11:25.
30 Minutes earlier.
It was quiet, too quiet as Greg Lestrade watched his friend Sherlock Holmes walk into the foreboding, run-down book shop, his long black coat floating behind him in the January east wind. Sally Donovan in the passenger seat also could not keep her eyes off Sherlock, a feeling of sickening dread filling her head to toe. They both sat silent for a moment, watching the large door of the bookshop closed slowly behind Sherlock. As soon as the door had closed, Lestrade picked up the two-way radio, requesting back-up once more, his anxiety growing, it had been almost half an hour since their last request and no back up had arrived. "Is anybody there?" Lestrade said, his impatience growing "Hello? Scotland Yard. This is Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade. Is anyone receiving me?" Silence. Lestrade looked at Sally, exhaling sharply. "What the hell is going on?!" He yelled, losing control in panic and fear.
"Greg…Greg? We have to start evacuations. Greg?" Sally said, trying to sound calm "We need to start evacuations now."
Lestrade was silent for a moment. "Something feels off…truly, I have a terrible feeling…" Lestrade began.
"I know…I know. Me too. But we have a duty" Sally said as she opened the front glove compartment and pulled out two Glock 17 pistols, holding one out to Lestrade carefully. He stared down at the firearm for a moment, regaining his faltering inner composure before taking it into his hands. "These people need to be evacuated, they are in great danger." Sally repeated, Lestrade knew it was true, and it was his duty. Nothing, not even fear could get in the way now. A new feeling of courage filled Greg Lestrade as he jumped out of the police car, placing the small gun in his belt hoping and praying his wouldn't have to use it.
Luckily for Sally Donovan and Greg Lestrade not many people were found along The Embankment, no late-night theatregoers, no wanderers, no joggers or tourists. With the bombing of Westminster Bridge still ringing in every Londoner's ears, nobody seemed to have time for recreation. Lestrade glanced over at its shattered remains, the smoke had now dissipated so the extent of the damage was now apparent. Many buildings along the East bank were caught in the blaze and now lay extremely damaged, some of their occupants moved to temporary housing, some were in hospital and some…were in a more permanent destination. Lestrade noticed that a large crowd had formed on the two sides of the bank, people were gathering to pay their respects to the dead and wounded. 'It is strange how sometimes it's the most solemn events that bring us all together' thought Lestrade as looked across the river at the glittering lights of The Eye shining out, as well as the lights in the windows of The Houses of Parliament and Big Ben, whose face still shone out in hope for the Londoners below.
As Lestrade and Sally approached the masses of mourners on the west bank of Westminster they saw the extent of the pain and grief of the people of London. Many had laid wreaths on the riverbank and balanced on the remains of the bridge's walls. Some people were crying, some were blank faced, lost in thought and despair. Some had lost loved ones, some had not. Many had gathered, Lestrade counted at least a thousand strong. Himself and Sally wouldn't be able to disperse them without causing a major uproar. People in mourning are best left to mourn, Lestrade knew this, but these people were not safe. Without saying a word, Lestrade and Sally made their way to the outskirts of the crowd, and stopped beside Westminster underground station. Many people were coming out from the station, many held flowers, wreaths, some wore black. Lestrade couldn't even look at them; anger was building inside him, as well as the disturbing sensation of despondency.
"Something is going to happen" Sally said, at last, with a surety in her voice that terrified Lestrade even more. Someone was crying, quite loudly nearby now. A woman. Lestrade tried to close his mind and his ears, but it was hopeless. London needed a hero. Lestrade knew this, he also knew with great confidence that that hero was not him. London needed Holmes. With this thought, Lestrade moved away from the crowds at Westminster, with Sally close behind in hopeful pursuit. Lestrade pulled out his phone from his pocket, dialling a number that he had never before dialled. "Who is it? Who are you calling? Scotland Yard?" Sally said, frantic with curiosity and hope.
"No…not Scotland Yard. Scotland Yard is compromised" Lestrade said, turning to Sally with intense realisation "Scotland Yard is compromised" he repeated, but this time into the phone, calmly and clearly. There was a short silence.
"Greg?!" A familiar voice suddenly came from behind them causing Lestrade and Sally to revolve around in surprise and relief. John Watson looked anxious as he ran down the steps from Westminster and made his way towards Sally and Lestrade. "Am I bloody happy to see you" John said, panting as he reached Lestrade.
"John, what are you doing here? You should be at home. Sherlock's orders" Lestrade said, shocked.
"Didn't know you took your orders from Sherlock Holmes, Greg" John smiled before continuing. "What's going on? Where's Sherlock?"
It took Lestrade approximately seven minutes to fill John in on the details of the situation. He told him about Sherlock and Molly's relationship, Moriarty and the bomb, about Molly and the kidnapping and Sherlock's attempt to save her. All the time, John stood in shock, taking in Lestrade's words without question or disbelief. "Everybody here is in great danger John. And frankly, I have no clue what to do" Lestrade ended, bowing his head. After Lestrade stopped speaking, John was silent for a few moments, piecing together the situation the best he can. Sally and Lestrade watched him, waiting for a reaction or a word.
"Molly Hooper?" He said at last. Lestrade and Sally looked at each other, confused.
"What about her?" Sally asked.
"Sherlock and Molly?" John said, a half smile filling his features. "They're together?"
"Yeah" Lestrade said. "But that's not important right now…Sherlock is in great danger, so is Molly and so are we if we don't take control of this situation. There is a bomb somewhere along The Embankment. These people are not safe" Lestrade said as he pointed at the large crowd.
"Right" John said, still grinning. "Right…but are you sure they are together, like properly together"
"Jesus" Lestrade sighed, his anger filling his features.
Suddenly, a loud sound of a gun-shot was heard. It was close by, up by Westminster station. Lestrade and Sally, almost instinctively pulled out their guns. Lestrade looked back at John, whose smile was now extinct from his features and fear had taken its place. Lestrade also noticed John had pulled out his own gun and was holding it up purposefully. The three of them set off, making their way up to the station to find the shooter and take him down before anybody got hurt. As they moved to the station, they saw him; he was a tall man with long brown dreadlocks and a old, brown coat torn at the elbows and shoulders. He was shooting mercilessly, killing civilians with every shot, a professional. Sally, Lestrade and John ran up towards him but he saw them coming, he moved his gun around and made a shot at Lestrade, missing him by a hair. Sally moved behind the shooter and put her gun up to his head, with intense force. "STOP! Stop shooting! Drop your ammunition!" The man froze, holding out his gun, making no effort to drop it. "I said DROP IT" Sally yelled. The civilians had now dispersed, some screaming as they made their way down alleys and streets and down into the tube station.
John kept his gun held up, watching the man intently. Something seemed familiar about him…something. Then he remembered that was the homeless man from Sherlock's network. Lestrade had explained to John that the homeless network was compromised; John now only understood the extent of it. As the homeless man stayed still Lestrade moved up to him and took hold of the gun, but the man wouldn't let it go, his firm grip tight around the handle, a smile etched on his face. "DROP YOUR AMMUNITION!" Sally shouted.
"Let go of it" Lestrade said, staring at the man in the eyes. A aching feeling of dread began to grow in John's stomach.
"Let go of it Greg" John said, quietly. "Look where it's aimed". Greg then noticed his mistake, the homeless man's gun was still, aimed into Lestrade's chest as he held the barrel. Sally noticed too "I will shoot you if you pull that trigger" she said, with intense hatred "I will kill you" she said.
Lestrade was still, he knew that he could not move with fear of being shot. "How many of you are here?" Lestrade asked the man, after a moment of silence. John watched in dread, admiring Lestrade's attempt to get some answers to save lives. "How many?" He repeated. A short silence ensued, the homeless man took a deep breath.
"Thousands" The man finally said. "And all of them have their barrels aimed at you".
John's eyes darted around him, his feet rooted to the spot. He could see nobody. "No matter who we work for our task is always the same...be unnoticeable, be invisible and get the job done". The man said, a smile growing from his stubbled cheeks. A silence then ensued once more…until a sound broke it. A vibration…a chopping vibration coming in from the west. They all looked up to see about a hundred helicopters flying in. The homeless man's dreadlock's began waving uncontrollably as the helicopters approached, the smile now vanished from his face. John and Sally's guns remained aimed towards him, hatred filling each of their bones. The helicopters began to land down on the wide Parliament Road and in St James' Park nearby. The nearest helicopter was the smallest; the others were larger, ambulance helicopters. John took a sigh with relief, as he looked around at the wounded from the homeless shooter's attack. Many paramedics now made their way with stretchers to the wounded, each wearing bright reflective gear. Suddenly the door of the smaller helicopter opened and a suited figure made his way out of it who made Lestrade, Sally and John take a strong breath of relief.
"So…Lestrade, Scotland Yard is compromised and in the moment we need it most? Oh well. These things happen" Mycroft Holmes said as he made his way towards Lestrade and the homeless shooter. "I have five hundred armed special operations soldiers making their way here in five, four, three, two….one" he said turning to the dreadlocked man, and as promised, the squad descended, armed with Heckler and Koch MP5SF firearms. "If you don't put down your gun in the next three seconds you and that revolting hairstyle will be detonated…post haste". With a small gasp the dreadlocked man dropped the gun almost immediately, intense fear filling his features. Lestrade took a strong intake of breath as the SWAT team moved in to attain the shooter. Lestrade then turned to Mycroft, relief written all over his face. "You saved my life"
"Yes, yes think nothing of it" Mycroft said. "Now…" He turned to look at Sally and then John. "I have a steaking suspicion my little brother needs some assistance, am I correct? And from what I've gathered…we don't have much time left do we?"
The hands of Big Ben turned to 11:50. No…they didn't have much time left at all.