Ch. 24

Norah gave Sherlock the silent treatment while she was gathering her things, then she reluctantly left with John and Mary. She would sleep on their couch, seeing that their guest room was in the process of being turned into a nursery. Sherlock walked them out, watching their SUV drive away. If Norah was involved in this next installment of Moriarty's schemes, she would be safe(r) with the Watsons.

When everyone was gone and the flat was quiet, Sherlock sat down in his chair, put his fingertips against his chin, and began thinking. "Twelve hours. Go." He closed his eyes, and just like that, he was walking the halls of his mind palace, searching for anything pertaining to Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. He searched every mahogany shelf, every nook, every cranny.

Obviously, this was a metaphor. What Sherlock needed to figure out was who Moriarty was going to make his Snow White. Norah was a possibility. Then there was Mary and Molly. He pulled out his phone.

"Hello? Sherlock?" a sleepy voice answered.

"Molly, I'm just checking up on you. Are you in any imminent danger?"

"Uh, I don't think so. Why, should I be concerned?"

"Nope. Never mind."

"Wait, Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"…Thanks for checking."

"…Right. Goodnight." He hung up. Back to thinking.

No, Moriarty liked to shake things up. Keep him guessing. This time was going to be different. More creative.

Sherlock stood up and began pacing with his eyes shut, moving his hands around like he was scrolling through papers and drawers in his sanctuary.

"Snow white. Evil witch, obsessed with self-image. Mirror. Poison apple?"

Sherlock went through everything having to do with apples and poison in his brain. Mass poisoning of the produce sold in London? No, even Moriarty didn't have those kinds of resources.

"Snow White. Hunter. Cutting out a heart."

He focused on that part of the story next. Was he going to find a human heart in a box with a big red bow on it at his doorstep tomorrow morning? No, not public enough. That didn't get Moriarty enough recognition. He liked the details, but he liked making a statement even more.

"Snow White. Fair skin. Comatose. Awoken by a prince's kiss."

Putting people to sleep? Something having to do with something white? Flour. No. Kissing? The Royal family? No, no, no.

Sherlock held his palms against his temples. There was something he was missing. Something obvious. Something staring him in the face. He started over.

"Snow White. Seven dw-"

"…Seven Dwarves."

Seven dwarves. Mine workers. Mining?

He racked his brain for the locations of any mines in the UK, both operating and out of use. "Coal mines: Northumberland, Durham, Nottinghamshire, Wales, Yorkshire, Lancashire, Midlands, Kent."

He opened his eyes, and to his surprise the sun was already up. Paying its blinding rays no mind, he hopped on his computer in search of any news concerning any mining fiascos.

"Victory against open-cast Bradley Mining, Co. Durham."

He clicked on the google link.

"A vote was held to shut down the UK: Coal mine in Durham due to poor upkeep, breaking of safety regulations, no creation of new jobs…"

Scroll. Skim.

"The mine will be shut down and safely imploded on March 12th…"

Sherlock checked his phone. March twelfth was today. Something was going to happen at the shut down Bradley coal mine.

Seven Dwarves. Sherlock went to the BBC London News website. The first headline to pop up was "Seven Kidnappings in One Week."

Eureka.

Sherlock threw on his coat, ran out of his flat, and took out his phone. "Mycroft, I need to borrow your helicopter, and I need you to make some phone calls."