Sherlock Story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 184
*Thanks so much for reading. Please do not forget to comment.
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.
Warning: This chapter contains a bit of a chiffy. If that bothers you, you might want to wait until Friday to read. Love to all.
'King of chess' … what Emanuel Lasker whispered to his wife before he died ...
Tirada, Albania
Current Day
Current Time
11 Hours to Go
He did not bother to turn. There were the hurried steps of boots, shouts, and noises, behind him, and to the left. It went unnoticed. A loud thud joined the general chaos. It was an overturned chair, which had been pushed up against the side wall facing front door. It had served as a receptacle for altered garments and keys, which were thoughtlessly cast off. The rays of the rising sun had cast its light through the dirty window, and onto the water stains in the sink, under the dirty dinner plates. The older man sat in his chair as he noticed a shadow on the floor, which advanced before stopping next to his wooden chair. The shadowy silhouette darkened the room before a solid form took its place.
The older man noticed a soldier out of the corner of his eyes, but ignored him as he sighed and brought the cup of tea, again, to his mouth. He took a sip and waited. His left hand traced a shallow gouge on the thick wooden table. The dents, scratches, and occasional discolorations, were evidence of a lifetime filled with joy, and lately, of sorrow. It took less than thirty seconds to fill the room with Mycroft's men.
Abdul walked up to the Captain, and handed him a partially wrinkled document. Captain Magoro nodded and Abdul walked away to continue the search.
Captain Magoro looked oddly at the bent over, older man for a second before saying, "We need to have a conversation."
The old man turned clouded eyes to the solidly built, middle-aged soldier. He took his dark, muscular form in, as he examined him up and down once. He stopped when he reached the soldier's dark-colored eyes; eyes which seemed to look back into him. Ashamed, the old man had to look away. His eyes then shifted to the picture of his granddaughter. It was the only surface in the humble home without dust on it. He smiled. She is…, was lovely. He had sold his soul to the devil, and it had done him no good. His soul was stained. Can you get rid of a black spot, he wondered to himself.
He knit his gray eyebrows together, as his eyes traveled back to the soldier before saying simply, "Yes we do."
The older man shifted his weight before pushing his body back against the well-worn wooden chair. The abused piece of furniture gave a long, mournful squeak of protest.
He looked almost relieved as he added, "It's time."
Tirada, Albania
Current Day
Current Time
8 Hours to Go
There had been poor activity over the past week. His key men had memorized the primary, secondary, and tertiary targets. All the preparations were made, there was nothing left to do, but sit and wait for darkness. The sun would be setting in twelve minutes. The leader of the terrorists cell look down from his balcony. He became lost in pleasant thoughts of power.
Several minutes later, he looked down at his watch. It was time to start moving, but he hesitated as he drank the moment in. His people had waited a long time for this opportunity. They had been preparing for close to two years. Everything was in place. His men were ready. Everyone knew the risk, and was ready to follow their leader, even into death. He was not afraid, because he thought himself invincible. He was unaware of the several pairs of eyes, and electronic ears, which followed his every move.
The leader had sworn his loyalty to Moran, and his mysterious benefactor, Mister M. He watched as his most trusted leaders walked down toward the row of luxury all-terrain vehicles, courtesy of Mister M. He smiled as he reveled in his newfound power. The large group of men would follow shortly.
He watched as the last of the sun disappeared, leaving only slight hints of color behind. The leader turned to leave and join his men, when an overwhelming rush of sound assaulted his senses. After his men entered, the vehicles seemed to explode in quick succession. Red fireballs blew upward and outward, as the vehicles were torn apart. A shower of debris rained violently to the ground.
The sound of gunfire simultaneously broke out. It seemed to be coming from everywhere, and echoed too loudly in his ears. The leader ducked reflectively as he pulled out his handgun. He cursed himself as he wondered how anyone could have possibly known about their plans. There were very few people who knew.
The sound of gunfire became louder. He fired a few rounds and ducked again as the sound of bullets whizzing pass his head blended into the general chaos that had broken out. Unknown to him, Captain Mogoro's men had surrounded the large group. They would soon be overtaken.
Around the world small, and large battles were taken place. Whether Moriarty had planned for it or not, the world was fighting back. And Mycroft Holmes was certainly up for a fight.
Current Day
Current Time
5 Hours to Go
Donovan's eyes widened as she glanced to the right. The Detective Inspector was driving like a nutter. Lestrade was driving fast, way too fast. His hands had a death grip on the steering wheel, as he intermittently cursed softly under his breath. She was not used to him cursing quite so much, or with quite so much enthusiasm.
Everyone in the vehicle had their seatbelts fastened securely. Except for Lestrade, no one said a word. She smiled reassuringly at the child who had become quiet near an hour ago.
Her body's sudden shift to the right was accompanied by the screech of tires and curses floating toward her ears. The slight parting of her lips joined her widened eyes, as her left hand gripped the car door firmly, and her right hand pushed against the ceiling of the car. She had no witty retort today. She did not want to distract the already distracted man, as he drove. They ignored the chaotic scenes outside of the car windows. A car drove behind them. The way that the Detective Inspector was driving, she had been impressed that they had been able to keep up.
They were almost there.
Sergeant Donovan's body shifted again, this time to the left. She deepened her frowned, looked at Lestrade, and then turned to look facing straightforward again. She held on tighter.
Current Day
Current Time
3 Hours to Go
There were crowds of people who were packed into the platform of the Tube. They were not waiting for a train, they simply wanted to get underground. Several people were following a man, a very dirty looking man. The man limped along with a forced hurriedness.
A teenage boy, with his mother, looked before he grabbed another teenager who was pulling his sister along and following. He ignored his mom's plea as she called for him.
"We're ya going mate?" The young man asked confused.
"This man and some people were going around saying that they could get us deep in some old tunnels where it'll be safe." The young boy shrugged while he looked down at his younger sister, "at least safer than up there." He held the other young lad's eyes for a few seconds before he started to walk again.
The teenager ran the short distance back to his Mum who had been listening, while looking concerned.
"Mum?" He looked her in the eyes but said nothing more.
"What if it doesn't work?" She asked with some fear.
"If I'm gonna die, I'd rather die trying than sitting on me bum doing nothing." He picked up one suitcase, while his other hand grabbed his Mum's hand.
His Mum held onto her son's hand tightly, as her other hand grabbed her wheeled suitcase. They blended into the crowd disappearing within seconds. Several groups and individuals joined them. The majority, however, stayed where they were and watched them, as Dodger and Buz led the moving crowd. They disappeared into the tunnel and were swallowed up by the darkness. The bouncing lights from their torches disappeared.
Current Day
Current Time
1 Hours and Forty Minutes to Go
The sight of emergency vehicles and white smoke, floated in the air. It was not a war-torn country, but London. Although, at the moment it was hard to tell that fact. Emergency lights twirled hurriedly as they raced from one event to the other. There were people walking, running, and driving hurriedly. There was an occasional small fire. Panicked people ignored the curfew. In truth, who could blame them. These, were those, who were left behind. Before it was too late, they had either been unwilling, or unable to leave. He observed silently behind tinted windows as he was driven. Mycroft drove with two cars in front of him and two cars behind him.
He got off the phone. The British Royal Family had been evacuated. Members of Parliament had been transferred to a secured emergency location. His hand ran over his face. Anthea sat beside him as her fingers raced over her laptop. She had abandoned her phone half an hour ago to the device.
A few, determined, news broadcaster crews walked around capturing the chaos on film. He watched as police officers, instructed people where to go, helped with minor car accidents, and made arrests. Some appeared to be scared, ordinary citizens, who had done something out of desperation. Others appeared to have been hardened criminals, who were looking for an opportunity to commit a crime. Most of the citizens seemed to have been busy trying to escape, although most appeared as if they were not quite sure where they were supposed to be escaping to.
Mycroft picked up his mobile phone and pushed a familiar number. "How far have you reached?"
"We've broken over ninety-eight percent of the codes, Mycroft. It is the last sequence of codes that we cannot break through. From everything we know, from everything that was on the USB drives, from everything that the Russian contact has told us, it should be working. I've entered everything correctly and in the correct sequence, I'm sure of it, Mycroft. And yet, it's not working. I'm missing something brother. I don't understand why it's not working." The rare admission left Sherlock's mouth in rushed, hurried tones.
Mycroft understood that for his brother to admit so openly, and freely to his difficulties, was telling. neither brother spoke about the fact that in a little over three hours, nuclear, and non nuclear rockets would strike at pre-destined points on the globe. Moriarty had somehow remotely started the launch sequence. He had literally use their own technology against them. There were already minor military skirmishes, between those loyal to Moriarty, and those against him, at different locations around the world. As his brother would say, it was 'a bit not good.'
The elder brother pinched the bridge of his nose briefly before speaking. "It should be safe there from everything but a direct hit. Miss Hooper and Mrs. Hudson should arrive shortly. Mummy, William, and Miss. Adler are on their way. Joint military forces are on alert. Continue to work Sherlock."
Mycroft glanced at his watch and frowned, "When little William arrives, Try not to offend the little fellow. I'm quite fond of him," Mycroft gave a rare genuine smile, "despite who his father is."
There was a subtle inhalation of breath. "You're not coming." Sherlock had not asked the question but instead made a simple statement. A short, thick silence followed.
"I should be with you…" Sherlock started before being interrupted by Mycroft.
"Sherlock you've already deciphered ninety-eight percent you said, keep going. I know I don't verbalize this often, but I believe in you, in your abilities." Mycroft hesitated briefly before adding, "If something untoward should occur in the near future, one of us needs to be… functional."
"You do realize you're being quite irritating, in the present." Sherlock's said in a voice which was supposed to be sarcasm. He could not hide his concerned.
"Perhaps irritating, but correct," Mycroft added smoothly with a smile. Both brothers simply listened to the other breathe for a moment. Mycroft was unsure of who had disconnected first.
A sigh left him as he glanced to his left. The flashing lights of an emergency vehicle, as it passed by quickly, interrupted the darkness. The loud blaring sound added to the chaos of the night.
Mycroft sighed again, as he prepared to turn back to his Smartphone. His movements were interrupted by a gentle pressure on his right hand. He looked down with undisguised surprise. Anthea locked eyes with him for a moment, before she smiled. They both looked at each other for a few seconds. Mycroft squeezed her hand with his own. Simultaneously, they carried on. Anthea immediately resumed tapping on her Mac. Mycroft picked up his mobile and made several more phone calls.
Undisclosed Location
Current Day
Current Time
Forty Minutes to Go
It was one giant room. It was just one of twelve in the huge facility. Three of the four walls were occupied. Two of those four walls had floor to ceiling monitors on them. Each had different scenes displayed on them. Some were fires, explosions, or armed military men as they advanced, overtook, and sometimes died. There was no retreat. The walls with the monitors had twelve chairs each, which were positioned side to side. Sitting in each of those chairs were uniformed men and women with headphone sets on. Their eyes glanced up and down from the top to bottom monitors, as they spoke into their headphones and glanced at the computer screen that was on the bottom underneath the monitors. They were deep underground. This place did not exist, at least not on any map, or publicly accessible information source.
The third wall had a gigantic monitor that flashed pictures with numbers, codes, and words running in ribbons from left to right directly underneath the screen. Men in suits walked purposely from one set of men and women, to the other. They gave orders, listened to reports, and transferred information to the appropriate parties. There was an instant emergency communication that was being transmitted in real life time, to all the major countries of the world, which belonged to the United Nations.
John's eyes rested on the back of a tall lanky young man. Kevin Patel sat at the end of one of the tables. But his concentration was not on the monitors, but on the several computers, which were transmitting codes. Kevin seemed out of place in his tee shirt and blue jeans. His long fingers were flying in an almost manic manner over the keys of the computers.
John frowned as he walked into the small, opened space. He saw the smashed computer, which lay against the wall, pieces of it were scattered, but untouched like a grave. He noticed the opened computer that lay before Sherlock. He turned slightly to his right and noticed three more models, which were yet to be opened. Apparently Mycroft had been prepared for his brother's fits of frustration.
He glanced at Sherlock's mobile phone, which had been abandoned on one of the desks. He was pleasantly surprised that it had not joined the broken computer on the floor. Moriarty had been sending him regular messages. John frowned as he recalled the text messages.
Keep yourself safe, love.~JM
I've turned up the fire can you feel my heat.~JM
Say the word and I'll come for you.~JM
Tell Mummy I said hi. :) ~JM
Oh, and Brother Dearest too.~ JM
Will you miss your pets when they're gone.~JM
I've always loved a good fire.~JM
Is your heart burning yet? ~JM
The last one message, was sent after the rockets were activated. It was the most simple.
Check.~JM
John sighed. His right hand was pulled roughly over his stubble chin. Sherlock was positioned on that fourth wall. There were several long maps, several desks which were empty, and a space for the younger Holmes in that area. He was alone. Everyone thought it wise to give him a wide berth. John watched the younger man with concern. He had been looking at information for hours. He was being unbearable; a pure terror, in fact. Most people that saw Sherlock Holmes would have thought him at that moment to be frustrating, arrogant, and intolerable.
Sherlock had managed to deduce where ten devices of mass destruction were hidden. They had been deactivated, or the area evacuated, by the security in the various countries. The critical piece of information had been passed along by the British government, in cooperation with an international team. However, two nonnuclear devices had detonated. Sherlock considered it a personal failure. John knew him well enough to know, that he did not see the thousands of lives that he had saved. He only saw the hundreds that were killed or injured. There was also the fact that nuclear, and non nuclear rockets were still counting down at various locations around the world. No one seemed to be able to override the countdown. Worse, Sherlock still was not able to break the final sequence of codes, which would override the command to launch. Overall, a lovely day.
John frowned as he looked at the desperate movements of his friend. Many people consider Sherlock's mind a gift, and it was. But he knew the other side. He knew the burden of genius. Sherlock expected himself not to make human mistakes. But how could he, he was, after all, human.
Sherlock was muttering again. He went between periods of muttering, to insults, demands, quiet, and then back to muttering.
John wondered how he could get something into his friend. He had not eaten all day, that was not unusual when he was in the middle of a case, or a personal investigation. But he had also not drunk anything since the morning tea. He had not even had water for four hours. Sherlock was usually careful to at the very least drink to keep himself hydrated. John wondered if perhaps he could get him to drink tea, if he put it near him, without saying a word. He requested and had tea brought to him. He quietly placed it beside the younger man then removed himself a short distance away. He watched silently for close to thirty minutes. Sherlock had taken only two large gulps of the tea. John knew that even that small effort was entirely for his benefit. He glanced at his watch. Sherlock's movements were becoming more forced and hurried. He sighed and made a decision.
He walked close to Sherlock. Sometime it helped when he was near. It would draw him out of himself for a little while, sometimes giving him a new perspective. It was similar to rebooting a computer, only in this case, it was rebooting the mind of Sherlock Holmes.
"How's it coming along, mate?" John asked. He prepared himself to be insulted. If that was what Sherlock needed to do, he was willing to be the target.
"Smashingly," Sherlock said sarcastically. "Prepare for Armageddon to be rained down on our arses."
"That well?" John was surprised that was as far as the insult went.
John glanced around before moving closer. "Settle down Sherlock." John said quietly, so that no one but Sherlock could hear.
Sherlock started pacing again, "That's not likely to bloody happen, is it?" Sherlock gestured with one hand dramatically toward the monitors. "End of the world, and all."
John decided to change the subject for a few seconds, in an effort to give Sherlock a chance to calm. "They've arrived Sherlock. William, your Mum, and Adler. Lestrade and Donovan transported them here." John frowned before adding, "Lestrade and Donovan decided to head back so that they could help prevent rioting."
It was barely noticeable. At the news of Lestrade and Donovan leaving, the rhythm in Sherlock's pace shifted slightly. A frown flashed on his face, before it was removed. After about a minute, Sherlock looked at John with questioning eyes. John understood Sherlock's unasked question.
John's face was emotionless. He was not trying to hide his emotions from Sherlock, he knew he would see right through him. Instead, he was trying to keep his own emotions under control.
"Thomas is still out there. Mary," John tried again, "Mary is with him of course." He gave an ironic smile. "She would do her duty to the end." John's voice gave in. "Is this real, is this the end Sherlock?" The former soldier cleared his throat, as both men pretended not to notice this fact. John also pretended not to notice as Sherlock shifted, moving physically closer to him. The younger man, however, had too much energy to stop pacing.
Sherlock held John's eyes for a few seconds until John could not look any longer. He cleared his throat again and looked down. Sherlock moved even closer.
John folded his arms in front of him and watched Sherlock for a few minutes. He glanced at the giant timer that was directly under the big screen, and immediately to their right. It's numbers decreased steadily in a silent mock. A thought occurred, had been occurring, in fact. He felt almost silly, but thought it was worth mentioning. He knew his friend. Sherlock could instantly identify the very clever, the mysterious, the anomalous, but sometimes the obvious escaped him.
"Um, Sherlock, I've been thinking," John put up his hand at the raised eyebrow that Sherlock sent his way, "Just hear me out. Every time that Moriarty had sent us on one of his tests. He had given us clues, guidelines, that he had never broken. You told me that. Why would this time be any different?"
Sherlock continued pacing, however, it became less erratic, more controlled. He frowned but did not say a word. His eyebrows raised in concentration. This encouraged John to speak further.
John continued to speak quietly. "What if every one of the tests has been a clue. What if he's hidden the answer, in plain sight? He said this was a chess game. All games have rules. Moriarty's many things, but we know how much the tricky bastard loves a good game. The game is his only god."
Sherlock slowed his movements. He started muttering to himself as he looked at the computer screen. He stopped suddenly, as his wide eyes turned toward John. "Do you know what you've done John? Some people who aren't geniuses have an amazing ability to stimulate it in others." Sherlock ran toward the computer on the table. His fingers flew across the keys.
John ran on his heel. "Thanks. Wait. What?" John looked at Sherlock's profile with both confusion, and growing irritation.
"Three. John, it runs on threes. The Lazarus Project computer system. It's code run on the sequence of three. But what if Moriarty has changed, somehow infected the system with a computer virus? I've identified the type, the cipher; all that remains is for me to crack the three digit code. But what if it isn't a three digits sequence anymore?"
Sherlock stopped suddenly. "The Sign of Four. Do you remember John? The note on that last of the eight murdered bodies? He killed all those bodies just so that I would pay attention to that note. The note had the number four on it. What if it was as you've said, John? What if the answer was hidden in plain sight. What if he somehow changed the three digit computer code, to a four digit computer code?"
Sherlock's eyes widened, as his hands came together fingertip to fingertip. He said animatedly, "Oh! That's elegant." His hands returned excitedly to the computer keys, as he typed rapidly in a set of numbers, symbols, and letters. After he did this, he entered a four digit code.
Nothing happened for a few seconds. Suddenly the computer beeped. The computer screen turned black, and then came back on suddenly. The series of symbols one by one were replaced with letters, sentences, numbers, and codes. Several people ran over to him. He did not bother to look up. "Get this to Mycroft Holmes. Now!"
John did not say anything as Sherlock continued to work. He stayed by his friend's side, as he looked at the computer screen.
The head Agent Pearson, John, and several other agents leaned over Holmes' shoulders. Sherlock spoke quickly with Patel, Everyone practically held their breath as Patel analyzed and entered the codes in the computer. Several more agents materialized and entered then transmitted the information to other countries by secure communication.
Several agents simultaneously pulled out their laptops, mobile devices, and Smartphone; their fingers flew rapidly across the screen of several devices. Within less than three seconds, the information was dispersed to the governments of countless countries.
Seven Minutes to Go
"Is it too late?" John asked as he looked at Sherlock.
Sherlock glanced around the room. He had not noticed when they entered. His Mummy, Molly, and Irene, who was holding William, were in the room. His eyes lingered on William as he happily sat, held in his Irene's arms, as he ate a chocolate biscuit. He thought about the people in the room that have invaded his heart. He thought about the people who were unprotected outside of the compound. He thought about Lestrade before his mind lingered on his brother.
He then looked at John. He put a hand on John's shoulder, but said nothing. John looked back. He also said nothing. Sherlock then turned his eyes on the young man in front of him, but he did not say a word.
Thirty Seconds to Go
Kevin Patel ignored them all. His mind traveled to his mother and sisters. The volume of voices in the room suddenly became quiet. Even William's happy humming had stopped. The young child seemed to sense, rather than understand that something was wrong.
All eyes turned toward the monitor. There was a long row of zeros. Except for the...
Ten..
Nine..
Eight..
Seven..
Six..
Five..
Four..
Three..
Two...
One Second to Go
Every eye was turned toward the biggest monitor. A tall and slender silver missile separated itself from the four wire towers that surrounded it, and lifted itself into the air. A pure, white fire blasted from the missile's tale, as it rapidly spread, its gray edges engulfing and swallowing the white fire. The missile traveled upward in a straight line toward the atmosphere.
Kevin did not look at the monitor, nor at the eyes that seemed to almost burned themselves into the back, and sides of his head. He had hardened himself. His fingers flew even faster across the keyboards. The men and women who sat beside him did the same. The only sounds in the room were the tapping of fingers, which were hitting the computer keyboards. There was nothing for the rest of them to do now but to wait, and hope, and pray.
To be continued.
A/N: I will not keep you guessing long. Part B up no later than Saturday.
Fun Question: You have until Part C is up to answer:
"Some people who aren't geniuses have an amazing ability to stimulate it in others." Which series and episode is the sentence found in?