Chapter 38

Sherlock knocked on the door to a flat, with Molly at his side. A regular white guy opened the door. The Thomas the Train theme song was playing at unbelievable volume in the background.

"Come on in," the guy, whose name was Howard, said and stepped aside to let them through. Molly began to tremble as she entered. Everything...the carpets, the wallpaper, the doorknobs...even the goddamn toilet paper had Thomas's face on it. Everywhere, the blue paint, those round, unblinking eyes, that flat, pearly white smile…

"So what is this about, Mister…" Sherlock was cut off as a train whistle from a nearby Thomas-themed speaker blasted at fifty decibels, nearly killing him.

Howard grinned at them from the doorway. "I like trains."

Molly nodded slowly, planning any and all exit routes that they could take.

He led them into his office. "I work for the Tube, the District Line, and part of my job is to wipe the security footage after it's been cleared." He sat down at his computer and turned it on.

Molly's eyebrows shot up as unspeakable artwork of Thomas the Train and his buddy Henry appeared on the screen.

"Uh—fuck—" Thankfully Howard was more adept at clicking away than John was, and within a second the correct image was displayed on the screen. It showed a man getting on the train at one stop, and then the train coming to the next stop and no one getting off. "There aren't any stops in between, and he couldn't have jumped off." He turned to Sherlock. "Got any ideas?"

Sherlock closed his eyes and imagined trains going into tunnels. Then he imagined "trains" going into "tunnels".

"Uh, Sherlock?" Molly said.

His eyes snapped open. "What? Yeah, I have ideas. Lots of 'em. Hehe..."

-Baker Street-

John finally caved in and went to the flat he used to share with Sherlock. As he looked up at the windows, a man walked by and bumped him in the shoulder.

Now, John had already had a bad day. On a normal Tuesday, he would have brushed it off with a sarcastic comment. But this bump, after the Bernie Sanders incident and the rest of his shitty day, was the icing on the cake.

"Wanna go m8?" John snarled, slipping into 1337speak as he grabbed the man's arm.

Another man, who had intended to walk up from the other direction and tranquilize John, faltered at the pure anger radiating from the 5'5 man.

"Uh...actually…" the first guy made panicked eye contact with the syringe guy.

Syringe guy worked up his courage and jammed the needle into John's neck. John was out like a light, but not before he managed to sucker punch the first guy.

-Back at Howard's-

Sherlock and Molly walked out of the flat.

"Congratulations, by the way," Sherlock said, referencing her engagement ring.

"Oh, thanks." After a pause, she said, "He's not from work. We met through friends, the old-fashioned way. He's nice. We...he's got a dog...we-we go to the pub on weekends and he...I've met his mum and dad and his friends and all his family. I've no idea why I'm telling you this."

"Me neither," Sherlock said. "Well, I guess not all the guys you date can be sociopaths."

Molly smiled. "Maybe it's just my type."

"Edgy."

-221b, Later-

Mary rushed through the front door.

"Who the hell are you?" Mrs Hudson asked, ready to trip her up.

"Oh, I'm John's fiancée."

"Fiancée? What the fuck?" Mrs Hudson was still trying to do the math by the time Mary reached the top of the stairs and found Sherlock.

"Sherlock, I received a text recently."

The text read: Save souls now! John or James Watson? Saint or Sinner? James or John? The more is Less?

"At first I thought it was just spam, but I realized it was a skip code. It says, Save John Watson, Saint James the Less."

"That's not good." Sherlock looked down at his basket of chips, then shoved the remaining five in his pockets and raced down the stairs.

"Saint James the Less. It's a church nearby. Come on, Mary, we have to hurry!" Sherlock said, running out into the street and promptly getting bowled over by a car.

Mary found him lying ten feet from his starting position with his uneaten chips scattered on the pavement. A passing motorcycle stopped and its two passengers got off.

"Hey, mate, are you okay?"

"Tricked ya!" Sherlock jumped up and mounted the bike, pulling Mary on behind him. They sped off.

Mary received another text that said Getting warmer Mr Holmes. You have about ten minutes. She held it up to Sherlock, who stupidly decided to read it and ended up crashing the bike.

Don't text and drive kids!

Mary sighed, grabbed another motorcycle from an inattentive cop, and pulled Sherlock on. "I'm driving this time." She handed Sherlock the phone. "Keep an eye out for any texts."

A couple minutes later, a new text read: 8 minutes and counting…

Stop being a meanie :( Sherlock responded.

They were coming up on a bridge, which was slowly rising due to a large boat passing through the river.

"How is this huge bridge in the middle of London?" Sherlock asked.

"Steven and Mark wanted some action! Hold on!" Mary floored it and sped over the gap, doing a sick flip mid-air. Sherlock screamed at a high C note the whole time.

Then they came across a roadblock. Without even stopping, Mary turned and headed down some stairs. Sherlock's screams were punctuated by each step.

"AaAaAaAaAaA…"

He received a new text message: Better hurry! Things are hotting up in here…

"Isn't it heating up?" Sherlock wondered out loud.

-Meanwhile-

John woke up and realized he was covered in large pieces of wood. "Well, this isn't the weirdest place I've woken up." He sniffed the air. "Is that gasoline I smell?"

A few yards away, Mary and Sherlock had reached the park where the bonfire was being held. Sherlock received one last text: What a shame Mr Holmes. John is quite a Guy!

Just then, the pile of wood caught ablaze. Mary turned her head and realized what was happening. "Oh my god."

"Uh, Mary, you might want to watch out for—" Sherlock was cut off as their motorcycle rammed into a tree.

With both of his would-be rescuers incapacitated, things weren't looking good for John. He struggled but the wood was too heavy. "HELP!" he shouted. Several people gasped in horror.

"I'll save you!" The crowd parted as a tall, gangly man ran through. It was Golem! He yanked John out of the bonfire by his legs, nearly dislocating both femurs in the process. John coughed up some smoke and passed out.

The crowd cheered at this heroic act. Golem dabbed.

No I'm not dead. I had a shit ton of work from school. I also had to take a break from Sherlock after the shit show that was season 4. But I'm back now and ready to parody the shit out of the next two seasons. Fuck you Moffat and Gatiss!

Thanks to everyone who has stuck with this story. Leave a comment letting me know what you think, it helps me out a lot.