Chapter 3: The Queen of the Grave~
Exactly 2 hours and 46 minutes later, John woke up, his head laying against Sherlock's shoulder.
"Is the flight already over?" John asked, wishing it had actually been a long flight, and not just impatient Sherlock saying so , so that he could sleep for longer.
"We're landing in Helsinki first, and we plan to find accommodations here, and drive north." Sherlock answered,having been staring out the window, deep in thought.
John was yawning, trying to wake himself,when he felt Sherlock pulling him into more of a sitting position, and was about to swear at him for being so impatient, when he felt him pulling a warm new coat over his shoulders.
"We're in Scandinavia, in the early of December. It will be cold." he said, voice low, a concerned expression furrowing his brows.
"I don't remember bringing this?" John asked, trying to recall the early hours before.
"No... I packed some extra things..."
"Why?"
John could sense there was more to this case than helping the boy, or than Sherlock was telling him. He looked out the window again at the settle of the snowfall off the Cathedral that stood high above Helsinki like the patron saint of welcome.
"Here..." Sherlock whispered, and pulled some gloves out of his own coat, and started putting them on John's hands. John clasped Sherlock's hands firmly, causing him to look up.
"You ok?" he asked, suddenly concerned. Sherlock licked his lips, and looked back at John, deadly serious as only he can be.
"You trust me, right?"
"Of course I do...what's wrong?"
Sherlock looked back over his shoulder, as if he were indicating they should keep their voices low, so as not to upset the boy, who was awake now and chatting with the Major. Then he turned to John, smiling bravely.
"I've been discussing this case/mission with Mycroft...and there is a possibility that we may spend the entire winter in Finland..."
John set his jaw. They would miss Christmas then, or have to have it here amongst themselves, but he wasn't really close to his family, Sherlock actually being more family to him than his drunkard and abusive parents and sister. If he'd had a girlfriend, the romance would be over as soon as he decided to take off with Sherlock on some random flight to Scandinavia at 5 in the morning, so he was glad that his romantic life was pretty much as non-existant as his strange detective friend himself, at the moment. The only people they may want to have spent Christmas with would have been Greg ,Molly and Mrs Hudson, but they'd be sure to send them presents. Sherlock didn't really factor the holidays into his plans anyway, so why did the idea of spending the entire winter in Finland seem to be upsetting him so badly?
"It's ok, mate, we can send Greg and the girls a soveneir..."John said, fishing. Sherlock swallowed.
"But missing Christmas, and spending your birthday abroad is the last thing on the radar screen for you, isn't it?"
"John, this mysterious woman psychopath that has been holding our client hostage for years...there were rumors of her amongst Moriarty's Network. I don't do rumors, you know, I only investigate evidence, only come up with tangible results. Because she was spoken of as a myth, I believed her to be one. They called her "the Queen of the Grave". Said she was suffering under a new realm of insanity, said she would be the one to truly bring chaos, and make Jim Moriarty look like a snot nosed little flower girl. But now I do have tangible evidence of her, a client. Which, if the stories are true, we are about to unveil a whole new chapter of the criminal world. Which is exhilarating, but also..." Sherlock swallowed, his voice growing low...
"The prospect of collateral damage is here. I will do all I can to ensure the survival of the innocent lives in our charge. But we've failed before...Soo Lin Yao, for example. Sholto's boys... We are not strangers to collateral damage, John. Now I make a point of "not caring" about my clients, because I know that my emotional attachment to them isn't going to help them. It doesn't mean ,however, that I have no regard for their lives...This could be no less than heartbreaking. And if it is...do you still want to help me?"
John smiled, amazed once more by his friend.
"Just so you know, you are the most human human being that I have ever known...What you've just said, is extra proof...
Of course I want to help you ,Sherlock. Whether we spend the winter in Helsinki, or Hell itself...as long as we're together, it's all fine by me."
Sherlock smiled, but still had a dark expression on his face.
"You think we might not reach the girl in time?" John asked, understanding.
" I think the only reason a woman with a reputation such as this would let Yeats escape, was that...she might already be dead."
John felt like he'd been kicked in the chest by a recoiling gun.
"Oh...God..."
Sherlock grit his teeth.
"I don't know what we're walking into. But Moriarty told me once, that every fairytale has to have a good old fashioned villain. What we have here is Sleeping Beauty, I am afraid. And our mission is to stop as many witches as we can, before several other sons and daughters fall forever asleep..."
John nodded, and stood up, pulling Sherlock to his feet, just as the pilot was lowering the ramp to let them off.
" Good thing fairy tales aren't real, right?" John smiled, and Sherlock laughed,spirits lifted. John was his light in a storybook darkness...
A while later they were walking down the sidewalk, on the way to the Hotel Haven, in the heart of the city, within walking distance of the Presidential Palace.
"Seems a bit expensive. Why'd we choose this one? Not that I'm complaining, but I'd have been content with the Carlton?" asked the Major.
Mycroft was walking at a clipped pace, and directly beside him was Sherlock. The Major had fallen behind, carefully surveying the alleys they passed,for any sign of threat. John and Yeats were in the middle, and the boy looked in wonder at all the massive buildings about him, it becoming ever clearer, the City, and exposure to other people, was a new experience for him.
"The Haven is strategically the best place for us to be, because it is so central to the rest of the City ,and because it is so near this cities government offices." Mycroft answered, wasting no time.
"He means , if we're up against what we think we're up against, than this would be the best place for our opponent to stage an act of terrorism." Sherlock added.
"So...you're staying with us, Mycroft?" John asked, suddenly wondering how exactly serious this situation was. They hadn't really been in contact with Mycroft much since Denmark, and so John's understanding of the last 3 months since their return was still a bit hazy.
"Need I remind you the events that surrounded our last excursion in one another's company, Doctor Watson? If Sherlock is right(which he is very rarely not) then the same opponents from our last game ,are playing us again, with different cards this time. I would be a fool not to take any plan, however ridiculous it may seem, to disband the Secret Services of our nation, and try to overthrow the UK in some anarchist martial law,seriously. Tea with the Queen, and calls to make sure the Prime Minister's dog isn't stolen can wait. This is my occupation at its prime level, and I intend to perform my duty to the best of my ability."
"Which is no small ability. He is ,as I have said, basically the Queen of England, he is merely lacking a crown." said Sherlock ,turning on his heel, and walking backwards for a moment to face his friends.
Mycroft was about to make a clever retort to his little brother's sassy comment, when suddenly Yeats gasped, pointing across the street:
"That's the man, Sherlock!" and drew close to the detective.
Sherlock immediately understood, " You mean...the man who hospitalized you under your alias?"
"Yes!"
The look on Sherlock's face basically told John all that he needed to know.
"I know him." Sherlock whispered.
"What?" asked John, exasperated all of a sudden.
"From your Hiatus, brother mine?" Mycroft asked, always able to track with Sherlock fastest, sometimes being the one to lead him along.
"Yes, and I had hoped never to see him again..." Sherlock muttered. Then he stopped short and said loudly enough for even a few other people on the street to over hear:
"Vatican cameos."
Major immediately jumped to action.
" Doctor...he needs medical attention!" the Major said, and Sherlock pretended to pass out, Mycroft catching him in his arms, feigning horror.
"What are we doing?" Yeats gasped, nearly panicking.
"Creating a diversion." John whispered back, immediately going into doctor mode.
"Ok, Sherlock ,tell me...where does it hurt?"John asked, double speaking,"What do you see when I hold up these many fingers to you?"
(Which was Holmes and Watson double speak for , "Status of our situation?")
Sherlock's eyes swept the other side of the street. Making rapid deductions of their opponent, and the status of the threat. He hissed loudly, as if in great pain, and clutched Mycroft's arm, to guide his gaze where he was looking: "Oh my God, John, it feels like my chest is exploding! Like I've been hit by an exploding car!"
(Which was Holmes and Watson double speak for, "Possible bombed car threat".)
"My God..."Mycroft moaned, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Now people were turning to look.
"What happened to him?" asked a girl, with an Iranian accent.
"He's been knifed...I think there's a killer on the loose!" John gasped, and the Major jumped to action.
"A violent crime, a violent crime has taken place...everyone,...stay calm ...and listen to me carefully,I need you to clear the street until the authorities arrive..." he barked, and people obeyed him, because he was clearly military, who's military didn't matter at the moment ,so long as he saved their lives, from whatever it was they were in need of saving from.
Mycroft was immediately dialing the Helsinki police department, and calling his own bomb tech that he'd had sent to the British consulate.
People were pouring off the street.
"Is he going to be alright, Doctor?" asked Mycroft, (which was Holmes and Watson double speak for, 'Now's time for us to beat it'.)
"We need to take him to a Hospital!"John agreed, and they began to clear away, when Sherlock gasped, dropping the act:
"Get down!" and pulled Mycroft and John down with him, pressing their faces into the snow-covered sidewalk, covering their heads with his arms, and bowing over them himself.
There was a sudden heat, and fire shot straight up into the air, and fire trucks were shrieking to a stop on the other side of the street ,avoiding worsening the situation with further explosions.
Slowly Sherlock began to sit up, and John spat out snow,blinking rapidly to see what had happened. Where was the Major, and Yeats? Were Sherlock and Mycroft ok? Curse Sherlock, he'd put himself in danger again, to protect him! He rolled over suddenly angry,and scared, but Sherlock was kneeling in the snow, panting , staring into the distance.
"That happened more quickly than I anticipated." Mycroft admitted, sitting slowly up, giving his little brother an odd look for risking himself again.
"He got away." Sherlock panted.
"Who was that?"John asked, and Sherlock gave him a nervous look.
"Remember when I told you I was a guest of Loki's Gauntlet some time ago? That was my host."