The room went quiet again in shock and looked. Q and Sherlock stopped coding, Mycroft stopped giving directions, and Anthea dropped her phone. The world stopped. Q looked up at the screen before him, spinning with maps and numbers. This was his life's work, and entire human worth spent on impressing his brothers and mother and proving he was just as brilliant as them. Now he was caught between his work and the man it was spent to destroy. He heard the click of a gun being pressed to his head, of a bullet in its place.
"Do you like my web, Bartolio? I made it for you." His voice didn't quake, he didn't move, only his fingers moved, taping out something in Morse code most like.
"Yes, it's very lovely. For a whole month, Mr. Q, a month, you actually had me scarred." Bartolio clicked the gun. "But I don't have to worry about that anymore, do I?"
"I wouldn't be so sure." John Watson spoke up. Everyone had forgotten about the quiet boyfriend who had let the situation so far slip past. He was no holding a gun to Bartolio's head.
"How the fuck did you get a gun into MI6?!" Bartolio looked at John with an expression of exasperation and shock.
John shrugged "I have my ways." The entire situation would have been incredibly humorous had lives not been at stake.
"I am warning you, if you lay one finger on that man I will have no choice but to shoot you dead right here and now." John's hand shook a little bit, but his voice was strong.
The voice of the operative was back. "It's done. The computer is destroyed. All the data, gone, dead."
"It's over, Bartolio. You're done." Q still didn't look at Bartolio, but hell he wanted to see the look on his face.
"Am I?" he asked "Is this really how you wanted me to go down? No in a violent death, not with your gun pressed to my head?"
"No. But in my puzzle, Bart. This is what I wanted to see." Q turned to face him, a smirk on his face. "And now, you're done for. Done!" this last word shook the entire group, reverberating off the walls into an undistinguishable echo.
Bart's face calmed, and he looked at his gun, eyebrows arched.
"Well." Two shots were fired. All anyone saw was Bartolio's body crumple, one shot.
"What the hell?" M asked, looking for the other shot.
That's when everyone saw the blood coming from Sherlock's leg.