Chapter 37

Theft Again?

Jim creeps back into the government building that houses the office of one Mycroft Holmes. He waits for the receptionist to go on a break. As soon as she does Jim leaps from his hiding place and bounds over the desk to get at her computer. He snorts in derision when he sees that she hasn't logged out of the system. He smirks. It would be easier than he thought. He quickly hacks onto the mainframe and looks for the building where the lab dealing with the chemical is situated. He quickly finds it out and looks at the security blueprints. Jim clicks on the list of personal aloud into the room. He frowns. 'Only two.' He mutters under his breath. 'Neither of them Mr Mycroft Holmes.' He glances up in time to see the receptionist returning to her post. He quickly clears the browsing history and clears the desk running back to his hiding place. The receptionist retakes her seat without realising that anything had happened while she had been gone. Jim smirks and leaves his hiding place with the information he needs.

Sixty minutes later, Jim finds himself outside of a rather nondescript building just outside the centre of London. Impressed he looks over the front. It could have been anything. Not a single feature could be interpreted to imply that government laboratories are based here. Well except maybe it is the best kept building on the street and a few of the people coming and going are too well dressed for this part of town. Jim grins to himself and starts forward to the front door. He approaches the front desk and smiles at the receptionist with less than average intelligence. 'How may I help you sir?'

'Hi.' Jim grins a feral grin. 'I'm supposed to deliver a small package of papers to one of the lab. Only I forgot my access card.' He changes his expression to a sheepish one.

'Oh that's no problem. Which lab was it?' Jim screws his face pretending to access his memory bank.

'The… regression lab.' He says finally. 'Yes that was it, the regression lab. Sorry my memory isn't that great and I got told to memorize the way and everything.' The receptionist giggles.

'Tell me about it.'

'Maybe over a drink sometime?'

'That would be lovely.'

'Where's the lab?' Jim gets the subject back on track before the dim witted administrator can give him her number.

'Down the hall, fourth left, third right, second door on your right then immediately to your left.'

'Thanks very much.' Jim smiles. The receptionist tosses her hair back but Jim ignores her and strides off down the hall. His pleasant expression evaporating as he progresses away from her.

Jim follows the directions and quickly finds himself outside the door allowing the only access to the laboratory where the regression chemical is made. He looks in the small window in the door trying to get a small idea of how everything is situated. 'Do you have a reason to be here?' A voice behind him asks. Jim turns plastering a fake smile on his face. He sees a scientist dressed in the stereotypical white coat but with jeans and a semi smart shirt underneath.

'Umm, yeah. Mr Holmes sent me to collect some papers. Only he forgot to give me a pass key.' Jim waves vaguely to the swipe card machine.

'That will be because he doesn't have one.'

'Oh?'

'For reasons of security Mr Holmes advised that only me and my colleague should be the ones to have access to the lab while the experiments are on going. Hasn't completely worked though.'

'How come?'

'Someone managed to get in here a few days back and steal some papers.'

'Were they caught?' Jim asks despite himself

'Not that I know of. Don't get any of the chemical on your skin.'

'What would happen?'

'Simplistically, you become a kid.'

'I promise I won't touch any chemical.'

'Yeah, right I'll believe it when I see it.' The technician pushes the door open and lets the both of them in.

'Where do you keep the papers?'

'Depends which papers you mean.' Jim looks around at the papers lying on different benches. He pretends to moan.

'Looks like I'll have to go through each and every one then.'

'Rather you than me mate.' Jim grins, which disappears as soon as the technician turns his back. He grabs the nearest pile of papers and rifles through them.

Forty minutes later, Jim is half way around the lab and has memorised everything relevant to the case of Sherlock and John's regression. He is pretty sure that he could recreate the basic recipe of the regression chemical in his own labs. The technician lays a hand on Jim's shoulder making him jump slightly. 'Just popping out for a bit, you'll be alright here on your own for a bit?'

'I'll be fine.' Jim assures the technician.

'See you in about ten.'

'Okay.' Jim makes it look like he's gone back to the paperwork but in reality he's watching the science technician walks away down the corridor. As soon as he turns the corner Jim jumps up form his seat and swiftly moves around the corner to the bench the technician was working at. Jim scans the handwritten notes lying on the counter and realises that the bluish liquid in the flask holding the papers down is the chemical. Jim smiles to himself.

Twenty minutes later, the technician re-enters the lab and spots Jim examining the chemical. 'You weren't here for any papers were you?'

'Not in that sense, no.'

'You wanted the recipe.'

'Well yeah.' The technician glances at a small wet patch on Jim's arm

'Is that the chemical?'

'What?' Jim is genuinely confused. The technician strides over to Jim and sniffs the damp patch on the consulting criminal's sleeve. 'That, yeah.'

'When did this spill?'

'Just moved the flask over and it tipped slightly.'

'But when?'

'Ten, fifteen minutes ago.' The technician freezes.

'How do you feel?'

'Fine.'

'No tingles or pin and needles on the site?'

'No.' Jim starts to get impatient. 'Why?'

'I assume you know of Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson?'

'Of course.'

'They were exposed to only a fraction of you have been.' Jim's face pales.

'How long?'

'It took them twelve hours. Get in the shower it may slow the progress. Take the strain off your body.' Jim allows the technician to bundle him into the shower and take his favourite Westwood suit to be washed clean of the chemical. The technician walks over to the phone near the main door of the lab. He picks up the handset and dials a number.

'Mr Holmes, we have another potential regression. Yes sir. I believe it's Jim Moriarty.'