Sherlock dragged them back to 221. Danielle was running behind him. All four followed behind Sherlock, confused as to why Sherlock brought them home. Danielle was actually the only one following his train of thought. Sherlock walked up to the door for 221c, finding it locked.
"Mrs Hudson!" Sherlock called out.
"We need the keys for 221c!" Danielle called out.
After another few minutes Mrs Hudson came in with a keyring. Sherlock accepted the keyring from her hands. He sorted through them for the proper key.
"You had a look, didn't you, Sherlock, when you first came to see about your flat." Mrs Hudson mused. "And Danielle, you tried helping me clean it."
Danielle shook her head. "It's bad, I couldn't get it without a hazmat suit."
Sherlock ignored them both. He eyed the keyhole before phishing the key inside. "The door's been opened recently."
Mrs Hudson scrunched up her eyebrows, frowning in confusion. "No, can't be. That's my only key. Danielle?"
"I gave you back the spare." Danielle excused, matching Mrs Hudson's frown.
Sherlock continued opening the door. John and Lestrade watched it all with the kind of politeness that came from being around Sherlock. Which in layman's terms was: shutting up until he's about to be killed by someone angry.
"I can't get anyone interested in this flat. It's the damp, I expect. That's the curse of basements." Mrs Hudson rambled on.
Sherlock pushed the door open. Danielle followed in after him. John and Lestrade obediently followed behind.
"I had a place once when I was first married. Black mould all up the walls-" Nrs Hudson realized her audience had vanished. "Oh! Men!"
==NKMHLY==
The flat was empty. No furniture to speak of, the wallpaper faded and peeling off every edge. If Sherlock had tried shooting it up, it might have improved the looks. It was hard to tell what was ugly wallpaper and what was an abandoned mess.
It was making Danielle squeamish just looking at it. Could she be blamed? It was a miracle she had gotten her own basement flat looking nice. Then again, Jim hadn't cared much for it.
Danielle was certain about one thing. She hadn't left a pair of trainers in the middle of the flat. Neither had Mrs Hudson.
"Shoes." John stated, in his usual tone of hoping he wasn't the only one who thought it was odd.
"They aren't mine, or Mrs Hudsons." Danielle explained.
Sherlock was dismissing both of their comments. He started to walk towards the trainers. John held out his arm. "He's a bomber, remember." John cautioned.
Danielle hadn't even considered that the trainers could be explosive. Could bombs even be that small? What did Danielle know- maybe bombers had just gotten smarter. Phones had gotten smaller than before, maybe a bomb could fit in a trainer.
(It would not occur to her until much later that John had obviously the floor around the trainers had been set with a bomb. She never wanted to think about her own obvious stupidity again.
Then she remembered that the airports made you take off your shoes in security, so maybe John had been warning about the shoes.
Point is: she was using the wrong equation but got the right answer.)
Sherlock was mindful of the floors as he approached the trainers. He laid himself down flat on the floor, trying to see what was so special about the trainers without touching them. Danielle thought touching them was a bad idea together. This whole room was disgusting- the trainers looked no better, matching the ancientness and lack of cleanliness of the room itself.
Then a phone rang.
Danielle couldn't help it. She had jumped back, expecting the worst. John and Lestrade eyed her. Well it's not her fault that everyone else was so much better under pressure! These- they were used to being scared! They were used to sudden noises so they didn't freak out. Danielle still panicked when she thought about the past week.
Sherlock got himself back to his feet. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the pink phone. He held it in front of him, setting it to speaker. "Hello?"
"H-hello...sexy." A woman replied. She sounded like she was crying.
Danielle, John, and Lestrade exchanged looks. Sherlock wasn't showing any signs of dislike. John and Lestrade were probably thinking about the police side of things, or danger. Danielle's mind was taking her down a different path. There was something familiar about that voice. Not in a dangerous sort of way. Well not that dangerous, just bad. The kind of bad that made you feel small. Maybe it was the crying that made her feel that way?
"Who's this?" Sherlock prompted.
"I've...sent you...a little puzzle...just to say hi." The woman replied through sobs.
"Who's talking? Why are you crying?" Sherlock wondered. He didn't sound concerned by the tears, not at all like the kind of person that would bring Danielle her dog while she was crying. Sherlock wondered with the curiosity of someone asking why their magnifying glass could set things on fire.
"I-I'm not...crying...I'm typing...and this...stupid...bitch...is reading it out." She explained, sobbing at the words coming from her. Her speech was full of stutters. Danielle realized she must be reading off the text, then crying.
Sherlock took this all in. He probably had it all in his head long before Danielle did, or he was figuring out so much more than Danielle could in these moments. "The curtain rises." He mused.
"What?" John asked.
"Huh?" Danielle asked.
"Nothing." Sherlock dismissed.
"No, you got something." Danielle argued.
"What did you mean?" John insisted.
Sherlock glanced over his shoulder, half turning his head towards them. "I've been expecting this for some time.
Because that was so much better...expecting what? Trainers in the basement flat?
"Twelve hours to solve...my puzzle, Sherlock...or I'm going...to be...so naughty." The woman was still sobbing as the phone cut off dead.
He's a bomber
He's going to blow that poor woman up.
"Oh, that poor thing." Danielle held her hand to her chest. She remembered Soo Lin's tears, even as she faced her brother. Soo Lin had been brave. This woman didn't have that sort of strength to her- her tears had been broken, full of fear, like she was already broken and convinced nobody would save her.
Danielle wouldn't fail again.
Sherlock was helping this time.
It would be better.
It had to be.
==NKMHLY==
Was she stressed? Maybe.
Anybody would be, yes? This was a stressful time. Anybody would be complaining. Not that Danielle thought she was complaining. Maybe just being around Sherlock for long enough of him saying how anyone opening their mouth said something stupid, made Danielle think any time she opened her mouth something stupid came out.
She shouldn't do anything anyway. Sherlock needed to focus on this case, so he could save the hostage. If he was distracted by Danielle's panic, then he could make a mistake. A life was on the line. Danielle couldn't be at fault again.
So while Sherlock worked on the shoelaces, she kept off to the side. There was a long while of quiet, of sitting around doing nothing. Danielle didn't mind that. This lack of anything was giving her time to calm herself down- from lashing out in a place of fear.
She could control herself.
She really could.
John had come in and out of the lab room. Danielle had kept to herself.
"So, who d'you suppose it was?" John asked, breaking the silence that had gone on for...actually Danielle had oddly lost track of time.
Sherlock gave no answer. He might have, if his phone hadn't pinged to throw him off. That's what Danielle thought anyway. "Hmm?"
"The woman on the phone-the crying woman." John clarified.
Danielle sat up, leaning an elbow on the lab bench. "It could be anyone- like...like..." She had meant to go somewhere with that. Only it was trying to be so hard to be helpful, that her brain had given her too much to pick. Anything she thought, Sherlock had again probably thought twice.
"Don't waste the mental space on it, Danielle, she doesn't matter." Sherlock excused. He was looking between a microscope and the lab's computer. "She's just a hostage. No lead there."
"Are they sure?" Danelle asked. "Because she-" 'She sounded so familiar...I couldn't place it but I knew there was a place for it in my head.'
"She's nobody." Sherlock dismissed again.
"For God's sake, I wasn't thinking about leads." John huffed.
"You're not going to be much use to her." Sherlock informed his flatmate with a flat stare.
"And I don't think you can call her nobody. That's- that's not okay." Danielle tried to argue. Sherlock wasn't paying attention, just focused on the results.
"Are-are they trying to trace it, trace the call?" John asked.
"The bomber's too smart for that." Sherlock dismissed. Meaning: yes they were, but Sherlock was the only one who knew it was pointless. His phone was pinging again. "Pass me my phone."
Danielle popped up. "Where is it?"
"Danielle, you don't need to-"
Sherlock answered at the same time as John. "Jacket."
Danielle was not blushing. Nobody could prove it. She wasn't. As she walked over to Sherlock's side, she ignored John's sharp glare at Sherlock. Lucky Sherlock ignored it too.
She paused a moment to figure out where in his jacket the phone was. Once she found it, she pulled it back. It was hard as Sherlock wasn't moving to help.
"Careful." Sherlock scolded.
Danielle let go of the jacket. "Sorry," This was the weirdest game of Operation she had ever played.
She maneuvered her hand into the jacket, ignoring how close she stood to Sherlock to get it, and ignored that she had slept in his bed that morning, and she had worn his clothes. Danielle grabbed the phone. Once in her hand, she glanced at the screen before holding it to Sherlock. "It's from Mycroft."
"Delete it." Sherlock instructed.
Danielle glanced down at the phone still in her hand.
"Delete it?" John prompted, still glaring at Sherlock.
"Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it." Sherlock dismissed.
Danielle glanced at the phone. She went to delete it, if more because Sherlock asked then because it was the right thing. The messages all read mostly the same- updates on the Andrew West case. Oh, they should be looking into that, huh? "Mycroft sent eight messages for updates."
"Must be important." John argued.
Sherlock finally deigned the conversation idiotic enough that he had to look up. "Then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?"
Danielle didn't even glance back at the messages. Sherlock would give some reason for why he knew that. There would be nothing in the messages.
John sighed, agreeing with Danielle. "His what?"
"Mycroft never texts if he can talk. Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story. The only mystery is this: why is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?"
He had a woman strapped to a bomb then used her as a voice disguiser.
I suppose for Sherlock that would be impressive.
I mean a life is on the line, but look at these shoes!
"Try and remember there's a woman here who might die." John scolded, voice tight and restrained.
"What for?" Sherlock looked up from the microscope, glaring at John to quit being stupid. "This hospital's full of people dying, Doctor. Why don't you go and cry by their bedside and see what good it does them? Take Danielle with you. She's one word away from having a breakdown."
"I- no- no I'm not!" Danielle wrapped her arms around herself, struggling not to use one to slap Sherlock stupid. Let him see how it feels then, thinking like Anderson.
John blinked at Sherlock, stunned at how anyone could lack empathy on this scale. The computer let out a loud beep. Sherlock grinned in delight- such stark contrast from his annoyed glare at the both of them.
Which is of course when other people arrived to enjoy the show. Molly walked in, a pep in her step. "Any luck?"
"Oh, yes!" Sherlock cheered to her.
Danielle shook her head, turning her back to them. It made it easy to miss when the door opened again. "Oh, sorry. I didn't-"
"Jim! Hi!" Molly greeted in delight.
"Jim?" Danielle gasped in surprise.
The man stopped in the door. He turned towards Danielle, grinning wide. "Danielle?"
"What are you doing over there?" Danielle laughed. "Come on in!"
He did so, with an apologetic smile. Danielle ignored most of the others in the room as the two met in the middle for a hug.
Danielle didn't notice Sherlock's eyes on them while they hugged. John was focused more on Sherlock's stare over the microscope. Jim noticed that look too. Not that it mattered, presently.
"Danielle. You know Jim?" Molly asked, eyeing Jim and Danielle as they stepped apart.
"He's my new tenant!" Danielle explained, feeling a relieved delight. "Lives in 223c. You said you worked here but I didn't think I'd see you today!"
Jim smiled, all bashful. "Ah it's alright. I thought the same." He glanced towards Sherlock. The consulting detective had not stopped staring intently.
Molly piped in. "Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes."
Jim walked around the table. He wasn't paying much attention to Molly, instead focused on Sherlock. It was the kind of look that would've made anyone else suspicious. Sherlock gave him a once over before ignoring him. "Ah!"
"And, uh..." Molly motioned towards John. "Sorry."
"John Watson. Hi."
"Hi." Jim was still eyeing Sherlock. "The new neighbors." Danielle was happy they were being introduced. It was always great for neighbors to meet. That was how she'd gotten along with Sherlock and John. "So you're Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you. You on one of your cases?"
Sherlock said nothing.
Jim stepped closer with his eyes never wavering from Sherlock. John was forced to move back making space. John exchanged a glance with Danielle. Danielle understood the confusion- John just didn't know much about Jim. Sherlock was pointedly looking more towards the microscope and the computer screen.
"Jim works in I.T. upstairs." Molly explained- ignoring the tension growing between the three men. "That's how we met. Office romance."
Danielle gasped. "You're the girl he met?" Molly shared a giggle with Jim, nodding at Danielle. "Oh that's so lovely!"
"Gay."
On instinct, Danielle tightened her fists. She was not a big fighter. Unless you insulted her brother- Felix- who Danielle had always known was gay and was always willing to...Mycroft-style handle someone who insulted her brother. She had ruined her own brother's relationship with a really nice girl because Paul had said things about Felix.
She realized that Sherlock hadn't meant it as an insult against Jim. Danielle relaxed herself. She had no reason to punch Sherlock yet-
Oh. Right. Jim was dating Molly.
She may have reason to punch Sherlock.
Her bright smile faded. "Sorry, what?" Molly asked.
Sherlock looked up, as if surprised he had spoken out loud. Or that maybe this wasn't the right time to deduce something, and instead he was supposed to say hello. "Nothing." He smiled too politely, too falsely. "Um, hey."
Jim's smile was much more polite, and unaffected. Ah, he didn't even mind Sherlock's deductions! That's nice. "Hey." Jim went to lean over on the lab counter, instead hitting a metal dish. It fell to the floor with a loud clatter. "Sorry! Sorry!"
Danielle winced. Oh, what a terrible first impression. It had gone so well when he met John here. 'You can't win them all', Danielle told herself.
Jim put the metal dish back on the counter. Sherlock was glaring towards Danielle, as if blaming her for the stupidity beside him. Danielle didn't blame him. She looked over at John to give him a silent apology. John was avoiding looking at anyone, running his hand over his face.
Jim walked back over to Molly. "Well, I'd better be off. I'll see you at The Fox, 'bout six-ish?"
"Yeah!"
Jim gave Molly a half hug. He glanced back to Sherlock once more. "'Bye."
"'Bye." Molly replied.
"It was nice to meet you." Jim told Sherlock, who continued to ignore him.
"You too." John spoke in his stead.
The landlady winced. "Bye Jim." Danielle tried to give a bit of cheer back into Jim. Yeah he had basically bollocks it, but she could keep him cheery.
"Bye Danielle!" Jim waved at her as he walked out the door.
Molly waited until Jim had left to turn to Sherlock. "What d'you mean, gay? We're together."
Sherlock turned his head towards her. "And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly. You've put on three pounds since I last saw you."
Molly frowned, uncomfortable. "Two and a half."
"Nuh, three." Sherlock corrected.
John and Danielle tried to stop him at the same time. "Sherlock-" "No-"
"He's not gay. Why'd you have to spoil-! He's not." Molly insisted.
"With that level of personal grooming?" Sherlock dismissed.
"Because he puts a bit of product in his hair? I put product in my hair." John countered.
"You wash your hair. There's a difference." Sherlock explained. "No-no – tinted eyelashes; clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines; those tired clubber's eyes. Then there's his underwear."
"His underwear?" Molly pointed out.
"Visible above the waistline-very visible; very particular brand." Sherlock reached for the metal dish. "That, plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish here." He pulled out a small business card, holding it up for all to see. Danielle wanted to hug the shocked Molly. "And I'd say you'd better break it off now and save yourself the pain."
Danielle went to hug the poor ME. Molly was already out the door before Danielle could get close. "Damn..."
"Charming. Well done." John scolded Sherlock.
Danielle pinched her head, trying to quell off the coming wave of emotions. "Just saving her time. Isn't that kinder?" Sherlock asked.
"'Kinder'? No, no, Sherlock. That wasn't kind." John scolded.
Danielle took a deep breath. "Is he decent enough for Felix?" If Sherlock was just going to be a berk, she might as well check for this. Sherlock tossed her the card. She wasn't able to catch it. "Thanks."
"Danielle!" John asked. He had apparently hoped that Danielle would be on his side for this.
Danielle shrugged. "He's not going to apologize, he thinks he's in the right! Least he's not saying- I don't know, that Jim cheats or is a secret murderer person. And it's not even breaking bro code if my bro dates him."
John was done with the both of them. Clearly, he wasn't going to win this fight.
Sherlock saw that unless he straightened this out, he was living in a doghouse. So he lifted up one of the shoes, dropping it in front of John and moved the other in front of Danielle. "Go on, then." Sherlock prompted.
Danielle stared blankly at it.
John did too. "Mmm?"
"You know what I do. Off you go." Sherlock explained. He sat back, as if waiting for them to start deductions.
Danielle's eyes widened when she realized that.
"No." John countered.
"Go on." Sherlock encouraged.
"I'm not gonna stand here so you can humiliate me while I try and disseminate-" John argued.
"Outside eyes, second opinions. It's very useful to me." Sherlock told him.
John scoffed. "Yeah, right."
"Really." Sherlock insisted.
John stared at him for a long moment. He seemed to look towards Danielle for guidance. Danielle could only give him a reassuring smile. She was going to inspect the trainer. She couldn't feel any worse, really.
John gave in. "Fine." He picked up the other trainer.
Danielle lifted up her's. "It's a trainer." She noted.
"Yeah, I dunno..." John tossed the shoe back and forth in his hands. "Just trainers."
"Good." Sherlock picked up his phone.
"They look nice." Danielle praised. "But not new."
"No?" John glanced up.
Danielle shook her head. Her brothers had been obsessed with shoes, but it was her sister that kept her up to date on it all. Have to know which shoes are good for gifts on the holidays, Lilly was always good for that. Danielle hadn't seen any shoes that looked like this in a long while. "Yeah, they're old ones."
John checked his shoe over again. "Yeah...the sole has been well-worn, so the owner must have had them for a while."
Sherlock let out a relieved breath. Apparently, Danielle was the only one with a shred of sense. John was learning which was a bonus.
"Uh, they're very eighties-probably one of those retro designs." John noted.
"Yes!" Danielle cheered. "Wow...that is old."
"You're in sparkling form. What else?" Sherlock encouraged.
She checked the inside. It didn't even smell off. "The size...it looks like an adult shoe, but..."
"Well, they're quite big, so a man's." John explained.
"But...?" Sherlock prompted Danielle.
Danielle sighed. "I remember fighting with my brothers all the time about shoe sizes. These are marked in as big as a child's can go before making them for adults."
John checked the shoe to confirm. He noticed something. "And there's traces of a name inside in felt-tip. Adults don't write their names inside their shoes, so these belonged to a kid."
Sherlock beamed at the both of them. "Excellent. What else?"
"It's for a boy." Danielle cheered. "Like, a big boy. Girls sneakers in the 80's had more color, and princesses. These are boring. Good for sport, I'd say. Looking like this, means he had to take care of them." Paul had put in a lot of effort to keep his shoes looking nice. Felix was the sort to keep them together with tape. These shoes looked like the best of Paul's- Mum probably still had them tucked away somewhere.
"Yes?" Sherlock focused on her. "What else?"
John was looking between them, trying to hide the confused look on his face. He didn't want to admit he hadn't noticed anything else.
"Well the name is smudged...doesn't want you to cheat." Danielle noted. She eyed Sherlock. "Why do I get the feeling that doesn't matter?"
Sherlock grinned. "John?"
"Uh." John glanced at Danielle. She was smiling proud at him, like a child who earned a gold star in class. "...that's it."
"That's it?"
"How did I do?" John asked, knowing the answer wouldn't be great.
"Well, John; really well. Danielle you as well." Sherlock put his phone down. "I mean, you missed almost everything of importance, but, um, you know." He held up his hands.
Danielle pouted, handing the trainer back over. John did too. Sherlock pointedly put down John's shoe, still holding Danielle's.
"You were right, Danielle. The owner loved these." Sherlock praised. Some of Danielle's pep came back. "Scrubbed them clean, whitened them where they got discoloured. Changed the laces three...no, four times."
Danielle beamed with pride. She got it right! It felt really good to get it right. John looked less than pleased, but still.
"Even so, there are traces of his flaky skin where his fingers have come into contact with them, so he suffered from eczema." Sherlock explained. "Shoes are well-worn, more so on the inside, which means the owner had weak arches. British-made, twenty years old."
"Twenty years?" John asked.
"They're not retro-they're original." Sherlock explained. He picked his phone back up, showing the both of them an image he had taken. "Limited edition: two blue stripes, 1989."
Danielle would've been...seven.
"But there's still mud on them. They look new." John pointed out.
"Someone's kept them that way." Sherlock explained. "Quite a bit of mud caked on the soles. Analysis shows it's from Sussex, with London mud overlaying it."
"You can tell that by looking?" Danielle asked.
Sherlock nodded towards the computer. It showed results, blinking out among the drab map. "Pollen. Clear as a map reference to me. South of the river, too. So, the kid who owned these trainers came to London from Sussex twenty years ago and left them behind."
"So what happened to him?" John asked.
"Something bad." Sherlock stated, as it was obvious. "He loved those shoes, remember. He'd never leave them filthy. Wouldn't leave them go unless he had to. So, a child with big feet gets..." Sherlock stopped, his eyes widened just a bit as understanding fell over his face. "Oh."
"What?" John asked.
"Carl Powers." Sherlock recalled.
The name shot through her like a bullet. Danielle sat up straight, taught as his violin strings. She remembered that name. She remembered it very well.
John did not. Not that Danielle expected him to remember, or to even know. "Sorry, who?"
"What did you say?" Danielle asked, surprised.
"Carl Powers, John, Danielle." Sherlock repeated.
"What is it?" John asked.
"How do you know about Carl Powers?" She pressed. She shouldn't have been surprised, really.
"It's where I began."
==NKMHLY==
They were in a taxi right now, headed back towards Baker Street.
"1989, a young kid-champion swimmer-came up from Brighton for a school sports tournament; drowned in the pool. Tragic accident." Sherlock explained. He held up his phone, showing the other two his phone. "You shouldn't remember it." He addressed Danielle. "Why do you?"
"But you remember." John pointed out.
"Yes." Sherlock replied, his tone asking why he would have forgotten a case like this.
"Something fishy about it?" John asked, glancing at the both of them.
"Nothing really. It happened before we moved out." Danielle admitted. Sherlock and John gave her their attention. "I was only seven, but I remember Mum getting so scared when she heard about it. That's why I remember him dying, the only kid to ever make Mum scared. We were gone before his funeral. I barely remember him."
There wasn't much special about Carl Powers that Danielle remembered. He had been an older boy, so Danielle never saw much of him. He was part of the popular kids, of that she remembered. There had been excitement about the swimming tournament, everyone in school was really hoping for the win. But when it came out that Carl had died, the entire school went into mourning. Her parents had moved them away before that.
"Mum said there was nothing special about how he died." Danielle recalled in confusion.
"Nobody thought so-nobody except me. I was only a kid myself. I read about it in the papers." Sherlock carried on.
"Started young, didn't you?" John noted.
"The boy, Carl Powers, had some kind of fit in the water, but by the time they got him out it was too late. But there was something wrong; something I couldn't get out of my head." Sherlock explained.
"What was it?" Danielle asked.
"His shoes."
"What about them?" John asked.
"They weren't there." Sherlock answered. "I made a fuss; I tried to get the police interested, but nobody seemed to think it was important. He'd left all the rest of his clothes in his locker, but there was no sign of his shoes..." He held up the bag. The two trainers were helpfully packed up. "...until now."
==NKMHLY==
She had just returned from tending to her pets. Sherlock had his purple shirt on- it was much easier to be distracted in the flat. Danielle needed a breath.
She returned to the flat to find Sherlock invested in the case. Printouts of Carl Powers were everywhere around his computer. It was like looking at her childhood through a funhouse mirror. Or...or maybe like she had been watching her childhood through a small window that had been kicked down into something big. Danielle wasn't seeing it through a funhouse mirror- it was a rearview, and she didn't like it.
Maybe it was a good idea her family had moved away. Shame they hadn't done it sooner. Otherwise, she wouldn't have heard of Carl Powers.
(Well until now. She wouldn't have until now. But otherwise, she would've bee fine.)
"Danielle, you're back." John cheered.
A smile was on her face, and a cheery greeting before she could even stop it. "He need any help?" She was able to offer.
John looked over at Sherlock. His flatmate hadn't noticed them.
"You hear that? Now you've got two people that want to help." John explained. "There's only five hours left."
Danielle heard a phone ping. It was a boring ping, so it can't have come from her phone. John pulled out his, reading it.
"It's your brother. He's texting me now." John explained. "How does he know my number?"
Danielle pulled out her phone, checking it. "Must be a root canal." Sherlock reasoned.
There wasn't any text on her phone. "Why hasn't he texted me?" Danielle wondered.
"Look, he did say 'national importance.'" John told Sherlock.
Sherlock snorted, like a small giggle. Danielle thought it was adorable. She blamed this feeling entirely on his purple shirt. It had no business looking so cute. "How quaint. There's your answer, Danielle."
"Hmm?"
"What is?" John asked.
"You are. Queen and country." Sherlock giggled again. They were going to have words if he kept that up!
"You can't just ignore it." John insisted.
"I'm not ignoring it. Putting my best people onto it right now." Sherlock replied.
Danielle smiled. "See, John? It's all under control." She gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder.
John nodded. "Right. Good." He frowned, turning to Sherlock. "Who are they?"
==NKMHLY==
Danielle should have known better. He had been too nice, smiling way too widely for this to be anything other than a trap.
John had worn a suit and tie. He had insisted when hearing he was going to meet Mycroft. Danielle had stayed in her dark purple jumper, and long jeans with boots. She didn't care if she looked that fancy for this. She was still angry at Mycroft for going through her flat, phone, and god knows what else.
"You could've tried...you know...dressing up." John noted.
"You could've too." He was just...it was a bit much, wasn't it? The suit and tie were adorable on him, though it wasn't the worst suit she had ever seen. He was trying a lot for Mycroft. Just for Mycroft, which...it wasn't really fair. John had walked in before Danielle could start yelling at Mycroft for it...
Yeah she was gonna yell. There- it would've been loud. Danielle would make Mycroft feel guilty. A high order, but she would've done it. She could've done it. Shut up.
John shifted in his seat. Danielle glanced at him. She was about to ask something- apparently John working up the same courage. Both of them were silenced by the door to the office opening up.
"John. Danielle." Mycroft walked over to his desk. John stood up for a polite greeting. Danielle fought the urge for a full five seconds before giving in. "How nice. I was hoping you wouldn't be long."
Mycroft wasn't even giving them the time of day. He walked by them both, not giving them a single glance. Danielle wasn't going to literally stand for that. She sat herself back down, crossing her arms over her chest.
"How can I help you?" He waved his hand, like a ponce. He was a ponce. Mycroft was an enormous ponce, and she was gonna tell Sherlock that when she went back home.
"Thank you." John said to Mycroft as he sat back down. "Um, well, we were wanting to...um, your brother sent us to collect more facts about the stolen plans, the missile plans."
Mycroft glanced at them both. He clearly knew the truth. He was too smug about being the smarter one to say anything. "Did he?"
"Yes." John lied. Quite poorly too. "He's investigating now."
While Mycroft was a ponce, John wasn't. Danielle was willing to stand by his side. "He's working on the case. Big one, you know how he gets. We're both too stupid to hang around when he's like this."
Mycroft wasn't paying much attention to what she was saying. Instead, he focused on his jaw.
"Westie was his name, you said?" Danielle asked. She was curious about the pain in his jaw. Was everything alright? He should get that...oh. "Have anything to add? About Westie, I mean. Not how we're both too stupid."
"Uh, twenty-seven; a clerk at Vauxhall Cross- er, MI6. He was involved in the Bruce-Partington Programme in a minor capacity. Security checks A-OK; no known terrorist affiliations or sympathies. Last seen by his fiancée at ten thirty yesterday evening." Mycroft explained.
"Right. He was found at Battersea, yes? So he got on the train." John reasoned.
"No."
John and Danielle blinked. "What?"
"He had an Oyster card." He winced. He reached for his chin, rubbing the skin. Danielle remembered what Sherlock had said. It was a miracle that Mycroft was up and about. "...but it hadn't been used."
"Must have bought a ticket." John stated.
"There was no ticket on the body." Mycroft smiled smugly again. Danielle wanted to grab his umbrella then hit him with it.
"Then-"
"Then how did he end up with a bashed-in brain on the tracks at Battersea? That is the question – the one I was rather hoping Sherlock would provide an answer to." Mycroft gave Danielle another curious stare. That fucking look of 'I'll pat your head if you're good' was back. How's he getting on?"
"Well he called his stupid, and made us leave the flat to come talk to you so you could tell us how badly you need help." Danielle explained with a wide smile. Her own kind of smug, the kind of smug that was from one eldest sibling to another. The kind that said- I was better at getting out of trouble from Mum. "I think it's going great."
Mycroft's smile was thinner now.
==NKMHLY==
There were only three hours left. Danielle had made sure to report all her jokes to Sherlock about it. Including the bit about mycroft screwing up the job and practically begging for help. An overstatement, but he was a Holmes. This looked a lot like begging from a Holmes brother.
Sherlock had only given her a grin before diving back into the trainers. Well not literally diving, he had cut them up too much for them to be useful like that. And, yeah, the boy who had worn them had died diving so maybe saying 'diving' wasn't the best.
She used all her best bits on Mycroft, okay?
Danielle was making tea for everyone. She was much more chipper about it than she had been for Mycroft. She was just handing them out when Sherlock snapped up.
"Poison." Sherlock realized.
"No, it's just tea." Danielle countered.
Sherlock slammed his hand on the table. Danielle was happy the tea didn't spill. "Clostridium botulinum!"
Danielle turned to John. "He's gone mad."
"It's one of the deadliest poisons on the planet!" Sherlock explained. When his flatmate and neighbor showed no understanding, Sherlock was fed up. "Carl Powers!"
"Oh, wait, are you saying he was murdered?" John realized.
"I thought that was the whole point!" Danielle asked. "That he was murdered. Did I miss the bit where we were unsure?"
Sherlock ignored Danielle's question. He walked over to where he had hung up ths shoelaces. "Remember the shoelaces?" John and Danielle made noises of agreement. "The boy suffered from eczema. It'd be the easiest thing in the world to introduce the poison into his medication. Two hours later he comes up to London, the poison takes effect, paralyses the muscles and he drowns."
"Wait, nobody noticed that?" Danielle asked. "A poison, isn't that what they look for?"
"What-how-how come the autopsy didn't pick that up?" John asked.
"It's virtually undetectable. Nobody would have been looking for it." Sherlock walked past John and Danielle to get back to his laptop. Danielle looked over his shoulder. His blog was up, running a new blog post. He typed out 'FOUND. Pair of trainers belonging to Carl Powers (1978-1989).'
He had been eleven.
When Danielle was eleven, she was celebrating Lilly and Felix's first birthday. She was playing in parks with her dad. She was arguing with Paul about who got to use the swings first.
"But there were still tiny traces of it left inside the trainers from where he put the cream on his feet." 'Botulinum toxin still present. Apply 221b Baker St.'
He posted it, standing up straight. Danielle realized a lot of things after that. Like...he was still wearing the purple shirt. That just happened to match with her purple sweater. And...he was...that shirt was very tight.
Damn.
Danielle was supposed to be stronger than this.
Remember, Carl Powers had been eleven. Danielle had been seven.
"That's why they had to go." Sherlock explained.
"So how do we let the bomber know-" John began.
Sherlock cut him off. "Get his attention." John hummed.
"The blog post?" Danielle reasoned.
Sherlock nodded. He checked his watch. "...stop the clock."
"The killer kept the shoes all these years." John pointed out.
Danielle looked over to those very shoes. The ones that belonged to someone who had gone to her school, had walked the same halls she had, Danielle may have sat in his desk in the earlier years. She had not known him, but knowing of him had shifted her world.
He had only been eleven.
"Yes." Sherlock turned to his flatmate. "Meaning?"
"He's our bomber." John reasoned.
"Why would someone do that to a little boy?" Danielle wondered. "Use the most deadly poison on him? There's...there's easier ways to kill someone." She had spent enough time watching cops shows and hanging around with Sherlock to know that.
"Doesn't matter." Sherlock dismissed.
It mattered a bit. It had to. Nobody just kills a kid without good reason, or at least good to them. Somebody had killed an eleven year old boy, then kept his sneakers for twenty years. Danielle still had stuff from that time, tucked away in little boxes in her flat. Paul still had his Star Trek pen. You don't keep things from that far back unless they meant something.
But Danielle couldn't get the words right. So she stayed silent. It was hard to explain why she thought someone had a good reason to kill a boy. It just didn't sound great.
The pink phone went off. Danielle's breath caught in her throat. Sherlock answered the phone, playing it on speaker phone. The woman on the other end was desperately sobbing.
"Well done, you. Come and get me." She started sobbing again. Maybe in relief...or dismay as she still didn't believe she would be saved.
"Where are you? Tell us where you are." Sherlock instructed.
As the woman did so, Danielle tried not to look at the shoes of the dead boy.
He had been eleven.
Her mom was so freaked out over him dying- in a different town at that- to move them out. It couldn't be a case of 'doesn't matter', not if it scared Clarice Nolan.
==NKMHLY==
Despite Sherlock's insistence, Danielle wanted to be there when they brought the woman in. She had heard that woman sobbing to the point of desperation. She needed to see for herself that the woman was okay. She had watched one woman greet death with tears, she had to know the next one hadn't died.
She was met by Lestrade.
"Danielle Nolan! What brings you by?" Lestrade asked.
Danielle straightened out her sweater sleeves. "Heard our hostage was coming back in, so I thought I would check her out."
"And where is himself?" Lestrade asked.
Danielle shrugged. "Ignoring me, probably. I reminded him feelings exist."
"Yeah, that would do it." Lestrade noted. He nodded his head towards the office.
Danielle followed behind him. She sat herself down in a chair, waiting patiently. It wasn't that long of a wait. Lestrade was talking to her about anything that Sherlock had found before he made the blog post. It had mostly been information on Carl Powers.
She was explaining the toxin in the shoelaces with Lestrade when a horrifyingly familiar shriek filled the room.
"Freaky Danielle Nolan?!" A long forgotten voice screeched.
Danielle gasped. She turned towards the voice, seeing a brunette woman wearing an orange shock blanket. "It can't be...Catherine Alderney?" The landlady asked in surprise.
The apparent victim of the bomb vest glared so heatedly at Danielle that she wondered if Catherine would explode regardless of the vest. She did, in fact. "What the bloody hell are you doing here? Did you have something to do with this? Did you do this?"
Danielle's jaw dropped in shock. "Wha...why...why wou...why?" She couldn't get proper words.
Catherine snarled at her. "You did this. I know you did! You were such a freak back then, always talking about- about gross disgusting things- guess you never stopped! You just had to get back at me didn't you?!"
"I don't even know where you live!" Danielle tried to defend herself. "I forgot most of you when I moved!" She turned to Lestrade. "I swear, I did nothing to her! I wouldn't!"
"Don't you listen to her!" Catherine shouted. The officers around her tried to keep her calm. One kept a firm yet not harsh hold on her arm, to keep her from lashing out at Nolan. "She's done this! I know she has!"
Danielle watched, stunned, as Catherine was guided into another room in the back.
==NKMHLY==
AN: Woof...this one took awhile. There are still another four pips to go...anybody else terrified? Good.
Thanks to olbab2007, Always-be-Batman, TheFanFicFanGirl, Camii098, BlurryMInd, zeynep sevim mete, JellyB3ll, AnSiDa, b00kw0rm3, for favoriting
Thanks to Dangerouslytyrant, olbab2007, ericabati, TheFanFicFanGirl, Jessica St Godard, Camii098, Lapetitefillepanda, AnSiDa, Gee YA, for following