Two Geniuses Meet
Chapter 9: Sociopath
Disclaimer: Computer code is curtesy of Wikipedia. Sorry, I'm not smart enough to hack with a Trojan virus. Enjoy!
"Mr. Holmes sir, a competing figure has been announced for the coming elections." The girl who looked to be tweeting on her phone stated from the back of the black taxi. Mycroft knew better; he picked her for her network skills, and fast pace at which she gathered information. Her black hair was styled back and her care-free attitude was enough to confuse most of his contacts.
"Oh? Who is it?"
The girl scrounged up her nose at the picture sent to her from an outside source. "Mr. Saxon. At least, that's what he calls himself. A week ago I looked him up and it seemed like he didn't have any stable background history. He was missing dental records, parental references, small things that looked like a hastily put-together identity. Now, he has everything. Baby pictures, parents, high school diploma, all of it."
"You seem to be more talkative that usual. How come?" Mycroft, sitting one row ahead of her, looked at her cooly through the taxi's middle review mirror.
"He'd up to something. I have a feeling if he's after your position, he could be dangerous. We should take precautions."
"...I agree. Have the men keep an eye on this Mr. Saxon. And tell them to watch out for interference. Mr. Saxon might have some men if his own."
The girl's thumbs were moving across the keys even as her employer was speaking. "Already done, sir."
Mycroft let his fingers slide over his black umbrella sitting at his side against the car door. Opening his smart-phone he recieved the picture message. A rather young man with smooth, dirty blonde hair and a grin that spoke 'insanity', but not lacking a certain charm which the media would just eat up.
A new player. Mycroft smirked, and put his phone back in his pocket. He had no idewe what he was up against. You champain against Mycroft...you go to war.
Sherlock stormed down the corridor, his body acting against his will.
God damn it, John. You should have at least shot me in the leg! Immobilizing the being that controls me so I'd no longer be of use to it. Why didn't you think of that?
He felt the alien presence in his mind, pulling at his brain stems like a puppeteer. He was going to kill the Doctor. With what you moron?
The alien controlling him stopped...as though realizing it had no weapon. He had used all the acid earlier on Rory to escape and tossed the vile aside.
Stupid boy, why did you have to get in my way? It's your fault you got burned. Sherlock stubbornly thought... pushing aside the symptoms of regret.
Sentiment was a weakness after all. Or so he thought. Not the tables had turned, and from what he heard in the secret underground corridor back at the castle he would need sentiment. Ugh, Sherlock wanted to shot something. Perhaps a wall with a paper print out of a blue alien taped to it.
Sherlock felt himself moving again, and watched as he entered his Mind Palace. He then felt the change of mind of his captor. Information was a mighty temptation, and this Seer wanted to know about the Doctor.
"Know your enemy." The alien thought that was not his own echoed in his head.
He stepped onto the teleport pad to the right of the door, and flashed to the third floor. The Data Center.
Sherlock felt the creature as it pried into his internal memories, finding out how this room worked. Sherlock tried to block his mind from the Seer, but it was a useless effort. Sherlock gasped in realization as the alien found the memories on how to build a virus.
He was going to insert a virus into the TARDIS core, sending all the information of the universe to the Mind Palace.
No, you fool! Not even I am capable of holding that much information. I deleted trigonometry from my memory for that very reason!
The Seer in him didn't listen. It used his body to communicate.
"Eva, do you still obey my commands?" Sherlock spoke.
Yes. What can I do for you?
"Very poor firewall, Sherlock. With just your voice, it granted me access. Anyone can get in that way." Sherlock hated the way this alien used his own mouth to lecture him.
I'll make sure to install the proper updates later.
The Seer ignored him and addressed the computer keys in front of him. Sherlock felt his mind burn from the nosy fingers plucking through his memories.
Sherlock's hands began moving at blurring speeds, constructing the most perfect virus the world had ever seen.
The TARDIS was built with the highest alien technology with intrusion detection systems unlike anything he'd ever seen before. The Seer was used to such technology though, and with all his control stripped away, Sherlock disguised the virus with the Trojan horse method, encrypting it so it was virtually undetectable. Inside the code, a decryption method would activate once inside the TARDIS data core.
virus encrypted code
Decryption_Code:
C = C + 1
A = Encrypted
Loop:
B = *A
C = 3214 * A
B = B XOR CryptoKey
*A = B
C = 1
C = A + B
A = A + 1
GOTO Loop IF NOT A = Decryption_Code
C = C^2
GOTO Encrypted
CryptoKey:
give_me_data
He was in. All the data in the world at his command. He walked over to the Astronomy Tower's hologram projector.
"Show me Gallifrey."
A large, sunset orange planet appeared in the room, twice the size of the hologram of earth that he'd seen before.
Then it showed him silver trees, glowing like fire when the one of the two binary suns lit them from over the horizon. Sherlock saw burning orange skies, shining mountains and a great citadel cast inside a glass dome, the light of the sun reflecting off it in golden hues. Sherlock had to admit it was beautiful.
"Show me the Timelords."
Hundreds upon thousands of faces flashed inside his mind, each one with nine or more faces from regeneration and Sherlock felt the strain of the amassing information.
Specify, you moron! Say, 'Show me the mainfuntion of a Timelord', or 'What primarily caused their demise?' You make it too general, and it pops up with twenty hundred results like a google search engine.
Somewhere in his mind, from what he could tell, the only reason his brain was still functioning was due to the data being packaged and sent somewhere telepathically from the Seer. He could feel it. The information was leaving as soon as he received it, like a leak in a government security building.
He heard the doors on the first floor open as he registered the greed in the Seer's foreign mind. Not of him own accord, Sherlock raised his arms up in a welcoming stance and said, "Show me everything."
"No!" The Doctor cried out, but it was too late.
Lightning bolts hit Sherlock's outstretched hands like a tesla coil. 'Pain' wasn't even close to describing it. The flooding waves of data burned him like fire coursing through his veins. Every muscle and nerve in his brain was on fire. His eyes felt like they were melting. The whole universe was pouring into his head.
"Ahhhhg!" Sherlock screamed, and it took him all of three agonizing seconds to realize it was him screaming, not the Seer. The telekinetic connection grew into a full-on bridge, sending all the data to another place at the same time it was received.
Flashes of information caught Sherlock's eyes. Moriarty talking to a blonde politic... John crying silent tears... Mycroft confronting the same blonde man. Mycroft loosing.
"...Stop..." Sherlock struggled with control over the Seer. The information channeling was wearing the Seer's mind rather thin, allowing Sherlock an advantage.
If ever there was a time for me to feel emotions, no matter how trivial, now would be a great time. Sherlock looked over the images and felt nothing.
Well, there was something. But it wasn't exactly emotional.
Sherlock's brother was being taken down. He could see it. All the links led to Moriarty, the spider in its web of criminal networks. He was a challenge, a chase, a problem to solve, to show that he exists and can best others. Something to keep Sherlock from the monotony of human society.
And out of the agony, Sherlock felt 'thrill'.
"Stop it, mundane!" the Seer said inside him. The projection of its vast and foreign mind drowned Sherlock's thoughts from the harsh volume.
Why should I? I am Sherlock Holmes. High functioning sociopath. A sociopath may lack empathy and emotions, but you are missing what sociopaths crave most. ... A challenge. Sherlock imagined sneering at the Seer, showing off his point and winning once again. You made your first mistake when you hurt John. Your second was letting me see Moriarty. ...Your last is your own selfish greed, stretching your mind to withstand the massive influx of information. That allowed for the slightest bit of emotion to overthrow you. And let me tell you, you should see me when I'm excited.
The foreign mind screamed, fleeing in frustration and spewing curses that didn't translate to English. A far off buzzing sound alerted Sherlock to reality once more. His eyes were shut and tight with pain. He felt the ground beneath him pressing against his back, and in small tones he heard the Doctor talking to him.
"Shut...up..." Sherlock pried his eyes open and held still as the sights around him were blurry beyond reason.
"You're alive! Wait...no sign of trying to kill me- you're back!" The Doctor threw his arms up in glee.
"Don't celebrate yet, Doctor." Sherlock muttered through his teeth, which were sore from clenching through the painful process. They had other things to worry about. "Moriarty has helped appoint a new Prime Minister. Mycroft is in danger too. I might want to drop in on him just to laugh in his face."
"Time machine. We can get there any time, and take all the time we need! Unless the thermo-cupling decides to go bang, we have enough time to get you back to your aggravatingly sarcastic self." The Doctor helped Sherlock up, supporting his weight.
"The boy you travel with will need care first. I burned his hands off with acid."
"What!?"
With that, the Doctor dropped Sherlock and ran through the door; leaving Sherlock alone and in pain.
He leaned against the wall and tilted his head back. Figures. He didn't have friends.
He only had one.
Where was she?
Her long cascading curly locks fell back as she tried to get a look at her surroundings. The world began to tip and she had to bend her head and shoulders down again. She blinked away the effects of the spacial displacement. One thing came back to her, more important and urgent than anything else.
She had to tell the Doctor.
He has to know. She paused, and tried to take in her surroundings once more. She was standing on the steps to a flat. A very expensive flat. Judging by the cars parked on the side of the street facing it, it was the early 21st century. Falling through the portal, it must have landed her where the history's pivotal focus was at the time and date.
So why was history interested in a flat?
A security camera made a slight whirring noise as it turned, getting the woman's attention. She took out an alien device from her pocket, the same one from what she read the words 'GERONIMO' from only two days ago. Pressing a switch, the woman pointed the devise at the camera while the camera couldn't see her. There was a faint fizz, and a small cloud of smoke rose from the camera wiring. Luckily, no alarms. Smiling, the dirty-blonde haired woman cautiously placed her hand on the holster at her hip. She pulled out a pair of lock-picks from where she hid them in the leather bound stitching.
Looking out for authorities, she walked up to the front door and stuck a thin needle into the bottom of the keyhole, and allowed the second pin to insert through the gears above it. Moving the second pin calculatingly, she was rewarded with the click of an open lock within five seconds.
Inside, she heard the sound of a woman speaking on her phone. The blond hid quietly behind a wall to listen in.
"No I'm not going to use it to gain money off of the government. No, not for blackmail either. It's something you're quite familiar with, Jim. A 'power play'."
The woman smiled. She was impressed. This chick had the government by the ropes! Which begged the question... who would a powerful woman like her be talking to?
And who in the bloody hell was she?
