Disclaimer: Right so they're not mine. Really wish they were right now. I'm sick and I want a cuddle but there is no one to give me one. Bet Lestrade would give me a cuddle…or John. John's nice and cuddly with those jumpers and all. Sherlock? Yeah, I'm seeing him as a repressed cuddler. He's never had anyone to cuddle so he'd be all uncomfortable and stuff and then he'd get into it and be just lovely at it. Any of those would work. Not Anderson. I'll never be sick enough to want a cuddle with Anderson. Great now I have to go throw up. Evil of you to do that to a sick person. Really.
A/N: In case you hadn't notice from the past few days I have a head cold. A bad one. So any rambling or things that don't make much sense, blame the drugs and general fogginess in my head. I'd apologize but as it's not exactly my fault I won't. Anyway, enjoy the story. Oh! Warning for character death but if you've watched the show then you know this already and if you haven't well…there you go. Someone dies soon. Good? Okay, on with the story then.
I would like to apologize for the delay in updating this story. I've been ill with a monster head cold and I had to work so I haven't updated or written as I wished to. Forgive me?
Murder at the Museum
It was time. Time to make another. Time to do the one thing he'd never really wanted too. But he had his orders. They didn't care. They never had and yet they are all he has now. All he has had for five years.
He pulls the paper from the box. The actions soothed him. Centered him. Cool, crisp lines. Fold here. Tip that corner over. It must be absolutely perfect this time. He could do this much for her. Make it perfect, beautiful in its sinister glory. He would make it quick as well. They would never know. She was his after all. Long before they were there she was.
He would follow his orders because he must. But there would be no enjoyment in it. Not in this. Not when he was only doing his duty. And he would make her origami lotus perfect because he could. And he would make her death as quick and painless as he could because at one time she had meant everything to him.
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Whatever John had been expecting Soo Lin to say about the mysterious and deadly Zhi Zhu it certainly wasn't that. He'd thought maybe old lover, boss, best friend but brother had never even crossed his mind.
"Two orphans," Soo Lin's voice pulled him away from his shock and he concentrated on her again. "We had no choice." John could have debated that but he chose not to. He could understand actually. A choice between starving to death on the streets and running drugs for a place to sleep wasn't much of a choice to begin with. "We could work for the Black Lotus or starve on the street like beggars." He'd been right then. He took no satisfaction in his deduction. "My brother has become their puppet, in the power of the one they call Shan, Black Lotus General." Soo Lin took in a shaky breath. "I turned my brother away. He said I had betrayed him. Next day, I came to work and the cipher was waiting." Another tear tracked down her cheek but she ignored it.
John and Sherlock exchanged a look while Soo Lin continued to stare off into the distance. John's hazel eyes were filled with a kind of furious sorrow. Sherlock's with impatience. John's lips nearly quirked at that look. He knew that Sherlock thought they could save her. If they were fast enough then Soo Lin would live and he wanted to get started already. John knew that they couldn't though. Soo Lin had accepted that she would die. Maybe, in a way, she longed for it. Sherlock's grey eyes communicated his irritation at John's pessimism and he looked away, furious with his husband for his lack of faith.
He pulled a copy of the photograph from John's phone of the wall of symbols. Sherlock laid it down on the table between he and Soo Lin. "Can you decipher these?" He pushed the paper towards Soo Lin.
Soo Lin leaned forward at once. Her finger traced along one of the symbols. "These are numbers."
Sherlock repressed the urge to roll his eyes and scoff. The "Yes, I know," escaped his lips before he could stop it though.
Soo Lin appeared not to hear him though. "Here, the line across the man's eyes," she pointed it out. "It's a Chinese number one."
Sherlock shifted on his feet allowing some of his impatience to show through. "And this one is fifteen," he pointed to the next symbol quickly. "But what's the code?"
Soo Lin looked up finally, away from the photos. "All the smugglers know it," she told them. "It's based upon a book." She turned to the side reaching a hand out.
A loud crashing thud and the sudden dousing of the lights stopped her movements. Sherlock stood up to his full height and John leapt from the stool he'd been leaning on. Soo Lin froze.
"He's here," she whispered fearfully, her breathing suddenly heavy. "Zhi Zhu…" Her eyes squeezed shut. "He has found me."
Without a word Sherlock turned and bolted for the door. John watched him go with wide hazel eyes for an instant before giving chase. "Sherlock! Sherlock! Wait!" He called out desperately and stopped his frantic chase before he'd gone five steps. He grabbed Soo Lin's arm and pulled her to one of the large cabinets. "Come here," he ordered. "Get in. Get in!"
Knowing that Sherlock wouldn't want him to leave her alone he huddled in beside her and cursed his husband under his breath.
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Sherlock paid no attention to John's shouts and just ran out into the main part of the museum. He had to be here somewhere. Sherlock came to an abrupt halt in the center of a moonlit space from one of the high windows. He spun in a circle attempting to spot Zhi Zhu. Movement in the corner of his eye had him looking up and into the barrel of a gun on one of the balconies.
Before his brain had time to process the threat (astounding when you think about how fast his brain processes information) Sherlock's body had dodged to the left and his feet had spirited him back into the shadows. By the time the pistol barked a second time Sherlock was already diving and sliding along the marble floor. The third and fourth shots came in quick succession and had Sherlock scrambling for cover behind a statue.
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John tilted his head to the side at the faint sound of gunshots. Not good. When he got his hands on Sherlock…well, he'd either kill him or kiss him. He couldn't stay here. "I have to go and help him," John said more to himself than the girl. He gave her a quick glance. "Bolt the door after me," he instructed.
Soo Lin knew she should protest. As long as this man was with her Zhi Zhu would leave her alone. But she couldn't. She knew that he was afraid for what Zhi Zhu would do to his husband and so knowing, even as she did it, that it would lead to her death this night she let Dr. John Watson leave.
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John knew that he should have stayed with Soo Lin. It's what Sherlock would have trusted him to do. Protect the girl. But he couldn't. Sherlock needed him. And when it came down to brass tacks John didn't actually care about anyone but Sherlock. Everyone looked at them and claimed that Sherlock was the one with no heart. Wouldn't they all be astounded to learn that the only person on the planet that really, truly meant a damn thing to him was Sherlock? He was the one who had no heart and no real caring for others.
Sure he'd be upset if Mycroft or Molly or Mrs. Hudson or even Harry were killed but the one person on this planet, in this universe, in any universe, anywhere that he would let the world burn for would be Sherlock. As long as Sherlock was alive then the rest of the world could go hang.
He crept from the work room and tread on nearly silent feet out into the museum proper. He tried to stick to the shadows and look everywhere at once. Where was Sherlock?
Two more shots rang out and John ducked behind a pillar even though he was fairly sure those bullets weren't headed for him. Army training and all that. He didn't hear Sherlock's cry of pain so he figured they hadn't met their mark which was good.
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Sherlock stayed behind the statue until running footsteps alerted him to the killer's movement. Where was he going? He leapt to his feet and ran after him. Across the lobby and up the stairs. Sherlock himself wasn't the target tonight. Soo Lin was. He had to stop him.
He didn't see John peering carefully around a pillar as he sped past. He kept running up the stairs after Zhi Zhu. He had to catch him. He grabbed the post at the top of the stairs and used his own momentum to turn the corner. Sherlock raced through a set of doors and immediately ducked the two shots that were fired at him. Zhi Zhu was a horrible shot but even bad marksmen get lucky sometimes.
He leaned back, out of sight, against a wall for a moment to catch his breath and think up a plan. Ah! Yes! Brilliant. "Careful!" He shouted out. "Some of those skulls are over two hundred thousand years old." They weren't but Zhi Zhu wasn't to know that. "Have a bit of respect!" No more shots came at him from the shadows. Good. "Thank you." John was always nagging him to be more polite well there we go. Politeness and it didn't even hurt.
Oh. Oops. Had he left? Dammit. Sherlock poked his head cautiously around the door. Yep. Gone. Not good.
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Soo Lin huddled in the dark of the closet. She flinched slightly with each echoing gunshot. She didn't have much time. She closed her eyes tightly and prayed that she had enough. She had to have enough time for this. They needed her help.
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Sherlock eyed the room of skulls closely. Where had Zhi Zhu disappeared to? He had to find him. Soo Lin's life depended on it.
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John stood absolutely still in the center of the room for a moment then he twisted in a circle searching the shadows of both floors for any sign of the other men. Nothing. No clues to where they'd gone. He had to find them.
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Soo Lin, scared but determined, crept from the closet and towards her table. She prayed the whole way that he would give her the time she needed. She prayed that the men trying to protect her would stay safe. She prayed that she would do better, be better next time.
Finally she reached the table and slowly rose to her feet. Was he hiding in the shadows, this beloved brother that had come to kill her?
Without knowing how she suddenly knew that he was standing behind her. Slowly she turned around to face him. For a timeless moment neither moved. The love they once had for each other a tightness between them. Slowly she told him of his meaning to her in their own language. He needed to know that she forgave him and loved him as her brother still. She cupped his cheek in her hand and prepared to meet her fate.
It was fitting, appropriate, that the last sight she had of this earth was his face. She was ready. The last sound Soo Lin Yao ever heard was Zhi Zhu's voice whispering to her that he loved her.
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John stood silent. Listening. The flurry of gunshots had ceased and still he waited. Any sound now would at least give him an idea of where his husband had got off to.
The loud bang of another gunshot rang through the room. John whirled to face the direction it had come from. "Oh, my God," he breathed out. It had come from the workroom. Maybe shouldn't have left her, even though he knew he could have done nothing else. Sherlock was more important…at least to him. This was not good.
John raced back towards the employee entrance. He had to be sure. He had to know that it wasn't Sherlock's dead body lying in some dark corner.
John crept into the workroom, eyes raking the shadows for any movement. There was nothing. Zhi Zhu must have already fled. He finally reached Soo Lin's table and a small sound of sorrow and dismay worked its way from his throat. Even in death Soo Lin had a seeming serenity about her. Her expression was peaceful and a small smile danced on her lips.