SIX
the video
Sherlock Holmes walked into 221B Baker Street with the file on Alana Cooper in his hands.
As he walked up the stairs, he heard a moan.
"John?" he asked. "Is that you?"
He stepped into the flat and his brow darkened.
A large pile of his and John's heaviest books as well as several other possessions (his skull!) was in the center of the flat.
A hand poked feebly out from underneath it.
Sherlock rushed to the room and started pulling books off the pile.
"John? Can you hear me? Stay calm; I'll get you out. " And then, to himself, "I leave the flat for one hour …"
Finally, Sherlock managed to free John enough so that he could lift him onto the couch. He had a nasty bruise starting to form over one eye, but his pulse was steady and his breathing regular. He'd also sustained a mild concussion. He'd have an awful headache when he came to, but would be all right.
John moaned and tried to sit up.
"No, no, no," Sherlock said. "Lie down. You have a minor concussion. Moving will just make your head hurt more. What happened?"
Slowly, John recounted the story of the girl whom he had invited into the flat.
Sherlock sniggered.
"You were taken out by a sixteen-year old? I thought you were a soldier."
John ignored him (though by the slight furrowing of his brow Sherlock could tell he was bothered by this as well) and continued to recount their exchange.
When he mentioned the girl's name, Sherlock slowly turned round.
"Her name. Say her name again."
John looked confused. "She said it was Alana Cooper. Why, do you know her?"
"So," Sherlock muttered to himself, "Teenage assassin? But then why would she dump books on you, that doesn't make sense… Why is Moriarty using her to attack people?"
"Sherlock." John said.
"Maybe she's invented some kind of special weapon… no, that doesn't make sense, Moriarty could just steal it, he doesn't need her…"
"Sherlock." John said insistently. "She didn't touch me."
"So, a weapon, then. What kind, what'd it look like?"
"Will you shut up, Sherlock? I'll just tell you, for God's sake." John said.
"Hmm. Go on," Sherlock said, steepling his fingers under his chin.
"She never touched me. She said, 'I'm sorry about this,' and then your skull hit me in the back."
'What?" Sherlock said, confused for once in his life.
"Yes, your skull. It knocked me over and when I looked up, she was flying."
Sherlock scoffed. Clearly, John had hit his head harder than he had thought.
"Flying? That's impossible, John. The amount of energy – "
"Sherlock. I know what I saw. She was floating, and all our stuff was around her, and then all the books started flying towards me and burying me." John said exasperatedly.
"I think you need to rest," Sherlock said.
His text alert sounded in his pocket.
Need proof?
xxx M
Below was a link to a very heavily encrypted video. Sherlock clicked on it.
A video of Baker Street popped up. From it, he could see a brown haired girl seemingly levitating while John was being pelted with books. A tornado of possessions swirled around her.
Sherlock watched, a muscle twitching in his jaw, as John was hit with a dictionary and was knocked out. The girl landed softly, then checked his pulse and whispered, "Sorry," before running out the door.
Not possible.
Sherlock resolved to find the logical explanation for all this.
Moriarty came into her cell at midnight.
"No rest for the wicked, Miss Cooper, and certainly, dumping a pile of books on poor Doctor Watson could not be considered kind," Moriarty smirked.
He was very pleased with his new minion, and as long as he had those videos of her brother, she would remain his.
Alana ignored him.
"Now, Sherlock Holmes again, dear, could you ring him for me?" he said, dead seriously. "You know what happens if you don't."
She sighed, resigned and searched him out.
He wasn't in Baker Street.
Moriarty saw her puzzlement. "What. Is. It."
"He's not there," she said quaveringly. "He's not at his flat."
"Well, find him anyways. You have, oh, I'd say, about a minute before the bullets start flying at poor Oliver!"
Alana quickly closed her eyes, stretching her mind out as far as she could. A clock was ticking somewhere in her brain. 48. 47. 46.
Too short an amount of time. She gave up on Sherlock and invaded John's head instead, trying to find out where he had gone.
Mycroft.
39. 38. 37.
She sought out the elder Holmes brother and found Sherlock's presence there too.
She opened her eyes, now Sherlock's blue, and Moriarty smiled.
"how how how not possible telekinesis is not possible who is she how did Moriarty edit that video how did he even get that video BROTHER DEAREST, THIS VIDEO CANNOT BE REAL but what if it is no not possible back to logic and reason they don't support telekinesis but how else THAT COULD BE A POSSIBILITY, MYCROFT, BUT HOW COULD HE EDIT IT IN SUCH A SHORT TIME but then again telekinesis would explain the impossible murders no footprints – "
She released Sherlock, pretending that she couldn't hold the connection any longer.
"You're confusing him, pet. The great Sherlock Holmes. How interesting. I wonder if a sixteen-year old girl has ever confused him before. Yes, tonight will be a sleepless one for dear Sherlock. Ta ta. See you in the morning…or maybe sooner." Moriarty smiled evilly and walked out.
Alana focused her mind. She would not sleep tonight. She would reach out and practice levitating, and figure out a way to get Sherlock.
Get Sherlock. Get Sherlock. Get Sherlock.
The words repeated over in her head like a mantra.
She would get Sherlock.
If not in the way that Moriarty expected.