Chapter Four: Realisation

A/N: Sorry we haven't updated in a while, we've had quite a lot going on in our social lives. We saw Project X this weekend, it's hilarious! Everyone should go and watch it! Anyway here is the next chapter, hope you like it.

Disclaimer: We are not Godtiss, but imagine if he did write fanfiction though…

"Sorry, I've got to go; someone's just come in. I'll talk to you later, I promise," the counsellor said, before turning to face the girl who had just burst into her office. "Leah, this is a surprise! Could you knock next time, please."

"I'm sorry, it's just…" Leah began to explain before bursting into tears.

"Now Leah, you can't just come in here and think your crocodile tears are going to work on me. I'm a very busy woman you know, and I could really do without you wasting my time like this," she said, irritated that her phonecall had been cut short by her least favourite student.

"I'm not wasting your time because I'm not lying. I'm telling the truth! He…he just… touched me!" She whispered out the last two words, barely able to say them.

"Leah, if you are lying this is an extremely serious accusation," the counsellor warned, though she was beginning to wonder if there was perhaps some truth in the girl's claim about her teacher.

"Look I know that I've told lies in the past, and I can understand your scepticism, but I really am telling the truth this time, and I've never needed anyone to believe me more than I do now."

"OK Leah, I'm going to humour you for the interim, because if you are telling the truth then this should be treated seriously. So, calm yourself down, take a deep breath, and go ahead and tell me exactly what happened. In detail, if you would."

"It happened just now. In first lesson, we were doing a practical in the lab, a titration. He started whispering in my ear that I looked nice in my lab coat, then as I finished pouring the sodium hydroxide into my burette he moved to stand closely behind me and said; 'Leah, you appear to have an air bubble in your glassware' even though I quite clearly did not. He proceeded to put his hands on my waist, and then moved them to the burette to get rid of the imaginary air bubble. After he had done that he moved them back to my body and he touched me." Leah paused and averted her eyes from the counsellor.

"Where Leah?" the counsellor prompted.

"My breasts," she choked out, barely audible.

"Oh. I see," she nodded solemnly. "Did anyone else witness this, seeing as you were there with the rest of your class?"

"No. I was at the back of the lab, though I think one of the technicians might have seen something."

"Which one, Leah?"

"I think her name is Karen," Leah said as she pictured the woman in her head.

"Oh, well I can't really ask her about it. I can never get a word out of that woman without creating an awkward situation. God only knows how she'd react if I asked her if she had been a witness to a scene of sexual harassment!"

"But you can't just do nothing!" Leah exclaimed, tears beginning to fall from her eyes once again.

"You're right. That's if to say you aren't lying of course," the counsellor said, trying to deduce if she was telling the truth. "Given your past record I'm really going to need a witness to confirm that what you're saying is true."

"You don't believe me do you? I don't know why I bothered coming to you in the first place. You are a counsellor; you're supposed to help me!" Leah shouted as she stormed out of the office.

"No Leah, I do believe you. It's just…" she started, but Leah had already left the room.

The counsellor's phone then started to ring, however in her flustered state she abruptly disconnected the call with a frustrated sigh.

As Leah closed the door behind her, she smiled slightly to herself, knowing that she had the counsellor right where she wanted her.

Hello again Mycroft,

It's been a while since my last message so I figured it was about time I got in touch again.

Really, all I wanted was to tell you is that time is running out. This time next week I will be sending someone to collect Sherlock from Trafalgar Square. A nice big crowd so that the handover doesn't look too conspicuous. Don't you dare let him kick up a fuss whilst he's there, because I'll be watching. The faintest hint that he's trying to play me and the CO2 escapes. Got it? Good.

5pm. Trafalgar Square. By the fountain. Send Sherlock. Or face the consequences.

Much love x

The words skipped around in Sherlock's mind palace as he paced up and down the length of Mycroft's office.

"Do stop pacing, brother. Give me something won't you. If ever there was a time that I needed you to be brilliant, it is now," Mycroft pressed, desperately.

Sherlock did not answer, leaving John to explain: "He's in his mind palace at the moment. Doesn't like to be interrupted you know."

"Mind palace? What is this obscenity? Give me strength. Honestly Sherlock, I can't be dealing with your ridiculous behaviour at the moment. Not when our country is on the brink of destruction. Do you have any idea what the consequences actually are? What would happen if the threat was really carried out?" Mycroft exploded, his face red, and a wild look in his eyes.

"Of course I know. I know most things, remember?" Sherlock retorted, rather childishly.

"See, this is what I mean. We're not children now Sherlock. This isn't just a squabble over the rocking horse anymore. This is serious! So please, give me something, Sherlock, anything. Otherwise I will have no choice but to hand you over for the greater good," Mycroft told him, his voice diminuendoed as he reached the end of his sentence.

"For the greater good?" Sherlock scoffed. "Stop being so bloody heroic! It doesn't suit you. I refuse to be passed over like some sort of bargaining chip. Especially, when there is no need for me to be."

"You don't know that; our research has confirmed that it is quite possible for this to be true," Mycroft began.

"It isn't," Sherlock stated.

"Quite sure about that are you? Because I'm not so sure I'm willing to take such a big risk based on only your assumption."

"Well then perhaps you shouldn't have asked for my help in the first place," Sherlock quipped.

"Sherlock, don't be like that. Just explain your reasoning," John interjected before another row erupted between the siblings.

"Fine," Sherlock surrendered. "We know that he is planning to release the gas from the UK, thus it must be stored here or at least in the surrounding waters. I've considered the landscape of the whole country, and looked at the conditions of the ocean floor under the Atlantic, as well as analysing the British channel. And after this deliberation, I have concluded that there simply is not enough room to store such a vast volume of gas underground, and the conditions underwater are not suitable to hold it all in either. It may be possible to gain access to and release some stored carbon dioxide of course, but nowhere near enough to cause any noticeable difference to UK emissions."

"I see," Mycroft responded, as he reclined back into his chair to consider what he had just heard. "And I've just got to take your word for it, I suppose."

"Yes. I'm afraid you are just going to trust me on this one, Mycroft," Sherlock told him, turning on his heel, ready to leave the office.

"I will, as I always have done," Mycroft said quietly to his brother's back. He wasn't sure whether he had heard until Sherlock suddenly stopped.

He remained faced away and replied simply with: "I know."

Sherlock and John remained in silence during the cab ride home. Sherlock seemed typically lost in thought, so John chose not to ask the burning question that was niggling away at him. However, once they were back in their flat, Sherlock suddenly snapped out of his trance when he randomly commented: "Out of all the soap operas here in England, I feel that Coronation Street is the most unrealistic of them all."

"Sorry, what?" John asked, perplexed by the outburst.

"Would you not agree?" Sherlock asked.

"Well…wait, you don't even watch any soaps," John said.

"I don't need too," Sherlock told him.

Before Sherlock was able to launch into a detailed explanation has to how he had come to this decision, John quickly took the opportunity to bring his attention back to the case and ask him the question that had been playing on his mind.

"Sherlock," John started, a little apprehensively, "I was just wondering why it supposedly took you so long to deduce that the threat was meaningless. I mean, you're usually so much…quicker."

"Well, in this particular case, there was a lot more to consider," Sherlock explained, not meeting John's gaze as he did so.

"Yes, but is there more to the case than you're letting on?" john questioned.

"There's always more to everything than is ever let on, John," Sherlock replied cryptically as ever.

Before John had a chance to ask him anything else, Sherlock's phone stared to ring.

"Lestrade!" Sherlock answered with.

"I just got off the phone to Mycroft," Lestrade said in an irritated tone, not bothering with any pleasantries.

"That's nice for you," Sherlock replied sarcastically.

"Not really; not after what I've just heard. I can't believe you've just decided the threat isn't true, and abandoned the case."

"I haven't abandoned anything."

"Well it seems to me like you have. And by doing so we are going to be forced to take a pretty big risk, which is why I wanted to ask you if there's any way in which you would consider going ahead with the handover, as part of an operation of course. It could lead us to the person behind all this. I know it's a big ask, but we'd protect you…"

"No you wouldn't. I refuse to sacrifice myself in exchange for the promise that a large volume of non-existent stored gas will be released," Sherlock retorted aggressively.

"But you don't know that it's non-existent Sherlock," Lestrade interrupted, his tone becoming desperate.

"I do know it. And what's more is I know who is behind this, and I will lead you to him without the need for a hap-hazard police investigation which would most likely result in information being leaked to incapable Junior Police Officers and thus the public, causing widespread panic," Sherlock stated matter-of-factly.

"Enough with your undermining Sherlock, we are actually a lot better than you realise. I've had enough of you at the moment with your ever expanding ego. It's really starting to piss me off!"

"I don't think I'm the one that's pissing you off, am I?"

"Of course you are; you always are. Normally I can put up with you, but what with Stamford's death and this whole case…"

"And your new girlfriend giving you the cold shoulder," Sherlock interrupted.

"What? No she's not! How do you know about her anyway?" Lestrade questioned.

Just as Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, Lestrade quickly changed his mind and said: "Actually I don't want to know. Let's move on, I've got something to ask you anyway."

"Really, what is it?" Sherlock said eager for a new case to focus on.

"It's not a new case," Lestrade told him quickly, knowing that's what he'd be hoping for. Sherlock sighed audibly in disappointment. "It's...oh hang on I've got another call coming through. I'll talk to you about it after the funeral tomorrow."

"Don't bother, I'm not interested," Sherlock replied, but he had already been cut off. "It seems that she's decided she wants an idiotic, overpaid and ignorant boyfriend then after all," he muttered down the dead line.

Stamford's wake was a gloomy affair, Sherlock noted, much like most other wakes, he imagined. He was milling around, letting John do all the talking to the bereaved and teary-eyed friends and relatives of Mike Stamford.

"I'm just so sorry for your loss. He was a wonderful man, and our years of training together were some of the best of my life," John told Stamford's mother with a sympathetic smile.

"That's lovely to know, John. He spoke very highly of you too," the woman replied, squeezing John's shoulder before leaving his side to continue mingling amongst the sombre crowd.

"If she wasn't so upset, I doubt she'd believe you," Sherlock told his best friend, once the mother had left.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," John said.

"See, there you go again, trying to lie, and failing miserably. You know you really shouldn't bother John; your acting skills are atrocious," Sherlock scolded.

"Oh I'm sorry! What would you rather I had said: 'It's sad that your son is dead and everything but I always thought he was a bit of a dick! I hated having to spend so much time with him and very nearly killed him myself a few times.' Would that have been better?" John mocked, unintentionally loudly, causing several guests to turn and stare in horror at his words.

"John! We're at the poor man's wake, what are you thinking saying such hurtful things?" Sherlock said to his friend in front of the accumulating audience, demonstrating his own exquisite acting abilities. "Now, come on, let us leave these people to grieve in peace."

"Hang on a minute!" Lestrade called out to both of the men as they headed towards the exit, John's head hanging low in shame, Sherlock desperately trying to conceal a smirk. "Let me leave with you, I'll give you a lift."

"How can we help you?" Sherlock asked as they all climbed into Lestrade's car.

"Did you really mean all those things that you said about Mike, John?" Lestrade asked, hurt by what he had heard.

"No," John said quietly. "It was the grief talking, I'm really in denial. It's a coping mechanism I guess."

"Again, lies," Sherlock muttered, just loud enough for John to hear.

"Oh shut up you!" John snapped back.

"What? I didn't say anything. Wow! You really are a bit messed up at the moment aren't you, John?" Lestrade said, concerned.

"Actually I'm…"John began before giving in and simply replying: "Yes, yes I am."

"So what did you want to ask?" Sherlock inquired.

"A school in North London have asked if you'll do a talk for some sixth form students about the Art of Deduction," Lestrade explained.

"No," Sherlock replied instantly.

"I was afraid you'd say that, which is why I didn't even tell you the first time they asked but they've been in contact again recently and it seems that they are really keen to have you in. The Head of Science in particular wants you to visit. He teaches chemistry and thinks it will make the kids a bit more enthusiastic about the subject when they hear about how you solve cases using forensics and scientific experiments," Lestrade tried to persuade him, targeting Sherlock's ego.

"I see. And the chemistry teacher specifically asked for me?" Sherlock asked for clarification.

"He did. So will you do it? It's only one afternoon, and seeing as you've given up on the CO2 case, you really don't having anything stopping you."

"Fine," Sherlock surrendered, surprisingly quickly.

"Really? I thought it would take a lot more persuasion than that. But, that's great. I'll pick you up and take you there on Thursday, then."

"Why are you coming too?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, I thought the kids might want to hear from a Detective Inspector as well," Lestrade explained.

"Oh, I highly doubt that," Sherlock commented as he stepped out of the car.

Lestrade shook his head in disbelief at Sherlock's blatant rudeness as he watched the two friends climb the Baker St. steps.

"Come on, the assembly hall is this way," Lestrade said, conscious that they were running late already. But as he glanced over his shoulder he saw that Sherlock was stood motionless staring into a classroom. "Oh for God's sake Sherlock, we really have to go. And you look creepy staring at all those kids."

Sherlock wasn't listening to Lestrade though; he was consumed by his thoughts as he stared at the whiteboard at the front of the room with a mass of notes all scribbled under the heading of 'Global Warming'.

"Come on Sherlock," John said tugging at his arm, "we have to get to this talk."

But Sherlock remained rooted to the spot, and told John: "No. I'm not going. This is much more interesting."

A/N: Please continue to review if you would be so kind!