VII
Plans
"Change of plans. Move the schedule, move Rat."
"Are you going to kill us?"
Falsworth frowned, meeting John's steady gaze. "Of course not. That would completely defeat the purpose of me going through the trouble to kidnap the two of you," he said before reverting his attention back to the television. He and John were in separate armchairs in the living room, while Lestrade feigned inability to stand. This proved to the two men that Falsworth was still quite unaware of the fact that Lestrade and John hadn't actually eaten the lunch provided; (John dared not trust this man despite apparent good intentions, and knew that the best time for Falsworth to re-drug them would be during their meals. Tom had eaten his almost right away; he wasn't afraid of any drugging from Falsworth because he was still taped up).
It had been hours since John had woken up, yet Falsworth had yet to actually do anything. Although John did suspect that the broken arm played a factor, he couldn't help but be wary that there could be another factor in Falsworth's decision to remain with the three prisoners. Now that he had them, he seemed disinterested in doing anything else except sitting in front of the television, watching re-runs of Doctor Who.
"Are you going to tell us why you kidnapped us?" John finally asked, rubbing Gladstone's ears as the dog stretched out in its nap on his lap.
"Not with the talker here. Later. Maybe," Falsworth replied without looking away from the screen. "If I feel like it."
"You mean if the boss – man feels like it," Tom grumbled from his corner, but under his breath, but Falsworth ignored him.
That was the only problem with Lestrade's escape plan. Tom was supposed to annoy Falsworth enough to drive the sniper from the room, maybe even the flat, in frustration. That would give the other two men enough time to cut Tom's tape so that he could easily break it on his own when it came time for the escape. They were also supposed to do some reconnaissance of the surrounding neighborhood from the windows. Tom had been needling Falsworth for almost two hours now, but the sniper remained stubbornly within earshot of his prisoners.
Once Falsworth had moved into the living room to watch the telly, John knew they were in for the long haul just to fix this snarl.
"How is it that Ten and Eleven manage multiple series, but we only get Nine for one?" Falsworth suddenly asked, frowning at the screen as the final episode of the first series ended.
"Eccleston only agreed to do one series, that's why," John replied, glancing at Lestrade, who was still bewildered over the fact that they were discussing Doctor Who as though it was just another sunny afternoon in London.
Falsworth made a face. "BBC's always annoyed me. If it's not this show, it's that other one, the modern adaptation of those books by Arthur Conan Doyle." He glanced at John and said, "When I was in New York, I found out that the Americans have their own modern adaptation. Amy loves it, so I never argue with her over it."
"Never argue with the wife," Lestrade said, and Falsworth nodded sagely.
"Amen to that," he said right as the television screen suddenly went blank for a moment before going to a news alert. "And what is this? If they've found you're missing, Detective Inspector, that is going to be a little troublesome…" he said, frowning as the anchor came on screen. He reached for the nearby remote.
"And whose fault would that be?" Lestrade muttered back.
The anchor looked grim, which John never took as a good sign. " – and it appears that even in death, Sherlock Holmes can influence current events."
Falsworth made a choked sound in his throat as John's attention snapped back to the television screen; it was the first time since the Fall that Sherlock's name had reappeared in the media in three years. For a moment, he couldn't breathe, but then he forced himself to calm down and figure out what was going on now.
"Earlier today, American officials received an anonymous tip that linked the deaths of five individuals, all from the United Kingdom. Furthermore, the French government was able to confirm three more unidentified bodies as part of the same link, also acting on an anonymous tip from the same caller. The caller had identified himself as 'Richard Brooke', a pseudonym from the same news story that brought about Sherlock Holmes's fall from grace. However, it is confirmed that it is not the same individual who told his story in The Sun, as that man died the same day Holmes did."
"It was a literal fall from grace too," Falsworth muttered under his breath, ignoring John's glare. Frowning, he muttered, "The numbers are off though…"
"According to authorities, the caller identified Sherlock Holmes as a major player in the deaths of nine individuals, the last being found dead here in the United Kingdom, one Ronald Adair who was a federal employee working under Mycroft Holmes, the older brother of Sherlock Holmes."
"Right, forgot about him," Falsworth said under his breath even as he pulled his phone out and began dialing a number that John couldn't see.
"While this is not a situation that requires tightening of security measures, authorities ask that citizens exercise a little more caution than usual. The – "
"And that's enough from you," Falsworth grumbled, turning the television off as he put his phone up to his ear. "The numbers are about to give us away… damn… Mycroft's not stupid, he can count… now I want to hear from you," he muttered while tapping the side of his phone impatiently with a forefinger. Then he abruptly stood up and left the room without another word, presumably listening to the person on the other end.
"This is where Hare-brained Scheme #21 comes into effect," Tom muttered as soon as Falsworth was out of sight. "What's going to happen now is Falsworth is going to talk with Leader, Leader's going to have another insane plan, Falsworth is going to grumble and complain about it, but he's going to go along with it in the end. He always does." To Lestrade, he whispered, "If we're going to do anything, tonight's the night."
"We still haven't done reconnaissance or anything like that," Lestrade muttered, glancing around the room.
"Improvise," Tom said before falling silent as Falsworth suddenly reappeared.
"If this fails, I'm going to murder you. Let's see you walk away from that," Falsworth warned before hanging up.
"That would be Death Threat #389," Tom said pleasantly as Falsworth put his phone down on the side table.
"You've been counting?" John said, looking impressed.
"Hey, I had nothing else better to do."
"Stay there," Falsworth snapped, leaning down and nearly throwing his phone onto the nearest table.
"Where else am I gonna go?" Tom yelled, only to squeak and cower when Falsworth turned around and started to advance threateningly on him before turning on his heel and leaving the room altogether. "What is he gonna do?" he asked, turning to John, who could only shake his head.
"I don't know, you've known him longer than me," John reminded him.
Falsworth returned a few minutes later, a silver earpiece visible in his right ear. Wordlessly, he walked over to Tom, knelt down, and then hauled the American up to his feet, propping him up against the wall. Stepping back, he glanced at John and said, "Doctor, if you would be so kind as to stand next to him?"
"Why?" John asked, frowning as he tensed, waiting for a fight.
Falsworth sighed. "I just want to compare your heights. Stand next to him, it could save his life."
John glanced at Tom before moving to stand where Falsworth indicated as the sniper leaned over to retrieve his phone. There was silence as Falsworth snapped the photograph before sending it along. "Now you may sit down, Doctor," he said, moving aside so that John could sit down next to Lestrade again. Falsworth meanwhile moved back to stand in front of Tom.
"Thomas Williams, the day in which I get rid of you has finally arrived. Unfortunately, I'm not in charge of your fate, and neither is my colleague," he said quietly. "I do not give a damn as to what you do after I set you loose, but your fate is partially in your hands." He tilted his head slightly, and John realized that the 'colleague' was on the other end of the earpiece, giving instructions. "We will provide the disguise, and I will drop you off at an undisclosed location," he added, leaning back on a foot slightly.
"Can you even drive with a busted arm? You can't even shoot with it," Tom asked skeptically, eyeing the cast.
"Dr. Molly Hooper is coming over later tonight to take a look at it and maybe give me a brace of some kind. And at you two, while she's here," Falsworth said, glancing at John, who had carefully schooled his blank expression. "Then I'm taking him out, and then I won't come back until I've taken care of some unfinished business."
"What's that?" Tom asked, and Falsworth only smiled at him.
"I really wouldn't try to piss me off if I were you. Remember when I said that your fate was partially in your hands? I'm the one who decides the other factor in whether you live or not," Falsworth said with the smug grin before disappearing back into the hall.
"What, you're gonna shoot me?" Tom yelled after him.
"No, I'll be the guy trying to shoot the guy, who, if the plan goes well, will be shooting at you!" Falsworth barked back from the kitchen.
Tom turned white. "I know I've got arrest warrants all over Europe, but I didn't think people hated me that much!" he shouted, straining against the duct tape.
"Actually, you have arrest warrants in the United States, Canada, Mexico and Columbia too, so you're not restricted to the European continent. I checked when we first looked you up," Falsworth said, leaning back into view. "So, if you do as I say, you actually get a chance of staying out of jail for a little longer. Refuse and kick up a fight, well, I know how to get in touch with at least six different security agencies around the world, and I'll throw you up to the highest bidder. The Americans especially are missing you somewhat painfully, so I hear."
"You wouldn't," Tom countered.
"For several thousands? I think I just might, especially since I need a serious gift to make up for all the stress I've been giving Amy in the last couple weeks," Falsworth calmly replied, even managing to look bored despite the topic of discussion. "And bail money, come to think of it. Assuming Holmes doesn't murder me on the spot for deceiving him for several months ago in New York." He frowned, and then disappeared once again.
"That's not a lot of options. Escape or get shot, or get arrested for life," Tom said nervously, leaning against the wall as best he could; Falsworth had left him propped up there. He glanced pleadingly at John and said, "What do you think I should do?"
John didn't answer right away, just sank back down in the armchair. He was exhausted and stressed as it were, he didn't know if Mrs. Hudson was doing all right at her sister's or not. Then there was the matter of Molly Hooper, and the role she played in all of this. John didn't know if he'd be able to trust her or not once she arrived, if she would give him answers if he asked. Would she lie to him even then? "Who is it that Falsworth is trying to kill?" he asked wearily, looking back up at Tom.
Tom shrugged. "Probably the last of Moriarty's lackeys, that's all they've been doing since I've known them. I told you, doc, that I first met the two of them when they came to me looking for the names of several prior clients."
"Demonde was most likely one of those clients," John finally said, glancing at Lestrade. "One of Moriarty's men. Since we could never figure out what the message meant 'One more left', chances are good that Adair was the subject of that 'one more left' message left behind."
"And we know for sure that Falsworth was the sniper that killed him while 'Leader' attacked him in person," Lestrade said, eyes narrowing. "Which means that…"
"The Leader pretended to be Sherrinford Holmes in New York, and faked his death so that he and Falsworth could continue hunting down these people without someone breathing down their necks, remember that Tom said that one of the Leader's older cousins, a 'Sherrinford', was going to murder two of the participants. Falsworth would have known where to shoot to make the faked death look convincing," John said. "Gregson was fooled, and fooled well."
"We might need to draw up a chart, figure out who knows what, and who is related to whom. If the Holmes family is as big as it's starting to look, then we might be looking at numerous individuals related to the case," Lestrade agreed. He frowned, and then said in a low voice, "Should we use Baker Street as a rendezvous point?"
"No. We don't know how much Molly told them," John said quietly, rubbing his forehead. "She'll know where we are."
"In other words, we need to disappear," Lestrade said. He glanced at the still – empty threshold, and said, "We could always go to my flat, I moved after, er, well, you know. I don't think Mycroft knows where it is."
"Mycroft isn't the one hunting us down," John reminded him. "But, as long as you don't mind, we can use it for recuperation."
"And what about me?" Tom interrupted, eyes flickering nervously between the two of them.
"It looks like our window of opportunity is going to be while Falsworth is out of the house. He did say that you'd have a chance of living if you could escape the other gunman," Lestrade said grimly. "I hate to say this, but John and I can easily overpower Molly long enough to escape, and the Leader won't get close to us if we make sure Gladstone is front and center," he said, nodding to the dozing dog.
"So you'd have to go for the option that has you escape or die so that we can use the time Falsworth's gone in order to leave," John said, looking back at Tom, who was shaking. "How badly are you wanted in those other countries?"
"I ran illegal weaponry over countless borders for numerous years. You tell me," Tom snapped back. "If I go in there, I swear I'll never come out." Taking a shaky, deep breath, he said, "I'll go ahead with Falsworth's crazy plan. It's my only shot of ever getting out of here. You guys can take advantage of that to escape, and we can rendezvous somewhere. Or you can do whatever you want and I'll try to book it to France."
"Is there anything else that you know that could help us?" John asked.
Tom shrugged. "Dunno. If I do, I'll send a letter or something. Or a postcard. Probably a postcard, those don't require a return address, which I wouldn't have anyway," he said.
"What do you plan to do once you're free?" John asked.
"Lay low for a while. Travel west, Central or South America, hide out there for a while. I can't exactly start a new life since I have a load of people hunting me down. Sedentary lifestyle never really appealed to me anyway, so it works out," Tom said, shrugging again. "You guys should be careful, running around London in the dark. But I'm guessing you still have some sense of the area despite you don't know where exactly you are, since you're from the city and all."
John nodded. "Are you sure you'll be all right?" he asked.
"Yeah, from the sound of it, I've just got to outrun a sniper while exposing him to Falsworth," Tom said, sagging down in his bindings. "I've ran from plenty of people before, this shouldn't be hard," he said, brightening – or at least trying to – as he awkwardly forced himself back into a straight position. "What I don't get though is why Falsworth forced me to stand up next to Doc, I mean, what could he possibly get from that that is remotely useful?"
"Diversion," Lestrade suddenly said. At John's puzzled glance, Lestrade said, "We already know Falsworth is using Tom as a distraction, but he needed a convincing target." Frowning, he added slowly, "Tom is supposed to look like someone else, so that the initial sniper has a target. Which means, if Falsworth is going to make Tom pass as you, then who wants you dead, and why?" he finished, brows knitting together in concern.
John honestly had no answer to that.
A/N: Long story short for reason of delay: Exams, break, and then medical reasons.
*tapes cracks in fourth wall*