Sherlock - The Game Is On!

The Reichenbach Falls- Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Third POV

St Bart's Lab- Midday

Sherlock sits alone on the floor with his back against the bench. He is bouncing a small rubber ball off the floor and cupboard in front of him and catching it before repeating the action constantly. John and Michelle rush in. "Got your message."

"The computer code is key to this. If we find it, we can use it, beat Moriarty at his own game."

"What d'you mean, 'use it'?"

"He used it to create a false identity, so we can use it to break into the records and destroy Richard Brook."

"And bring back Jim Moriarty again." Michelle stated hopefully. "Somewhere in 221B, somewhere on the day of the verdict, he left it hidden." Sherlock turns and faces the bench, putting both hands on the work surface. Michelle walks to stand beside him, unconsciously mimicking his stance. Both of them stare ahead of them, thinking. John purses his lips, then looks at Sherlock. "What did he touch?"

"An apple. Nothing else." Michelle starts drumming her fingers on the work table. "Did he write anything down?"

"No." John hisses in a breath to Sherlock's response  and looks away, racking his brains. Sherlock starts to unconsciously drum his own fingers on the bench. After a moment, he turns and walks across the lab, blowing the breath out again. Sherlock lifts the fingers of his right hand, hesitates for a moment, then begins to drum them again but now he's beating out a specific rhythm and, in his mind, binary code begins to stream out from his fingers. He lifts his head as Michelle sighs heavily, unaware of Sherlock's sharpened expression. Straightening up, Sherlock turns his back to the both of them, takes his phone out of his pocket and begins to type a text message:

Come and play.
Bart's Hospital rooftop.
SH

He pauses for a moment, then adds:

PS. Got something
of yours you might
want back.

Sending the message, he tucks his phone away into his jacket and then turns back towards the bench, his eyes full of thought.

Some hours later, dawn is breaking. Sherlock is still in the same place in the lab, sitting on a stool with his feet up on the bench. He is rapidly rolling the rubber ball from side to side across the bench, his fingers flickering rapidly over the top of the ball. John has sat on a stool at a nearby bench and he has his head down on his folded arms, asleep. Whilst Michelle was sat on the lab table with legs crossed beneath her. Her phone rings. John lifts his head tiredly. "Yeah, speaking." She listens for a moment before worry starts to set in. "What happened? Is she okay? Oh my God. Right, yes, I'm coming."

"What is it?"

"Paramedics. My auntie, she's been shot."

"What? How?"

"I don't know. I don't know. I'm going have to go." Michelle speaks rapidly and frantically, grabbing her things she runs out the room. "Well, probably one of the killers you managed to attract... Jesus. Jesus. She's dying, Sherlock. Let's go."

"You go. I'm busy." Sherlock spoke, uninterested. John turns back towards him, his face appalled. "Busy?"

"Thinking. I need to think."

"You need to... Doesn't she mean anything to you? You once half killed a man because he laid a finger on her."

"She's my landlady."

"She's Michelle's aunt. She's dying..." He flails a hand in front of himself in utter disbelief at Sherlock's attitude. "You machine. Sod this. Sod this. You stay here if you want, on your own."