A Dish Best Served Cold
Summery: Moriarty is out rule the world once again and he's had it with Sherlock Holmes's interference. He has a plan, but the detective's friends may pay the ultimate price.
DisclaimerAll Publicly Recognizable Characters, Settings, Ideas, etc. are the Property of DiC Entertainment and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The Original Characters and Plot are the Property of the Author. The Author is in no way Associated with the Owners, Creators, or Producers of DiC Entertainment. No Copyright Infringement is intended.
Chapter 2 - The Game is Afoot
On Route to Sir Even Hardgrave's Laboratory
"Billboard," Holmes announced as Lestrade narrowly avoided a collision.
"Bus, hovercar… skyscraper!" He continued as Lestrade avoided one collision after another.
"Shut up Holmes."
"Bare in mind we do wish to reach our destination in one piece Lestrade." Holmes replied, riding in the front with Lestrade. Watson's power pack had only been half charged so he had stayed behind to recharge and would he would rejoin them in twenty-five minutes at Sir Hardgraves lab, while Holmes and Lestrade went on ahead. Holmes found himself hoping he would live to regret his decision to ride with the inspector.
"Ya know you could have waited for Watson or even taken the 3:00 p.m. bus. It stops a block form Sir Hardgraves lab and doesn't have to deal with traffic."
"Considering your method of flight this was the quicker option, indeed it seems you have the uncanny ability to defy the laws of physics when driving."
"I'm going to do you a favour and take that as a compliment." Her voice was tinted with annoyance but then she grinned.
Needless to say Holmes was unnerved. Not that he showed it.
"Lestrade, if you do not begin to descend we will be forced to make a nose dive or come about." As soon as he said these words he realised why she was grinning. He turned to Lestrade. "You are engaging in this course of action to annoy me aren't you?"
"Yep." A few seconds later, "Hang on."
"Lestr-r-rade!" Holmes shouted as he put both hands on the dashboard, trying to avoid being pressed flat against the window. The ground was coming up quickly. 'Must she always wait until the last possible moment to pull up?' the detective thought with a great deal of annoyance. Eventually Lestrade pulled up, barley in time to avoid the ground. Once he was out of the hovercar Holmes dusted himself off and turned to her. "Shall we?"
"Lets." She replied with that irritating grin.
They knocked on Sir Hardgraves door and the man himself answered, "Inspector Lestrade, Mr Holmes I'm glad you could come on such short notice. Please come in." He greeted as he gestured the two inside
"What was taken?" asked Holmes.
"Two items, a devise that causes cells to divide at an accelerated rate, to help with the healing process. We can only regenerate damaged cells with current technology but with burns and various other injuries in which cells have been destroyed, that technology is not enough."
"I see, what else?" inquired Holmes as Hardgraves led them to the lab.
"Artificial Intelligence microchips."
"AI chips? Great. Moriarty's probably back on his 'Created a Robot Army' plan again," Lestrade groaned.
"Were the plans for these devises also taken?"
"Unfortunately yes."
"Hmmm."
"What is it Holmes?"
"If Moriarty had the plans for the devises, why would he bother to steal the devises themselves? Unless he had immediate use for them…"
"Hmm. I see you point." Lestrade turned to Sir Hardgraves. "Where did the thefts occur?"
"This way."
00o00
Twenty minutes later Holmes was just about done looking over the lab he had just gathered a dirt sample when he heard a familiar step. "Good of you to join us Watson."
"What have you found?"
"A few items of interest. Come Watson, there are a few things I wish to look into elsewhere." Holmes stated as he started walking toward the exit.
"Wait Holmes you can't just leave. I'm your supervising officer. You have to tell me where you're going! What did you find?"
"Come now Lestrade I have found nothing that isn't there to be found. Besides you know how I hate to present a case before it is complete. Come Watson."
"Holmes wait and tell me where you're going!"
"We will see you later Lestrade. Be sure to tell me who's DNA you come across."
"Holmes!" But he just waved his hand as he left.
"Arrgh!" Lestrade debated whether or not to give him a piece of her mind. Then decided it would be best if she just gave him free rein as she always did and followed up her own leads which more often then not proved fruitful.
Once they were in the hover car Watson turned to Holmes and queried, "Where are we going?
"Board Street in Hackney, on the 500 Block."
"There's nothing there but abandoned buildings scheduled for demolition in a month. Why are we going there?"
"Because of this." Said Holmes as he held up what looked like a red and white pen, it had a clear glass tube at the top and in this tube was a bit of dirt.
"That bit of dirt originated from Board Street?"
"Yes. Note the peculiar red tint, it is rather fortunate actually, normally I cannot narrow the area down to such an extent. Hmmm. It is unlike Moriarty to make such a slip."
"But not Fenwick. Remember he did tear a piece of his suite while stealing the Musgrave sword."
Holmes said nothing. Watson realised his friend was in one of his thinking moods and let him be.
00o00
Watson brought the hover car down to a gentle landing on the concrete surface of the street. "Holmes," he said tentively as he turned to his friend. The detective was still thinking. Watson momentarily debated whether or not to disturb him then decision made, lightly tapped him on the shoulder. Holmes looked up a bit startled. "I hate to interrupt your thoughts but we have arrived."
Holmes remained silent but nodded and climbed out.
"Where to?"
Once again, instead of answering Holmes bent down and examined the ground with his magnifying glass. He then pointed to the left, stood and started to walk. Watson sighed. Holmes was still in one of his morose no-talking moods and wouldn't be much for company.
"The dirt could have come from anyone of these buildings," the detective finally spoke as he waved his hand flippantly at the surrounding area.
"Short of examining every building, how can we narrow down the possibilities?"
"It rained last night. Notice two of the buildings have footprints surrounding them." Holmes replied as he walked over to one of the buildings to examine the footprints. Watson decided to stand and wait for his friend to finish.
"This one Watson," the detective announced as he gestured to the particularly decrepit building he was standing in front of.
Watson joined his friend and asked as he gazed at the building. "How shall we enter?"
To say that the building was decrepit was putting it mildly. The paint was peeling, the windows broken, and a few stray shingles lay about on the ground. If Watson were human he would be able to smell the rotting termite infested wood, not that he needed to smell, as his scanners told him more then he wanted to know about the buildings' structural integrity or lack thereof. This building like many in this sector had been abandoned, like a gapping wound left to fester and shelter some of the lower forms of humanity.
"We will look for an entrance along the side." Holmes said as he walked to the side of the building, shortly they found a side door.
Quietly as he could the detective stepped through the door. He was in a kitchen—or what was left of a kitchen—the walls were covered in mould and Holmes could hear various insects skittering about. He remained motionless, straining his ears for the faintest hint of sound—besides the insects. He could hear something below him but it was faint, almost too faint for even his ears to make out.
He signalled for Watson to follow and as quietly as they could they made their way over to the hallway, once there Holmes cautiously approached a door and was about to open it when he heard a creak behind him—and it wasn't a Watson creak.
Spinning about he saw a man with an ionizer pointed at his head. The man stood at 5" 10', was muscular and had jet black hair. Holmes had just enough time to note that he was wearing new clothes and shoes, when he heard the door he had been about to open, creak on it's hinges. A hand reached out and grabbing his shoulder, jerked him backwards. Turning to face his new attacker Holmes lost his balance and tumbled through the doorway, down a flight of stairs.
"Holmes!" Watson cried out, momentarily diverting his attention from the man who had initially had an ionizer pointed at his friend. The man took the opportunity to fire at the comnpudroid, fortunately Watson managed to doge before running past the man who had pulled Holmes down the stairs and into the basement to help his friend.
Only to find that Holmes was back up, on his feet and knocking an ionizer out of another man's hand with his cane. After his opponent was disarmed, Holmes chanced a glance at his companion, and saw that the first man the two had seen at the top of the stairs had descended and was pointing an ionizer at him.
"Watson behind you!" Holmes shouted the warning to his friend. Watson however did what most people do in such a situation—he turned around instead of dogging off to the side—just in time to get blasted by the ionizer.
As the compudroid glowed green and his metal body convulsed, Holmes could only watch on helplessly. Watson collapsed and Holmes, angrier then he ever felt in his lives (save for when Evans shot the original Watson), ran at the man, who was now pointing his ionizer at Holmes. Using his extendible cane, Holmes knock the ionizer out of the man's hand, then proceeded to jab his opponent in the gut. That man went down. This however was not a good thing as now the remaining two thugs had a clean shot at Holmes. Which they used, fortunately at a low setting, but all the same Holmes was out like a light.
The man Holmes had jabbed got up and angrily began to kick the unconscious detective in the stomach.
"Stupid Yard lackey!" He growled as he kicked his victim five times in the stomach before delivering a final blow to the face. Content in the knowledge that Holmes would awaken with a black eye and a cracked rib, he returned his attention to his companions. "Hey MacGyver, get to work on that blasted droid."
One of the men who had blasted Holmes, with dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a slightly crooked jaw removed some tools from his bag and started towards Watson.
00o00
Holmes awoke with a groan—pain blazed thought his chest as his diaphragm expanded and pushed against his ribcage. His breath cut short, the pain was familiar and one he had not felt in ages—the pain of a cracked rib. Breathing shallowly to avoid further irritation of the injury he raised rubbed his eyes, removing some of the dirt. The rubbing action also brought his attention to the tender flesh around his right eye.
Apparently he'd received a beating, mild compared to some in the past but the first serious one since his rejuvenation. Continuing to control his breathing he braced an arm across his chest and sat up, the motion bringing a painful grimace to his still dirty face. Glancing around him, his expression quickly became one of horror.
Watson lay on the ground face up, elastomask removed with wires and circuitry protruding from his chest and stomach compartment. He was a mess. Rising to his feet, breath sucked in to brace against the pain of the cracked rib, Holmes hobbled over to Watson's still form.
"I say Watson, what have they done to you?" Holmes had learned the basics of compudroid maintenance and repair but this… this… was far beyond his skill. Watson was a mess and Holmes had no idea what to do. Putting his left hand under Watson's head and his right arm around Watson's chest Holmes lifted his friend ever so slightly (Watson was heavy and Holmes didn't want to cause anymore damage) and held him.
"Watson," he whispered.
Holmes didn't know how long he just sat there, holding his friend. He was overcome with sorrow and fear; finally he realised that all hope may not be lost and recalling seeing a vidphone across the street left Watson and put in a call to Inspector Lestrade.
When Lestrade's face came into view Holmes said quickly—between painful bursts of breath—"Lestrade, Watson and I walked into a trap. He has been badly injured, we're at 561 Board Street in Hackney, come quickly."
Without waiting for a reply he hung up and returned to Watson's side. A few minutes later Lestrade arrived with help—police officers, techies and paramedics for Holmes. Not that they had much luck with him...
"I don't care about my injures. Help Watson!" He yelled before gasping with pain as his injury was aggravated.
At which point the paramedics informed him that they were paramedics not techies and that the techies were helping Watson. The techies were in fact carefully moving him into a truck and taking him to the New Scotland Yard tech division.
"Holmes calm down," Lestrade began in an even, knowledgeable tone. When Holmes looked like he was going to start shouting again, she cut him off before he had the chance. "What good are you to Watson if you can't see or think straight? Your injuries seem to be pretty minor and they shouldn't take long to treat and by the time the medics are done with you we should have some information about what exactly happened to Watson. So calm down, shut up, and let the medics treat you!"
She had drawn herself to her full height and though she did not come to Holmes's level (few did)—her death glare would probably have had the most daring criminal cowering in fear. Holmes merely sighed—realising there was nothing he could do for Watson at the moment (he could only wait for the techies to tell him what they'd found so that he could apprehend those responsible) and wanting to be able to breath easily again—he relented.
Nodding curtly he let the medics do their work. It didn't take long to patch up his eye and they were able to ascertain that though Holmes did not have a concussion his fourth left rib was slightly cracked and took a few minutes to repair. When they were done Holmes and Lestrade got into her hovercar and drove strait to New Scotland Yard.
00o00
"Well Mr Holmes, Inspector," announced a uniformed techie, "you'll be happy to learn that the damage was superficial. Looked a lot worse then it was."
If it weren't for the fact that the man was saying all this in a nervously agitated voice the detectives might have been comforted.
"However," there was some uncomfortable throat clearing, "Your friend's memory board was removed."
Holmes and Lestrade stiffened. Lestrade's face betraying shock and horror while Holmes's expression remained stone cold.
"We're repairing the damage that we can, but without the board there is nothing else we can do. Your friend has for all intends and purposes… been kidnapped."
"When you get the board back you'll be able to repair him?" Holmes inquired coldly
The techie and Lestrade looked at each other; they had both caught the when not if.
Looking back at Holmes the techie replied, "Yes in a matter of seconds. It was carefully removed so as not to cause any permanent damage."
"Good," Holmes nodded curtly, before turning and walking out. Lestrade decided to follow him and found him waiting for her by her hovercar.
"Take me to Baker Street." It was not a request.
Normally Lestrade would have protested taking orders from him, but this time she just did as he said.
The ride was a silent one. Lestrade deciding that Holmes wanted to think and that breaking the silence and interrupting his train of thought would be a bad idea.
Lestrade dropped Holmes off and sensing he wanted to be alone left and returned to her own residence. When she got in she went to the vidphone and punched in the code for Wiggins' wrist communicator.
"Hey Inspector," greeted the black seventeen-year-old in a friendly tone. "What can I do for you?"
"Someone attacked Holmes and Watson and took Watson's memory board, effectively kidnapping him." Lestrade informed him curtly, she saw no reason to hold back the truth from him he was bound to find out eventually and she preferred it be from her.
Wiggins stared in disbelief, it took a several seconds for the words to sink in. Finally he began to speak, "They just took the memory board—not the rest of him?"
Lestrade nodded.
"So if they get it back they can repair him right?"
Lestrade nodded again, "Yes when they get it back they'll be able to fix him up good as new."
Wiggins despite the situation smiled, comforted by the reassurance.
"Holmes is in one of his thinking moods."
"The kind where if you interrupt him he'll flip?"
"Ya you can visit him, but don't speak unless spoken to, you don't want to interrupt him."
"Ya, I'll tell the others."
"Thanks." Lestrade smiled, she had not been looking forward to telling the remaining Irregulars and was grateful to Wiggins for taking that responsibility off her shoulders.
00o00
Holmes meanwhile was pacing in the sitting room of 221b he looked out the window in time to see Fenwick. He sighed, wondering what Moriarty's game was.
He had known it was Moriarty the minute he learned Watson had been kidnapped and he had merely received a small beating. Only someone who wanted to hurt him would do that and though he had many enemies they were all in prison…for the moment. He smiled to himself wondering how long that would last.
Sighing he decided it would be best if he left. Closing the curtains and setting up his wax duplicate he went to his room to change. Using his acting talents he turned himself into a 5" 5' foot forty year old man with black hair and an ugly goatee. Using the secret exit he left through the back and after three blocks hailed a cab. He told the cab to take him to a place he had visited but once, a week after his rejuvenation.
"Here we are gov'ner. Don't know why you want to visit this old cemetery though no newcomers in fifty years." The cab driver said cattily.
"Here's your fare," Holmes replied , paying him.
It didn't take Holmes long to find the grave marked John H. Watson. He had been buried next to his first and only wife Mary. Holmes smiled remembering how, after Culverton Smith had broken into 221b and shot Watson and himself, the two had decided to work with the government doing much the same work as Holmes had done during his three year hiatus.
They had told the world that Holmes had retired to keep bees and had implied in further publications that Watson had remarried. They had been small precautions but they had helped keep the two safe. He smiled, people still though he had retired to pursue a quiet life of bee keeping. While he did do that, it hadn't been 'til he was in his 80's. (1)
"Well old friend I find myself at a loss and in need of your… illuminating capabilities. You always managed to inspire me with new ideas, indeed they often resulted in very fruitful lines of investigation."
"You know old friend I don't regret the decision to donate my body to science. Indeed when I learned that Dr Carver was using cadavers to study the deterioration of bodies in different circumstances to help in catching criminals. I couldn't resists, though I did not expect him to test the effect of being kept in honey on a cadaver… still considering his interest in Alexander the Great and the fact that I was a beekeeper at the time I probably should have been prepared for just such a circumstance."
"I know it seemed last time I came to visit you that I was unsure I would ever be able ever fully adapt, but then not only did I not have my pipe, I didn't have compudroid Watson. I had not yet accepted him, nor did I have my Irregulars. I was back to square one.
"But I digress old friend, Watson, compudroid Watson has been kidnapped by Moriarty. He has left no clues as to Watson's whereabouts—least none that I can see… yet." He sighed and murmured, "I miss my pipe," thinking of how tobacco had had a calming effect on him and had helped him clear his head, and now here he was no Watson and no tobacco. His shoulders sagged. Where was he without his Watson?
Holmes had accepted compudroid Watson but he would be among the first to admit that he was not the John Watson of old. The John Watson of old hadn't been as forceful as the new one, or as much of a stickler for the rules (Compudroid Watson had insisted on acquiring a warrant before searching Wilson's chip shop in the Red Headed League adventure) but then again compudroid Watson was a Level 7 Law Enforcement Compudroid. So that was hardly a surprise. Nor was compudroid Watson a replacement of the old Watson, What this new Watson was… was a kind, benevolent, brave and trustworthy soul, who would sacrifice his life without hesitation to protect a stranger, and really that was all that mattered.
Holmes stood there for a time trying to imaging what Watson of old would say. There had been few foot prints and they had only told him what he already knew. The men had even gone so far as to wear shoes that had not been worn outside so there were no dirt samples to work from. Indeed it seemed their entire outfits had been worn for that specific occasion.
"Moriarty has been as meticulous as ever. I may not find Watson until he wants me too. But I must find him."
After one last look at the grave of his friend Sherlock turned to go. He had the cab drop him off a few blocks from 221b. Once back inside he sat in his chair and simply thought, going over every detail of what had happened so far.
Footnote:
(1) Is inspired by The Return of Culverton Smith written by GM of FanFictionNet—go read!
Next update will occur on the 30 of September before noon CST