Madison King
Chapter 6
Once in the flat, John is the first to speak up saying; "What was that about Sherlock?"
"Turn on the news," Sherlock commands of no one in particular as he points at the television set. He scratches his head as he paces around the room. John watches him with a puzzled look on his face
Rory grabs the remote off of the small end table beside John's chair and turns on the telly. He flips through channels until Sherlock tells him to stop. On the television is the image of a building on fire and a caption saying something or another about a bomb.
There's a building that was bombed. Why should this be important? The group, excluding Sherlock, watches the image before them. "Why is this important?" Rory asks.
Sherlock shakes his head and replies, "Look at you, lot. You're all so vacant. What is it like being in your funny like brains? It must be so boring."
"Rory, this is why people always think you're the dumb one even though you have a nursing degree," the Doctor says with a sigh. "That was the building we were just in."
Rory doesn't say anything in response to the Doctor or Sherlock. He is embarrassed. He may not be the all-around smartest person, but he is kind, loving, insanely loyal, caring, and brave. He's not the most intelligent person and although he has a nursing degree, he is the dumbest person in the room…like he is most of the time.
"Now, Doctor, you said that the webbing was not from a spider," Sherlock says. "What's your theory as to what it was from?"
"I cannot test my 'theory' now!" the Doctor responds. "The building is in flames!"
"Sherlock," John interrupts before his flat mate can make another offensive comment, "tell us what you already know. Then, we'll hear what the Doctor's theory as to what he believes the webbing was from."
"Umm…no," Sherlock says holding out the M much longer than necessary. "He said he can no longer prove his theory; therefore, whatever he believed that oversized spider web to be is of little importance. We can find Moriarty and his sniper without that."
"Moriarty?" John questions. "You think that he's behind this?"
"Of course, he's behind this. Isn't it obvious?"
"Not to me."
"You know he—" Sherlock starts to say but is cut off by the annoying pinging of his mobile. "Would you get that, John?" He brings his hands up to steeple under his chin.
"If it is in your jacket pocket again, I am not getting it," John states. "It is one thing for me to get it for you when we're at Bart's and you're hands are busy doing who-knows-what to your experiments. We're at home, and we have guests. I'm not getting it." Sherlock rolls his eyes dramatically and pulls his phone out of his the pocket of his black slacks. "You were going to have me reach into your trousers to retrieve your mobile?" John questions his flat mate with a hiss of suppressed anger in his voice.
"Yes," Sherlock answers bluntly as he looks at his phone.
There are two texts. Seeing that it's his elder brother, Mycroft, Sherlock regards it as of little importance. The first one reads: Sherlock, I need to meet with you immediately. It is a matter of national security and your personal safety. – M
The second one sends chills down Sherlock's spine. "John," he calls his friend to his side to look at a text from the James "Jim" Moriarty. Moriarty's little "Did you miss me?" stunt was one thing, but this…
Sherlock feels as if he has seen a ghost as he looks down at the text message he had received from the consulting criminal. He knew Moriarty was back from his "Do you miss me?" stunt but before this, it seemed only like a terrible nightmare. The text read:
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Dear me Mr. Holmes
What happened to you?
Deserting your friends
And "taking" your life
You made quite a mess
And caused a lot of strife
And your little friend John
What about him?
Without you
He looked quite grim,
So think very hard.
Should you have returned?
Not everyone could handle
That kind of burn
Dear me Mr. Holmes
Does my name ring a bell?
That day you faked your death
I faked mine as well.
Jim Moriarty x.
Sherlock breathes out and whispers. "He's back."
"He's coming after you again?" John questions. "It's been months since his stunt…why now?"
Sherlock's breath hitches. He knows something. He steeples his hands under his chin and the room seems to be frozen or possibly time-locked as he works through the details of his discovery. No one moves or makes a sound.