The Strange Case of Doctor Watson and Mister Ives
Part Seven: Come On Irene
Plans were proceeding apace when Sherlock received the phone call he had been anticipating.
He did not even bother to check the number as he stepped out into the hallway to answer it.
"So...you failed to capture Ives like you planned."
Mycroft sighed. "He eluded me; unfortunately, he is headed directly toward Moriarty as we speak."
Sherlock did not bother to disguise his venom as he replied, "John needed your help, and all you could see was that all that money sunk into creating a super soldier was finally coming to fruition. He's not one of your damned pawns, Mycroft!"
"All of the Jekyll subjects were uncontrollable, they followed whatever whim crossed their mind, and yet Ives is controlled, targeted and while brutal has not caused collateral damage to anyone not involved with Moriarty or me in some manner. If we could but find out what separates the chemistry of Ives from the rest, we could have an amazing potential resource. You cannot blame me for being intrigued," Mycroft informed in a bored tone.
"A good man was victimized and shot up with a drug that one of your black bag ops formulated, and you can only see it as an opportunity, that I do blame you for, Mycroft," Sherlock shot back with an angry hiss.
"If you must you must. Nonetheless, he is out there and he is active and he must be nullified before he reaches independence from the John Watson persona. If he does that we will have a blood bath on our hands," Mycroft stated in a dry tone.
Sherlock grinned. He finally knew something before his brother. "That won't happen."
"It is inevitable, you saw the same data I have," Mycroft patiently explained.
"John Watson won't allow it," Sherlock replied.
Mycroft sighed, the first sound of weariness that Sherlock had heard from the beginning of this entire affair. "He won't have a choice, Sherlock. The Jekyll persona will take over, it is inevitable. Not one of the subjects ever maintained control for even this long. Ives will become permanent, that is a fact you should acquaint yourself with now, dear brother. All I am trying to do is salvage something from this tragedy."
"They were not John Watson," Sherlock stated with a self assurance that Mycroft had never heard from Sherlock before.
"Moriarty said that he was a Jekyll subject, and that he was given an antidote for the physical symptoms but his mind was permanently affected. He claims that he is going to use the antidote on Ives then kill Watson slowly, you might be able to save your friend if you get there before the torture begins," Mycroft informed. His voice held a tint of regret, for what Sherlock was not sure.
"Moriarty was not a test subject, Mycroft, he was always a psychopath and has been since he was young, remember Carl Powers? If Moriarty was able to synthesize Botulinum toxin that young, then he is most likely a master chemist of some stripe. I'll bet the reason no one can find a clue to his identity is because he was erased by your people when he joined the Jekyll project. That is how he got the formula and was able to create an antidote. He manipulated you into thinking that the Jekyll serum is still viable so you would interfere with my plans and possibly take Ives away for further study."
"That slick little bastard!" Mycroft spat.
Sherlock suddenly felt a small glimmer of admiration for Moriarty, it lasted but a moment...just long enough for him to feel nauseated.
"If I can get to John in time, and get him to reassert his persona over Ives, then there is a chance the schism will heal itself and the two identities will repair back into one," Sherlock mused, "however, the existence of a possible antidote could work better."
"He said that only one subject survived the antidote, if he was lying about being that subject then that claim might have been false."
Sherlock nodded to himself. "Right. I think I know what I need to do, if you had told me this earlier John could have been home right now. As it happens, I now see a chance we can succeed."
"I hope you are correct, Sherlock, however, you should know, the signal he is following is attached to someone you're already acquainted with. Irene Adler. If you need me call."
The phone hung up in Sherlock's numb fingers.
Lestrade wandered out into the hall and caught the end of the conversation. "You look like you've seen a ghost, old man."
Sherlock tapped the phone against his chin. "Not yet, but evidently I will soon. We need to get back to work."
~-o0o-~
By the time the car pulled up in front of New Scotland Yard, a nondescript black sedan with tinted windows, Sherlock and the Yarders were ready.
A large suit clad black man slipped out of the passenger side with a wand like instrument.
He confirmed Sherlock's theory that he would not be able to carry a transmitter on his person with this thoroughness, and Holmes did not bother carrying a phone as it would have been confiscated, it was now safely in Lestrade's pocket.
After a nod of satisfaction the back door to the sedan was opened and Sherlock gave the man a simper before he settled into the interior.
"Hello, Sherlock."
The smoky feminine purr made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and a sensation shot through his body all the way to this groin.
His eyes found his fellow travelling companion; the flawless skin and merry dark eyes gave him a recollection that was almost crippling. "Hello, Irene," he managed to say without a stammer which was an accomplishment.
His mind flooded his perceptions with nearly six months of intense images, his entire history with this lovely creature flashed through his mind in moments, including the ignominious ending.
Her delicate fingers with their perfectly manicured nails caressed her chin as she gave Sherlock a once over.
"I like what you've done with the hair, and your coat is fabulous."
He smirked. "You should know, you bought it for me."
"One of my better purchases," she replied with a satisfied smile.
"As it happens," Sherlock remarked, "it was one of your only purchases."
She shrugged unconcerned.
He turned to give her his full attention. "Did it please you, that here you where, one of the world's foremost thieves, dating the greatest detective mankind has produced? Did it make you feel validation that you had me fooled so completely?"
She rolled her eyes. "Oh yes, you were the bleeding victim weren't you? You began dating me because I was a suspect, and if I was not the thief, I most likely knew who it was, and was associated with them. You thought there was no way a woman could be the Jade Peregrine. You created your own blind spot. You never cared for me...you're incapable."
Sherlock's eyes showed no emotion, but they narrowed for an almost imperceptive extent. "I cared for you in my own manner."
"You found me curious, a mystery for you to solve, but I was little more than another puzzle for your intellect," Irene replied waving off his statement.
"So you've graduated from high functioning sociopaths to psychopaths?" Sherlock needled.
She laughed, the throaty genuinely unselfconscious way that Sherlock always found alluring in spite of his expressed nature. "I know that Jim will try to kill me someday, but until then, he is far more fun to be with than you ever were."
Sherlock turned back to the window he was silent for a few moments. "Everything you've said was true, we both know the score, but Moriarty will kill you, you're nowhere near as clever as he is, and he might even be smarter than me."
At that admission Sherlock was pleased to see a tiny bit of apprehension in her eyes. The first dawning of a realization that she might be in over her head; at least he hoped that was what it was.
Suddenly there was a back up in traffic.
They both looked past the driver to see the problem.
There were two cars across the roadway, and an argument was breaking out between an obviously inebriated silver haired gentleman and an thinner man holding a makeshift bandage to his forehead gesturing angrily, there was a policeman trying to sort the argument and keep them apart while a dark skinned lady PC with white gloves expertly directed traffic around, there was a young man with a hood up on a light jacket weaving in and out of cars tapping on windows with a ragged fingerless glove asking for a hand out and being rebuffed by every car as he passed, he crossed behind their car and continued on after a tap on their window as well. He stepped up on the curb as they were waved through and the traffic snarl found some momentum.
They turned onto the bridge and continued on their way.
~-o0o-~
Behind them as they faded from sight the two motorists suddenly ended their argument and soon the traffic snarl was flowing again as both cars were moved. Lestrade rubbed the pencilled-in scruff off his chin with a wet wipe and finger combed his hair back into some semblance of order while Anderson wiped the fake blood off, Donovan came over in her uniform after she waved the last car through.
"Did we get it planted?"
Lestrade nodded toward the young man in the hoody, he sauntered up and pulled it back revealing Dimmock uncharacteristically dishevelled. He nodded with a smile.
"Back to the Yard then, we'll suit up with a tact team as soon as we have a destination," Lestrade informed.
They were so engrossed with their impromptu meeting that they failed to see the car that passed driven by Howard Ives, following the signal on his handheld, his dark eyes intense and knuckles white with anticipation.
~-o0o-~
Less than an hour later, they found the car that Sherlock was taken away in abandoned in yet another carpark with the transmitter still attached to the inside of the rear bumper.
Lestrade leaned back against the car wearily while Donovan cursed under her breath.
Dimmock was next to Lestrade all of them in bullet proof vests with guns drawn.
The tact commander was quietly informing the team to stand down.
Lestrade chewed his lip as he tried to think. "Sherlock is never going to let me live this down."
Dimmock stared at his superior with silent expectation, clenching his jaw in that old familiar way that he had since Lestrade met him fresh from the academy. "Someone like Sherlock is bound to have high government connections, any favours we can call in?"
Lestrade perked up and fished in his pocket pulling out Sherlock's cell phone. He scrolled through the contact list and found a promising entry under:
Bastard!
"What are you doing?" Dimmock inquired his eyes curious.
"Making a deal with the devil himself," Lestrade replied as he hit send.
Soon the phone was answered by a familiar pedantic voice.
"Hello Mycroft."
Part 08 Tomorrow-