Chapter Three: Demand

A/N: We forgot to mention it before, but this story is set about a year after The Reichenbach Fall, long after Sherlock has come out of hiding and John has discovered the truth behind the event.

Disclaimer: Sadly we still don't own anything. Oh well, never mind!

"That's a very serious accusation Leah," the school counsellor said, horrified.

"Yes I'm aware of that," Leah replied curtly.

"So let me get this straight. Your chemistry teacher has been sexually harassing you on a regular basis for the past few months?"

"Yes that is what I just told you," Leah responded in a mocking tone. "I gather you don't believe me, why is that?"

"Well, it's just that, since our last session, I've been looking over your school records from the past six years and it would seem that your disruptive and erratic behaviour suggests that you are somewhat psychologically damaged," she explained.

"What has led you to make this conclusion?" Leah questioned.

"You have a reputation for lying and attention- seeking. For example, in year 9 you accused your fellow classmate of trying to choke you with a paintbrush in an Art lesson. You persisted in lying and the police were even forced to get involved at one point. You refused to admit you were lying for weeks and weeks, insisting that you needed to get revenge on the classmate in question and got all of your other peers to turn against him until he was eventually forced to move schools. It was only after this that you boasted to your friends that you had been joking all along. There have been a number of similar incidences like this over the years, all of which should have led to your expulsion. However, each time you were saved by your academic abilities, as you knew you would be. This behaviour strikes me as being alarming, would you not agree?"

Leah paused for a second, deliberating over what the counsellor had just said, before adding: "Ahh yes, I see, well that explains your cynicism. So you leave me with only one option and that is to prove to you that this is not in fact a fictional tale, and that is what I shall do. Soon." Leah stood up as soon as she'd finished speaking and left the office somewhat dramatically.

"What a disturbing little girl," the counsellor muttered to herself as she closed the ever expanding file labelled 'Leah Conrad'.

Sally burst into Lestrade's office, rudely interrupting another of his personal phone calls.

"Oh I know what you mean. I'm having a nightmare of a day too," he said as he glared at Donavan and held up his hand gesturing her to wait for him to finish his conversation.

"How about we go out this evening to get away from it all? I'll take you to that place you like," Lestrade suggested and then waited for her reply before confirming, "Yeah; I'll come and pick you up at seven. Wear something nice. Yeah, the red one preferably. Ok, see you then, I look forward to it Carol." He hung up the phone, grinning like a love-struck teenager.

Donavan resisted the urge to start retching, and instead delivered her news to him.

"I've got the transcript of the audio message from the lift here. You are going to want to read this," she told him as she handed him a copy.

Lestrade's eyes eagerly scanned over the words on the sheet of paper in front of him.

You have reached the maintenance department of St. Bartholomew's hospital, what seems to be the problem with the lift?

Only kidding, I already know what the problem is and I don't want to help you. Because you have been a naughty girl haven't you Miss Hooper? Helping a certain Mr Holmes get out of his dilemma. It would seem that I made a little error in thinking that you didn't count. Now I know you do count, I of course only have one course of action to pursue. I'm going to have to kill you. Obviously. Sherlock might even cry when he finds you. Oh, I do hope so, that would be brilliant. Anyway, bye for now. Well, bye forever actually.

"Wow," Lestrade said as he sat back in his chair and dropped the transcript onto the desk. "So Sherlock was right about the intended target being Molly then?"

"Yes, he was right, of course. He's always bloody right," Donavan added bitterly.

"Oh you do so flatter me, Donavan," Sherlock said gleefully as he joined the pair of them in the office.

"So, are you going to read the transcript then, or have you already worked out what it says word-for-word just from feeling the sound vibrations in the lift?" Donavan asked Sherlock sarcastically.

"No, as that is not a scientifically feasible method, Sally, not to mention the inaccuracies if it were. Someone wasn't listening in their Key Stage 3 Physics classes, I see. So, why don't you run along now and leave the grown-ups to get to get on with their work," Sherlock practically hissed at her.

Sally stood in the doorway, scowling at him, desperately trying to think of a witty comeback, until she was eventually dismissed by Lestrade, and stormed angrily out of the office.

"These appear to be Moriarty's words," Sherlock commented as he read the transcript.

"Hmmm," Lestrade hummed agreement. "But of course it can't be him because he's dead. So we're looking for who? An impersonator of some sort I guess."

Sherlock said nothing in response.

"Someone wants to continue on the legacy of your nemesis. An heir perhaps? Did he ever have an accomplice of some sort?" Lestrade wondered.

"No," Sherlock answered abruptly. "I need to listen to the authentic audio message."

"Right, yeah, I'll get Donavan on it," Lestrade confirmed, as he rose from his chair and headed out the room, Sherlock striding on ahead in front of him.

"Donavan!" Lestrade boomed. "We need to listen to the audio message."

"Yeah, OK," she told them, handing them headphones and opening the relevant file on her computer. "We've tried voice recognition but the message was too encrypted for any matches to be found. All we can work out is that it was a real voice; not computer generated, and the voice was of a young female, around late teens possibly early twenties."

"This could be anyone. Just a random girl off the street, paid by someone else to carry out the task," Lestrade suggested as he listened to the recorded message.

"No," Sherlock immediately dismissed the idea. "Nothing and nobody is random."

"So, she was chosen for a reason. But why her?" Lestrade asked his consulting detective.

"Because she was the perfect candidate," Sherlock revealed cryptically.

Before Lestrade could probe him any further, Sally handed Lestrade a phone. "Sir, I've got The Freak's brother on the line. It sounds urgent."

"Doesn't everything," Lestrade muttered before taking the call. "Mr Holmes, how can I be of assistance?"

"Bring my brother, yourself, and minimal colleagues," Mycroft ordered, pausing briefly before adding, "Only those who you implicitly trust. Come down to my office in Whitehall, immediately if you would be so kind."

"Well, the things is, Mr Holmes, we're a bit busy here at Scotland Yard at the moment as the dead body of a friend of mine has recently been found murdered by a Moriarty impersonator," Lestrade explained.

"Yes, I have something for you to see in relation to your current case. Get here as soon as possible. That will be all," Mycroft told him and then hung up immediately, leaving a confused Lestrade frowning at the phone in his hand.

"Well, what did he want? I'm surprised he phoned you as he usually pesters John," Sherlock asked, whilst absent-mindedly wondering where his sidekick had got to.

"He's got something that he needs to show us that is connected to the case. He sounded almost…panicked," Lestrade told him.

"Panicked? Well this is a new emotion from Brother Dearest. I'd like to see this one. Chop, chop, Lestrade, let's head off. I'll follow you in cab," Sherlock dictated.

"Yes of course Mr Holmes, anything for you Mr Holmes. How high shall I jump Mr Holmes?" Lestrade muttered to Sherlock's back. "Come on Donavan, let's get going," he then ordered, and Sally sighed at the prospect of seeing Mycroft.

"It's so kind of you to stay with me John…don't feel you have to though...it's fine. I know you would rather be with Sherlock instead of comforting silly old me here at my flat" Molly said as she grasped the cup of tea that John had dutifully made her.

"Oh no, it's fine Molly. You know I don't mind. Besides Sherlock can do without me this one time, I'm injured anyway remember!" he said smiling at her and pointed at his bandaged foot.

"You're so kind John, Claire is so lucky to have you,"

"More like I'm lucky to have her. I still can't believe she's stuck around for as long as she has to be honest."

"So is it going well with you two then?" Molly asked.

"Yeah it is. It's still relatively early days though. We've only been on a few dates."

"So what does Sherlock think about it?"

"You know Sherlock, he hasn't even noticed yet!" John said laughing, although Molly sensed he was secretly hurt by this.

"Typical Sherlock! He does care really John, you know he does,"

"Oh I know. I know he does really. He's just a bit crap at showing it. He cares about you too Molly" John reassured her.

"I'm not so sure about that. He thinks I'm a bumbling idiot most of the time," she said cringing as she remembered some of the stupid things she had said to him recently.

"He must think something of you for him to have entrusted you with the task of helping to save his life."

"Hmmm," he agreed half-heartedly. She had tried to convince herself of this many times before but still struggled to believe it as she couldn't get rid of the underlying concern of hers that he was just using her as he had a tendency to do so often.

Lestrade bounded past security, flashing his police badge as he did so. When he, Sherlock and Donavan entered Mycroft's elaborate office, they found him staring coldly at the computer screen of him. His eyes were unblinking, his limbs were unmoving, and he appeared almost shell-shocked.

"Is he alright?" Lestrade whispered worriedly to Sherlock, though the answer came from Mycroft himself.

"No, Detective Inspector, I'm afraid I am not. I have received a rather worrying message, which you shall read. But you must understand that what you see must not go beyond this little circle we have here. I am asking you to solve this case, without intervention from anyone else, whether they are in parliament or working for our security services. It is of paramount importance that what you are about to read is kept secret, for if the public were to get wind of this, then it would cause widespread chaos, and dare I say it, possibly the collapse of our government," Mycroft told them gravely.

"Oh, do stop being so dramatic Mycroft. Building suspense is an unnecessary waste of time if this message really is as important as you say," Sherlock chastised his brother, as he strode over to where Mycroft was sat and began reading from the computer screen. Lestrade and Donavan followed closely behind him.

Hello there dear Mycroft,

I do hope you are well. I wonder if you have been in contact with your brother lately. You might want to give him a bell after you've read this. For, at this moment in time he is looking into a case involving the death of a friend of his who was recently killed by asphyxiation from carbon dioxide. Hey, 'death by carbon dioxide' has somewhat of a ring to it don't you think? Anyway, there's a lot more of that pesky little greenhouse gas just waiting to be released. All that CO2 which appears to be missing, well guess what? It's not. I know exactly where it is being stored. But I will be forced to release it from storage and into our wonderful British atmosphere, if you do not meet my request. Millions and millions of tonnes of the stuff will go floating up into the troposphere, setting those Kyoto Protocol targets of yours way back. In fact, it will probably reverse all the improvements you've made over the past ten years and even speed up global warming. All the other Western countries are going to hate us! Relations will fall apart and poor old England will be the subject of international bullying for years and years to come. And we don't want that to happen, do we?

No, we don't.

That is why you're going to hand Sherlock over to me.

I'll be in touch again shortly with more details. Look forward to it.

Much love x

A/N: Just so you know, there is in fact a mystery of missing carbon dioxide in that the figures regarding emissions do not add up. Less carbon dioxide is released each year than would be expected from the amount of fossil fuel combustion and deforestation that takes place. This prompted us to wonder about the possibility of someone harbouring this missing gas, which led to the plot in this fic. Hope you like the idea.

Please review as it would mean so much if you did. xxx