Chapter Five


John and Irene watched Sherlock pacing, repeating "Bond Air" under his breath.

"What do you mean, Bond Air?" Irene was confused. Why would the flight number send the man into this sort of fugue state? She didn't get it.

Sherlock totally ignored her; it was as if she hadn't spoken. No, it was worse, as if she wasn't even in the room. Instead he suddenly turned to the doctor. "John, you were there. You remember him saying it- 'Bond Air is Go'. Mrs Hudson was there, too. There is a link. It's the something big….but what? What is it?"

Then he had grabbed his violin, sank into his chair, and gazed off into the distance.

"Sherlock." John's voice had a tinge of concern in it. Sherlock had placed the violin in his lap, and he began to mindlessly pluck the same three notes, over and over again – a very slow pizzicato tattoo that got very tedious very fast. The doctor stood in front of the chair, trying to make eye contact with his friend. When there was no response, he reached down and put a hand on the suited shoulder. Not even a flinch. He sighed.

Irene was watching with some concern. "What's wrong with him?"

The doctor signed again. "Nothing. He does this. Sort of 'checks out' and disappears into his Mind Palace."

"A mind what?" Now she really was concerned.

"Mind Palace- that's what he calls his memory. He remembers things that you and I would never even consider important. He has a photographic memory when he wants to keep something; otherwise, he deletes things he doesn't think are important."

"Such as?"

"Who the prime minster is. Anything to do with popular culture. For God's sake, he even deleted the fact that the earth goes around the sun, because he didn't think it mattered." John was standing now, rubbing the back of his neck wearily.

She looked at Sherlock and then back at John. "Really?"

John nodded. "Really- but don't mention that one, please. I shouldn't have told you. He gets a little sensitive about it ever since I was stupid enough to put it into my blog."

She got up and walked over to the seated consulting detective. She waved her hand in front of his face, but there was absolutely no reaction. "You sure he's alright?"

John nodded. "Yeah. Annoying it may be, but he's okay. He might be there for hours. When he comes out of it, he will have no idea how long it's been. But in the meantime, he will have figured something out that no one else in a million years would ever put together. It's what he does."

While the doctor was talking, The Woman was thinking. When she was playing dead in the south of France, Irene had spent six months trying to pretend that all this was behind her. That happy idyll was shattered when that creepy Moran had taken Kate. She had to hope that the Irishman would honour his promise to release Kate when she finished doing his bidding. Irene wished she could just leave the flat on Baker Street now, collect Kate and run for cover as far away as possible. Now that she had her phone back, she'd be able to protect herself from the people who would want to hurt her. But she knew that there wasn't a chance in hell of that happening. Moriarty was determined to go all the way with this one. She knew that the Irishman wanted her to deliver the final part of her original bargain- the humiliation of the Ice Man. She had gone along with the plan originally because she thought that when the code was broken, she'd understand what it meant and be able to use it to cut her own deal with Mycroft Holmes. Unless she knew exactly what the flight meant, she was never going to be able to stop being Moriarty's pawn. But, conversely, if she knew too much, she'd be a liability that needed to be silenced. She had not understood that at the start; she did now. It was a terrible dilemma.

Irene really needed privacy with Sherlock; she had to find a way to get Doctor Watson out of the way, so they could talk freely about what the code meant and why Moriarty wanted it. She focused on the blond man who was eyeing her suspiciously. She decided to force the issue, especially if it annoyed him. "So, Doctor Watson, do you think he is working out exactly how a flight from London to Baltimore can save the world?"

He just glared back at her. "If anyone can, he can. He is amazing, and I'd appreciate it if you would leave him alone."

That brought a smile to her lips. "Oh, so you are jealous."

He shook his head. "You don't get it, do you? You don't really get him, either. He's not interested in…" he sort of ran out of steam for a moment. Then he resumed "…what it is you do for a living- misbehaving, you exploiting what people like." He was being protective; she could see it a mile away.

"Don't exploit him." It was said with some menace.

She smiled wickedly. "Oh, my dear Doctor Watson, I already have- and, what's more, he agreed to it."

He looked stunned. "What do you mean?"

"What he likes is solving puzzles that no one else can. And he's done it for me before, not just this time. He's brilliant. And sweet, but you can just calm down. I'm not going to eat him alive." She was smiling slightly as she watched emotions chase themselves over Watson's face. She continued. "You don't like me. I get that- and you are entitled to your opinion. But…" she looked over at the consulting detective sitting in the leather and chrome chair, still plucking the violin. "…he does like me. Have you ever thought how rare that might be for him- to actually like someone? It's a little selfish of you if you take offense when he finally decides he just might be interested in someone other than you."

John reacted like he'd been slapped.

Her smile broadened. "He's more than capable of looking after himself; he doesn't need you to be a nanny. You know the saying, three's a crowd."

He bristled a bit at that. "I don't trust you."

"But he does." She said it smugly.

The poor man was still trying to figure out what to say to that when she continued. "More than you think, too. We've met up twice before, when I wasn't playing dead, occasions that you don't know about. He knows you don't like me, so he kept it our little secret. He didn't want you to be upset." She was insinuating more than had actually happened, so the doctor would jump to the conclusion that their secret meetings were of a more romantic nature than they had actually been. That was how John Watson worked, and she saw no reason to explain differently.

John broke off staring at her, and looked at his flatmate as if seeing him for the first time.

She was relentless. "So, Doctor Watson, why don't you be a good friend and disappear for the rest of the night? Don't you have a girlfriend's to go to? Sherlock and I have… some things to catch up on."

The doctor gave a sigh. He rubbed the back of his neck, still looking at Sherlock. Then, "Five hours. I will be back at 11." He took his jacket off the peg, but turned back again at the door. "If you hurt him, I will find you. Just so you know."

As she heard the door to 221b shut, she breathed a sigh of relief. Clearly, Sherlock had never told the doctor about the links between her and Moriarty. Nothing about Kate, nor about the puzzle she set him. If Watson knew any of that, then he'd never leave Sherlock alone with her. She'd taken a risk and it had paid off. Now all she had to do was wait for Sherlock to solve it and to tell her just what she needed, and no more. Then she'd be able to finish the game and get out of London forever.