Brilliant {A BBC Sherlock Fanfic}

It's Always About the Puzzle

CHAPTER FORTY ONE: IT'S ALWAYS ABOUT THE PUZZLE

If Amelia hadn’t been forced to spend a week in utter darkness for part of her MI6 training, she wouldn’t be able to see anything in the darkness Anderson and Sherlock had forced upon the school’s dormitories. Every window was covered, not even a crack of light peeking through, and the lights were all turned off. The only light came from the large ultraviolet wand-like torches that the group held, Amelia and Sherlock both having their own.

Amelia gestured over to where Sherlock had found the linseed oil, Sherlock casting his ultraviolet light over the wall, HELP US written on the wall in a substance that glowed with luminescent yellow light.

“Linseed oil.” Sherlock deducted in mild interest, surprised at the ingenuity of the child’s simple—but clever—plan.

“Not much use.” said Anderson, “Doesn’t lead us to the kidnapper.”

“Brilliant, Anderson.” Amelia said, all eyes snapping to her.

“Really?” Anderson said warily, surprise Amelia’s out of character compliment. She loved to torment and insult Anderson almost as much as Sherlock did, but she was better than her fiancé in the fact that she wasn’t too rude about it.

“Yes.” Amelia said sarcastically, rolling her eyes, “Brilliant impression of an idiot.” She pointed to the floor where several sets of footprints glowed from her the radiant light of her wand, “The floor.”

Everyone’s gazes followed the illuminated sets of footprints, all varying in sizes, as Amelia and Sherlock traced the path. “He made a trail for us!” John exclaimed.

“The boy was made to walk ahead of them.” Sherlock said softly.

“On, what, tiptoe?” John had spent enough time around his sister and the consulting detective to know that the varying impressions of footprints and their meanings.

Amelia turned to look at her brother, lessons from the psychology course Mycroft had forced her to take form in her mind. “Indicates anxiety,” She informed rapidly, “a gun held to his head.” She stepped out into the hallway, following the footsteps. “The girl was pulled beside him, dragged sideways. He had his left arm cradled about her neck.”

Then, the footsteps came to a stop.

“That’s the end of it. We don’t know where they went from here.” Anderson said, Sherlock and Amelia stopping in their tracks. “Tells us nothing after all.”

“You’re right, Anderson—nothing.” He paused for a moment, enough to make Anderson believe that he was right and both Amelia and Sherlock were wrong. Sherlock took in a sharp breath before quickly spitting out, “Except his shoe size, his height, his gait, his walking pace.”

He reached up to the closest window, ripping away the black poster material Amelia had taped over the glass to keep the light out. Light flooded back into the corridor, rendering the UV lights useless. He placed his wand onto the window sill, kneeling down and taking a sample from the floor using his pocket sampling kit Amelia had given Sherlock for Christmas. Sherlock chuckled, finally enjoying himself.

“Having fun?” Amelia asked wryly.

“Starting to.”

“Maybe don’t do the smiling.” Amelia suggested, Sherlock raising his head in confusion. “Kidnapped children? Not exactly something most people would do.”

“I’m not most people.”

“Neither am I, and I telling you to stop it before they think you’re the one behind this.”