I'm going to try to bring in some non-scripted parts, some cases- something, just to keep interest up. If you have any ideas- cold cases, interesting cases you've seen on other shows, anything- feel free to suggest them! Anna and Jim will be having some more fun together before the Pool Scene, no worries ; ) I've also plans to introduce Cheyanne here soon, but it's gotta be right.
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or Criminal Minds - just Anna, Blakely and Cheyanne.
Two mornings later, Anna stood with Sherlock, John, Lestrade and the owner of an art gallery—a lady named Miss Wenceslas. Sherlock was muttering to himself about how the painting before them was a fake—that it had to be.
"So, uh," Lestrade cleared his throat," Haven't seen you past couple days. How was your date?"
"Wait—another date?" John questioned, surprised.
Sighing, Anna pinched the bridge of her nose, before answering," Yes, John. Another date. I'm human—and, for the record—he's a great guy. Funny, charming—complete gentleman. We happen to appreciate each others company."
"No, I didn't—" John started, wide-eyed," I'm glad—that you've found someone."
"Thank you—now, can we get back to the matter at hand, please?"
"Right."
"Sorry," Lestrade frowned, looking away awkwardly.
"No, it's—" Anna began, before Sherlock's rambling interrupted her.
"—fake. It has to be."
"That painting has been subjected to every test known to science," Miss Wenceslas said, crossing her arms in front of her.
"It's a very good fake, then," Sherlock muttered, turning around and glaring at her," You know about this, don't you? This is you, isn't it?"
The art director turned to Lestrade, exasperated at Sherlock's accusations.
"Inspector, my time is being wasted. Would you mind showing yourself and your friends out?"
"I apologize on behalf of my brother- he can be quite the handful," Anna told her," Sherlock, let's—"
The pink phone began to ring, causing Sherlock to snatch it from his pocket and switch on the speaker in haste.
"The painting is a fake."
Through the quiet of the room, everyone could hear the faint sound of breathing over the speaker, but otherwise no response came.
"It's a fake! That's why Woodbridge and Cairns were killed."
Still, no response from the phone in Sherlock's hand, causing him to get frustrated.
"Sherl—"
"Oh, come on. Proving it's just the detail. The painting is a fake! I've solved it. I've figured it out. It's a fake! That's the answer. That's why they were killed!"
Again, no answer from the other side of the phone, so Sherlock took a deep, calming breath.
"Okay, I'll prove it. Give me time," Sherlock said, looking up at Anna, Lestrade and John," Will you give me time?"
A moment passed, before a very soft voice rang through the phone, his voice trembling.
"Ten…"
Anna grasped Lestrade's arm in horror, as they all realized who was on the other side of the call. Sherlock, however, spun around quickly and began looking closely at the painting as quick as he could.
"It's a kid. Oh, God, it's a kid!" Lestrade gasped, shock rocking through his body.
"What did he say?" John asked.
"Ten." Sherlock answered his friends question without turning around.
"Nine…"
"He's counting down… giving Sherlock time," Anna whispered, her hand still gripped tight onto Lestrade's arm. She subconsciously lowered her hand to grip around his wrist—watching silently as Sherlock done what he always did.
"The painting's a fake, but how can I prove it? How? How?!"
"Eight."
"This kid will die! Tell me why the painting is a fake. Tell me!" Sherlock exclaimed, glaring towards Miss Wenceslas, who opened and closed her mouth—unable to say anything.
"No, shut up. Don't say anything. It only works if I figure it out." He spun back to face the painting, his eyes scanning every single inch of it- trying desperately to see what was right in front of his face.
"Seven…"
The tension rose; John couldn't take any more, turning and walking away a few steps, pacing back and forth. Lestrade watched briefly before turning his attention to Sherlock once more.
"Must be possible. Bust be staring me in the face."
"Six."
Wordlessly, Sherlock turned around and looked to his sister—silently pleading for her help. Without hesitation, she released Lestrade's wrist and quickly took the spot beside her brother, scanning the painting with him. There was no way she was going to lose this boy.
"Come on," John muttered under his breath.
"Woodbridge knew, but how?!" Sherlock frowned.
"Five."
"It's speeding up!" Lestrade pointed out, much to everyone's horror. Anna felt her heartrate increase—as she scanned every inch, every centimeter—determined to figure out—
Her hand shot out and grasped Sherlock's hand, as her free hand pointed to the corner of the painting, the sky that held the supernova. Sherlock's gaze fell on the tiny white dots of paint that made the supernova, his mouth falling open as it all clicks.
"Four."
"Oh," Sherlock breathed, straightening up.
"Sherlock!" John urgently exclaimed, hoping for a Holmes' provided miracle.
He gave Anna's hand a gentle squeeze as he turns around and shoved the pink phone into John's hand. Sherlock walked away from the painting, grinning as he pulled out his own phone from his pocket.
"In the planetarium! You heard it too. Oh, that is brilliant! That is gorgeous!" Sherlock exclaimed, typing into his phone furiously as everyone watched, their breath still on hold, hoping Sherlock was right.
"What's brilliant? What is?" John asked.
"Three."
Sherlock typed away into his phone, before grinning as he spun back around, laughing in delight.
"This is beautiful. I love this!"
"Sherlock! Now is not the time!" Anna exclaimed.
"Two…"
"Sherlock!" Lestrade furiously called out, just as Sherlock grabbed the pink phone from John and yelled into it.
"The Van Buren Supernova!"
Everyone waited with bated breath for what seemed like forever—until—
"Please. Is somebody there?"
Collective sighs of relief were heard, before Sherlock passed the phone to Lestrade.
"Somebody, help me!"
"There you go. Go find out where he is and pick him up."
Sherlock gave John a long look, before turning and pointing to the white dots in the sky of the painting," The Van Buren Supernova, so-called."
"I don't get it," John questioned, still confused.
"Van Buren's also known as the Exploding Star," Anna explained," It only appeared in the sky in eighteen fifty-eight."
Sherlock threw Miss Wenceslas a triumphant look before walking away, John taking a closer step to the painting.
"So how could it have been painted in the sixteen forties?" John asked, looking over his shoulder at Anna, who just gave him a pointed look. Realization dawned on him, causing him to mutter," Oh…"
John grinned over his shoulder at Miss Wenceslas, then back to the painting—just as his phone gives an alert. Digging it out, he looked at the message—his expression dropping slightly.
"What is it?"
"Mycroft. 'My patience is wearing thin.'" John quoted, before repocketing his phone. Giving the painting one last look, John looked towards where Sherlock had disappeared, sighing.
"Come on," Anna told him, causing him to look at her with hope," I've got the rest of the day off. I'll help you what whatever my brothers got you caught up in. Besides, believe me—the last thing we need is an ill-tempered Mycroft."
"Oh, bless you—" John breathed a sigh of relief," You're the best, you do know that?"
"Compared to my brothers? Yeah. Yeah, I know," Anna chuckled, as the two walked out of the gallery.
"Hey, how did you know about the supernova?" John asked," You weren't at the planetarium with Sherlock and I."
"Hmm? Oh—at Uni, I took a few classes in Art History."
"Of course you did," John chuckled, not at all surprised.