Sherlock - The Game Is On!

A Scandal In Belgravia- Ten

Chapter Ten

Third POV

"Coventry." Irene was curled up on John's chair watching him closely. "I've never been, is it nice?"

"Where's John and Michelle?"

"He went out a couple of hours ago and Michelle stormed out not too soon after." She dismissed. "I was just talking to them." She smiled. "John said you do that. What's Coventry got to do with anything?"

"It's a story, probably not true. In the Second World War, the Allies knew that Coventry was going to get bombed because they'd broken the German code but they didn't want the Germans to know that they'd broken the code, so they let it happen anyway."

"Have you ever had anyone?" She deflected, quite a bit rudely. Sherlock frowns blankly at her. "Sorry?"

"And when I say 'had', I'm being indelicate."

"I don't understand."

"Well, I'll be delicate then." Getting up from John's chair she kneels in front of Sherlock, putting her left hand on top of his right, curling her fingers around it. "Let's have dinner."

"Why?"

"Might be hungry."

"I'm not."

"Good." Irene clipped. Hesitantly, Sherlock sits forward and slowly turns his right hand over, curling his fingers around her wrist. "Why would I want to have dinner if I wasn't hungry? And why would it be you out of all people?" Irene leans forward, her gaze fixed on his lips. "Oh, Mr Holmes..." Sherlock's fingers gently stroke across the underside of her wrist. "If it was the end of the world, if this was the very last night, would you have dinner with me?"

"Sherlock!" Mrs Hudson calls out. "Too late." Sherlock looks towards the door. "That's not the end of the world; That's Mrs Hudson." Irene pulls her hand free and stands up, walking away from him as Mrs Hudson comes in with none other than Plummer from the Palace. "Sherlock, this man was at the door. Is the bell still not working?" Pointing to the man in question. "He shot it."

"Have you come to take me away again?"

"Yes, Mr Holmes."

"Well, I decline."

"I don't think you do." Holding a letter out, to reach. Sherlock snatches it from him and opens it. Inside is a Business Class boarding pass for Flyaway Airways in the name of Sherlock Holmes for flight number 007 to Baltimore, scheduled to leave at 18.30.

Very shortly afterwards, Sherlock has put on his coat and is getting into the back of a car outside the flat. As Plummer gets into the passenger seat and the car drives away, Irene stands at the window of the flat and watches them go...

"There's going to be a bomb on a passenger jet. The British and American governments know about it but rather than expose the source of that information they're going to let it happen. The plane will blow up. Coventry all over again. The wheel turns. Nothing is ever new." Sherlock's voice was muffled behind the car window. Unlocking the car door I make my way towards the plane.

"Well, you're looking all better. How ya feeling?" I asked the CIA agent. "Like putting a bullet in your's and his brain... Miss." I stopped for a moment, looking at him. "That's Lady Phillips to you." I pause for a moment before giving into temptation. With a swing of my fist and a kick to his leg the agent falls, screaming and cradling his broken leg. With that I walk off. Sherlock lets out a quiet snigger and starts to walk up the steps. Climbing the steps to the plane, I reach the entrance. Inside, I pull back the curtain obscuring the passenger seating and walk into the aisle. The lighting is very low and it's hard to see. There are people sitting in almost all the seats but none of them are moving or speaking or showing any signs of life at all. Sherlock walks forward and looks more closely at the nearest passengers. An overhead light shows more clearly the faces of two men sitting beside each other.

Although they're not yet showing any signs of decomposition, their skin is very grey and they've clearly been dead for some time. Sherlock turns and looks to the passengers on the other side of the aisle, turning on another overhead light to get a better view. The man and woman sitting there are also long dead. Mycroft speaks from the other end of the section. "The Coventry conundrum."

We turn as Mycroft pushes back the curtain and steps through into the cabin. For the first part of the ensuing conversation he talks softly, almost as if out of respect for the dead bodies in front of him. "What do you think of my solution? The flight of the dead."

"The plane blows up mid-air. Mission accomplished for the terrorists. Hundreds of casualties, but nobody dies."

"Neat, don't you think? You've been stumbling round the fringes of this one for ages, or were you too bored to notice the pattern?" It suddenly made sense, all those months ago. "We ran a similar project with the Germans a while back, though I believe one of our passengers didn't make the flight. But that's the deceased for you, late. In every sense of the word."

"How's the plane going to fly?" Sherlock reply's to his own question immediately. "Of course, unmanned aircraft. Hardly new."

"It doesn't fly. It will never fly. This entire project is cancelled. The terrorist cells have been informed that we know about the bomb. We can't fool them now. We've lost everything. One fragment of one email, and months and years of planning finished."

"Your MOD man."

"That's all it takes, one lonely naïve man desperate to show off, and the wrong woman clever enough to make him feel special."

"Hmm. You should screen your defence people more carefully." I snapped inside, furiously. "He isn't talking about the MOD man, Sherlock; He's talking about you!" I boomed. Sherlock frowns. "The damsel in distress. In the end, are you really so obvious? Because this was textbook, the promise of love, the pain of loss, the joy of redemption; Then give him a puzzle..." Mycroft's voice drops to a whisper while he twirls the end of his umbrella in the air. "And watch him dance." Mycroft turns to look regrettably at me. "Don't be absurd."

"Absurd? How quickly did you decipher that email for her? Was it the full minute, or were you really eager to impress?" Mycroft was loosing his temper. "I think it was less than five seconds." A voice drawled on. We spin around to see The Bitch standing there in all her glory. "I drove you into her path." He pauses momentarily "I'm sorry. I didn't know." Sherlocks eyes were still locked with Irene's. "Mr Holmes, I think we need to talk."

"So do I. There are a number of aspects I'm still not quite clear on."

"She's not talking to you. She's talking to Mycroft." My fists were clenching. My heart was palpitating. My head was in a spin. She strolls towards Mycroft shaking the phone dramatically in her hand. "There's more... Loads more. On this phone I've got secrets, pictures and scandals that could topple your whole world. You have no idea how much havoc I can cause and with exactly one way to stop me, unless you want to tell your masters that your biggest security leak is your own little brother."

Mycroft turns his head to the ground.

I become stiff.

Sherlock is beyond confused.