Authors Note:
This is the second last chapter (of the Great Game) ladies and gents. Thanks to all the new followers and favourites.
Can we show some love in reviews? ;)
The Great Game – Part Ten
Sherlock had followed John Watson to Battersea on his examination of the Andrew West case. Impressively Watson had come to the same conclusion that Sherlock had. West wasn't killed in Battersea, despite that being where they found the body. It explained why there was so little blood. John had seemed surprised to see Holmes, to which he assured his friend that he wouldn't give up a case like this just to spite Mycroft. From there Watson and Holmes made their way to the home of Joe Harrison, the brother of West's fiance.
As far as Mycroft had informed him, the missing missile defence plans hadn't left the country. Which meant that whoever had hold of the memory stick couldn't sell it or didn't know what to do with it. Joe Harrison, West's fiance's brother, was one of the most promising leads in the case. Sherlock, much to John's chagrin, had broken into Harrison's flat to snoop. They were there barely a minute before Harrison himself arrived home. The confession came shortly after that. Harrison had hoped to sell the memory stick to pay off a drug debt. Joe had stolen the plans from West and when he was confronted about it accidentally killed his soon-to-be brother-in-law. He got the idea to put West's body on the top of a train, that stopped underneath the flat's window, to take the body far away from the scene of the crime. A neat little idea.
After retrieving the memory stick the boys left Joe Harrison to the police and headed back to Baker Street. The distraction was over and the anticipation for the final pip was eating away at Sherlock. The flat was ice cold. With a coat wrapped around him, Sherlock tried to watch some telly to pass the waiting. It didn't stop his mind from wandering however.
It had occurred to him that all of this had started shortly after Mycroft had come to him with the Andrew West case and the missing missile plans. All this time Sherlock had been curious as to why the kidnapper had involved him and the links were staring him in the face. The man responsible wanted a hold of the memory stick. Sherlock now had a hold of it. However the more curious revelation was where the Harper's fit into it all. Sherlock had deducted early on that Peter Harper had worked for Government defence. The kidnap of his daughter by this Moriarty and the information from Mycroft that Harper had been involved in selling government secrets implied something went sour; He couldn't provide what was asked or possibly changed his mind. More promisingly however was that Harper did have the plans and Ellen Harper's kidnap was leverage. Sherlock's involvement was merely a back-up had Harper fallen through. Moriarty had constructed a two-faced assault, desperate to get his hands on the Bruce-Partington plans. Sherlock deducted Harper's daughter had been freed when he had given in. However, it still didn't answer the why the use of the pips? Why was there one more left?
The pink phone sat next to Sherlock on the armchair. John sat typing away in the background on one of his little blogging sprees, Holmes was sure. Sherlock needed to get in contact with Moriarty somehow. He was curious to know if the man would meet him if he offered the memory stick. He knew he couldn't involve Watson however, he wouldn't approve. He needed to wait until John was gone before he could do anything.
Sherlock's mind fell back to the television in front of him as some showing of Jeremy Kyle began to irk him.
"No, no, no! Of course he's not the boy's father! Look at the turn-ups on his jeans!" he shouted out.
"Knew it was dangerous." John commented as he stopped typing.
"Hmm?" Sherlock turned round to face him.
"Getting you into crap telly." John smirked.
"Hmm. Not a patch on Connie Prince." Sherlock mimicked John's smirk.
"Have you given Mycroft the memory stick yet?"
"Yep. He was over the moon. Threatened me with a knighthood – again." Sherlock lied.
"You know, I'm still waiting." John closed his laptop. Sherlock frowned in confusion, "Waiting for you to admit that a little knowledge of the solar system and you'd have cleared up the fake painting a lot quicker."
"Didn't do you any good, did it?" Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"No, but I'm not the world's only consulting detective." John quipped back.
"True." Sherlock smiled. John got to his feet.
"I won't be in for tea. I'm going to Sarah's. There's still some of that risotto left in the fridge." he stated, heading for the door. Sherlock remained glued to the television.
"Uh, milk. We need milk." John stopped at the door.
"I'll get some." Sherlock said.
"Really?!"
"Really." Sherlock nodded.
"And some beans, then?" John raised a brow. Sherlock didn't notice.
"Mm." Sherlock nodded once again in response. Chuffed, John hesitated at the door before shrugging and walking down the stairs. Sherlock remained gazing at the telly until he heard the distinct sound of the front down open and close. Instantly he pulled out the computer notebook that was tucked down beside him and opened it on his lap. Already open to his own website, The Science of Deduction, he began to type out a new post.
Found. The Bruce-Partington plans. Please collect.
He lifted his eyes for a moment in thought and then proceeded typing.
The Pool. Midnight.
Hitting send he sat back in his arm chair with satisfaction. The precise moment his own phone began to buzz. No caller ID, he took the call excitedly.
"Sherlock Holmes?" the voice on the other end asked instantly. It was familiar. Ellen Harper.
"Yes..." he replied curiously. Surely she couldn't be under the control of Moriarty, again?
"This is Ellen Harper." she stated.
"Got a gun held to your head again?"
"Very funny." she feigned amusement, "I'm going to need your help once more and I'm going to need it right now."
vvvvvv
On the floor in front of her was a broken picture frame housing an image of Ellen and Peter together. She must have been a young teenager when the photo was taken. Peter hugged her while she stood beaming holding a trophy for winning a gymnastics competition. Her hair was neatly pulled back into a bun and secured with a bright pink scrunchy. Her matching pink leotard, she remembered, had begun to ride up her backside. It sent a swirl of memories forth that the two had shared. She'd practiced gymnastics up until the age of 16 until she'd busted her knee and had to leave the sport. Up until then she'd been convinced she was going be an professional athlete and even compete at the Olympics. She'd spent weeks crying about it until one day Peter had found her crying in her room and somehow convinced her to come to the video store with them to rent some cheesy action flick. They ended up renting Silence of the Lambs instead and that had been the beginning of a new career prospect for Ellen. Somehow, after having one dream crushed she'd found a love for something new and turned her mind to becoming a criminal psychologist. Peter had been there every step of the way, up until recent years. The sudden jolting thought that she'd never be able to take another photo with him scared her senseless. But she couldn't believe that after everything Moriarty had set up he'd finish the game without a bang.
"Helloooooooooo?!" shouted a muffled voice through the phone still in her hand. The whole time she'd left Dave hanging.
"Yeah, Dave I'm still here." Ellen put the phone back to her ear.
"What's going on?"
"I need you to get down to my Dad's house. I'll text you the address. You need to bring that essay with you and Beth's car."
"Is everything alright?" Dave sounded genuinely concerned.
"Right now...?" Ellen softened, "I'm not sure."
Then she hung up and as promised, sent him the address. Beth rushed up behind her, still in confusion about the whole ordeal.
"We need to call the police." Beth demanded, trying to take her phone back. Ellen didn't let go however.
"No. We're not bringing them into this."
"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" she gestured around the mess in the living room, "Dad's place is trashed and he's missing, right after you tell me someone is trying to kill him!"
"The police can't fix this." Ellen shook her head and closed the front door, "The man behind this is psychotic. The last time I tried to tell the police about the danger Dad was in he blew up an old lady. What do you think he'll do now, if he hasn't already gone through with it?"
"Oh my god..." Beth covered her mouth as the thought popped into her head, "What if he is already dead?"
"I don't think he is." Ellen shook her head, "My kidnapper wouldn't have left behind the essay otherwise."
"Care to explain that by the way?" Beth's hands dropped from her mouth to cross her body.
"You know how I used to be obsessed with Shakespeare in high-school?" Ellen asked. Beth nodded, "I used to borrow Dad's copy of Othello all the time when I studied it in senior year, so when I graduated he gave it to me as a gift. It had a note and everything on the inside. Then two days ago, in that library I was locked up in, he had my copy. He'd highlighted specific characters dialogue and he'd ripped out the last scenes in the play. Somehow Dad knows him and I think kidnapping me and leaving all the clues he did is his way of getting back. He's going to rewrite the ending of Othello and kill off the character he cast Dad as; Michael Cassio."
"That's insanity." Beth began to pace back and forth.
"Exactly." Ellen bit her lip, "That essay, I remember writing it. It was all about Shakespearean tragedies and how character downfalls are constructed throughout."
"Great..." Beth said, slumping down onto the stairs leading to the second floor, "You think this essay might give us some clues to finding Dad?"
"Maybe..." Ellen sat beside her sister as a sullen look came across her face, "I'm worried that whatever clues there might be, they aren't the kind that will lead us to a rescue mission. If anything, they're going to drag us front and center to a show we didn't want tickets to."
The skies outside began to darken before the steady sound of Dave knocking on the front door could be heard. The Harper sisters hadn't spoken much as they had waited, each caught up in their own plans to rectify the situation. Dave's knock had shocked them back to reality. Beth quickly jumped to her feet and let Dave inside.
"Hey." he smiled half-heartedly. Beth was quick to wrap her arms around him, pull his lanky figure close and bury her head into his chest. When she finally released him, Ellen got to her feet.
"Have you got it?" she held out a hand for the essay.
"Yeah!" Dave pulled out the papers from his back pocket, that were rolled up like a newspaper. As soon as she revealed the front cover she noticed a big A+ scrawled on the front in thick red marker and 'For Ellen' underneath on the opposite side of the page. Ellen sat back down on the bottom of the stairwell and flipped to the next page. The whole thing was defaced. More of the red ink lined the margins and underlined sentences. He'd gone through and highlighted all the faults in the essay's arguments but also ticked next to paragraphs he'd liked. It didn't offer any insight to finding her father in the slightest. All it did was serve as a pesky reminder that Moriarty was always one step ahead. He was always pulling the strings.
She threw the paper on the ground next to her and stormed up the stairs and towards her father's bedroom. Dave and Beth only watched. Upon entering the room she fell straight onto his bed and rubbed her temples. She had to try and think like Moriarty was. That's what she did on a normal working day; get into the heads of criminals. She worked out how their brains ticked, what drove them and sometimes on cases, helped stop them before they could repeat offend. Perhaps it was because she was so close to the case that she was having trouble. She knew she was letting her emotions get the better of her, she just had no way of turning them off if she tried. She knew Moriarty liked to play games. He was a good organizer. Careful not to get caught. Irish. Well studied his victims. He was vindictive too, this whole thing couldn't come about if he wasn't. She knew how to classify him, that wasn't the issue. What she didn't know, was what to do with the minimal information she had. It was then that a bright idea flew into her mind.
"BETH!" Ellen shouted, bounding down the stairs. Beth came out of the living room.
"What?"
"Is there anyway you can do your computer magic and get a hold of Sherlock Holmes' number?" Ellen asked frantically.
"Uhhh... sure." Beth nodded, going off and finding her satchel that had her laptop inside. Ellen and Dave followed.
"You're in luck, I already happened across his number earlier when I was trying to find you." Beth said as she set the laptop up in the kitchen and began tapping and typing, "There." she said as she pulled the number up. Ellen took her sisters phone again and began to dial the number.
"Sherlock Holmes?" Ellen asked as soon as the call picked up.
"Yes..." Holmes replied with a curious twang to his voice.
"This is Ellen Harper."
"Got a gun held to your head again?" Holmes asked in a tone she couldn't determine was serious or mocking.
"Very funny." Ellen replied unamused and continued, "I'm going to need your help once more and I'm going to need it right now."
"How can I be of service?" That tone was definitely mocking.
"I don't have a lot of time to explain things but long story short Moriarty, the man that had me kidnapped, is about to murder my father. Dad's house is trashed and he's nowhere to be found and from everything that happened when I was kidnapped I can tell you that something bad is going to happen soon. I need you to use that brain of yours to stop him before he kills again."
"So why call me instead of the police?"
"You remember the lady he killed, last time I tried to go to them for help."
"Hmm... Duly noted."
"I know you don't particularly like me, and trust me you are about the last person I want to be calling for help right now, but I don't know where else to turn." Ellen explained. Holmes was silent on the other end.
"I work with criminals every day. I've dealt with some of the most horrendous bunch of human beings in my line of work. Serial killers. Sex offenders. The lot. I sit in rooms with them. I talk to them and learn why they do the things they do. Moriarty is the most cunning, manipulating and terrifying one I've ever come across. He takes the things that matter most to you and use them against you. If you can understand for a split second what I'm going through, if the people you care most about aren't by your side right now you should be just as terrified. Because he's involved you in this game where no one is safe."
"Mmmm..." Holmes drawled out reluctantly. He paused again for a while in thought before responding, "I'll message you an address. Meet me there before midnight. I might already have a lead on Moriarty's whereabouts."
"Really?!" she almost didn't believe him.
"Really."
"Thank you Sherlock." Ellen's voice softened, "I mean it."
There was a small grunt of annoyance from the other end of the phone before Holmes hung up and Dave and Beth stared at Ellen in anticipation. Her phone beeped in her hand with the address.
"He's going to help." She said in disbelief still. Then another text came through.
Come Alone – S.
Ellen frowned at the message momentarily before looking back up at her sister and Dave. She had hoped to have her sister by her side, in case things took a turn for the worst. At the same time though it would be best to keep her away from danger.
"Everything is alright." she assured the two, "You should both go home. I can handle everything from here."
"I'm not going home." Beth scoffed, "Not now."
"I've got this under control." Ellen insisted.
"Do you know where he is?" Beth folded her arms and raised a brow.
"Can you just trust me that I've got this?" Ellen's voice rose in response.
"Do you know where Dad is?" Beth repeated.
"Far out, you're stubborn." Ellen shouted, "Dave, just take her home. You've both done enough already."
"Don't tell him to take me home!" Beth shouted back, "If I want to go, then I will. He doesn't have a say in it."
"Fine, then stay here. I need to go." Ellen declared as she snatched Beth's car keys from Dave. She walked quickly out the front door and to the street where the car was parked. Beth, however, wasn't done. She chased after her sister and blocked the car door.
"You could be walking into a trap!"
"I'm not. I'm going to meet with Holmes and sort out what the hell is going on. I'm not bringing you along because I don't know where this is going to lead. I don't want to put you in danger if it comes to that. Dad wouldn't forgive me if I did."
Beth stood still against the car door. Her eyes went from Ellen's face to the keys in her hands. Finally she let out a sigh and slowly moved out of the way of the door. Ellen reached forward and held her sister in a tight hug.
"Be. Careful." Beth whispered. The girls pulled away and Ellen nodded. Beth walked back up to her father's house while Ellen got in the car and began to make her way towards the location Sherlock had sent her. It was a while off til midnight, but for the time being she just had to drive to try and get her mind clear and ready for what was about to come.