TWELVE
the prison break
Sherlock and John burst through the door of Alana's cell. It had taken a bit of work, but they had managed to get it open.
It helped that Alana was unlocking it from the inside, too.
John flinched a bit when he saw Alana. The bruises from her book tornado hadn't quite healed yet, and he was still rather apprehensive.
"You came," Alana breathed. "You really, really came."
"Yes," Sherlock replied bluntly. "Time –"
" – to go, yes," Alana replied, then smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."
"Hmm," Sherlock muttered.
John suppressed a smile. Sherlock Holmes, possibly one of the smartest men in the world, was uncomfortable around Alana. Forget beating up a soldier with books, there was definitely something special about Alana if she could throw Sherlock off balance like that.
Then he remembered where they were.
"Alright, Alana, stay in between us. We're going to get you out, but we don't want to take any risks."
"Sounds good to me."
They ran out and Alana looked suspiciously at W.
"Who's he?"
"Security guard, helping us out, he's clear, now shut up, I'm concentrating."
"… okay, but do you want me to – "
"No, I don't want you to use your telepathy, it'll take too long. Now, shut up!"
Alana shut up, but didn't look surprised at Sherlock's rudeness. John supposed that this was because she'd been inside his head. That would certainly be an experience.
W listened to Moriarty's instructions over his hidden earpiece, telling him where to go next, which tunnel in his labyrinthine fortress to take. He could hear Moriarty's glee over the earpiece.
Hopefully, he'd get a pay raise out of this.
Running through the hallways and tunnels, Alana felt a sense of suspicion. Something about W just didn't seem right. She would look into his mind, but Sherlock had told her not to, and it probably wasn't appropriate to defy her rescuers.
Still, there was something about him that was wrong.
Her thoughts were interrupted by John, who said, "Where the bloody hell are we going?!" quite loudly, considering they were trying to escape unnoticed.
"We're almost there," W said, "We're almost out, we just have to go through one more room and then we're home free."
He opened a door and ran inside.
John, Sherlock, and Alana ran through after him.
Moriarty and a circle of armed guards were waiting inside, and they had just run right into the center.
"Damn." John said, and pulled out his gun.
Sherlock spun around, taking in the situation. Many little lasers appeared on each of their chests… except W's, because he had joined the rest of the guards and was pointing a gun at them, too.
"W. Did you never wonder what that stood for?" Moriarty asked mockingly.
"Yes," replied Sherlock, "but since you're obviously going to tell me…"
"W stands for WHOOPS! Sherlock Holmes made a mistake, a very big mistake. You know what that mistake was? He should have listened to his doctor."
Moriarty strolled around them.
"Because, seriously, the great Sherlock Holmes falling for a trick like this? It's pathetic, absolutely pathetic. Lack of sleep does such terrible things to a person, doesn't it?"
Throughout this, Alana had been very quiet.
Sherlock gazed intensely at her, seeing what Moriarty had not.
Moriarty walked up to her, and his face darkened as he saw what her eyes looked like.
They were no longer grey.
"What the hell…" John's voice trailed off as he, too, saw her eyes.
They were flashing, changing different colors, blue to brown to green and every different color that a human eye could be.
Moriarty slapped her, and she fell to the floor, her eyes reverting back to their original grey and rolling up in her head as she hit her head and passed out.
John quickly knelt beside her, taking her pulse, and glaring at Moriarty.
"You bastard, she's sixteen, for God's sake."
"Yes," Moriarty replied, "but she can still beat me up, and I don't really like that. Did you, Doctor Watson?"
"But then how did you control her?" Sherlock spoke up. "I've seen some of the things she can do, and I… ah. Of course. You used her brother."
Moriarty snapped his fingers, and one of the guards pulled out a laptop and opened it. On it was a video of a boy, about ten years old, with a gun held to his head. His resemblance to Alana was startling, except that he had brown eyes instead of grey.
"Sentiment, Sherlock, sentiment. What older sibling wouldn't do anything for their younger one?"
"Mycroft," Sherlock responded immediately.
"Really? The Iceman might melt when it comes to his little brother, mightn't he? Well, I guess we'll never find out, will we now. But now back to business. Alana is such a useful thing to have around, don't you think? It's soo much easier to get away with murder when you've got a telepathic and telekinetic person on your side… and a video of her brother, of course."
John glared at Moriarty. "What are you going to do, then, kill us?"
"Yes." Moriarty smiled happily. "Ms. Adler won't be around to save you this time, Sherlock, and there's no bomb vest for you to blow me up with. It's just you and me. Now try to outwit me, Sherlock Holmes. Try, but you'll fail. Because you two won't be dying by a bullet, not today. No, you'll be dying at the hands of your favorite telepath."
A/N: Hi guys! I'm so sorry it's been such a long wait, and a cliffhanger, too, just to be mean. ;D School just got out, so I'll be able to write much more quickly now. Thanks for sticking with me! Love you all!