A Wife for Sherlock Holmes
Chapter 33 – Something Wicked This Way Comes
FLASHBACK.
A blurry figure walked in through a door, closed it and then walked forward. At the far end of the room Sherlock was sitting at a small table, which had a red tablecloth. He was wearing a hospital gown and had his morphine drip on a stand beside him. On the table in front of him was a plate with a part-finished meal on it. Some penne pasta and a cherry tomato remained. There was also a glass of water on the table. Sherlock chewed and swallowed his latest mouthful of food, not looking up as the other person walked closer.
It was Magnussen.
"Shouldn't you be in hospital?"
Sherlock did not look up. "I am in hospital. This is the canteen."
Sherlock had busted out of hospital again, not bothering or unable to get his clothes for the escape, and the two men were in a small restaurant or tavern. There were no other customers and the only member of staff was at the far end by the door.
Magnussen looked round the not-canteen. "Is it?"
"In my opinion, yes." He gestured with his fork to the chair on the other side of the table. "Have a seat."
"Thank you."
Sherlock laid his fork down on the plate and watched as Magnussen sat down opposite him. "I've been thinking about you."
"I've been thinking about you."
"Really?" Looking a little weak, he reached across to the morphine control and pushed the button three times. Sherlock turned back to Magnussen. "I want to see Appledore, where you keep all the secrets, all the files, everything you've got on everyone. I want you to invite me."
They locked eyes.
"What makes you think I'd be so careless?"
"Oh, I think you're a lot more 'careless' than you let on."
"Am I?" Magnussen asked leaning forward.
Sherlock had his elbows on the table with his hands clasped in front of him. He too leaned forward and smiled as he looked into Magnusson's eyes. "It's the dead-eye stare that gives it away."
Magnussen looked back at him unblinking.
Sherlock unclasped his hands and slowly lifting them toward the other man. "Except it's not dead-eyed, is it?" He continued to reach towards Magnusson's face, moving slowly so that the man knew what he's doing. Sherlock winced and sucked in a sharp breath as he extended his arms and slowly took hold of Magnusson's glasses and took them off. Magnusson's eyes flicker toward the glasses as they leave his face, but then he returned his gaze to Sherlock. "You're reading." Smiling slightly, he drew the glasses toward himself and looked down at them. "Portable Appledore." He snorted slightly and then looked across to Magnussen. "How does it work?"
Magnussen looked down at the glasses.
"Built-in flash drive?" He lifted the glasses toward his own face. "4G wireless?" He put them on and raised his head as he looked through the lenses. After a moment he frowned, turning his head a little and then lowering it before he slowly took the glasses off again, blinking as if confused. He looked down at them, turning them in his hands. "They're just ordinary spectacles."
"Yes…they are."
Sherlock grimaced slightly, still looking down at the glasses. Magnussen looked at him. His vision was slightly blurred without his glasses on, but text appeared in front of his eyes in red:
PRESSURE POINT: MORPHINE (ADD TO FILE)
He lowered his head and smiled, then reached across with one hand and flicked through the pasta on the plate with his fingers, unearthing a black olive. Sherlock continued to stare down at the glasses.
"You underestimate me, Mr. Holmes."
Sherlock sank back in his seat, still looking at the glasses as if in disbelief. Magnussen picked up the olive and put it in his mouth. He then licked his thumb and forefinger before reaching across to the glass of water and dabbling the licked digits in it. With his other hand he reached across the table and took his glasses from Sherlock, then shook the water off his wet fingers over the table and put his glasses back on.
Sherlock slowly lowered his own hands to the table, looking down as if still in shock. "Impress me, then. Show me Appledore."
"Everything's available for a price." Magnussen said chewing thoughtfully on an olive.
Sherlock lifted his eyes to his.
"Are you making me an offer?"
"A Christmas present."
"And what are you giving me for Christmas, Mr. Holmes?"
"My brother." He smiled a little.
ZzZ
THE PRESENT.
In the Holmes' kitchen, Sherlock was still looking down reflectively.
John turned away from him. "Oh, Jesus."
He walked away, while Sherlock looked down at his unconscious brother. John went into the next door sitting room and looked down at Sherlock's father on the sofa and godchild on the floor beside him. He then stopped and grimaced with his fists clenched.
"Sherlock ..."
In the kitchen, Sherlock was putting his gloves on.
"... please tell me you haven't just gone out of your mind." John continued.
Sherlock bent down and took the silver-grey laptop from the table, pulling it from under where Mycroft has one hand resting on it. "I'd rather keep you guessing."
John turned toward the second sitting room where Mary and Marion were, but just then the sound of an approaching helicopter could be heard. Also the soft cooing of a baby was also heard. Bill walked into the room with Marion and Mary and lifted Kerrin from his crib. He smiled and bounced him a little.
"Are ya 'ungry 'ittle man? Uncle Billy 'ill feed ya." He smiled and carried the baby toward the kitchen smiling at John as he passed him.
John shook his head in amazement.
In the kitchen, Sherlock looked upwards. "Ah." He smiled. "There's our lift."
John walked across the room and looked through a window.
Very shortly afterwards, as the helicopter flew low past the front of the cottage, John walked down the path with Sherlock behind him holding the laptop under his left arm and a coat in his right hand. John went through the gate as the helicopter landed in a field in front of the cottage.
Sherlock came up beside him. "Coming?"
"Where?"
"D'you want your wife to be safe?"
"Yeah, of course I do." John blinked. "What about Marion?"
"Her as well." Sherlock said.
"Naturally."
They both turned and looked at the helicopter.
"Good, because this is going to be incredibly dangerous." He then took a breath to speak his next words quickly. "One false move and we'll have betrayed the security of the United Kingdom and be in prison for high treason. Magnussen is quite simply the most dangerous man we've ever encountered, and the odds are comprehensively stacked against us."
"But it's Christmas." John said indignantly.
Sherlock smiled. "I feel the same." He turned and saw John's expression. His smile faded. "Oh, you mean it's actually Christmas. Did you bring your gun as I suggested?"
"Why would I bring my gun to your parents' house for Christmas dinner?!"
"Is it in your coat?" Sherlock asked holding out the coat he had been holding to John.
"Yes." John hissed at him.
"Off we go, then."
They started to walk toward the helicopter.
"Where are we going?" John asked.
"Appledore."
ZzZ
In a large sitting room where one entire long wall was made of glass and looked out to the grounds, Magnussen lowered his whiskey glass at the sound of an approaching helicopter. The helicopter, which had the 'CAM' logo on its side, flew down toward the house while Sherlock and John looked down at it from within the helicopter.
They landed on the grass not far from the house while Magnussen continued to sit on a long curved white leather sofa, not looking round to watch their arrival. A security man walked toward the helicopter while another one stood on the patio outside the house. John and Sherlock got out and walked toward the house and the helicopter took off again. It flew away.
Shortly afterward a security man led the boys through an inside area, which was lined with large green exotic plants, while another man followed behind. Magnussen was sitting on the sofa one level above them. He took a drink from his glass as his men escorted Sherlock and John into the room.
Sherlock stopped a couple of paces in front of the sofa while John stood a little way behind and to one side of him.
Magnussen nodded to his men and they turned and left. "I would offer you a drink, but it's very rare and expensive." He drank.
Sherlock turned and sat down on the sofa a couple of feet to Magnussen's right. He sighed with a contented sound and slapped his hands down on the white leather either side of him, putting the laptop down between himself and the other man, then crossed his legs. He then clasped his hands in his lap. He looked across to the other side of the room.
"Oh. It was you."
Projected onto a glass wall opposite them, footage was playing of Sherlock's rescue of John from the bonfire. The footage repeated on a continuous loop. Mary and Marion were also there.
"Yes, of course." Magnussen said.
John glanced over his shoulder and turned back, then did a double-take.
"Very hard to find a pressure point on you, Mr. Holmes." Magnussen continued.
"Mm." Sherlock said.
John turned and walked toward the wall.
"The drugs thing I never believed for a moment."
John continued walking closer to the wall, staring at the footage with his mouth open.
"Anyway, you wouldn't care if it was exposed, would you?" Magnussen said.
Sherlock tilted his head, quirked his mouth and shrugged
Magnussen then looked toward the wall. "But look how you care about John Watson."
In slow motion on the footage, Sherlock dragged John out from under the bonfire again. Mary and Marion were both standing there waiting.
"Your damsel in distress."
John turned around. "You ..." He walked closer to Magnussen, his voice tight and furious. "... put me in a fire ... for leverage?"
"Oh, I'd never let you burn, Doctor Watson. It was easier to get you than Mrs. Holmes. Mrs. Holmes unfortunately has more martial training than my men combined." He smiled a little as he sat up and put his glass onto the clear glass table in front of him. He then looked up at John again. "I had people standing by." Sherlock looked up thoughtfully at Magnussen as he stood. "I'm not a murderer ... unlike your wife." He looked back at Sherlock. "Either of your wives. The trail of bodies between the two of them would make most serial killers cringe." He smiled humorlessly.
John stared up at him grimly. Magnussen turned back to him. He held his gaze for a while, then glanced across to Sherlock.
Magnussen walked over toward the wall. "Let me explain how leverage works, Doctor Watson." Reaching the wall, he put one finger on it at the side of the projected footage. There was a beep and as Magnussen slid his finger across the glass, the footage slid with it and disappeared off to the side. He turned back to them. "For those who understand these things, Mycroft Holmes is the most powerful man in the country. Well ... apart from me."
John tilted his head at him questioningly. The side of Sherlock's mouth lifted in a small smile.
"Mycroft's pressure point is his junkie detective brother, Sherlock." He walked back across the room to the sofa. "And Sherlock's pressure points are his best friend, John Watson and his wife, Miriam or Marion as she calls herself now, Holmes. John Watson's pressure point is his wife. I own John Watson's wife ..." He smiled. "I own Marion Holmes." He looked round to Sherlock. "... I own Mycroft." He sat down. "He's what I'm getting for Christmas."
Even though the laptop was almost within his reach, he held out his hand toward Sherlock. Without looking round, Sherlock shoved it across the sofa toward him. "It's an exchange, not a gift." Sherlock hissed. He stood up, while Magnussen raised his eyebrows at him. Sherlock walked a few paces forward and then turned round again.
Magnussen picked up the laptop. "Forgive me, but ..." He held the laptop to his chest and rand his fingers over the back. "... I already seem to have it."
"It's password protected."
Magnussen continued to run his fingers over the machine.
"In return for the password, you will give me any material in your possession pertaining to the woman I know as Mary Watson as well as the woman I know as Marion Holmes."
"Oh, she's bad, that one. So many dead people. You should see what I've seen." Magnussen said.
"Which one?"
"Both." Magnussen said smiling. "Though Marion's bloodlust is far worse…especially in her youth." He looked at John. "Your wife and Miriam knew each other. From before. Did you know?" He smiled more. "Miriam was called, Igne. The needle. Shall I show you her favorite way to kill?" He then looked at Sherlock who was watching. "Your wife Doctor Watson, liked her guns. She was not so eloquent in her kills, not as personal."
"I don't need to see it." John said.
"You might enjoy it, though."
John swallowed, but held his gaze.
"I enjoy it."
John nodded as if not surprised.
"Then why don't you show us?" Sherlock said nonchalantly.
"Show you Appledore?" He put the laptop onto the sofa beside him and then looked back at Sherlock. "The secret vaults? Is that what you want?"
"I want everything you've got on Mary." Sherlock said lowly and intensely. "And on my wife." He looked at the man intently. "Both of them."
Magnussen let out a short breathy laugh, shaking his head a little and then he lowered his eyes, scratched the back of his head and chuckled for a few seconds.
John's mouth twisted and he shot a brief glance toward Sherlock.
Eventually Magnussen stopped snickering and looked down to the laptop, patting it and grimacing a little. "You know, I honestly expected something good."
"Oh, I think you'll find the contents of that laptop ..." Sherlock began.
"... include a GPS locator. By now, your brother will have noticed the theft, and security services will be converging on this house. Having arrived ..." He looked down at the laptop. "... they'll find top secret information in my hands ..." He reached forward and picked up his glass from the table. "... and have every justification to search my vaults. They will discover further information of this kind and I'll be imprisoned. You will be exonerated, and restored to your smelly little apartment to solve crimes with Mr. and Mrs. Psychopath." He looked at John, who held his gaze, though his cheeks moved as if he is gritting his teeth a little.
Only once Magnussen started talking again did he cast a quick glance at Sherlock.
"Mycroft has been looking for this opportunity for a long time." He looked into the glass and moved it even closer. "He'll be a very, very proud big brother." He drank, emptying the glass.
"The fact that you know it's going to happen isn't going to stop it." Sherlock said.
Magnussen set his glass down. "Then why am I smiling?" He looked up at Sherlock and smiled a little. Sherlock looked at him thoughtfully. "Ask me."
John took a step forward. "Why are you smiling?"
"Because Sherlock Holmes has made one enormous mistake which will destroy the lives of everyone he loves ..." Magnussen looked down a moment. His eyes went back on Sherlock again. "... and everything he holds dear." He stood up slowly. "Let me show you the Appledore vaults."
He led the others across the room and through the open glass doors of the study. He walked across to the wooden doors at the side of the room and then turned back to the others, putting a hand on the doors. "The entrance to my vaults. This is where I keep you all."
He turned and took hold of the door handles and then pulled the doors open. Magnussen stepped slowly through the doors, looking all around at what we can't yet see, while Sherlock and John looked uncertainly at what they can see. After a moment Magnussen slowly began to turn around. Inside the doors was nothing more than a small room, painted white and brightly lit. It was no more than few feet deep and the ceiling was about eight feet high. There are no shelves, no library stacks, no filing cabinets, no grotesque dolls, stuffed animals or sculptures. The only thing in the room was a metal and leather low-backed executive chair. As Magnussen slowly continued to turns around, Sherlock's eyes quickly skim around the whiteness and then his eyes went back to Magnussen.
"Okay…so where are the vaults, then?"
"Vaults? What vaults? There are no vaults beneath this building." He sat down on the chair and then gestured around the room. "They're all in here."
John frowned and blinked.
Sherlock's eyes were wide as if he was beginning to realize the truth.
Magnussen leaned forward and slowly raised the fingers of his right hand to touch his temple. "The Appledore vaults are my Mind Palace. You know about Mind Palaces, don't you, Sherlock?"
Sherlock swallowed and then opened his mouth slightly.
"How to store information so you never forget it…by picturing it. I just sit here, I close my eyes ..." He did so, slowly lowering his head. "... and down I go to my vaults."
Inside his head, he opened his eyes and then walked down the wooden spiral staircase. "I can go anywhere inside my vaults ..." Magnussen said. In his head, he walked through the library stacks, his fingers flickering toward the shelves. "... my memories." In his head, he reached the dark, creepy end of the Mind Palace. In the white room, he turned his head from side to side a little with his eyes still closed. In his Mind Palace he walked past the creepy displayed objects. In the white room he lifted his right hand and reached forward. "I'll look at the files on Mrs. Watson." In his Mind Palace, he reached towards a filing cabinet with his right hand. He could hear himself pull one of the drawers open.
Outside the white room, Sherlock closed his eyes and shook his head a little, his lips pulled back from his teeth.
John stared at Magnussen as he raised both hands and flicked his fingers in front of him as if he was working his way through the files inside the imaginary drawer. Magnussen could hear the files moving under his fingers. John cleared his throat and looked down with a humorless smile as he seemed to start to understand how Magnussen's mind works.
Still flicking through the files in the drawer, Magnussen hummed idly to himself while, in his Mind Palace, he worked his way along the files. "Mmm, ah." In the white room, he lifted his right hand as if lifting a folder out of the drawer. "This is one of my favorites." He sat back in the chair while, in his head, he looked at the file with a picture of Mary paper-clipped to the inside. "Oh, it's so exciting." He then set the file down and picture up another. "Another favorite." In his Mind Palace, Magnussen held a large file with a picture of Marion when she was young, her hair pulled back, holding a large gun to her cheek, her brother behind her.
Lowering his head in the white room with his eyes still closed, he moved his hands as if he is turning the pages inside the file.
Sherlock lowered his head with a shocked look on his face as Magnussen chuckled quietly. In his Mind Palace Magnussen was looking at a sheet of paper to which is stuck a photograph of Marion looking grimly into the camera, and another photograph which was too blurry to see clearly. He then lifted the other file back of Mary. Again the picture was an almost angry looking Mary looking at the camera.
"All those wet jobs for the CIA. Ooh!" Magnussen said. In the white room, he pointed to an imaginary page in the file. "She's gone a bit ... freelance now. Bad girl." He pointed down at the other file in his lap. "Miriam, angry teenage with a gun. Never a good mix…" He turned the imaginary page and snickered. Inside his Mind Palace he snickered again, letting out an amused, 'Ohh!' In the white room he held up a finger and then chuckled even more. He then turned another imaginary page, still smiling. "Ah, she is so wicked." He said looking down at Miriam. "The knife she used with such skill…" In his Mind Palace, he turned back to the front page of the file. In the white room, he lifted his right hand as if putting the closed file back into the cabinet. "I can really see why you like her." He said. "Both women are so…deliciously bad." With both hands, he pushed the imaginary drawer closed again. In his Mind Palace, he did likewise with the 'real' drawer. In the white room he lifted both hands and turned them over.
He then opened his eyes and looked at Sherlock. "You see?"
John cleared his throat. "So there are no documents. You don't actually have anything here."
"Oh, sometimes I send out for something ..." He lifted his left hand and looked down at his watch. "... if I really need it ..."
Sherlock looked away a little, closing his eyes briefly.
"... but mostly I just remember it all." Magnussen continued.
John blinked. "I don't understand."
"You should have that on a T-shirt." Magnussen taunted.
"You just remember it all?"
Magnussen looked toward Sherlock. "It's all about knowledge. Everything is. Knowing is owning."
"But if you just know it, then you don't have proof." John protested.
"Proof? What would I need proof for? I'm in news, you moron. I don't have to prove it…I just have to print it."
Sherlock's gaze was lowered and his expression suggested that he was fully aware of how badly he had miscalculated.
Magnussen stood up. "Speaking of news, you'll both be heavily featured tomorrow …trying to sell state secrets to me." He tutted disapprovingly, then looked at his watch again. "Let's go outside. They'll be here shortly." He walked out of the room and headed toward the glass doors. "Can't wait to see you arrested."
John watched him go and then stepped closer to his friend. "Sherlock, do we have a plan?" He asked softly.
Sherlock was fixed in place, still looking down toward the floor of the white room, his gaze unfocused.
"Sherlock." John said sternly.
When Sherlock still didn't move, John turned and walked away. Sherlock shut his eyes, screwing them closed with a look of despair.
Magnussen walked across the sitting room to a glass door which led out onto a patio. He went outside and looked around. The sky was darkening, into early evening.
John followed him out onto the patio.
"They're taking their time, aren't they?"
John stopped beside him, not looking at him. "I still don't understand."
Magnussen looked up at the sky. "And there's the back of the T-shirt."
Sherlock had finally left the study and was walking slowly toward the patio door.
"You just know things. How does that work?" John asked looking at Magnussen.
Magnussen turned to face him as Sherlock walked out onto the patio and stopped just outside the door. "I just love your little soldier face. I'd like to punch it."
John stared back at him, his eyes wide.
"Bring it over here a minute."
John glanced over to Sherlock.
"Come on."
Very reluctantly and not meeting his eyes, Sherlock gave John a short nod, his face full of pain at having to do this.
"For Mary. Bring me your face."
John looked back to Magnussen, who nodded slightly. Clearing his throat, John slowly took two steps closer to him. Magnussen turned a little to face him and then leaned down to him.
"Lean forward a bit and stick your face out."
John cleared his throat again, adjusting his footing.
"Please?" Magnussen said smirking. He leaned closer, chuckling.
John locked his gaze on him while he does as instructed.
"Now, can I flick it?"
John snorted in disbelief, lowering his head and shaking it before raising it again.
"Can I flick your face?"
Pursing his lips and looking at him again, John leaned forward. Magnussen lifted his right hand with the back toward John, bent his middle finger under his thumb and held his hand close to John's left cheek. He then released the middle finger to flick sharply against his cheek.
John blinked instinctively and tilted his head at the man, still holding his gaze.
Magnussen flicked his cheek again and then chuckled a little. "I just love doing this." He looked across to Sherlock, whose eyes are lowered, the pain still in his face. "I could do it all day." He chuckled again and then turned back to John. "It works like this, John. I know who Mary hurt and killed." He flicked his cheek again.
Sherlock had now lifted his gaze and was looking at him, his expression grim.
"I know where to find people who hate her." Magnussen continued. He flicked John again, then again. The soldier stared back at him, tolerating it only because he had no choice. "I know where they live; I know their phone numbers." He flicked John twice more. "All in my Mind Palace…all of it." He smiled. "I have the same information for Miriam. More people are looking for her. She would not make it a week." He looked up at Sherlock again. "I will get to you next." He smiled.
Sherlock's gaze toward him became more intense.
Magnussen then looked back to John. "I could phone them right now and tear your whole life down…and I will ..."
Sherlock's lips were slightly lifted from his teeth.
"... unless you let me flick your face." He flicked John three times.
Sherlock continued to glare at him with his teeth bared.
"This is what I do to people. This is what I do to whole countries ..." He flicked John again and then straightened up. "... just because I know." He bent back down to John. "Can I do your eye now?" John turned his head a little, looking away. "See if you can keep it open, hmm?" Almost before John turned back to him, he flicked John's left eyebrow. John's eyes instinctively flinched closed. Magnussen snickered and flicked his eyebrow again. "Come on. For Mary. Keep it open." He bent his finger under his thumb again.
"Sherlock?" John asked.
"Let him. I'm sorry." Sherlock said apologetically. Magnussen looked round to him for a moment. "Just ... let him." Sherlock said quietly.
John grimaced slightly.
Magnussen leaned down again. "Come on. Eye open." With a bemused look on his face, he flicked John's eyebrow again, and again John's eyes flinched closed for a moment before he glared back at the man as he snickered. Magnussen flicked him again. He laughed as John breathed harshly. "It's difficult, isn't it?" He said cheerfully. He straightened up. "Janine managed it once." He looked toward Sherlock. "She makes the funniest noises."
The sound of an approaching helicopter could be heard. It soared over the roof and at the same time, armed police marksmen ran toward the patio. The helicopter dropped down to hover some yards away, its spotlight aimed toward the men on the patio. As they were buffeted by the wind from the rotors, Mycroft's voice blared out over a speaker on the helicopter.
"Sherlock Holmes and John Watson." He was sitting in the helicopter wearing a headset and microphone. Behind him, leaning forward with a headset on as well, was Marion, watching the pair intently. "Stand away from that man."
Sherlock looked away.
Magnussen looked over toward him. "Here we go, Mr. Holmes!"
Sherlock spoke loudly over the whir of the blades. "To clarify: Appledore's vaults only exist in your mind, nowhere else, just there."
Magnussen looked at the helicopter. "They're not real. They never have been."
Sherlock nodded, looking down.
"Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Step away." Mycroft barked on the speaker.
Magnussen walked forward a couple of steps, waving his hands calmly at the helicopter. "It's fine! They're harmless!" He said loudly.
The armed police continued moving into position, aiming their rifles toward the patio. "Target is not armed. I repeat, target is not armed." One of them said.
"Sherlock, what do we do?" John looked over at his friend. He turned to look at the helicopter again.
Magnussen looked over his shoulder. "Nothing!" He looked round at them. "There's nothing to be done! Oh, I'm not a villain. I have no evil plan. I'm a business-man, acquiring assets. You happen to be one of them!"
As John continued to stare toward the helicopter, Sherlock turned his head and looked at his friend, and his gaze was penetrating and intense.
"Sorry. No chance for you to be a hero this time, Mr. Holmes."
Marion growled as she sat forward. "I should kill him with my bare hands…"
"No Marion." Mycroft said to her lifting a gloved hand.
Sherlock looked away from John, lowering his gaze, but still with a determined look on it.
Magnussen turned away from him.
"Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, stand away from that man. Do it now." Mycroft barked again on the speaker.
Sherlock looked up and then spoke loudly. "Oh, do your research." He stepped closer to John, reached round behind him and into John's coat pocket. He then stepped away again and walked forward toward Magnussen. "I'm not a hero ..." Magnussen turned to look at him. "... I'm a high-functioning sociopath." He widened his eyes and glared at the man. "Merry Christmas!" He raised John's pistol, aimed it at Magnussen's head and fired.
As John recoiled and even before Magnussen hit the ground, Sherlock dropped the gun to the patio and turned toward the helicopter, raising his hands.
Marion's hands went to her mouth as she gasped in utter surprise.
"Man down, man down." The police radio chimed.
"Get away from me, John!" He said loudly. He turned to look at him. "Stay well back!"
"Christ, Sherlock!" John said in shock. He raised his own hands.
"Stand fire!" Mycroft barked over the speaker and radio.
The police marksmen ran toward the patio, aiming their rifles at Sherlock as he faced them.
"Do not fire on Sherlock Holmes! Do not fire!" Mycroft cried on the speaker.
The marksmen took up positions, aiming their laser sights toward Sherlock.
"Oh, Christ, Sherlock." John said, his voice full of anguish.
Keeping his hands raised, Sherlock looked round to him again. "Give my love to Mary and Marion." John stared at him, his face full of despair. "Tell them they are safe now." He took one final look at his best friend and then slowly turned toward the marksmen and the helicopter and began to sink slowly to his knees.
John held his own hands high, his eyes full of despair. Sherlock knelt on the patio, his hands raised and his face anguished. The beams from the laser sights travel over his face as he stared ahead of himself, knowing that he had done something that no one could save him from.
In the helicopter, Mycroft took off his headset and stared in equal despair toward his brother. Marion had started to sob as she held her face in her hands. Mycroft reached back to hold her as she began to sob in earnest.
"Oh, Sherlock. What have you done?" Mycroft said softly. His voice full of pain. He could't see the adult Sherlock on the patio. Instead, it's as if his little eleven year old brother was standing there, his face full of terror as he stared upwards, his hands raised, his curly hair buffeted by the wind from the helicopter's rotor blades, and tears pouring down his face.
The young boy lowered his head, weeping.
So too was the adult Sherlock.
Marion shook against her brother-in-law. "No…No…"
Mycroft tried to comfort her. "I know, sister. I know…"