==Chapter Seven==

Boxed In

"Cage an eagle and it will bite at the wires, be they of iron or of gold."
― Henrik Ibsen, The Vikings of Helgeland

Neither Sally nor Beth felt very confident as they entered the storage bay where the TARDIS stood, guarded by two soldiers, male and female. The girls traded uneasy glances, and then Sally forced herself to exude professional confidence, something she hadn't used since working in the college library. It felt a bit stiff, putting that on after a couple of months of disuse.

"All right, fellas," she said, "here we go—key to the blue box, just retrieved."

"We think it's the key," Beth added, deepening her voice slightly. She prayed the soldiers couldn't see the way her heart seemed to throb in her throat.

Sally nodded. "We're pretty sure. We just need to check."

The man looked at them oddly for a moment and exchanged glances with his female colleague. Sally's stomach pirouetted. "Can I see your authorisation, ladies?"

"Of course." Sally held up the psychic paper. Please, let this work…

The man studied at the paper for a moment, then raised his eyebrows with a small smile. "Well, now, isn't that interesting?" He raised his gun and pointed it at Sally, smile widening, eyes hard as stone. "Two strange women walk into a restricted area with a blank piece of paper," he said cheerfully; "can't wait to hear this one explained!"

The woman hummed in agreement, her gun trained on Beth.

Neither girl gave anything away despite a round of inward cursing each. Beth slowly folded her arms, more irritated now than afraid.

"That's supposed to be my authorisation," Sally said coolly.

"Well, then," the man said evenly, "either someone's playing one hell of a joke in Admin—or you can cut the act and hand over the key, Miss Sparrow."

The woman grinned unapologetically. "Sorry, love, psychic paper doesn't work here—everyone at Torchwood gets a basic training in ESP." She swept the area with her gaze. "Your boyfriends around, too, are they?"

Sally lifted her chin, eyes blazing.

"I think," Beth returned just as evenly, "we'd have to be idiots to tell you, either way." Boyfriends? Somebody had obviously gotten their intel mixed up.

The man nodded. "Fair enough. Drop the key, please, and up against the wall."

The girls looked at each other. Beth nodded minutely—the Doctor wouldn't want them to get hurt over the key. Sally sighed in frustration and dropped it. The two turned and walked over to the wall to stand against it. Great. Just great.

The man put his hand to his ear. "Area Ten to Security. We have the two females in custody; request an escort detail to Head Office."

The woman picked up the key, stepped back, and re-aimed her gun at the pair. She nodded down at Beth's feet and said, sincerely enough, "Nice shoes."

"Thanks."


Holmes and Watson peered cautiously out of the elevator as the doors opened onto yet another empty, featureless corridor. Thanks to the unlabelled buttons, they'd been riding to seemingly random floors for the last ten minutes, although thankfully no one else had tried to take the lift they were in.

Watson swallowed hard, taking a few deep breaths - what he wouldn't have given for a friendly A.I. like Dash. "Dear Lord, I hope we can stop soon. I think I'm getting motion sickness."

Holmes shot him a pained glance. He was feeling more than a little off colour as well, the constant shunting up and down not helping the last of his hangover in the slightest. "Well, feel free to complain to management," he muttered, then sighed at himself, giving Watson an apologetic look before turning his attention back to the corridor. His eyes widened suddenly, murmuring, "But I believe..." He exited the lift and glided forward; "we may have just found the right level..." and picked up a tiny, white cylinder from the floor next to the wall.

"What is it?"

Holmes turned back to the lift, holding out the mysterious object, although he would lay odds he knew what it was: a cigarette filter. "Brett left us a signpost."

Watson echoed the detective's approving grin. "Good man." He stepped out of the lift, relieved to be able to stop yo-yoing for a while, and looked up and down the corridor. "Now, where is he...?"

Holmes shrugged, but he couldn't deny that the thrill of the hunt was already working on him. "We'll just have to find out the old-fashioned way." He put the filter back and led the way down the left-hand corridor.

Watson smiled, glad to see his friend's eyes gleaming in a way they hadn't since tracking the plasmavore in Paris. "Do you think," he murmured, "that we could stand directly in front of a guard without his seeing us?"

Holmes gave him a Look. "Have you forgotten what the Doctor told us already? We're camouflaged, not invisible - and do bear in mind that Torchwood personnel are trained to see through the TARDIS's perception filter."

Watson winced. "I had forgotten that..."

Holmes gritted his teeth. It was bad enough that the doctor was so nauseatingly moonstruck on his own time, but for him to lose focus on a case because of That Woman was adding insult to injury.

Watson sighed, kicking himself - just when things were starting to improve between the two of them, he had to go and accidentally sour Holmes's mood all over again.

Spying around the next corner, they saw a guard standing a few dozen feet away outside what appeared to be a cell door, although they couldn't see its occupant from here. The two men exchanged meaningful nods, then walked swiftly and silently on either side of the hallway towards the guard.

As they got nearer, Watson noticed in dismay that the guard was growing visibly uneasy, finally turning to look along the corridor in their direction. His eyes widened in alarm as he spotted Watson for a second, then slid away again the next moment. He swiftly raised his weapon, blinking and squinting, trying to refocus on the intruder... then staggered backwards from Watson's solid punch to his jaw.

Thanks to Watson's distraction, Holmes was now behind the guard, and used the hapless sentry's moment of imbalance to bring him to the ground. A rabbit punch to the base of the skull, and the guard was out cold.

Watson knelt beside the man, checking his pulse, then looked up sternly. "Holmes, you promised me – you could kill someone with a blow like that, remember?"

Still nettled, Holmes merely responded with a shrug.

Watson shook his head in exasperation, but decided to leave the subject for another time.

"Hello?" Jeremy stood on the other side of the plexiglass door, looking hopeful but greatly puzzled - as well he might, being unable to see two thirds of the fight!

"Jeremy, it's Watson and Holmes," Watson smiled, choosing to keep the key on for now. "Just give us a minute." He turned to Holmes expectantly - the detective hadn't looked in the least dismayed by the number keypad, despite not having the Doctor's sonic screwdriver.

Holmes nodded and stepped up to the door, looking at the the 10-digit keypad consideringly... then sealed his hands around his mouth and the keypad, breathing warm air over the keys. A swift inspection of the pad revealed tell-tale smudges on four of the keys. "Two, four, five, nine - I hope we get more than one attempt at this..."

Watson gave a slight laugh of amazement. "Where did you learn to do that?"

Holmes shrugged modestly. "Television in '69 wasn't all bad... we saw a lot of spy show reruns." The Doctor had been particularly fond of The Avengers.

Watson grinned and shook his head as Holmes started working through the possible combinations. "Have you actually watched anyone unlock this?" he asked Jeremy.

"Ah, yes, once..." Jeremy frowned, concentrating. "The first number... was four, and... the last number was nine."

Holmes stared at the actor in surprise, impressed in spite of himself; with only two possibilities left, he soon had the door open.

Jeremy gave his rescuers a sheepish smile as they appeared in front of him without the keys. "Hello."

Watson immediately started checking him over. "How do you feel?"

"Not bad, all things considered…" The actor's eyes widened. "Oh, God, where's the Doctor?"

"What's wrong?"

"They've had this planned out for a long time," Jeremy said urgently. "Taking the TARDIS and... we really need to go."

Holmes fished in his pocket for the third key. "Here - put this around your neck."

"What does it do?"

Watson put his own key back on. "Makes it difficult for anyone else to really see you."

"All right, okay."

"But it's not infallible," Holmes said dryly as he replaced his own key, "so try not to be too flamboyant." The glint in his eye dared Jeremy to make any kind of comment regarding the night before - he was going to have a hard enough time living that down as it was.

Jeremy stared hard at him. "Forget flamboyance. We. Need. To. Go. Right now." He started striding towards the lift, the other two close behind.

"What have you learned?" Holmes asked.

"That they have very detailed dossiers on all of you, the girls included, and that this whole thing has been very, very meticulously planned." Jeremy glanced back at Holmes. "All they were missing from their original plan was you."

Holmes nodded grimly. "That much I gathered. And despite the mixup, they still managed to get to the Doctor, and the TARDIS. But what do they want them for?"

Jeremy frowned. "They don't... approve... of the Doctor's choices..."

On reaching the lift, Holmes gathered up the cigarette filter again, giving Jeremy a nod of approval - but Jeremy only looked right back at him in complete confusion. "What?"

Holmes returned the look for a brief moment, then closed his eyes, kicking himself mentally as he realised. "Ohhh..." he breathed. "Oh, they are clever..." And he was a complete jackass to have been taken in so easily.

The three were startled by a female voice interrupting from a speaker in the open lift. "Well done, Mr. Holmes! Now, if you and your colleagues would be so good as to step inside?"

Jeremy closed his eyes, clearly recognising the voice; Watson grimaced, hoping that the girls were all right, at least.

Holmes frowned, he could see that they really didn't have much choice. Drawing himself up, he entered the lift, Jeremy and Watson following. As soon as all three were inside, the doors closed and the lift started to rise. Holmes glanced over at Watson, not liking the deep anxiety in his friend's eyes, or the fact that he had no idea of what to say to reassure him. Torchwood might have improved slightly in its treatment of 'guests', but there was still no telling who they might consider expendable...

The lift halted abruptly, the doors opening onto yet another sterile corridor, with one major difference: an escort of several armed guards stood waiting. Holmes favoured them with a mirthless smile, irresistibly reminded of a Judoon squad. "Lead on, gentlemen."


Entering the Director's office, Watson was deeply relieved to find that the girls and the Doctor were all apparently unharmed... but that strange collar the Doctor now wore was certainly cause for concern, judging by the flicker of barely-controlled panic in the Time Lord's eyes. What the hell was going on?

The Doctor gave the newcomers a deeply apologetic look and turns back to Bernice, frowning. "All right, so, gang's all here. Now what?"

"As we've already discussed, Doctor," Bernice said calmly, "you have one last return journey to make."

The Time Lord's eyes narrowed. "Now I know what that trip is supposed to be, but that's leaving somebody out of the equation." His gaze slid towards a skittish-looking Beth.

"Elizabeth and Mr. Brett will remain here, for now," said the Director. Sally frowned—what the heck was going on? "Upon your immediate return from 1895, Mr. Brett will be released from custody." The Director turned to Jeremy. "Just as you wanted, Mr. Brett, you may return to your hotel room and rethink your life; Torchwood wishes you all the best for the future..." Then she turned to Sally, smiling. "...and you, Miss Sparrow. Our warmest congratulations to you and Dr. Watson."

Sally's jaw fell open. If these people were the Doctor's enemies, then why...? Was her and John's future in their files? Well, if her future was in their past, it must be... Still... why?

Holmes stood immobile, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. Up till now, he had still nursed the hope that Watson and Sally would eventually discover that they weren't suited, and Sally would return to her own time... but now, the memory of the pair's glowing faces when they returned from backstage was taking on a whole new significance. Watson had proposed, Sally had accepted... and Watson hadn't even bothered to tell his best friend!

Watson's eyes were wide as he put two and two together, astonished that the Institute was prepared to allow such a thing, although he definitely wasn't about to question that decision. "And Beth? Why not have the Doctor take her home as well?"

The Director waved a hand. "Unnecessary, Dr. Watson. Travelling to the future is a great deal simpler than travelling to the past, all it requires is patience... well, that and a stasis unit."

Beth went white. A stasis unit... she'd be frozen. Frozen for over a hundred years to be thawed out by God only knew whom... "No..." She met the Doctor's gaze, pleading silently with him to think of something.

He gave her the tiniest nod. "That's not fair to her," he said solemnly.

"Don't think to lecture me on what's fair and what isn't, Doctor," the Director said scornfully; "I've seen your particular brand of justice, remember?" She turned to Beth, her tone turning kind. "My dear, there truly is nothing to be concerned about. You won't even be aware of the intervening time; for you, the years will pass in the blink of an eye..."

Beth smiled thinly, contempt in her eyes—this woman had no right to dictate her life. "Nice. What happens to the Doctor?"

Holmes's disbelief increased tenfold as he listened, appalled by the Director's tone of total unconcern. He'd be willing to lay good odds that this stupid woman had never undergone what she was so coolly proposing - but the detective hadn't forgotten his own harrowing experience with similar methods, and the look of terror in Beth's face told him clearly that she also would rather die. No, this would not do, there must be another way...

The Director spread her hands. "The Doctor wishes to keep an eye on us," she replied in a reasonable tone, "and we wish to do the same for him. Therefore, he and the TARDIS will remain here, under our supervision—much like he did with UNIT in the '70s."

The blood drained from the Doctor's face—he'd barely been able to endure that kind of imprisonment the first time, and then for only a short while, relatively speaking. He wasn't sure he could do it again, especially indefinitely.

Beth's heart broke at the sight. She'd seen the Doctor's soul through the memories he showed her, and she couldn't bear the thought of anyone being caged like that. It wasn't right. And he was clearly in over his head—he couldn't help her. She had to help him...

Heart hammering, she swallowed hard, took a deep breath... Stepped back against a guard, drove her elbow into him, pulled back out with his pistol in hand... and held it to her own head.

Jeremy gasped.

"Beth!" Sally cried, horrified.

"No!" the Doctor cried, equally horrified.

The Director gave a swift warning glance to the guard Beth had just disarmed. Good. Beth would hate to have to actually kill herself or someone else in a struggle for a gun.

She turned her full attention to the Director, willing the woman to understand and back down. She didn't know what she was 'asking' of any of them, clearly. "Take the collar off him and let him go," she said as evenly as she could manage with her heart seeming to throb in the middle of her throat.

Watson could only stare, frozen with horror, grip unconsciously tightening on Sally's hand.

Holmes, on the other hand, was jolted free of his paralysis by the sight, feeling strangely sick. Beth might or might not be bluffing - although he was fairly certain she was! - but she obviously had no idea how deep this hole she was digging for herself could become.

His worst fears were confirmed by the Director, expression of alarm contradicted by her stern response: "Torchwood doesn't negotiate with hostage takers, Miss Elizabeth. Regardless of condition, you'll still be going into stasis."

Spurred forward by the horrifying mental image of Beth's corpse being put on ice, Holmes approached the trembling girl slowly, holding out his hand for the gun. "Beth... she's right, this sacrifice is pointless. You can't do this..." Mercifully, she didn't resist as he took the weapon from her gingerly... then before she or any of the Torchwood personnel could react, turned the weapon on himself. "But I can."

The Director's bravado vanished instantly, staring at him, her face ashen. "Now, Mr. Holmes..."

Holmes smiled grimly, eyes glittering with devil-may-care. "As I thought. Release the Doctor at once, and allow all of us to depart in the TARDIS... or the next thing that Watson writes will be my epitaph." A shame about all those future published cases, but the good doctor's imagination would no doubt be equal to the task...

The Doctor closed his eyes briefly, then focused on the Director, feeling very old and very tired. "Bernice," he said quietly. "Please."

She looked to be in an absolute bind. If her files were as detailed as they seemed to be, she must have known that Sherlock Holmes never bluffed. Not to mention that the look in his eyes made it clear that he didn't think he had much to lose, anyway. So what was more important: the Time Lord on a leash, or getting the Great Detective back home unharmed?

Bernice sighed deeply, sagging in her seat and resting her head in her hands. "I hope you realise what you're asking of me, Doctor," she said wearily.

"I'm not the one who's asking," he returned gravely. "And I think I know what's being asked of you better than you yourself do."

Her lips twitched. "Well, let's agree to disagree on that point, shall we?" Holmes watched the woman narrowly as she slowly opened a drawer, only taking his finger off the trigger when she brought out the sonic screwdriver, sliding it forward across the desk for the Doctor to pick up. "You'll be needing this, I believe..."

Watson finally let out the breath he'd been holding as Holmes relinquished the gun back to its original owner, then realised to his chagrin that he was gripping Sally's hand painfully tight; he loosened his hold at once with a remorseful smile and a kiss to her fingers.

Sally smiled faintly back at him, then looked at Beth in concern—the poor girl was only just starting to regain her colour, having gone sheet-white when Sherlock turned the gun on himself.

The Doctor nodded his thanks, picked up the sonic, and pointed it at his collar, deactivating it and opening it. He stood, set the collar on the desk, and held his hand out to Bernice. "Come aboard the TARDIS," he said softly. "No trips, promise. Just come inside."

She looked sorely tempted, but hesitated. "I imagine your good lady would have several things to say about that."

He smiled slightly. "Yes, she will." Quite a lot of things, and few of them appropriate for tender ears. "Come anyway."

Failing to suppress a smile of her own, Bernice rose and took his hand.


A/N from Ria: Bernice Partington is one of my characters, and like Holmes, she's a real balancing act. As the Reasonable Authority Figure, she has to combine compassion with the fact that she does have a job to do, and the Doctor doesn't make it any easier. (In case anyone's wondering why the Doctor gave the psychic paper to the girls when it failed in 'Army of Ghosts', remember that Rose never had a chance to tell him why she got caught!)

A/N from Sky: So let's have a round of applause for Ria, because Bernice is an amazing character! And another round for both of us in this last scene, because talk about balancing acts...! A cast that large in a single room is a tough thing. And poor Beth—again, eep. Things just aren't getting any easier for her...

Please review!