Chapter 7

Moran opened the suitcase. Then he pressed "051113", the code to activate the bomb. The 2-minute countdown started. He knew his plan would work, because even if someone discover his plan (most likely, the not-quite-dead Sherlock Holmes), he would only have two minutes' time to deactivate the bomb—which is, the train car itself. No one would know his brilliant plan, not even the Holmes brother.

The blowing up of the Parliament would be his revenge of the death of his boss (and lover), one James "Jim" Moriarty. He knew that was what Jimmy would want him to do. Satisfied, he went out of his room.

He was pressing the button for the elevator when he felt that something was wrong. He turned his head, only to find a female hotel staff—the one responsible for his room service—pointing a gun at his head.

Stupid brat, he thought. I didn't become Jimmy's right-hand man for nothing.

Which was when he saw a male staff—the receptionist who had helped him checked in—also with a gun aimed at his forehead.

The game is up.

There simply was nothing he could do.

So sorry, Jimmy darling.

He hoped against hope that the bomb was still working.

"It's too late," he said to Sherlock Holmes, who took him from the two agents, and brought him to a room in New Scotland Yard to interrogate him.

"What is too late?" Holmes said.

"The bomb. You may have caught me, Mister Holmes, but the bomb had exploded already. Whoever you sent to deactivate the bomb would be dead, because the explosives are all over the train!" he began to laugh.

"Oh really?" Holmes smirked?

Why was he smirking? Moran thought, there was nothing wrong with the plan!

Instead of answering, Holmes took out a laptop, went to the website of BBC, and showed him "Breaking News".

"The Scotland Yard has just discovered a bomb under the Parliament," the female reporter was saying. "Fortunately for the MPs and the Prime Minister, the bomb had already been deactivated when discovered."

The camera then zoomed to Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade. "The bomb was put there by Sebastian Moran, the Lord of Overseas Development. We suspect that this is a terror attack. I'd like to mention here as well there it was deactivated by Sherlock Holmes, who, we found out, was not dead and has returned to London."

By this point, Moran had collapsed in his chair upon knowing that his grand scheme of revenge had failed.

I failed you, Jimmy.

The moment Sherlock stepped out of Scotland Yard, he saw John Watson waiting for him there.

"I believe you have some explaining to do, Sherlock."

"I faked my death, hid for two years, and came back. End of story."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was confidential."

"Says who?" John asked, pissed.

"Says Mycroft."

"I still don't see why you didn't tell me."

Sherlock was rather frustrated by now. He couldn't tell John about Kingsman, or his work all over the world. He took a deep breath and, forcing himself to calm down, said, "I have to keep it a secret because, how else could I foil Moran's plan?"

"Well, I don't know, I'm no Sherlock Holmes!" John said sarcastically.

What does that mean? "No you're not," Sherlock frowned, puzzled.

John realized that Sherlock didn't understand the sarcasm. He sighed. "I'm just hurt because I'm your best friend and you didn't tell me the truth."

"Sorry?" Sherlock asked tentatively, not sure what to do.

John saw the innocent look in the detective's face, and found himself unable to be angry with him.

"Welcome back to London, Sherlock," John hugged Sherlock.

All was forgiven.