Sherlock Story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 130
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A disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to BBC along with the talented writers Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss; along with the amazing Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. No money was made. The story, however, is my original thought and comes out of my overactive imagination. Other characters introduced are also mine.
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Warning*****.*** T rated, However, there is some violence? ****. ****
"Each board contains two knights… The knight – with its strange and unpredictable jumps – is the trickiest of the chess pieces.…"
… White Knight, Black Knight… Unpredictable Jumps… Part IV
" There are no unsolvable problems other than those I create in my own mind."~ Unknown
Current Day
Current Time
Sherlock paced back and forth as he mumbled to himself. His voice was so low, no one could make out the words that he said.
"It needs air. It also needs a trigger. What's the trigger here? What's the trigger?"
John frowned but watched quietly. He wondered what Sherlock was going on about.
Sherlock thought for a moment then looked at the Intravenous fluids.
Sherlock walked over to John and whispered a question. "John, hypothetically, can an explosive device be hidden inside of a body?"
John frowned. "Not impossible, but improbable. That is why it's not done. Bombs are made up of a collection of ingredients, but one important ingredient is air. If they somehow put it in his body, how would the device get air?"
With anyone else he would have said that he was crazy. But, John had learned to listen to Sherlock, and to take even his extreme ideas seriously.
"Those were my thoughts originally John, but, all of Moriarty's clues are pointing to this possibility. Many deaths coming from one origin. Death multiplied. "
John looked at Sherlock. "We can do a scan. It might be risky, but we have no choice."
Sherlock searched John eyes, thought for a moment, and then nodded. He called over the Doctor and quietly told him his suspicions. The doctor's eyes widened as he glanced at the patient. The doctor quickly gathered himself and set about doing a very specific examination.
Fifteen Minutes Later
Examination of the body went quickly. Several medical workers hovered over the agent. A portable scan confirmed Sherlock's concerns. Something was implanted into the abdomen of the agent. A tube from whatever it was, ran from the device into the esophagus of the agent. It stopped just below his throat.
"There is the source for the air." John whispered tiredly.
Sherlock voice was low but serious. "Ladies and Gentlemen, here is your bomb." Everyone looked at Agent Towson. Several of the medical workers took a step back.
"How do you hide a bomb?" No one answered. "You hide it under the disguise of mutilation. No one questions it because all that is seen is a fragile man. No one sees anything dangerous. Only someone in need of help. Everyone is focused on the person. The danger hides in plain sight."
"I suggest that everyone clears this room, except those who are needed to keep him alive." No more encouragement was needed. The room cleared in minutes. Two medical workers, Agent Pearson, and Doctor Cutler remained along with John, Sherlock, and the DI.
"Blood has been mixed with an unknown substance, with liquids that has the chemical purpose of keeping the body from rejecting the blood mixture, but there is more." Sherlock started to pace and mutter to himself again.
"The bodies looked like me. What am I missing? Death multiplied. Their blood was drained. His blood was drained. The rose represents a substitute for blood. His blood contents were substituted. If it is him. How could one man death cause hundreds or thousands to die? Sherlock closed his eyes and retreated into his mind. Sherlock stiffened as he twirled too quickly and looked at the body. He did not notice his own facial grimace."
"Sherlock, what is it?" John noticed immediately.
"Was anyone cut with a needle that was used on him. Was blood splattered on anyone that worked on this man?"
Voices spoke in hushed tones amongst themselves. Doctor Cutler answered. "No, but we always take standard precautions." One of the medical workers spoke up."Why?"
Sherlock did not answer him directly but stared at the agent.
"Sherlock?" John asked again.
Sherlock turned to John. "I was wrong. We are not just looking at a bomb, we are looking at ground one of biological warfare. It's in the blood. It is said that life is in one's blood, apparently so is death."
Sherlock's borrowed mobile rang. "Yes Mycroft," he looked at the body of the agent, "I know."
"The blood," he repeated to himself.
Current Day
Fifteen Minutes Earlier
Thomas sighed in frustration. Myers was on her way back to London. He did not want to leave Mrs. Holmes, especially now with the young child. But, there was another part of him that wished that he was with her. He was a man of action and wished that he was back in London so that he could head a rescue mission, find a way to take out the snipers, something. He quieted his mind, and closed his tired eyes for several seconds before opening them again. He looked slightly behind him, and to his right.
Mycroft sat quietly next to Anthea in a corner. They spoke occasionally to each other. Mycroft made multiple calls to his brother, London officials, and his agents. He currently sat quietly, as he composed texts on his mobile. Anthea's fingers never stopped, or slowed. Thomas wondered if there were special exercises that she did to keep her fingers from cramping.
Irene sat at a table. Thomas occasionally watched her out of the corner of his eyes. She seemed almost at ease. She read a report then frowned before picking up a mobile that rung to indicate an incoming call. From what Mycroft Holmes had told him, she had been instrumental in helping Holmes, the younger, to take down Moriarty's web, during the time that Holmes was thought to be dead. His mind returned to a report.
Several minutes passed uneventfully. A few whispered conversations interrupted the relative quiet.
Thomas looked up at the sound of heels tapping quickly. Adler was coming in his direction. She glanced at Mycroft and he was on his feet. Mycroft's long legs carried him over to Thomas and Adler in seconds. Anthea was right behind him. Adler waited for Mycroft to move beside them before she spoke.
"My source found out the information that I requested. Two months ago, in a remote northern city of Timbuktu, French forces came across a bomb that exploded killing fifty people. They found that the perpetrators were some Tuaregk rebel. It was an assassination of Anadem Dine. It took place in his home. People get assassinated all the time. People die. What was important was the method of the bomb being hidden. Anadem Dine's brother was captured the day before. He was returned barely alive. The body of his brother was mutilated. The body was taken to Anadem Dine's home. The body had a brown colored IV attached to it when found. Every attempt at detaching the IV, led to the brother almost dying. Eventually, the brother did die. Within five minutes of death, there was an explosion. The explosion was so weak that it only killed Anadem Dine and the five other people that were in the room."
Anthea interrupted Adler. "I've just notified the National Health Service, EIS, and the World Health Organization, Sir." Anthea gave only a brief glance. She continued to text.
One look from Mycroft, and Anthea stopped texting, put her mobile to her ear, and made a phone call.
Everything came together in Holmes' mind in seconds. If he were a man given to emotions, he would have shivered.
Mycroft spoke evenly as he pulled out his mobile and text. "I can finish that story for you, Miss Adler. Within twenty-four hours, everyone who had contact with the remains of the body became ill. Luckily, a medical worker saw a pattern, and notified International groups, including the Epidemic Intelligence Service, and the Bioterrorism Unit, that were responsible for tracking new biological weaponry. Everything was kept quiet. However, one thing was obvious. Those deaths were a test. This terrorist group intended to spread its criminal purpose by taking control of Anadem Dine's criminal organization. It was obvious that eventually his plan was to test this method of murder in several other target countries. We arrested most of those who were involved in that plot, but all of the suspects mysteriously died."
"Moriarty was involved in this," Thomas said more to himself than the group. He sat his coffee down.
"I believe that he was more than involved in this Thomas. I believe that he organized the bombing and killings. It was a test. This is another test. Sherlock Holmes is the means of testing any weaknesses that this method of killing has."
Anthea looked at Mycroft. "He doesn't want to kill Sherlock, why would he risk him being in an area where he could become infected. He's obsessed with him. If he wanted him dead he would kill him himself."
"That is a troubling question." Mycroft frowned for a moment. Then he rolled his eyes. "Of course. Obvious. I do not believe that Sherlock is in danger of dying because of the contagion, but he could not make Sherlock aware of this fact, not part of the game. I strongly suspect that Moriarty has somehow already given my brother the injection for his immunity against the engineered, biological infection. He could not tell him. He enjoys Sherlock's pain. I, however, am not ready to test that theory."
Mycroft called Sherlock again. "Sherlock, I have some information for you…"
Current Day
Current Time
Sherlock hung up the mobile. The agent's brain waves had stopped over twenty minutes ago. But, his heart was still beating. Sherlock had a marathon of calls, back-to-back. He turned to John who was still on the mobile. He looked at Sherlock and held up one finger. Within a few minutes, he was finished. Sherlock walked over to John. He wanted John to avoid movement.
Lestrade walked up to the two men. "Everything that exchanges air has been shut down, all vents, and air exchange systems. All the remaining patients, and staff have been moved as far away from this area as possible, and close to the main exit. The Biohazard Team is just outside. They are ready to approach when safe. They will need to take all the snipers out at one time to avoid them firing randomly into the crowd, when they realize what we have done."
Sherlock nodded, but his eyes did not leave John. Sherlock frowned at the look John gave him.
Agent Pearson walked up to the group of men. "My agents have spotted four of the five snipers. The last one is being searched for. They are ready to fire a fatal shot, when ordered."
Sherlock nodded, but still his eyes were on John. John sighed.
"Yes, it's that bad," John stared at Sherlock. "The weapons expert that Mycroft had me speak to, examined the X-ray of the implanted device. They had seen fragments of one before in a lab that was raided. It is as you thought, it is a bomb. The agent's blood flows through the device. The continual blood flow keeps the machine from building up pressure. The brown colored medication in the IV helps thin the blood in a way, and helps to keep it flowing. When the IV runs out, his blood will coagulate. Pressure will build. It is comparable to the same was a pressure build up in a grenade. The slightest disturbance will cause it to explode. After that, the microscopic fragments of the contagion are breathed in. Everyone close enough to breath in the pathogen will be infected and die painfully in forty-hours. But, not before infecting other people. It's clever, very Moriarty, I'd say."
Sherlock grimly nodded his understanding.
Lestrade and the agent looked at Watson, and then at each other. Lestrade spoke up. "I'm sorry John, but I understood very little of what you just said."
John frowned, "Yeah, sorry. I had a Sherlock moment I suppose."
John tried again. "His heart stops - five minutes later - explosion - we breath in bad stuff - we get sick - we die."
"Oh," Lestrade said, "I almost wish that I did not understand you."
A medical worker overheard the entire exchange. She walked up and spoke. "His heart is not going to last much longer."
"How long is not much longer?" Lestrade asked.
She frowned. "Ten, fifteen minutes the most."
Sherlock was quiet as he stared at a wall. "Seal," he whispered to himself, "We need to seal him in."
Sherlock turned to John, "Where is the most sealed area in a hospital?"
John smiled. "Brilliant Sherlock, the morgue."
Sherlock looked at His friend. "John, is there any way to save him?"
John thinned his lips. "I'm sorry Sherlock, he is already brain dead. Clinically, he's alive, his heart still beats, but he'll never recover. Biologically his stats say that he's already gone. The heart usually does not last long after. His organs are already shutting down. IV, or no IV, his heart will not last much longer."
"Let's unhook him quickly, we have very little time." Sherlock spoke to all in the room. Everyone rushed about.
Current Day
Current Time
An employee quickly walked from the room where Moriarty looked concerned. Sherlock was proving to be too clever. Despite not being able to hear what was said. The black and white video images showed that they were unhooking the agent. They had figured out how to limit the spread of his contagion.
"Inconvenient," Moriarty whispered. "Time for a distraction." He picked up his mobile.
Current Day
Current Time
They quickly pushed the injured agent toward the lift. It was decided that Sherlock, Lestrade, and two medical workers would push the agent to the morgue. John followed them to the lift. He pushed the button as they waited.
Sherlock mobile rang. Sherlock pressed his lips together in anger but answered quickly. "I'm slightly busy at the moment Moriarty."
"Yes…yes, sorry to disturb you," Moriarty said insincerely.
Sherlock turned on the speaker function on his mobile. He had a feeling that he would not have time to repeat what Moriarty said.
Moriarty continued. "You and John only. I'm surprised at you both. Is that laziness, sending someone to finish your work. If anyone other than you and John move that body. My snipers will start to shoot randomly in the crowd. I assure you, they are quite good. Please don't be a moron, the five snipers that your brother's people are aware of, are not all that I have. Of course, I'll be generous, you can walk out now, I'll even let you take your pet."
"What about everyone else?"
"Of course not, I thought I just told you to not be a moron." There was a moment of silence. "The choice is yours."
The lift opened. John and Sherlock looked at each other. They simultaneously pushed the body into the lift. The doors started to close.
The medical worker gasped, "The keys," She said as she tossed it through the door at the last minute. The door completely closed. John and Sherlock looked at the keys on the floor of the lift, and then each other. Sherlock did not notice that he had hung up on Moriarty.