The next morning, John woke up to find Mycroft sitting in their living room. Sherlock was not there.
"Good morning." Mycroft greeted him, extremely annoyed.
John shrugged and went into kitchen. When he came back with tea, Mycroft was in the same position. From what John saw, Mycroft was trying to explode his brother's bedroom with telekinesis.
"Sherlock!" He shouted at the bedroom's door. 10 seconds later the detective showed up from the back of it, well-dressed as John relieved to find.
The brothers stared into each other's eyes with hatred.
Mycroft gave in first. "My database gets hacked." His tone was perfectly flat, yet most dangerous, "Someone broke into it, several times during last year."
"And you didn't discover it until today?" Amazed at what he heard, John asked while Sherlock snorted with a sneer. "What's stolen?"
"Not stolen, seen." Mycroft's gaze still fixed on Sherlock.
"You are not suspecting him, are you? It is Moriaty." John defensed Sherlock in disbelief. He knew Sherlock delighted himself by irritating his brother, but not to that level, "Think about it, Mycroft, does your brother look like a…"
"You know little about him, doctor." Mycroft didn't even looked at him, "Or his deed during the last year."
John got stuck. So Mycroft knew Sherlock's fake death, too. Was he the only one that blacked out?
For the first time Mycroft turned to him and smiled as if knowing what he was thinking, "Most likely."
Sherlock warned him, "Mycroft!"
"My brother deemed you improper a candidate…"
"Shut up, Mycroft!" The detective shouted this time. Then, "Out!"
Mycroft stopped his speech, but unmoved. There was a gridlock, then three phones rang at the same time.
Everyone reached for his own phone. Mycroft's text was from nobody, and Sherlock and John's were from Lestrade. They were the same, "Turn on the television." And John did.
All channels were filled with a bold capital letter "U".
"What's the fuck?" John turned to his laptop. The home page was replaced by a letter "N".
Then Sherlock turned on WAP, "L".
Three men looked at each other. Then Mycroft took a long breath, "What's his plan, the…Moriaty?"
Sherlock turned his gaze at him, not speaking.
"Well, in this case." Mycroft stood up, "Stop him before he release any of these confidential file."
"Why?" It was a refuse, rather than a question.
"Your bills last year, pay them with the case, or I'll pay them for you." Mycroft simpered. "Good day, John." He left the living room.
"It was not you, was it?" John asked Sherlock cautiously.
"The hacker? Of course not, that's his plan. Press Center, brilliant, he wanted to get them published." Sherlock's eyes were filled with eager of an upcoming battle when his phone rang.
Lestrade simply said, "Come."
On the way to Scotland Yard, John found his phone connecting to normal Internet again. Every website was discussing the Media Disaster as having been named, and a piece of radio showed digital billboards in commercial centers were filled with "O".
"Unlock." The detective sitting next to him replied to his unspoken question imperturbably.
"What?"
"Un-lock, disentangling me and releasing the government secrets. He loved puns." He explained.
"Sherlock." John found it difficult to go on.
His friend turned to him. "I won't let neither happen, I promise. He failed last time, and will fail again."
John nodded.
In Scotland Yard, Lestrade showed them pictures sent from Press Center Printing Agency. "Every procedure was right, final newspaper turned out like this." The newspaper in pictures piling on the printing machine read "C". John gave out a heavy sigh.
"I see." Sherlock emphasized on the "C" with some kind of amusement. "And I expect the K in International Press Center. We must have missed something. Quick, John."
He strode out, and John followed him.
Lestrade shouted to their back, "I'll send for the EOD team." Then he added reluctantly, "Again."
John's heart sank deeper hearing this. He almost had forgotten Moriaty's promise to burn the detective, and now he was reminded of that.
"Yes, please." He said this quietly to Lestrade, and to himself.
The International Press Center was entirely rough and tumble. The manager refused to see them until 16:00, one hours after their request. To John's surprise, Sherlock waited patiently in café.
When asked, he simply said, "They are figuring out in their way."
Then the manager showed up.
"We tried to fix the problem. We printed newspaper again. Every step was right, everyone can guarantee that. And it turned out to be…" He picked up the front page, still having a bold capital C on it.
"Virus?" Sherlock suggested.
"Very clever one." The manager shook his head in disbelief, "Sample edition was all right, and final printing was like this."
"Have you tried reset printing system?" John asked.
"The first thing we tried." The manager shrugged, "Not work."
"All the computers?"
The manager sneered faintly. "That's impossible. We are talking about thousands of them here and we get other work to do, more work than ever. Don't even think about it. And the virus doesn't necessarily come from inside."
"You mean the internet. Tried to cut it off?"
"No." The manager shook again. "Never think about it."
John sighed.
"What do you think?" John asked Sherlock when they were alone, "Could it be from the Internet, like some directional bomb?"
"Probably." Sherlock's eyes were behind shadows. "That's not important anyway. A computer here is planted with a key; we are going to find it."
"How? You heard what he said, there are thousands of them."
"Think, John. Mycroft's files."
"Yes?"
"The newspaper will be printed out at any minute, can't you see? They can't risk posting confidential files to the internet, in fear of being track down or hacked. So they put them in a hard drive, usb, anything like that. Where? Connected to a computer in Press Center net, to replace the headlines right when the final newspaper gets printed, so they would never risk shutting it down." He explained thoughtfully.
"And that's the key?" John tried to follow, "I thought the key would be a trap… for you."
"Yes, it could be both. Get me down was his final purpose, anyway. And I can't sit and watch he won my dearest brother." He tipped his head a little, as if serious considering its possibility, then got himself awake from day dreaming. "Where is Lestrade, I need him in person."
Half an hour later, Lestrade came. In 5 minutes, everyone in the Press Center was busy saving files. Another 5 minutes passed, all computer wires were taken off.
"So," Lestrade looked at Sherlock, the furious manager standing by him, "What's the next step?"
"Wait." He replied, examining network transition data closely, and pointing at one of them, "Which segment is it for?"
The technical assistance bent over to see, "Wireless network, actually. Do you need me to shut it down?"
"No." Sherlock and John shouted at the same time. The disconnection to network might trigger the key to explosion, better to let it happen after they located and removed it.
The next 40 minutes, all the policemen searched every room in the building, each holding IR Detecting Sensor in hand. Whatever appearance the key might look like, it couldn't fake in network connection or radiation. But all the computers were deadly shut.
"The roof." Finally Sherlock said.
He headed to the lift. John followed while the detective stopped, "Lestrade, please come."
Three of them went onto the roof. Dawn has fallen on the old City of London. From where they stood, John could see Bart's and streets he was familiar with, yet the feeling was strange. Was there really a trap for a brilliant young friend here, and might take their lives any minute from now. For a second John felt like the whole city was declaring upon them, and Lestride's shout startled him out of the illusion.
John walked to him and Sherlock. They were around a tablet computer. A factotum initial K was showing off on its screen.
John came over to take a closer look. Moriaty's followers didn't even bother to hide the exploder. It was right under the computer, along with all kinds of sensors as they could recognize.
No one dared to pick any of them up. Then John whispered to Lestrade as quietly as possible. "Get the EOD." Lestrade walked to the lift soundlessly.
The last sunray disappeared from horizon, the sky was darkening quickly. John was again distracted by the grand farewell of the day, when Sherlock bent and touched the screen before John could stop him.
Nothing happened for a second. Then the letter K began to dissolve, and solemnly lasers were shooting out from the computer under the night sky, mingling with each other around them.
Oddly enough, Sherlock didn't seem startled. He just stood upright and said to John, "A cage, obviously. Please leave."
"No." John replied without hesitation.
"It's for me."
"No." John added, "I'll be with you."
"Trust me, John. Leave." Sherlock said when Lestrade came back to the roof with two men, obviously freaked out by what they saw.
"Lestrade, get John away." He shouted to the inspector when John saw words appearing on the screen. "Welcome, Sir Bors de Ganis." Then finger prints appeared side by side in the shape of open hands. Fingerprint detection for what…
"What's the…" He was too concentrating to notice Sherlock's upcoming push. The next second he stumbled out the laser cage and was seized by Lestrade.
"Lestrade." John protested when Sherlock gave out orders, "Everyone leave here, and clear the whole building." The lasers were getting thicker and thicker, John could barely see the figure of detective through its net.
"We get you a protection dress, sir." One policeman said.
"Seriously, you think that could protect me from explosion?" Judging from what they heard, Sherlock had already knelt down to the computer.
"Sherlock!" John shouted to him. Then Sherlock spoke again, his voice full of excitement. "Tell Mycroft don't worry about his stupid files any more, they get self-destroyed…" He paused for a second, "Here comes the countdown."
"Sherlock!" John tried to get rid of Lestrade's seize but the inspector was professional.
"Ok, hand me the protect dress. And John, leave." A policeman stepped forward to pass the protection dress to Sherlock, both carefully avoided touching the beaming laser.
Then John was dragged away.
Now anything could happen at any second while John stood outside of Lestrade's car, watching the roof where Sherlock was from a safe distance. 1 minute passed, 2 minutes passed, the laser cage was still blazing; too blaze to see the figure of friend through it. Nothing happened, that was the best news John could wish for, but still, any minute then, anything might happen.
"I can't believe we missed the roof." John said.
"No, it wasn't there yesterday, I assure you." Lestrade corrected him, "I'm pretty sure we search the roof."
John shook his head to himself. Of course it wasn't, otherwise Sherlock wouldn't have missed it. He was marvelous, incredible, amazing…
John couldn't help his mind drifting away. A year ago he thought he had lost his friend forever, and he was losing him any minute now. It was like some sick joke, while once again John himself could not help with anything.
"Sherlock." He murmured. Lestrade looked at him worriedly.
"Sherlock." John thought up how he met Sherlock again in that taxi while he was making up his mind to the London Eye. He was not good enough, but at least he was not a coward. Suddenly he began to stride in his quickest pace.
"What?" Lestrade warned him, "I know what you are doing, stop and come back."
"I was a soldier," John said firmly without looking back. "I know bomb."
Lestrade took him back to the Press Center. He said nothing all the way, but when John got out of the car, Lestrade nodded to him, "See you two later."
John nodded back, "See you."
He went directly to the top floor and to the laser net. The blazing light was blinding him, yet he stepped towards it steadily. Sherlock would be mad at him when he saw him coming, but John wouldn't give that a damn.
He stepped in.
His blood ran frozen.
The detective was not there, the counting down was stopped and wires were cut.
"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" After a blank second, John shouted to himself. He suddenly understood why Sherlock insist him leaving, why nothing was found in previous search. Fuck the bloody bastard and the whole shit about London Eye mistake.
Little New Street. Sherlock cheated on him, no wonder he was so encouraging. He should have felt something at that time, but John missed that. Now he lost trace of Sherlock.
John ran back to the ground floor. Lestrade's car was still there waiting.
"What happened?" Lestrade looked shocked, "Where is he?"
John got into the car, his voice was steady while his face all pale. "Show me a map."
The Buckingham Place was the right eye, of course! The market was the left right, the Faraday Garden was the nose. John drew lines between them with his figure, and turned the map a little for a better examination. Like a magic, suddenly Waterloo Bridge became an axis of the winding River Thames, Old London and Westminster City was symmetrical with each other, each having an eye at center and along the axis was…
"Brain." John thought, "You really should not let me know this."
"Great British Museum." He told Lestrade, leaning forward for whatever to come.