Again, sorry it took so long.

And sorry it's kinda short.

The next one will be longer (and more dramatic too, lol).

I'm getting Writer's Block again...

...it's all this 'real life' stuff.

I'm so tired lol

Still, I hope you all like it :)

Surveillance Report: 04/04/2012

Background checks on the four new tenants within the area of 221b Baker Street reveal that they are all contract killers from Albania, Australia, Morocco and Russia.

As of today, none of them have killed nor participated in any illegal activities.

However, they and their activities will remain under constant surveillance, as will codenames 'Messiah' and 'Baptist'.

It's not like Jim—no, Richard Brooke didn't know how to do his job.

Of course, those creepy videos hadn't actually been meant for public viewing (especially by children!) and he had made perfectly appropriate and innocuous ones for the 'Storyteller' show (which would never get past its pilot, by the way, because no kids wanted to listen to some random dude telling stories when they could be watching fast-paced potty-potty humor cartoons).

No, those videos had been meant for Sherlock Holmes (and tested on Molly).

So far, none of them (none of them!) were good enough.

None of them were perfect.

But Jim (Jim because Richard Brooke made movies for children's television but Jim Moriarty made movies for Sherlock Holmes) never gave up.

Everyday in the Mountford Talent Agency's studio, he kept recording video after video; fairytale after fairytale…

…and still, he couldn't find the one that would work as an allegory for his 'story' with Sherlock.

(It needed not only the perfect plot, but the perfect characters to equal those in his real life 'fairytale'. Impossible to find. )

And so, Jim wrote his own.

(…or tried to, at least, because writing was hard!)

It took a couple drafts, but finally Jim had his perfect story.

'The Tale of Sir Boast-a-Lot and All His Many Problems'

Once upon a time there was a knight, brave and brilliant, who solved problems.

He solved so many problems for so many people in the kingdom that he made the other knights look like they were stupid and couldn't solve any problems at all.

This was a problem.

This was a problem not only for those now embarrassed other knights, but also for Sir Boast-a-Lot the brave and brilliant knight who could actually solve problems.

But Sir Boast-a-Lot couldn't solve this problem.

However, the other knights could.

And so the other knights went to the king and lied to the king, calling Sir Boast-a-Lot a liar.

And the king didn't know who to believe.

And this was a problem.

The king had no choice but to send the other knights to arrest Sir Boast-a-Lot and punish him.

The other knights had no problem with this.

They captured Sir Boast-a-Lot and marched him through the kingdom for everyone to see, parading him next to all the common criminals he had once solved the problems caused by.

And then they tied him down to a stone where the vultures came and ate him alive.

After that, Sir Boast-a-Lot wasn't a problem anymore.

In fact, he had no more problems at all.

And Jim knew Sherlock would just love it.

All he had to do now was adapt his little fairytale for the (small) screen and everything would be perfect.

Molly got off the elevator onto one of the higher floors at the hospital and into a wide maze of cubicles, rather than halls operating rooms.

The IT department.

Phones were ringing and being answered, fingers were tapping on keyboards like racing heartbeats.

Last time Molly's work-computer had broken down (about two years ago) she had just asked Jim (from IT) to fix it and then the problem had been solved.

Obviously, that wasn't going to happen today (and, of course, it had to be today that her computer had crashed; today just when she was trying to log all the data she had collected from her 'patients' and had neglected to put in before because she had been 'busy' elsewhere) and so Molly was here.

Now, she approached the man and woman who had rolled their chairs out of their respective cubicles to chat by the divider.

"…um…excuse me…?" Molly began.

The two both turned, looked up at her through their glasses, and then looked back at each other…

And grinned.

"…oh. my. god. is that…"

"It is. Oh my god, it is!"

They turned back to stare up at Molly from their chairs, lenses glinting.

"You're that girl from the morgue." The man stated, "You went out with that nerdy bloke who used to work here…the one that turned out to be some big criminal mastermind—"

"And gay." The woman added, giggling, "I knew he was gay. From the moment I saw him I could just tell-"

"No, you couldn't." the man scoffed, rolling his eyes.

The two looked back at each other again, Molly could tell that this bickering (like an old married couple (as if they were the only two people in the room (world))) was normal for them.

Inching backwards away from them as they were distracted by each other's interruptions, Molly held in a gasp.

She hadn't thought anyone would remember a nobody like 'Jim from IT'.

She hadn't thought anyone would remember a nobody like her…

"Yes, I could." The woman insisted, "I could! It was so obvious! The guy did his eyebrows for Christ's sake, his eyebrows! There's no other explanation for that arch, it can't be natural…they're thinner than mine! That's how I knew he had to be gay! I don't know why she couldn't tell…"

"Oh, give her a break." The man groaned, "He had everybody fooled. He's probably a pretty good actor. I mean it's not like you could tell that Jim guy was, you know, a killer…and that would've actually meant something. It's not like your Sherlock Holmes."

"Oh yeah! Sherlock Holmes!" The woman remembered, "You know him too, don't you? Comes by the morgue, doesn't he? How is he anyway…

(She stopped talking when she realized that Molly was gone.)

…where'd she run off to?"

"Dunno…" the man replied, "She was here just a second ago, wasn't she?...I wonder what she needed…"

The two shared a shrug and a confused glance before turning away from each other and rolling back into their respective cubicles.

I saw the recording.

'Get Sherlock'

Is that the message?

Does that mean Sherlock has the code?

…isn't he your enemy? Why would you give it to him?

####

Mr. M, thank you for organizing that prison break.

But there was one problem.

Nobody actually got out…including me.

Can you fix that?

(PS: please hurry, there are some new guys in here that don't seem to like me very much.)

####

Dear Mr. Moriarty,

We just stole this phone off your client…

…when we killed him.

Sorry about that.

At first I was angered that your plans left me imprisoned …but now I thank you because it has enabled me to meet some nice fellows who happen to have the exact same problem I do.

You.

And you know who we are.

We're all cellmates now, too, isn't that such a happy coincidence? And we've formed out our own little 'prison gang'. A 'secret society' of sorts…

We dine together at meal times, spot each other during work-out time and even study together in the education program.

We're learning German.

(Not much hope for the banished prince, but the bank-robber's of respectable intelligence enough.)

'Get Sherlock' ?

No thanks.

We feel that 'Get Moriarty' will be a much more satisfying thing to do.

And when we get out of here…

(and we will get out of here, we do have an inside man, as you know)

…we're going to get you, Mr. Moriarty.

But until then, best wishes and good luck.

Sincerely,

The Rachen Men

(Because 'The Avengers' is already taken.)

####

Rich—

We've found you a role on some new medical drama.

Come by the agency for more info.

And btw, did you ever notice that you look a little bit like that James Moriarty guy who went to trial a couple weeks back?

I think we can work with that, capitalize on all that publicity.

I'm contacting the major crimes shows looking for guest stars to play criminals.

—Mountford Agency

####

I stationed one of my men near Sherlock Holmes's residence but it seems that at least two other rival gangs have stationed their people there as well.

I thought you promised ME the code.

I'm not going to pay you if I have to share it.

####

You just tried to contact my employer.

He is no longer accepting your calls and texts.

They will not go through so you can stop now. He is very busy.

You're name has already ruined his reputation, you've done enough.

Leave him alone or I WILL go through with his orders to kill you.

####

Jim

How did you fix my computer at work last time? Its done that blue screen thingy again and now it won't start up! What should I do?

Thanks,

Molly 3

Jim still had his employee ID from the few months he had worked at St. Bartholomew's back in 2010.

It proved quite convenient whenever he wanted to visit the hospital, for business or personal reasons.

Still, now that he had been on trial (and, more importantly, on the news) it was a lot more difficult to go anywhere without being recognized.

Normally, most people who saw him suddenly had an extreme desire to cross the street or turn around and walk right back the way they had come (both were correct)…

…but every so often a 'fan' (and there were only two types of fans (and guess which one they were)) would approach him.

Then they would either declare (squeal) their admiration (adorable) or try (and fail) to say something clever (annoying), hoping to pique his interest and get 'spirited away' on some dangerous, exciting adventure out of the boringness of their stupid and normal lives.

Needless to say, it never worked.

(And Jim was left with two options; kill the fan or walk away laughing. He chose the latter because although Jim Moriarty was a killer, Richard Brooke was an actor and Jim Moriarty was Richard Brooke now.)

So now, as Jim journeyed through the hospital towards the morgue (down the hall and the stairs) he disguised himself in a labcoat and surgical-mask (he had considered dressing up like a sexy nurse… but then remembered dear Richie was supposed to be straight. Oh well. There's always next time…).

He strolled into Molly's workroom where instead of a body on the table (Damn it. He had hoped to see some blood and guts, it had been such a long time…) a desktop computer (unplugged from the wall) was having its post-mortem examination done by a frustrated Molly Hooper.

"Miss Hooper." Jim greeted her, official-sounding voice slightly muffled by the mask, "IT calling."

Molly looked up from the disassembled electronics at him, eyes instantly widening.

"Jim! Oh My god!" She squeaked, "What are you doing here?"

"…you said your computer broke down." Jim said, pulling off the mask, "I thought you wanted me to fix it…"

"No—you—I— I just wanted you tell me how!" Molly exclaimed, running around the metal table (and Jim) to the door, peering outside in both directions, and then slamming it shut after she had made sure nobody had seen, "…You can't be here."

"Why not?" Jim asked in (mock) disbelief, (genuinely) taken aback.

"Because," Molly began, "Because you—well you know exactly why!"

"No I don't." Jim shook his head, shrugging.

Molly stepped around him and went back over to the table. Jim followed her, standing across from her on the other side.

"You can't be here." Molly repeated, glancing down at and playing with the unconnected computer-mouse, "What if Lestrade were to walk in right now? What if Sherlock…You just can't be here."

Jim snorted.

"…And it isn't funny!" She snapped, looking up and glaring at him, "This isn't a game! We could both get—get…in trouble..."

('in trouble' because she didn't want to say: 'arrested and then put in jail. For good this time and never able to see each other again'.)

In her anger, Molly had raised her first.

The computer-mouse was still clenched between her fingers, its wire dangling like a tail.

Jim caught her wrist, leaning down and forwards across the table to kiss her on the back of the hand.

"That's the mouse, Molly." His lips whispered against her skin, "I don't think that's the problem…"

After a few moments of staring into the intense (insane) eyes staring up at her (hypnotizing her), Molly closed her eyes, shaking her head and finally was able to speak.

"…you can't be here." She said again.

"Fine, then." Jim replied, releasing her hand sharply, "I was just trying to help. But if you're so ashamed of me, I'll leave. Wouldn't want to ruin your reputation…"

He spun on his heels and began to stomp away in the exaggerated manner a girlfriend would when she was mad at her boyfriend (and it would have been perfect if he had gone with the nurse outfit) towards the door.

And Molly knew he was faking it (of course, he was faking it, he was only just pretending) but still she couldn't help but feel bad (couldn't help but feel her annoyance and fear dissolve into guilt…and was that pity?).

She didn't want to 'hurt his feelings'…even his fake ones.

"Wait." She called after him, "…You can stay. Since you're here anyway, you can stay…"

He turned around, grin already on his face. He had stopped before she had spoken.

"Oh, goodie." Jim smirked, walking back to her, "And I promise I'll be quiet, too. Nobody'll even know I'm here…That's what you want, right? You don't care what I do, what we do, hell, you don't even care what you do, really…just so long as no one knows about it."

Jim was right—and they both knew it.

(In fact, Jim had probably ignored her text and then come here just so he could show her that he knew what she was thinking.)

But Molly certainlywasn't going to acknowledge it.

"…You can stay…" she stated, "…but only if you fix my computer. It's why you're here… isn't it?"

Molly was wrong—and they both knew it.

(In fact, fixing her computer was probably the last purpose for Jim's visit to the hospital.)

No, Molly wasn't going to acknowledge it (that Jim was right)…

…she was going to show him that she knew what he was thinking.

(And Jim certainly wasn't going to acknowledge that.)

"That's right."Jim smiled, moving to the metal table where the computer body lay disassembled, "It's my job, is it not? Fixing things, fixing problems…and you, Miss Hooper, do need my help."

Sir, there has been an increase of graffiti in the city, recently.

####

Urban street 'art' has not been my concern since I made those unfounded vandalism charges against 'Baptist' disappear two years ago.

####

I'm sure this particular will concern you, sir.

I'm attaching the photos we've collected.

####

IOU?

Where have I seen that before?

####

It's not a new gang marking territory, sir, but it has been spray-painted in areas 'Messiah' frequents.

####

By who?

####

We were unable to find an image of the person's face. He managed to obscure it from all cameras.

####

A professional then.

####

The code breakers are already analyzing the letters.

I've already excluded Arabic numerals because although 'I' and 'O' could represent the numbers '1' and '0' there is no equivalent for 'U'.

That is also true in Roman numerals, however there is a 'V' which is close.

####

'U' is a letter of German origin.

It could be some sort of Germanic code.

####

I'll look into that, sir.

Do you think that 'Devil' could be responsible for this graffiti?

Or is this all just a coincidence?

####

There is no such thing as a coincidence.

He most likely is involved.

####

Then this could be related to the keycode he used for his 'miracles'.

####

It probably is.

####

I also considered Binary code. Sequences of '1' and '0' represent different words and numbers.

####

But there is no 'U' character in Binary code.

####

I know, sir, but I understand computers and technology very well.

For a code so powerful it can access anything, two numbers '1' and '0' would not be enough.

It would need a third digit.

####

Like a 'U', perhaps.

Interesting idea.

####

Thank you, sir.

Lestrade entered his office at Scotland Yard sweating and disheveled.

Sally and Anderson (who had been waiting) turned to look at him (Sally sitting in his chair as if it was her own and Anderson also making himself quite 'at home' leaning against his desk), complaining and laughing bitterly about something (Sherlock Holmes).

"Sir, what happened to you?" Sally asked.

And Lestrade couldn't tell whether it was concerned surprise or concealed laughter at his appearance on her face and in her voice.

Probably both.

"I was chasing a suspect." Lestrade explained, walking behind his desk, "…up."

Sally (not rolling her eyes or groaning) stood up so Lestrade could flop down into his chair, close his eyes and take a deep breath.

"Who, sir?" Anderson inquired, straightening and turning to look at his boss, "Where is he?"

"…he got away." Lestrade mumbled, not yet opening his eyes and swiveling slightly away from his employees.

"Really, sir?" Sally couldn't help but smile.

"It's been a long day!" Lestrade defended, "I had just gotten back from the case with Sherlock so I was already tired…"

"So this wasn't for that case, then?" Anderson questioned.

"No, no Sherlock sorted that one out quick enough." Lestrade dismissed (to which Sally and Anderson did roll their eyes and groan), "…this was when I was leaving Baker Street and I saw some guy spraying graffiti on a wall. In broad daylight!...And so I chased him. I chased him for at least twenty minutes, I did, but the man was fast. Like track star fast. And he knew the city like it was his own backyard! Ran it like and maze, twists and turns into alleys and so he got away."

"And you don't know who he was?" Anderson clarified.

"No." Lestrade shook his head, "He was wearing a hoodie. I never saw his face…but I would have caught him. I would have caught him if I had just—"

"Been a bit younger?" Sally suggested.

Now Lestrade rolled his eyes.

"I was going to say had a second cup of coffee." He finished, "But yes. I suppose being younger would've helped too…"

"Oh, so you finally admit it!" Sally exclaimed, "The great Detective Inspector Lestrade is 'losing his touch'!"

"No, I am not." Lestrade countered, sitting up his chair, "I'm just…having an 'offday'."

"Sure you are, sir." Anderson 'agreed', grinning.

"Yeah and graffiti artists are notoriously difficult to catch." Sally added, smirking "Right up there with bank-robbers and serial killers."

"Hey, if I remember right I just caught somebody who's both!" Lestrade recalled.

"We caught him, sir, and if I remember right," Sally corrected, "Moriarty got acquitted. It was real victory for Scotland Yard."

Lestrade sighed defeatedly, sinking into his chair as he rested an elbow on the desk.

"I can't believe that jury." He muttered, "I know they were fixed. Somehow Moriarty must've got to them. There's no other explanation…and he didn't even take anything from the bank or the tower! It's like he did all that just to make us at the Yard look bad!"

Anderson and Sally nodded, also sighing.

"Yeah and it worked too, god damn him." Anderson offered, "…but it's not like it's your fault, sir."

He (awkwardly) patted Lestrade on the shoulder.

Lestrade was about to say something when Sally interjected again.

"But it's not like Sherlock Holmes hasn't been making us 'look bad' either." She snapped, "He's made us all seem incompetent solving every case for us and so fast, the freak—"

"Not now, Donovan." Lestrade groaned, head in hands, not wanting to hear her 'Say No to Sherlock Holmes' speech again.

"I'm just saying." She sniffed, folding her arms.

"Well don't." Lestrade warned and then added, "…and don't be spreading it around that that vandal got away from me, either, it'll only hurt the Yard's image even worse."

"I won't—I wouldn't—I'd never!" Sally stammered, (futilely for even she knew that she had the reputation of a gossip within the police force (being, after all, 'the gossip' and so having heard every rumor)).

"…but then again," Lestrade smiled, sitting up and staring at both her and Anderson in turn, "…does it even matter what anyone thinks of us? As a whole or individually? That's all just 'reputation' and there are so many people who aren't who they pretend to be, who aren't who the world sees them as…And maybe that doesn't matter at all because that's not the truth. Maybe what matters is what we do when no one's looking, who we really are. Maybe that's what counts."

Sally and Anderson exchanged a glance and then turned back to their boss who gave them The Look.

('The Look' being the look he used on suspects when he knew that they were guilty and that it was only a matter of time before they finally confessed.)

And then they knew that Lestrade knew but that none of them were going to acknowledge this.

"…it's called character, and it's always the truth." Lestrade continued, "Anything and anyone can compromise a man's reputation…but only he can compromise his character."

Surveillance Report: 04/04/2012

Codenames 'Mouse' and 'Spider' continue to dance around their own mutually parasitic (symbiotic?) relationship, following all their own rules (make proper excuses, lie (to the word, to each other, to themselves)).

And sometimes they almost fight but then 'Mouse' surrenders just as 'Spider' is about to strike because she's afraid (not of 'Spider' but of not having 'Spider')…

…and 'Spider' is glad because he never wanted to 'Mouse' in the first place but still would because that was who he was (or at least that was who people thought saw him as (who he wanted them to see him as)).

And one night 'Spider' said "what if we're all just characters in a story and there's some higher power, some god, controlling us and we've got no choice but to do what we do?".

And 'Mouse' said, "That's not true. That's just an excuse."

And then both said nothing because they didn't need to.

No, the last one wasn't a real surveillance report (not that any of this is 'real' and they're not just characters in a story doing whatever I (higher power) make them do).

And the Bibical stuff...a bit contrived, I know...

...but the music from 'Reichenbach' (that song, you know the one I'm talking about with the 'son of man who you gone run to') and the whole 'dying' but not dying made me think Jesus. And John's already got the name so that was easy...

(Plus, Jesus was a social outcast in his , and a teacher (of religion, but still) so he was smart and worked miracles.)

So I went with it lol.

(Hey, I needed codenames!)

And no, Molly's not 'Mary Magdelene' (the actualy story isn't anything like that Lady Gaga song) and Jim wouldn't be 'Judas' either. He was never on Sherlock's side.

Jim is definately 'the devil' and as for Molly...

... a 'Judas', perhaps?

(and didn't the bible say something like 'and then the devil possessed Judas' (horribly remembered paraphrase...remind me to look that up) which works.)

But not yet.

Definately not yet...and maybe not at all.

(Haven't decided yet lol-preferences, anyone?)

And, of course, Scotland Yard is the Roman soldiers.

Lestrade is kinda like Peter...or whoever it was that denied Jesus three times (too tired to ask Wikipedia at 2:39 AM lol) out of fear and social pressure.

lol

...I've gone too far with this again, haven't I?

I need to cool it with the metaphors.

lol

Reviews, thoughts, suggestions (flattery)?