The Silent Game

Painting The Silence

They stood in front of the Lost Vermeer, Sherlock, Rose and Lestrade, joined by Miss Wenceslas, all of them just looking at the painting. The silence was broken by Sherlock.

"It's a fake. It has to be."

"That painting has been subjected to every test known to science." The older woman told then, still denying the fraud.

"It's a very good fake, then." Sherlock replied, turning to the woman suddenly, annoyed that she still denied it. "You know about this, don't you? This is you, isn't it?"

She just turned to Lestrade. "Inspector, my time is being wasted. Would you mind showing yourself and your friends out?"

Before she finished speaking though, the pink phone rang out again. Sherlock answered it. "The painting is a fake." An intake of breath was the only reply they got. "It's a fake, that's why Woodbridge and Cairns were killed." There was another ragged intake of air. "Oh, come one, proving it's just a detail. The painting is a fake. I've solved it. I've figured it out. It's a fake, that's the answer, that's why they were killed." Sherlock was getting very annoyed now, the emotion showing through his careful composure. Rose shot him a warning look and he took in a breath, composing himself once again in the silence. "Okay, I'll prove it. Give me time. Will you give me time?"

"Ten…" Was the answer he got, a small voice of a boy child ringing out in the show room. Sherlock took it as time to work though, spinning around and looking at the picture once more.

"It's a kid!" Lestrade said, looking at the older of the two women in horror. He looked to Rose then. "Oh god, it's a kid!"

But Rose was a little more concerned at the content of the voice, rather then the speaker. "What did he say?"

"Nine…"

"He's giving me time…" Sherlock muttered, body not resting as it bobbed about, eyes still scanning the picture.

Rose brought her hand up to her mouth, covering it in total horror. Ten seconds… just a child! "Jesus…"

"It's a fake, but how can I prove it?" Sherlock thought aloud. "How? How?"

"Eight…"

He rounded on the woman. "This kid will die if you don't tell me why this painting is a fake. Tell me!"

"Seven…"

He held his hand up though, looking back to the picture. "No, shut up! Don't say anything. It only works if I figure it out. It must be possible. It must be staring me in the face."

Rose started to scratch her arms, a nervous habit she had picked up when stressed. She walked a few steps backwards, not able to hold still much longer, but feeling the cut on her knee tug at the movement, the sure-to-be large bruise on her ribs burning a little more.

"Six…"

"How? Woodbridge knew, but how?" Sherlock was getting really stressed now, panicking about a young and probably innocent child dying in such a violent death, most likely taking a few dozen people with him, possibly other children; he hated the ones with children.

"Five…"

Rose looked up then, realisation dawning. "It's speeding up!"

"Four…" The child's voice was starting to get really shaky now, as though he was about to cry.

"Oh!" Sherlock exclaimed. "In the planetarium, you heard it too." He said rounding on Rose, pointing to her. She frowned, mind kicking into gear, eyes scanning the picture once more.

Her eyes widened as she saw it. "The name though…" She whispered.

"Oh, that is brilliant! That is gorgeous!" Sherlock said, pushing past the three of them, giving Rose the pink phone and taking out his phone and searching as quick as he could, winning smile on his face.

"What's brilliant? What?" Lestrade looked between the two of them.

"Three…"

"This is beautiful." Sherlock said, turning back to them. "Love this!"

"Sherlock!" Lestrade shouted, the pressure too much for niceties and politeness; there was a child's life on the line.

"Two…"

"The Van Buren Supernova!" Sherlock shouted into the pink phone, having snatched it back off Rose.

There was an infinite moment of silence, painful to watch and even worse to experience. He had stopped the clock, but Rose didn't know if was in time. There was no number one, she thought, hope sparking at the corners of her mind.

"Please, is somebody there? Somebody help me."

They all breathed a sigh of relief at the call for help, knowing the boy would live, as well as anyone in the near vicinity to the child.

Rose saw Sherlock literally sag with relief for one moment before he pulled himself up and turned to Lestrade, giving the DI the pink phone. "There you go. Go and find out where he is and pick him up." Lestrade just took the devise and left without a word.

Sherlock turned to Rose, seeing the relief in her dark blue eyes. He smiled slightly at her, pointing to the painting. "The Van Buren Supernova, so-called. Exploding star. Only appeared in the sky in 1858." He held up his phone and went to walk out of the room.

Rose just stepped forward and smiled slightly. "So how could it have been painted in the 1640's?" She let out a sigh, the ache in her ribs flaring a little more. "Incredible…"