The Reichenbach Fall

Silence in the Court

"Crown vs Moriarty, please proceed to court ten," Rose heard over the intercom, looking around the hallway in her anxious state as she hoped Sherlock would hurry up.

They had gotten ready that morning, Sherlock and John in their smartest suits, while she had worn the outfit she'd specifically bought for such occasions; a deep black pencil skirt and heels, the blue silk blouse adding a splash of colour and sophistication to the look.

She hated it.

However, for the purpose of trials – since John had reminded her that she would need to dress appropriately – it would do for the day. Wearing it like a disguise, today she would have to pretend she was a higher-class lady as opposed to the brash but highly effective person she truly was. If I have to pretend for a little while, so be it, she'd thought with a sigh, though the shocked looked on her flatmates face had been worth the wardrobe change.

But now, stood in the hallway of the courts, Rose tapped her foot impatiently against the marble floor as she waited for her boss to be finished in the bathroom, wondering why he was taking so long. Impatient, she approached the men's door.

"Sherlock, hurry up will you." She called loudly, banging on the door. "They're about to start!"

She wondered if what John had said in the car had gotten to him and briefly recalled the conversation between the two men during their police escort as she'd sat in the front wishing she could have a cigarette to calm her nerves.

John had taken a breath as he looked out the window at the world flying past them. "Remember what they told you." He said to his friends. "Don't try to be clever. Just keep it simple and brief."

"God forbid the star witness in the trial should come across as intelligent..." Sherlock muttered in response to the warning.

Rose sighed at his mutterings. "Intelligent is fine. Let's give smart arse a wide berth."

Considering their words, Sherlock had just looked out the window. "I'll just be myself."

"Are you listening to us?" John questioned, the implication clear to them all. Rose knew it was in vain though; Sherlock would do what he wanted.

A loud bang bringing her back to the present, the young woman saw the door open and close again with a slam and wondered what he was playing at. "Sherlock...? We've got to go!" she called.

It was only a few seconds later that the door opened, a very irritated Sherlock walking straight past her but as she was used to his fast pace, she was on his heels quickly as they headed to the court room. "What took you so long?"

"Journalist." He answered briefly.

Looking back, she saw a smaller woman leaving the men's toilets, badly disguised as a fan and looking very disappointed. "Naughty boy... I think you've upset her." She told him as they turned the corner, though her tone was more amused than scolding.

Sherlock just opened the doors to the court – thankfully seeing that they were right on time. "Oops..." He told her, getting a smirk for his trouble.

Ten minutes later, they were seated and the trial had begun, Sherlock being the first to take the stand.

"A consulting criminal?" The barrister started as Sherlock agreed briefly. "Your words, but can you expand on that answer?"

"James Moriarty is for hire." Sherlock expanded, trying to keep his answer brief as John had told him.

The barrister raised her eyebrows at him under her ridiculous wig. "A tradesman?"

"Yes..." Sherlock agreed, though thinking the description didn't really do the man justice.

"But not the sort who'd fix your heating?" The woman prompted further.

"No, the sort who'd plant a bomb or stage an assassination." The Consulting Detective clarified, before giving a shadow of a smirk. "But I'm sure he'd make a pretty good job of your boiler."

"Would you describe him as-" The barrister started, however found herself cut off by the man she was questioning.

"Leading." He informed her, trying to help, but it evidently wasn't the way to go about it.

She paused, looking at him. "What?"

"Can't do that, you're leading the witness." Sherlock informed her, nodding at the defence. "He'll object and the Judge will uphold."

"Mr Holmes!" The Judge called, shocked at the events unfolding.

Rose however knew the warning was in vain, having given the same warning herself many times, only to be ignored. Whispering to John, she leaned over. "Who said it would be a good idea for him to brush up on his court skills...?" John however wasn't amused at his friend's antics and just rolled his eyes at her.

"Ask me how." Sherlock told the woman questioning him, patience at the pace of the questioning starting to irritate him a little. "How would I describe him, what opinion I've formed of him; did they not teach you this?"

Even more shocked at the witness advising the court in this manner, the Judge spoke up once more. "Mr Holmes, we're fine without your help."

Still leaning towards John, Rose thought she'd make things a little more interesting for them. "Tenner says he's held in contempt."

Looking at her with an eyebrow raised, John pulled his mouth to the side, pondering his chances. "You're on." He replied in a quiet whisper, knowing that somehow – despite his rude and childish ways – Sherlock always seemed to get away with his insanity.

Continuing with her line of questioning, the barrister collected herself. "How would you describe this man then, his character?"

"First mistake." Sherlock said with a cold smile. "James Moriarty isn't a man at all, he's a spider. A spider at the centre of a web. A criminal web, with a thousand threads and he knows precisely how each and every one of them dances."

Rose and John shared a look at his words, not willing to risk a whisper in the intense silence that had fallen in the courtroom, but both knowing exactly what the other was thinking; dramatic sod.

Taking only a single beat, the barrister continued, though soon found herself cut off again. "And how long-"

"No, no, don't..." Sherlock tried to tell her, knowing it was now probably too late. "Don't do that, that's not a good question."

"Mr Holmes..." Came another warning from the Judge who seemed like he was starting to lose his patience with the young man on the stand; he always run a tight court after all, gaining a reputation for not putting up with any sort of indiscretion in his trials. He'd never seen this type of behaviour however.

"How long have I known him? Not really your best line of enquiry." He told the barrister, but continued on to the larger room anyway. "We met twice, five minutes in total; I pulled a gun, he tried to blow me up. I felt we had a special something."

"Miss Sorrel, are you seriously claiming this man is an expert?" Questioned the Judge with a look of confusion to the barrister who was trying her best not to let her composure slip. "After knowing the accused for just five minutes?"

"Two minutes would have made me an expert." Sherlock confirmed as he looked to the Judge. "Five was ample."

The Judge did not seem to agree though. "Mr Holmes, that's a matter for the jury!"

Boredom starting to creep in, the onlookers were shocked – apart from the occupants of 221B – as the man looked to the Judge. "Oh really?" Looking over to the jury themselves, Sherlock started to rattle off in his typical fashion, not seeing as John sighed and brought a hand to his face while Rose smirked beside him, both in pride at the abilities of her boss, and in having just won ten pounds from her friend. "One librarian, two teachers, two high pressure jobs - probably the city. Foreman's a medical secretary, trained abroad judging by her short hand." While he did hear the Judge's exclamation, Sherlock just continued, not wanting to leave his deductions unfinished. "Seven are married, two having an affair - with each other it would seem! Oh, and they've just had tea and biscuits; do you want to know who ate the wafer?"

"Mr Holmes!" Shouted the Judge, temper lost by this point. "You've been called here to answer Miss Sorrel's questions, not give us a display of your intellectual prowess! Keep your answers brief and to the point. Anything else will be treated as contempt. Do you think you could survive for just a few minutes without showing off?!"

Sherlock looked to the judge – who was obviously fuming – to his friends in the gallery above the court, John giving him a warning look as his assistant only sat smirking, knowing him far too well to even bother with a warning at this point, while Jim only gave him a cold twitch of the lips, amused at how the events were unfolding.

As Rose's smirk grew wider, Sherlock took a breath and she had the distinct thought that while the proceedings had started in a strict, almost intimidating manner with how formal and dramatic it all was, now she was only reminded of a class of pre-school children; they didn't all think the same, but when one kid got that spot light, no amount of scolding would stop him from showing off for anyone around him.

A few hours later, the trial was over for the day, and Sherlock had long been carted off to the cells to think about his actions. As his friends made their way out of the court room, John looked to his companion.

"Should we go and bail him out then?" He asked her, stretching his shoulders which were stiff from having been sat in one place for so long.

Rose just raised an eyebrow at the good doctor. "Let get something to eat first, I'm starving."

John just looked at her in shock. "Really?"

"What?" She asked, trying to dispel his worry. "Listen, another hour or two won't do him any harm, we have plenty of time and a few hours Sherlock free to have a spot of dinner won't hurt him."

"Fine..." John said, not seeing the harm, but also not wanting to be too long. "But not too long, okay?"

Smirking, Rose set her mind to the coffee shop around the corner, thinking that if John wanted something quicker, a coffee and a sandwich would probably be best.

John however was still trying to understand her reaction. He had been sure she'd be the first one down to the jail to free her boss, but apparently not. Seems she's becoming rather independent of the strange man these days, the doctor thought to himself, wondering if it was good thing or not that she was starting to break away from her mentor.

And so – an hour after the trail was closed for the day – John and Rose made their way through the hallways towards the desk at the end of the little maze, the officer sat behind it looking up at their approach. "We're here for Sherlock Holmes?"

"Oh, thank god..." The guard muttered, glad to be rid of at least one of the unnerving men in his cells. "One moment."

Frowning at his reaction, Rose and John simply looked at each other wondering what on earth Sherlock could have done in such a short space of time to wind up the guards like this. As the guard came back out with the man in question however, Rose saw how the guard wouldn't look Sherlock in the eye as he passed some papers to the man. Looks like Sherlock probably learned a little too much, she thought with a slight smirk. "Sign this?"

As Sherlock sorted out his paperwork, John just looked at him. "What did I say?"

"Don't get clever, wasn't it John?" Rose chipped in.

"That was it." John confirmed, obvious look on his features. "I said, don't get clever!"

"I can't just turn it on and off like a tap," Sherlock grumbled to them.

Rose knew him well enough though. "You still know better..."

Throwing a cold glare at his cheeky assistant – getting only an eye roll in return – he turned to John as a friendlier source of information. "Well?"

"Well, what?" John asked, not quite knowing what he was asking.

"You two were there for the whole thing." Sherlock clarified, taking his belongings form the man behind the counter before turning to lead them home again. "Up in the gallery, from start to finish."

Getting what the madman was aiming at, John pulled an obvious face. "Just like you said it would be."

"The defence just sat on his backside," Rose confirmed. "Never even stirred."

Sherlock nodded, glancing back to her. "Which means?"

"Moriarty's not mounting any defence." She told them lowly, internally rolling her eyes at the man who was always testing her.

Not long later, the three flat mates where home once more, John sitting in his chair, Sherlock pacing as he thought, and Rose going to put the kettle on; their usual routine in every way.

"Bank of England, Tower of London, Pentonville." John listed for them, starting the verbal train of thought on it's way, knowing they'd just think quietly otherwise. "Three of the most secure places in the country and six weeks ago Moriarty breaks in."

"No one knows how," Rose continued, bring them a cup of coffee each. "Or why."

"Thanks," said John briefly. "All we do know is-"

"He ended up in custody," Sherlock finished, knowing look on his features as he looked between his friends.

Rose knew the look well and had already been toying with the same conclusion, but it seemed the look had unnerved the good doctor somewhat. "Don't do that..."

"Do what?" Sherlock questioned, not following his friend's words.

John pointed to the face in question. "The look."

Sherlock was confused even more so. "Look?"

"You're doing the look again." John told him.

"Well, I can't see it, can I?" Sherlock asked, confusion on his face as he looked to his best friend, who had now indicated to the mirror next to him. Looking at its reflective surface, he only saw himself, slight confusion in his eyes. "It's my face."

"Yes," Confirmed the doctor. "And it's doing a thing."

Rose – trying not to laugh at their banter – thought she'd help John out. "It's the we all know what's going on here face."

"Well, we do!" Sherlock said.

Rose nodded at him. "I do."

"No - I don't!" John told them, frown in place. "Which is why I find the face so annoying."

Sherlock just rolled his eyes at his best friend. "If Moriarty wanted the jewels, he'd have them."

"And if he'd wanted those prisoners freed," Rose added, falling into a familiar rhythm automatically. "They'd be out of the streets."

"The only reason he's still in a prison cell right now, is because he chose to be there." Sherlock finished off.

"Exactly," Rose confirmed before frowning at her boss. "But why?"

"Somehow, this is part of his scheme." Sherlock said as he paused a beat before heading to throw himself on the sofa, thinking he needed to go through it all through again from the beginning.

Rose just frowned more. "And that includes being sat in a jail cell while his face is plastered all over the news in the biggest – yet most predictable – trial in the world?"

Getting no answer from the thinking man, Rose just went to sit opposite John while she drank her tea and thought things over as well.

Sherlock had certainly heard her though and pondered her words; the consulting criminal was being plastered all of the media, across the world. There wouldn't be an organisation who didn't know who he was by the end of this, he thought, the pieces starting to fall into place slightly.

This wasn't the only deduction he had caught onto though. Rose is right; this was all far too predictable, too easy.

As he frowned at the conclusion he came to, he vaguely noticed that his flat mates had long since turned in for the night. Glad that they weren't there to see his concern over his latest deduction, he let some of the worry slip onto his features at the thought that crept into his mind.

Moriarty is going to walk.