman entering the flat, heading for the room she was staying, a gunshot, and the man leaving. Perhaps there would be two killers, just as there had been two in the park, and it wouldn't just be June getting killed. The next scenario had June and Sherlock awake, waiting. It led to a fight with a few rounds going off and Mrs. Hudson screaming downstairs. The next scenario was similar, but the police were there to monitor the apartment. The following few scenarios involved the pair running around the city, attempting to avoid confrontation, but most of those scenarios resulted in death or bodily damage.
"We should call the police and have them set up around Baker Street, perhaps two officers on the premises" June suggested.
"I don't plan on you dying anytime tonight" Sherlock said. June stood up and found her phone where she had left it on the couch.
"Are you going to protect me?" June asked. Her thumb pressed the screen of her phone. "I've just run through the more highly probable of scenarios and our best choice is contacting the police." She heard a distant 'hello' and brought the phone to her ear. "Detective Inspector? It's June."
"Oh god" Sherlock groused. He picked up his bow and started to play his violin.
"I'm going to die tonight unless I can get some police protection" June interrupted Lestrade. "Sherlock found a pattern. 10:50pm is my determined end-time." She paused. "I would like two men here, inside 221b." She paused again. "He does not. Look, Detective, the best scenario is having the flat watched along with two of your men here." She paused and sighed. "'Irregardless' isn't a proper term. Have your people here soon. I already had two men follow me when I was coming back from grabbing a bite to eat."
June hung up and pocketed the phone. Sherlock continued to play and watched her move into the kitchen. She opened the fridge, moved a few things around, and shut it in disappointment. Sherlock ended his playing with a flourish of notes.
"What are you looking for?" Sherlock asked.
"Something to eat" June replied.
"I can call for Mrs. Hudson" Sherlock suggested. June shook her head 'no' and sat in John's chair. "Are you...upset?"
"No, but it does put a damper on my night" June replied. "Tomorrow evening I'm supposed to attend a writer's award gala. On the bright side, if I am killed at 10:50, I won't have to attend."
"If you aren't killed at 10:50, there's no telling what Diane will do next" Sherlock replied. "Who is Lestrade sending over?"
"I don't know" June replied.
By the time there was a knock at the door, Sherlock and June had the television turned to a movie that was mildly interesting. Sherlock was perched at his laptop, going through the background searches on the victims, and June was trying to find a comfortable position to draw in, one that didn't make her side ache.
"Stop moving" Sherlock gruffed. June stood up and pulled her top up enough to show him her side. It was a cloudy black and purple with a little bit of red and yellow on the edges.
"This is bothering me just a little bit" June told him. Sherlock reached to touch the bruising. The knock at the door was followed by Lestrade letting himself in.
"Evening, Sherlock" Lestrade said with a smile. Sergeant Donovan was with him. She sneered at the two before her. June had her shirt pulled up and Sherlock was stopped mid-way, reaching for her bruised side.
"What are you doing?" Sergeant Sally Donovan asked. "Is he making you do that?"
"Donovan" Lestrade snapped at her. June pulled her shirt down and ignored the female officer. "We're your protection tonight. We just checked with Mrs. Hudson and locked this place up."
Donovan and Lestrade hung up their coats, revealing their bulletproof vests and sidearms. They both came over, Donovan with her arms remaining crossed. Lestrade took John's chair while Donovan stood next to it. She picked up the pad of paper that June had been drawing on.
"June, this is Sergeant Sally Donovan" Sherlock said chastely. "Donovan, this June Dupin."
"The author" Lestrade chimed in with a smile. Donovan raised an eyebrow, nodded her head, and smirked. Lestrade checked his watch. "Sherlock, we need to go over a few things. First, I want the curtains drawn over the windows fully and it might be preferable to maybe move into the kitchen."
"What is all this?" Donovan asked holding up the pad of paper. There were a few pages of drawings, all of Sherlock.
"Drawings" June replied.
"Why would you draw him?" Donovan asked. June held her hand out and Donovan handed the drawings over. Sherlock snatched the pad of paper while standing and moving towards the mantle.
"We can move to the kitchen, but it's not the roomiest" Sherlock replied. He flipped through the drawings and stopped at one where he was perched, almost bird-like, on a chair. "I don't do this."
"I drew that while you were doing it" June told him. "You were watching television."
"C'mon, everyone into the kitchen" Lestrade said standing up and gesturing for everyone to move. Donovan led the way and showed her disgust at the makeshift lab that took up the kitchen table. "Okay, right now it is just after 9pm. We have almost two hours until the strike is supposed to be made against June. Are you two ready for this?"
"Absolutely" June and Sherlock replied.
"Wow. You two are totally creepy" Donovan said wide-eyed.
"We have people positioned around Baker Street, ready to act when the threat arrives" Lestrade informed. "The main areas of intrusion are going to be the front door, the front windows, and any other windows."
"Are we really going to stay in here for 2 hours?" Donovan asked. "There isn't any room."
"How did you get all bruised up?" Lestrade asked June. He stepped over to the sink and filled the electric water kettle. Sherlock left the kitchen and plopped into his favorite chair.
"I was attacked when I stepped out for a bite to eat" June replied. "It's really nothing."
"Do you like him?" Donovan asked. She was sitting in a kitchen chair that was pulled away from the table. Her tone told June that she considered this to be morbidly curious. "I mean, are you attracted to the freak?"
"Sally, why don't you double-check the downstairs?" Lestrade suggested. June held up a hand towards Lestrade and kept eye contact with Sally.
"I've only known that man for less than a day" June answered. "But I do find him quite interesting and it's such a nice change to have someone on my intellectual level. I spend my time alone, contriving plots of murder and mayhem, then dumbing it down for the populace. With Sherlock, he...understands. Imagine spending all your time with children. You would constantly have to explain things, watch as they do stupid stuff…" June closed her eyes for a second and gave an exasperated sigh. "Children are gross and stupid and very loud. Now, imagine finally meeting another adult."
"You're calling us gross, stupid children?" Donovan said.
"She's trying to be nice" Sherlock called out from the living room.
"Are you two sleeping together?" Donovan asked. "I'm just trying to understand how repelled I should be by the pair of you."
"No" June answered. "Is that really important to you? His sex life?"
"I'm just keeping tabs on the freak" Donovan replied. "He's not right, you know."
"Why did you bring her along, Lestrade?" Sherlock called out.
"She's a good shot" Lestrade replied. The tea kettle bubbled as it started to boil. "Tea's on."
