A Wife for Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 29 – Twisted Dealings

Marion smiled as she walked into the restaurant. She leaned to the head waiter. "I am looking for Lord Ashby."

"Ahhh this way, Madam Holmes. He is expecting you." The man smiled.

She smiled and followed. The man took her jacket from her and she looked up at him. "Thank you." She said to him as she sat down and he pressed her chair in.

Alexander looked across the table at her. "By God you are the most beautiful woman I have seen." He said looking at her as she smiled up at him.

"Alex." Marion blushed.

"You are." He smiled. "I ordered us wine. I remember you liked the claret here."

"Yes." She smiled and laid her clutch on the table. "I have my phone on. In case the children…"

He lifted a hand. "I understand, sweetheart." He said gently. "I am a father, you know." He reached across and took her hand. "You aren't wearing your wedding band anymore."

"Seems silly now that the papers are filed."

"He signed them?"

"I gave him little choice." Marion said into her water glass. She then smiled. "So, do they still have that lamb?" She asked.

He chuckled and nodded.

ZzZ

John walked towards the entrance of a skyscraper building which housed CAM Global News. In the foyer, a TV screen was broadcasting the company's news channel, which was currently showing a Breaking News item reading, 'MP JOHN GARVIE ARRESTED ON CHARGES OF CORRUPTION.' A photograph showed a man standing before parliament.

A newsreader's voice could be heard. "And breaking news now. John Garvie MP has been arrested today on charges of corruption. This follows an investigation ..."

John walked through the revolving doors and approached the security barriers which look like they needed a security card to open them. He looked around and then looked at his watch.

Sherlock walked over from behind him. "Magnussen's office is on the top floor, just below his private flat ..." He looked towards lift doors on the next level up. "... but there are fourteen levels of security between us and him ..." His mind's eye floated quickly along the next level toward the lift and homed in on the security card reader beside the lift doors. "... two of which aren't even legal in this country. Want to know how we're going to break in?"

"Is that what we're doing?"

"Of course it's what we're doing." He turned and walks away.

The pair walked to the canteen and both got coffee. With each carrying a takeaway cup of coffee, they were walking toward an escalator in the building. "Magnussen's private lift. It goes straight to his penthouse and office. Only he uses it ..." They got onto the escalator. "... and only his key card calls the lift. Anyone else even tries, security is automatically informed."

They got to the top and walked toward the lift.

Sherlock held up a key card. "Standard key card for the building. Nicked it yesterday. Only gets us as far as the canteen."

In his mind's eye, he walked to the lift, stopped and looked at it. "Here we go, then."

Sherlock and John were standing a few yards away.

"If I was to use this card on that lift now, what happens?" Sherlock asked. He gestured toward the lift where an imaginary version of himself was touching his card to the security reader. Alarms immediately began to sound…at least in Sherlock's head…and two imaginary security men ran toward imaginary-Sherlock standing at the lift.

"Er, the alarms would go off and you'd be dragged away by security." John said.

Over at the lift, imaginary-Sherlock was indeed being seized by the arms by the two men.

"Exactly." Sherlock said beside him. He looked towards the lift and watched as imaginary-Sherlock was marched away.

"Get taken to a small room somewhere and your head kicked in." John continued.

Imaginary-Sherlock looked over his shoulder and threw an indignant look toward his real self and his friend.

Sherlock looked round at John. "Do we really need so much color?"

"It passes the time."

Sherlock gave him a look and passed him his coffee cup. John took it and returned the look.

Ignoring it, Sherlock took his phone from his coat. "But if I do this ..." He pressed the security card against his phone. "If you press a key card against your mobile phone for long enough, it corrupts the magnetic strip. The card stops working. It's a common problem…never put your key card with your phone."

He looked along the corridor to where imaginary-Sherlock was back at the lift and swiping his card across the reader. The two imaginary security men started to run towards him again…but then they went into slow motion and then stopped in mid-run.

"What happens if I use the card now?"

"It still doesn't work."

"But it doesn't read as the wrong card now."

More imaginary security men ran towards imaginary-Sherlock and then they too slowed down and freeze in mid-run.

"It registers as corrupted. But if it's corrupted, how do they know it's not Magnussen?" Sherlock continued.

John looked about. "Huh."

"Would they risk dragging him off?"

"Probably not."

"So what do they do? What do they have to do?"

"Check if it's him or not."

Near the lift, the imaginary security men shrank down and each one disappeared into a different imaginary waste paper bin, all of which had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. The bins then disappeared again.

"There's a camera at eye height to the right of the door."

Imaginary-Sherlock walked up to the lift doors again, where the security card reader had a flashing red light above it. He swiped the card past the reader and on a desktop elsewhere in the building there was a repeated beeping sound.

A message comes up on the screen reading:

ALERT LOCKED

CORRUPTED CARD

CONNECT CAMERA

"A live picture of the card user is relayed directly to Magnussen's personal staff in his office…the only people trusted to make a positive ID."

A cutaway shot showed the desktop on a table in an office. A woman, unseen to us except for her hand, walked over to press a key on the keyboard.

"... at this hour, almost certainly his PA."

In the imaginary office, the security camera activated and transmitted live footage of imaginary-Sherlock smiling into the camera.

"S-so how's that help us?"

Sherlock smiled along the corridor and then looked round to John. "Human error." He raised his hand to the breast pocket of his coat and patted it. "I've been shopping." He walked along the corridor to the lift, John again looked all around before following him. Sherlock reached the lift doors and raised his card toward the reader. "Here we go, then." He pressed the card against the reader.

A circle on the reader screen and the words CAM GLOBAL NEWS at the bottom of the screen, both turned from blue to red and there was a beep.

John stood out of view of the camera. He looked at Sherlock. "You realize you don't exactly look like Magnussen."

Sherlock looked at the camera and spoke barely moving his lips. "Which, in this case, is a considerable advantage."

Up in the office at the top of the building, the laptop beeped its alert and showed its message on the screen.

The woman walked across the room to press a key on the keyboard and Sherlock's live image smiled into the camera at her. She walked around the desk to get a better look. It was Janine. She stared at the image in amazement.

"Sherlock, you complete loon! What are you doing?!" Janine said quietly.

Sherlock smiled more widely into the camera.

John looked round in surprise. "Hang on…was that ...? That ...!" He instinctively started to step closer, but Sherlock held up the flat of his hand to him to stop him off camera without turning his head at all.

Sherlock spoke into the camera. "Hi, Janine." Then in a secretive, Sherlock glanced around. "Go on, let me in."

"I can't! You know I can't. Don't be silly." Janine said.

"Don't make me do it out here. Not ..." Sherlock said softly. He paused and turned his head to glance at a woman walking past and then once she was gone he turned back to the camera. "... in front of everyone. "

"Do what in front of everyone?" Janine asked.

Beside him, John smiled and nodded politely at another woman as she walked past.

Sherlock lowered his eyes and blew out a big breath and then took out a small dark red box. He clicked it open before holding it up to the camera to show the large diamond engagement ring inside it.

Janine gasped and straightened up, clapping her hand to her mouth.

Downstairs, John stared at the ring.

Janine did likewise upstairs, while Sherlock held the box in front of his face and turned on his biggest puppy dog eyes over the top of it as he looked into the camera. He then smiled.

Lowering her hand, Janine let out a silent delighted laugh and downstairs the card reader screen turned from red to blue and the lift door opened.

Sherlock grinned into the camera and then clicked the box closed and turned to John, whose mouth was open as he stared at his friend.

"You see? As long as there's people, there's always a weak spot." He started to walk into the lift, but John stopped him.

"That was Janine."

"Yes, of course it was Janine. She's Magnussen's PA. That's the whole point."

"Did you just get engaged to break into an office?"

"Yeah." He stepped into the lift. "Stroke of luck, meeting her at your wedding. You can take some of the credit."

"But Sherlock…Marion, Lizzy…Kerrin? Do they mean nothing?"

"Of course they mean something…" Sherlock said looking at him.

"Je-Jesus!" He looked down at the coffee cups he was still holding and then dropped them onto the floor just outside the lift before getting in.

John leaned close to Sherlock. "Sherlock, she loves you." He coughed. "But you are still married…"

"Yes. Like I said…human error." Sherlock said looking ahead. The doors closed and the lift began its ascent.

John turned to look at him. "What are you gonna do?"

"Well, not actually marry her, obviously." He looked round to him. "There's only so far you can go."

"So what will you tell her?"

Sherlock briefly looked at him again before facing the front. "Well, I'll tell her that our entire relationship was a ruse to break into her boss's office. I imagine she'll want to stop seeing me at that point ..." The lift passed the 27th floor and continued upwards. Sherlock looked at John again. "... but you're the expert on women."

The lift stopped at floor 32 and the doors opened. Sherlock turned on his human smile and walked out, bobbing up and down in an 'I've just come to get engaged to you' way as he looked around for his new fiancée. After a moment he stopped, looking around more carefully and frowning when there was no sign of her.

The pair walked into her office, but she still can't be seen.

"So where did she go?" John asked.

"It's a bit rude. I just proposed to her." Sherlock said.

John walked across the room toward the window and saw Janine lying on the floor. "Sherlock ..."

Sherlock walked over as John bent down to her. "Did she faint? Do they really do that?" He asked sarcastically.

John took his hand from her head and found blood on his fingers. "It's a blow to the head." He bends lower to her. "She's breathing. Janine?"

She moaned quietly.

Sherlock looked round the rest of the office and saw something in an adjoining room. "Another in here." Sherlock said walking into another part of the office.

John looked over to him, but doesn't leave his patient. In the next room, Sherlock looked at the suited man lying face down on the floor and then did a full-circle turn to look around the rest of the room.

"Security." Sherlock said.

"Does he need help?" John asked.

Sherlock walked to the man's side and looked down at him. Behind his left ear, which had an earpiece in it, is a small tattoo of the number '14'. "Ex-con." He looked at another tattoo on the man's right hand between his thumb and index finger. The tattoo was five small dots, four of them in a square shape and the fifth in the middle of the square. "White supremacist, by the tattoo, so who cares?" He pointed back toward John. "Stick with Janine."

John hesitated, apparently unhappy about leaving any unconscious person unchecked, but then turned back to Janine. "Janine, focus on my voice now. Can you hear me?"

Sherlock looked around the room again and then went to the nearby glass desk. He bent down, holding his hand over the top of it while looking at it closely. He then worked his way round to the other side, looking carefully at everything. He squatted down to the leather chair behind the desk and put his hand on the seat, immediately working out the temperature of the leather:

TEMPERATURE: 35 degrees C

In the other room, John looked up as if he has just had a thought and then got up. He walked to where he can see Sherlock next door. He pointed back at Janine. "Hey. They must still be here." He said in a stage whisper.

Sherlock straightened. "So's Magnussen. His seat's still warm. He should be at dinner but he's still in the building." He spoke in a loud whisper. He looked around and then raised his eyes upwards. "Upstairs!"

John took his phone out of his pocket. "We should call the police."

Sherlock looked at him. "During our own burglary?! You're really not a natural at this, are you?"

John sighed, knowing he was right, and switched his phone off again.

"No, wait, shh!" Sherlock said. Standing at the side of the chair, he closed his eyes, sniffed deeply and held his hands out to the sides. As John went back to Janine, Sherlock sniffed twice more, the final one a deep long sniff, and a couple of words appeared around him:

VERSACE

No 5

"Perfume…not Janine's."

The words disappeared. Keeping his eyes closed, Sherlock waved his hand around beside his head as if to force other suggestions from his mind.

Two more brand names appeared:

PRADA

Dior

He waved those away and then opens his eyes and pointed upwards triumphantly at the correct name as it appeared:

Claire-de-la-lune

Sherlock quietly said the name out loud and then turned around, grimacing. "Why do I know it?"

John looked up from where he was still checking Janine. "Mary wears it."

"No, not Mary. Somebody else." He lifted his head as he heard a noise from upstairs and his gaze become intense.

John seemed to recognize that look and whispered loudly. "Sherlock!"

Sherlock was already off, running across the room to the stairs and hurrying up them, pausing partway up to look up the stairs before quickly continuing on.

"Magnussen's private penthouse flat, Sherlock walked softly along the carpeted hall towards where he could hear Magnussen talking quietly and sounding very anxious and almost tearful.

"What-what-what would your husband think, eh?" Magnussen whimpered.

Sherlock walked carefully toward a partially open door at the end of the hall.

"He ... your lovely husband, upright, honorable ..." Magnussen continued.

Sherlock looked through the gap in the door and saw Magnussen on his knees with his hands behind his head and cowering.

"... so English. What-what would he say to you now?"

Standing in front of him, someone dressed all in black and wearing black gloves pulled back the pistol they were pointing at Magnussen and cocked it before pointing the business end at him again. He cowered, whimpering and momentarily lapsing into Danish.

"Nej, nej!"

Sherlock slowly pushed the door open.

"You're-you're doing this to protect him from the truth ... but is this protection he would want?" Magnussen asked tearfully.

Sherlock slowly walked to stand a few feet behind the person holding the gun, who was also wearing a black knitted cap on their head, covering their hair. "Additionally, if you're going to commit murder, you might consider changing your perfume ..." The potential killer raised the gun a little, turning it slightly to the left. "... Lady Smallwood."

Magnussen straightened a little, breathing out a long shaky breath. "Sorry. Who?" He asked.

Sherlock focused on the back of the assassin.

Magnussen's gaze went from him to the face of his potential killer as the person adjusted their grip on the pistol. "That's ... not ... Lady Smallwood, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock frowned.

The person in black turned to face him, aiming the pistol at him. Sherlock looked into the face of Mary Elizabeth Watson. He drew in a breath and rapidly flashed back to several different times when they have been together and in each of those moments his many deductions about her…many of which were made when they had first met.

Then he was back in Magnussen's flat and the deductions faded, leaving many instances of only one word repeatedly drifting around her as she aimed her gun towards him:

Liar

They too faded and he focused on her face as she stared back at him. A single large word appeared beside her face:

Liar

Mary looked at him as the word rotated and then faded. "Is John with you?" She asked.

"He's, um ..." Sherlock's voice was shaky

"Is John here?" Mary asked firmly.

"He-he's downstairs."

She nodded.

"So, what do you do now? Kill us both?" Magnussen asked.

Keeping her pistol aimed in front of her, Mary smiled humorlessly over her shoulder toward him before turning her gaze back to Sherlock.

As Sherlock speaks, Magnussen slowly lowered his hands and began to reach down toward the floor on his left.

"Mary, whatever he's got on you, let me help." He shifted his weight onto one foot, preparing to step toward her.

"Oh, Sherlock, if you take one more step I swear I will kill you." Mary said in an exasperated tone.

Sherlock shook his head, a small smile on his face. "No, Mrs. Watson…She stared at him, her mouth opening a little. "You won't." He said gently.

He started to lift his foot off the floor. Immediately she pulled the trigger. The bullet impacted his lower chest, just above the V of his buttoned jacket and slightly to the right of his shirt buttons. Magnussen straightened up again looking horrified that she shot him.

Sherlock's eyes unfocused and a slight look of shock appeared on his face as Mary sighed regretfully. He looked down at the bullet hole and after a moment blood began to pour from the hole.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. Truly am." She said tearfully.

Sherlock raised his head and looked at her.

"Mary?"

She turned and pointed her pistol down at Magnussen.

His eyes widened ...

... and the scene freeze frames as a loud alarm siren began to blare repeatedly. The room darkened around Sherlock and a spotlight shone onto his face as he stared ahead of himself in shock.

As the alarm continues, he was suddenly running quickly down the flights of a staircase in a white-walled building. Everything about the view suggested that this place was decaying and unlived in. The paint was peeling from the walls, the concrete of the uncarpeted stairs was crumbling and the red paint on the banisters was cracking off. He clung to the banisters and braced his other hand on the wall as he continued rapidly downwards.

Back in Magnussen's room, Molly, wearing her white lab coat, walked around behind Sherlock. She smiled at him. "It's not like it is in the movies. There's not a great big spurt of blood and you go flying backwards."

She walked around in front of him and the scenery around her turned bright white. Molly continued walking, her tone serious. "The impact isn't spread over a wide area." She was now in a white-walled mortuary room and she walked over to a body lying on a table in the middle of the room. The body was covered with a white sheet and had an identity tag tied to one bare toe. "It's tightly focused, so there's little or no energy transfer." She reached down and started to pull back the sheet covering the body. Sherlock was lying under the sheet, naked and with his eyes closed. "You stay still ..." She pulled the sheet back to his waist, revealing the bullet hole in his lower chest. "... and the bullet pushes through." She looked down at Sherlock's face and he can see her fuzzily even though his eyes are closed. "You're almost certainly going to die, so we need to focus." She slapped him hard across the face.

He hauled in a huge breath, his eyes snapping open as his head jerked to the side under her blow.

In Magnussen's room, both Magnussen and Mary are still frozen.

Sherlock's eyelids lift a little.

Marion's voice appeared. "I said ..." She was standing in front of him in the black dress he had selected for her, red hair in ringlets down her back. "... focus." She slapped him hard.

His head snapped round under her blow and before he could turn back he's standing in a bright white room, still reeling from Marion's slap. He straightened up and looked around, bewildered, then looked at Molly as she spoke again. They were in the mortuary room and in front of him was the table with his own dead body lying on it, covered by a sheet as far as the waist. Rows of mortuary cabinets lined one wall.

Molly walked towards the table and leaned her hands onto the edge of it and looked across it to the living version of Sherlock standing on the other side. Marion stepped to her and smiled a little. "It's all well and clever having a Mind Palace, but you've only three seconds of consciousness left to use it. So, come on…what's going to kill you?" Molly asked.

Sherlock looked down at his dead body for a moment and then raised his head again.

"Trauma." Sherlock said.

Marion looked at him and touched the dead Sherlock's face in a loving gesture. "You can do better than that Sherlock."

"Blood loss."

"Exactly." Molly said.

Sherlock looked at her, frowning a little.

"So, it's all about one thing now."

Sherlock, with his hands braced on the table in front of him, started to sway. The loud alarm finally faded out and went silent.

"Forwards, or backwards?"

He lowered his head and his eyes closed ...

... and he was back in Magnussen's room staring ahead of himself.

"We need to decide which way you're going to fall." Molly said.

"Forwards or backwards." Marion said stepping toward him from right.

Behind him, as Mary and Magnussen remained frozen in place, Anderson walked over and stopped behind his back. He was wearing white medical gloves. Molly walked towards Sherlock from halfway across the room.

"One hole, or two?" Anderson asked.

Sherlock frowned and looked back at him over his shoulder. "Sorry?"

Anderson raised his eyebrows in a questioning way.

"Is the bullet still inside you ..." Molly asked.

Sherlock turned to face her as she stood in front of him.

"... or is there an exit wound?" Marion asked.

The perspective changed and she was no longer in front of him, though Anderson was still behind him.

"It'll depend on the gun." Molly said.

"And the silencer on it." Marion added.

Sherlock turned his head to the left and now he could see diagrams of many different pistols in front of his eyes. He zoomed in on one, which changed from a blue outline to a yellow one and a tag appeared above it reading, 'Cat-0208'

"That one, I think."

He looked across the diagrams and another pistol identified as 'Cat-077839' turned yellow. He moved on to another gun which changed to yellow.

"Or that one." Sherlock said.

He frowned as if uncertain and continued through the display, another gun flashing yellow and showing its identification and then rapidly disappearing before he moved on.

"Oh, for God's sake, Sherlock." Mycroft barked. Sherlock turned his head to the right and saw his brother sitting at his desk in his office at The Diogenes Club. "It doesn't matter about the gun. Don't be stupid." Sherlock turned and walked towards him. Mycroft leaned forward and folded his hands on the table in front of him. "You always were so stupid."

Sherlock continued towards him, but now he's a young boy, about eleven years' old, and wearing dark trousers and a shirt with a buttoned dark green cardigan over it. He walked slowly toward his big brother.

"Such a disappointment."

"I'm not stupid." The young Sherlock protested.

"You're a very stupid little boy." Mycroft said firmly. He stood up and walked around the table. "Mummy and Daddy are very cross ..." He reached the other side of the table and leaned against it. "... because it doesn't matter about the gun."

"Why not?"

"You saw the whole room when you entered it. What was directly behind you when you were murdered?"

"I've not been murdered yet."

Mycroft leaned down to him. "Balance of probability, little brother."

Young Sherlock looked down, and the loud alarm began to blare again as he turned his head to look behind him.

In Magnussen's room, adult Sherlock also turned around to where a row of paneled mirrors was behind him on the wall. Mycroft could be seen fuzzily reflected in the mirrors as if he was standing some distance away.

Sherlock walked closer to the mirrors and looked in them.

Mycroft walked closer."If the bullet had passed through you, what would you have heard?"

"The mirror shattering."

"You didn't. Therefore ...?"

Sherlock turned and slowly walked past him. "The bullet's still inside me." He walked back to his original position.

"So, we need to take him down backwards." Anderson said.

"Yes. Backwards. It will help." Marion said appearing.

Molly again stood before Sherlock. "I agree. Sherlock ..."

He turned his attention to her.

"... you need to fall on your back."

"Right now, the bullet is the cork in the bottle." Anderson said.

Molly walked to his left. The alarm stopped again. "The bullet itself is blocking most of the blood flow."

Anderson walked in front of Sherlock. "But any pressure or impact on the entrance wound could dislodge it."

"If it dislodges you will die here." Marion said.

"Plus, on your back, gravity's working for us." Molly said.

The room took on a blue hue.

"Fall now." Molly said firmly.

Sherlock's eyes half-closed and his body began to slump. In very slow-motion he started to topple backwards. The room took on its normal color as he slowly falls back. He was falling towards the right-hand side of the room, and the entire room seems to tilt down toward the left as he went.

Mary and the kneeling Magnussen were still frozen in place with her pointing her pistol at him while she looked towards Sherlock, do not move as the room continues to tilt further to the left, but a plant in a plant pot on the windowsill began to slide slowly across the sill toward the left of the room.

Before he hit the floor Sherlock was suddenly back in the bright white mortuary room, standing upright, and the alarm was blaring again. He stumbled back against the cabinets in the wall and clapped his hands to his ears and cried out in alarm.

"What the hell is that? What's happening?"

He lowered his hands and looked around in confusion. Beside him, one of the cabinet doors opened and the tray slid out. His own dead body was lying on the tray with his eyes closed.

The 'real' Sherlock stared down at it in horror.

Molly stood on the other side of the tray. "You're going into shock."

Sherlock straightened up and stared at her wide-eyed.

"It's the next thing that's going to kill you."

"What do I do?"

Mycroft was now standing where Molly was. Sherlock, still wide-eyed, lifted his head to meet his gaze.
"Don't go into shock, obviously." He looked around the room as the alarm blared on. "Must be something in this ridiculous memory palace of yours that can calm you down."

He turned his head back to his brother and Mycroft's last words echo. "... calm you down."

Sherlock stared at him.

"Find it."

Sherlock screwed his eyes closed, and now he was running in slow motion down the long staircase again.

"The East Wind is coming, Sherlock." Mycroft said. He raised his eyebrows at him as the alarm stopped blaring. "It's coming to get you."

Elsewhere in his Mind Palace, Sherlock continued to stumble down the stairs and his own voice sounded in his head. "It's coming to get you."

Without transition a door opened in front of him and Mary, wearing her wedding dress and with a white veil over her face, stood facing him aiming a pistol at him. She fired and Sherlock screamed and fell backwards in slow-motion.

Before he hit the floor he's suddenly in a long corridor lined with wooden doors. Mycroft's voice sounded in his head as he races along the corridor. "Find it."

"It is here, Sherlock. We know it is." Marion's voice said.

Sherlock ran to a nearby door and pulled it open. White light flooded out and then he's in another similar corridor. Lying on the floor a short distance away was a dog, an Irish setter, panting and looking toward him.

"Hello, Redbeard. Here, boy. Come on!" He leaned down and patted the top of his legs repeatedly, smiling at his dog.

The dog sat up.

"Come to me. It's okay. It's all right."

The dog started to trot along the corridor toward him and now Sherlock was his younger self again, patting his legs and calling to his dog.

"Come on! It's me! It's me, come on!"

The dog broke into a run, barking as he continued onwards.

Adult Sherlock was now squatting in the middle of the corridor, smiling with delight and still patting his legs encouragingly as the dog runs toward him.

"Come on! Good boy! Clever boy!"

The barking dog reached Sherlock, who knelt down smiling happily and started stroking his head and ears. The dog was licking his face as Sherlock stroked his head and ears again.

"Hello, Redbeard. They're putting me down too, now. It's no fun, is it?" He slumped down onto his backside, looking weak and disorientated. "Redbeard." He said weakly.

The dog barked and Sherlock fell backwards to the floor.

In Magnussen's flat, Sherlock continued his slow-motion fall backwards, and finally landed on the carpet staring upwards blankly.

"Without the shock, you're going to feel the pain."

In Redbeard's corridor, she was standing some distance away from Sherlock as he convulsed on the floor, his eyes wide and his teeth clenched. Molly looked toward him, her face serious. "There's a hole ripped through you. Massive internal bleeding." Sherlock continued to convulse, his face contorted in agony and his mouth open. He screamed, although the scream was muted. "You have to control the pain."

A new female, tall, thin, with red hair and a sweet face came to him. She laid a hand on him. "The pain can't be undone. You must use it." She said softly.

Her face was angelic as she hovered above Sherlock's face.

Her presence seemed to calm him. "I am here with you." She said.

"Tessa?" He managed breathlessly.

"I am here." She said.

Sherlock was running down the stairs again. He reached the bottom and, screaming in pain, ran through a door into a padded cell. The room was circular and about twenty feet in diameter. The floor was plain concrete and the walls were heavily padded with a dirty grayish-brown material. On the opposite side of the cell to the door, a man crouched on the floor, leaning against the wall with his head lowered. The door closed behind Sherlock and he flattened himself against the wall beside it, convulsing and crying out in pain.

He stared upwards, his eyes red-rimmed. "Control! Control! Control."

ZzZ

Marion looked down at her phone as it chimed. "Excuse me." She smiled. "Probably Addy because Lizzy wants to talk before bed."

Alex smiled. "I can't wait to meet her. Go on then."

Marion looked at her phone. Extraction! Now!

Marion hurried out of the restaurant and down the alley way making sure no one saw her. She then moved quickly leaping onto a trash bin and onto the fire escape. She ran up to the roof and took a breath as she looked out.

She went to where she had hidden the tools she needed. She lifted the projectile to her shoulder. Looking through the scope she spotted Mary on a balcony. She aimed the great hook to the side of Mary.

The sound was deafened by the traffic about.

Mary gasped startled as the hook embedded near her head. She then took a breath, looking back toward the room, she put the device Marion had given her and clipped it to the cable. She then tugged on it.

Marion had placed the other end and tied it securely. She tugged back a little. Mary nodded and leapt over the balcony, trusting her friend as she dropped into air for a moment. The cable caught her and she sailed downward toward the rooftop where Marion was waiting.

Mary skidded and came to a halt. Marion moved behind her and sliced the cable. It shot back toward the other building with a whistle as Marion helped Mary to her feet.

"My car is two streets up. Stay on the rooftops and go." Marion said. "I will tell him I took a taxi…" She tossed her keys to her friend.

"Marion…"

"Did you get it done?" Marion looked at her. "Is the bastard dead?"

"No."

"No?!"

"There was a witness." Mary put a hand to her mouth. "I wasn't expecting them to be there. How could they be so stupid…"

"What?"

"Marion…I shot Sherlock…"

"What?!" Marion looked at her friend incredulously.

"I needed to buy time." She looked down hearing the sirens. "I called for help." She swallowed. "Magnussen had more on me now…"

"Sherlock was a witness…" Marion said lifting her chin.

"Yes…"

"And you shot him…"

"In a non-fatal area, but he could still bleed out. Marion I am so sorry…I panicked…" She looked at her friend. "Magnussen won't say a word though. He is far too clever."

"Mores the pity." Marion hissed.

Her phone beeped again. Marion. We need you at St. Albans. Sherlock has been shot. He has lost a lot of blood and when we get there he will be taken to the OR. He lost consciousness about a minute ago. Please come. I know you are not on speaking terms really, but… Marion sighed. "John is with him."

Mary's phone chimed. She looked down. Mary. There has been a huge problem. Sherlock was shot. I need help. Can you convince Marion to come? Mary sighed. "He texted me too."

"Get home. We will sort this later."

"You are not angry?"

"I am bloody furious and terrified." Marion said looking at her. "But I understand the need. No one else will."

"Do you think Sherlock will tell John?"

"We both have not been forthcoming about our pasts." Marion sighed. "I would get the jump drive in case. John should know."

"But he might leave me…"

"My husband might die in the OR." Marion hissed. "And my friend put him there."

"I am sorry. Truly I am." Mary said.

Marion pulled her into a hug and let her tears come. "Go!" Marion said.

Mary nodded and moved away.

Marion came back and managed to enter through the employee door and come out from where the washroom was. She walked back toward the table looking disoriented.

Alex rose to his feet. "Marion?"

"Sherlock…he…."

"He wasn't in the toilets was he?" He asked exasperated.

"No…" Marion bit her lip. "He was shot…"

"Shot? By who?"

"He…he is going to have surgery. I must…I have to…"

Alex wrapped his coat about her shoulder. "I will get you a cab. Of course you must go."

"I am sorry."

He tipped her chin and kissed her lightly. "Dinner is less important than a life. Though I hate to say this, he is the father of your children and he at least deserves support. Shall I come with you?" He asked walking with her to the door.

"No…Mycroft is coming…" She said looking about dazed.

"Where?"

"St. Albans."

He nodded as they came to the street. He signaled a cab. It pulled up and he opened the door and put her in. He leaned to the driver. "Take care of this one." He said offering the man a fifty pound note. "She is special."

"Why is she crying, mate?"

"Her husband was shot. Take her to St. Albans. Go!"

The taxi sped off and Lord Alex turned back to the restaurant.

Inside the cab, Marion truly was in a daze. What the hell had Sherlock done? Why had he been there? The bloody idiot and now he was dying…

Her phone chimed and she looked down.

If you need anything call. I will text in the morning.

I am sorry Alex.

I understand. He needs you now. I love you. Remember that. I do not like sharing, but the man had a claim first. I will not stand in the way of a dying man…at least not yet. Xxx

Thank you.

ZzZ

"Control! Control! Control." Sherlock moaned.

His voice quieted a little with each repeat. On the other side of the room the man, who was wearing a filthy white straitjacket and has a large metal collar around his neck with a heavy chain fastened to it, slowly turned his head a little towards Sherlock. His face still cannot be seen, but his breathing was very loud.

Sherlock stared at him, his eyes wide and his teeth bared. Sherlock straightened up and leaned against the wall. "You." Breathing heavily, he took a couple of steps forward. "You never felt pain, did you? Why did you never feel pain?"

"You always feel it, Sherlock." The man said. It was Jim Moriarty. He turned his head some more and looks across at Sherlock, his face murderous. His face was dirty and it was flushed dark red with rage.

Sherlock stared back at him.

The lights around the walls flickered briefly and Jim surged up and charged towards him, his mouth wide and roaring with fury.

Sherlock recoiled, but just before Jim can crash into him the chain on his collar, fastened to the wall behind him, reached its full length and prevented him from going further. He shouted manically into Sherlock's face.

"But you don't have to fear it!"

Sherlock doubled over, crying out in agony. Jim stared at him, wide-eyed and insane, as Sherlock crumpled slowly to his knees and then slumped over onto his back.

Jim continued to stare down at him as Sherlock writhed. "Pain. Heartbreak. Loss."

Sherlock rolled onto his side, his face screwed tight and tears streaming from his eyes as he tried to fight the agony in his chest.

"Death. It's all good." Jim said.

Sherlock convulsed on the floor, moaning.

Jim dropped to his knees beside him. "It's all good."

Sherlock laid on his back staring upwards and still convulsing.

ZzZ

John had run upstairs. He looked. Magnussen was on the floor, stunned, and Sherlock was on his back looking up at the ceiling. "Sherlock?"

In Magnussen's room, John dropped to his knees beside Sherlock, gently patting his face. "Sherlock?" He bent down to put his ear against Sherlock's mouth. "Can you hear me?" He lifted his head and looked across to Magnussen, who was lying on the floor on his side, but then raised his head. There was no sign of Mary in the room. "What happened?"

"He got shot." Magnussen said weakly.

"Jesus." He flipped open Sherlock's coat and saw lots of blood on the white shirt around the bullet wound. "Sherlock! Oh, my ..."

Magnussen picked up his glasses, which had fallen to the floor.

John straightened up on his knees and reached into his jeans pocket. He looked sternly across to Magnussen. "Who shot him?"

Magnussen sat up and put his glasses on. He then looked across at John, but doesn't reply. John had his phone to his ear and an operator spoke.

"Emergency. Which service do you require?" A woman asked.

"I need an ambulance to the CAM Tower." He looked at Magnussen. "They will need your pass code."

"Of course." Magnussen said. He had a large bruise forming on his face and he blinked.

John pressed his hand onto the wound.

ZzZ

Back in the padded cell, the lighting had turned a blue color as Sherlock continued to convulse on the floor, his eyes wide. Beside him, Jim was back on his feet and he began to sing slowly and softly.

"… It's raining, it's pouring. Sherlock is boring ... "

Sherlock sank down on the floor, his convulsions beginning to slow. Jim crouched down near Sherlock's head.

ZzZ

In the real world and outside the offices, an emergency siren sounded as paramedics wheeled Sherlock on a stretcher toward a nearby ambulance.

John was at his side.

ZzZ

"...I'm laughing, I'm crying ..." Jim still sang. He knelt down beside Sherlock, whose convulsions stop apart from an occasional twitch. His eyes gazed blankly upwards, then began to close. "... Sherlock is dying…"

ZzZ

The ambulance was now racing through the streets. In the back of it a paramedic tore Sherlock's shirt open. An oxygen mask had been strapped to his face. His eyes were closed.

"Sherlock." John called to him. He was sitting or kneeling behind the paramedic, looking at his friend with concern. "We're losing you. Sherlock."

Sherlock's eyes crack open a little.

ZzZ

On his knees in the padded cell, Jim leaned forward as far as his chain will let him and breathed out heavily into Sherlock's face. "Come on, Sherlock." He lifted his head a little, spittle dribbling from his mouth. "Just die, why can't you?" He laid down on his side on the floor and put his face close to Sherlock's head. "One little push, and off you pop." He turned onto his back and looked up.

ZzZ

Marion ran into the ER.

John looked up and grabbed her as she tried to go through the door. "Hey, hey." He said.

Slammed her hand against the door and started to cry.

"Sweetheart." He said. He wrapped a hand into her hair and pressed her head to his shoulder as he rocked her, his own tears hot in his eyes. "He's in surgery."

"What happened?"

"He was shot…was all Magnussen told me."

"Shot? Magnussen?" Marion asked.

"Hush, love…" John said gently.

ZzZ

In an operating room in a hospital, a heart monitor was letting out a single continuous tone and a flat line rolls across the screen. One of several doctors surrounding the operating table did a few more heart compressions on Sherlock's chest and then withdrew his hands.

As the doctors turned away from the table, having clearly been trying to restart his heart for some time, but now having decided that there is no point continuing. Sherlock was bare to the waist and with a breathing tube down his throat, lying with his eyes closed as the monitor's single tone continued. The lights in the room seemed to go out, leaving a single light shining down on his body.

ZzZ

In the padded cell, Jim was kneeling up and he talked conversationally as the monitor's flatline tone could still be heard. "You're gonna love being dead, Sherlock." He looks down at Sherlock's still form. "No-one ever bothers you." He smiled. Mrs. Hudson will cry and Mummy and Daddy will cry ..." He paused. "Kerrin won't remember you. Lizzy will cry. Marion might lose her mind…" He was suddenly on his feet again and turned round and round on the spot until his chain stopped him. He then he rotated in the opposite direction. "... and The Woman will cry; and John will cry buckets and buckets. It's him that I worry about the most. That wife!" He grimaced and blew out a noisy breath. "You're letting him down, Sherlock. John Watson is definitely in danger."

On the floor of the cell, Sherlock's eyes abruptly opened. Jim slowly turned his head toward him as Sherlock stared upwards. Jim's eyes widened as the lights around the room flash repeatedly. Sherlock convulsed once and blinked. He then sighed out a painful breath. Grimacing with the effort he started to try and get up.

The door opened and Tessa stood there. "Sherlock. Come on." She said.

"What?" He groaned. He looked at her. So angelic with her alabaster skin and bright green eyes.

"It is not your time brother."

He looked at her. "It wasn't yours either." He said softly.

"Come." She said offering her small hand.

ZzZ

Groaning, Sherlock slammed his hand onto the floor of the cell and then forced himself onto one elbow. He raised his other arm and savagely punched the concrete floor with all his strength.

Kneeling nearby, Jim looked down at him with an irritated look on his face. "Oh, you're not getting better, are you?"

Sherlock hauled himself to his feet, then staggered and slumped back against the wall.

"Was it something I said, huh?" Jim asked. He grinned at him for a moment and then his smile faded as Sherlock glared back at him, breathing heavily and covered in sweat. Grunting with the effort, Sherlock pushed himself off the wall and turns to the door beside him.

Tessa smiled and took his hand pulling him through. She turned back and slammed the door on Jim as he cried out, the sound becoming nothing as the room locked. "Sher..."

"John!" Sherlock cried.

ZzZ

In the operating room. Nothing, but the flatline.

In his Mind Palace, Sherlock took hold of the banister at the bottom of the stairs. Grimacing in agony, Sherlock began to haul himself up the stairs.

Tessa was beside him. "You have to fight brother. For John. For Marion. For the children." She said. "Fight…" Her voice was a whisper. "Fight…"

In the operating room the monitor gave a single blip and the index finger of Sherlock's left hand twitched very slightly.

Sherlock continued his painful ascent up the stairs, leaning heavily on the banisters or bracing himself against the wall. He cried out with the effort.

The line on the heart monitor blipped and showed its first spike. There was a groan, soft, but could be heard from Sherlock. "John…" He moaned.

The doctors turned back in shock.

His face contorted in agony, Sherlock slumped against the banisters as he continued upward and he seems to hear John's voice calling his name.

Tessa smiled as she stopped on the landing and looked at him. "I will see you when it is your time brother." She smiled and twirled in her white dress. "I love you."

"How are you here?"

"Memories. But you need to return to your body now. We will see each other again soon enough.

He looked at her. "When will that be?" He asked a tear in his eye as he lifted a hand to her face.

"Soon." She said. She leaned close and kissed his cheek.

"Soon?"

"All time is soon, brother. Wake up!"

On the operating table, Sherlock's left index finger lifted off the cover on which his hand is lying. The doctor's eyes widen, and all the staff in the room hurried back to the table.

Sherlock continued his climb, his right hand braced on the banisters and the left dragging across the wall. The fingers of his left hand momentarily slid across the wallpaper of his living room in Baker Street. Now almost crawling, he reached up and grabbed the railings of the banister as he dragged himself upwards.

One of the doctors looks across to another as if he can't believe what he is seeing. The heart machine is making noise regularly.

His face contorted in concentration and agony, Sherlock grabbed at the banister with a loud cry as he continued to climb.

The heart monitor showed another spike and another blip could be heard. The doctor looked down to Sherlock again.

His determined gaze almost manic, Sherlock forced his hand upwards to clutch at the banister and pulled himself higher.

The heart monitor spiked and blipped.

In his mind's eye, Sherlock saw a rapid montage of images: several moments from when Magnussen showed him the edge of the papers in his jacket pocket in 221B's living room; then Mary aiming her gun down at Magnussen in his flat before Sherlock knew who the potential killer was; then the front door to 221B. His inner vision closed in on the door and settled on it.

In the operating room, his eyelids began to lift as the heart monitor's blips become more regular. The doctor looks down at him ...

"Wake up brother!" Tessa's voice told him in his mind.

... and Sherlock Holmes opened his eyes. His gaze became more focused, and his mouth began to close around the tube in his mouth in an attempt to form a word.

ZzZ

The doctor came out of the OR and stepped to the waiting room. "Marion Holmes?"

Marion rose to her feet shakily. "Yes?"

"I'm Doctor Edward Bensen." He smiled a little. "It was touch and go, but he made it."

Marion started to sob again.

John held her to him. "When can we see him?"

"We are moving him to a room. When we get everything set I will send a nurse for you."

John nodded.

Marion collapsed against him and he gently caught her to him and tapped her face. "Marion…Jesus Christ…"

"Do you need help sir?"

"No she just passed out." John said. "She has had a long night."

"We can…"

"I'm a doctor. I'll just have her lie down for a bit."

"Once her husband is in a room, there will be a cot there."

John nodded. "Good. Thank you." He looked back at Marion as he lifted her up in his arms and laid her down on a long set of chairs without arm rests. He checked her breathing and knew she was just overwrought.

He sighed. Sherlock had nearly been killed over some letters. He looked down at Marion. He still wondered why the pair was divorcing. Clearly Marion still loved Sherlock or she would not have gone running at the drop of a hat.

He sighed and caressed her hair to keep her calm and asleep for as long as he could. Taking a breath he lifted his phone to text Mary.

ZzZ

John had been able to get Marion to sleep in the room next to Sherlock's bed. He had read the chart. Sherlock was lucky to be alive. He sighed and looked down at his friend as he laid there, attached to a morphine drip and on oxygen.

Sherlock was pale from his blood loss and with his IV was a blood bag. Marion had let them draw from her since she was O negative in her blood type. The doctors sent a sample to the lab and she was found to be clean, naturally.

She gave more blood than she should have and had been very dizzy when she stood up. John had forced her to sit and eat some cookies and drink juice. Her blood was resupplying Sherlock's for now until he could make his own.

For now they both slept and John kept watch. He had told Mary to come first thing in the morning. She protested, but then accepted his offer to have her stay with them while he went home, showered, and napped for a time.

Sherlock's eyes fluttered a little. "Mary." He murmured.

John looked at him quizzically and then back at Marion. Perhaps he met Mari as he often called her. 'Mar-ee', but he had said 'Mary'.

John shook his head and touched Sherlock's brow. "Rest, old friend." He murmured and Sherlock started to breathe easier. "Marion and I are both here." He sighed. "You need to make it out of this. Snap out of this, be a good husband, and a good father again." He sighed. "The three of them need you, Sherlock. I know you can hear me."

He paused and shook his head looking back at Marion who was sound asleep. He would get them back together if it was the last thing he did he swore.