Sherlock - The Game Is On!

The Lying Detective- Eight

Before we start, can we take a moment to admire and appreciate Mrs Hudson.

AKA Una Stubbs, god bless you Angel. ❤️

AmAzInG!!!!

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Chapter Eight

Third POV

A few moments later a red car speeds over the words, and a police car follows, its siren wailing. 'Ode to Joy' blares out of its speakers. Then from an outside perspective the car rapidly overtakes another one and heads towards a roundabout, entering the roundabout without slowing. The car skids around the roundabout, almost sideways at one point, while up above a helicopter follows the chase. The car speeds off down another road and the driver's left hand gripping the steering wheel while the helicopter can be seen through the windscreen soaring overhead.

The car heads for another roundabout, now pursued by two police cars. The red car turns left and is followed by the first police car but the second one goes straight on, presumably taking a short cut to intercept the chase further on. The red car skids around a right turn into a residential road. As the second police car approaches from in front, the driver throws the car into a spectacular U-turn and crashes into several black plastic rubbish bins outside the houses. One of the bins flies into the air and then crashes to the ground. As the vehicles come to a halt and the helicopter hovers overhead, John opens the front door of the therapist's house, walks out with Mary hot on his heels and looks at the car and then squints up at the chopper.

"Well, now... Won't you introduce me?"

The driver opens the door and the music gets louder. Mrs Hudson sighs with relief. She closes the door and turns to the Watsons, smiling and sighing out another breath as she walks towards them. John opens his mouth but before he can speak a male police officer storms over from the car that had been behind the Aston at the end of the chase. "Right, you there. Stop right where you are."

"Huh? What?" She stops momentarily, looking at the officer, then turns and continues towards the front door, holding out a hand towards John and Mary. "Oh, guys..."

"Mrs Hudson..."

"Do you have any idea what speed you were going at?" The police officer asks. "Well, of course not. I was on the phone." (Thug life, lol)

"Oh..." She holds out a mobile phone to him. "It's for you, by the way." She gestures to the phone in hand. "For me?"

"It's the government." With that, Mrs Hudson walks away. "The what?!" He raises the phone to his ear.

"What's going on? What's wrong?" John asks.

"Hello?"

"My name is Mycroft Holmes and I am speaking to you from the Cabinet Office."

Simultaneously the Watsons continue talking to Mrs Hudson. "Look at the state of you! Mrs H, what have you been doing?!" Mary questions.

The police officer recognises Mycroft's name instantly because he takes off his cap even though Mycroft obviously can't see it.

Outside the front door Mrs Hudson points vaguely up to the helicopter. "What's happened?"

"It's Sherlock!" She begins to break down in tears, she pulls John and Mary into a hug. "You've no idea what I've been through!"

As the 'Le nozze di Figaro' overture plays in the background, Mrs Hudson creeps slowly and nervously up the stairs towards the first floor, clinging anxiously to the bannisters. From the flat come various and random angry cries from Sherlock and the crashing noises of objects being flung around. A moment later Bill pelts down the stairs towards her. "Wait!"

Martha whimpers and cringes against the bannisters as Bill races past her. "I'm out of 'ere." He reaches the half-landing and points back up the stairs. "'e's lost it."

"Where is it?!" Sherlock asks angrily in the flat. "'e's totally gone!" She cringes and backs a step down while Bill heads off down the stairs, and upstairs Sherlock lets out a triumphant cry.

In the flat Sherlock charges from the kitchen into the living room, wielding a long-muzzled pistol in his right hand. Wearing a dark blue dressing gown over his black shirt and trousers, he still has a few days of beard growth and his hair is greasy. He looks manic as he runs across the living room. "'Once more unto the breach, dear friends...'" He quotes dramatically. He spins round in the middle of the room, pumping the pistol towards the ceiling. "Once more! "

All around the room there are countless photographs of Culverton Smith. They're stuck on the walls, they're scattered over every surface and Sherlock has apparently taken lessons from Phillip Anderson on how to display evidence and has strung pieces of string across the room to which he has attached even more photos of Smith with clothes pegs.

On the stairs, Mrs Hudson continues her slow nervous climb...

A book flies across the kitchen, flung from the direction of the living room. "'Or close the wall up...'" He leaps onto the sofa. "'With our English dead'!"

Lots more photographs of Smith are randomly stuck on the wall behind the sofa. Sherlock turns around and heads back across the room. "'A et the teeth and stretch the nostril wide'." He turns and dramatically kicks the living room door closed. "'Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit...'"

He snatches down a photo of Smith which was taped to the mirror. "'To his full height'!" Screwing up the photo, he looks down at it for a moment, then raises his head and brandishes both hands either side of his head. "'On, on, you noblest English...'" He rages whilst hurling the photo across the room. "'hose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof'!"

Outside, Mrs Hudson nervously reaches the landing and looks towards the kitchen door...

In the living room Sherlock points the pistol towards the wall behind the sofa, taking the gun in both hands. "'And you, good yeoman, whose limbs were made in England, show us here the mettle of your pasture'!"

Mrs Hudson walks slowly towards the closed living room door...

Inside, Sherlock heads into the kitchen. "'Which I doubt not, for there is none of you so mean and base...'" He gestures dramatically with both hands, his gaze manic. "'That hath not noble lustre in your eyes'!"

Cautiously Mrs Hudson opens the door and peers around it. Pinned to the back of the door is a printout of a newspaper or magazine article headed 'CULVERTON HIT-LIST' with a large photo of Smith underneath. A piece of string has also been attached to the door and it leads towards the sofa wall with more pictures pegged to it. The string brushes against the top of Mrs Hudson's forehead and she ducks under it and cranes her head around the edge of the door in the direction of the kitchen, where Sherlock is still ranting and alternately pacing or twirling on the spot: "'I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, straining upon the start'!"

Stepping into the living room he aims the pistol towards the sofa wall and fires, narrowly missing Mrs Hudson who ducks back and pulls the door closed. Sherlock fires four more times in quick succession, blowing holes in various photos of Smith.

The music ends. Sherlock glares towards the wall. "The game's afoot." Sherlock breathes heavily as Mrs Hudson slowly pushes the door open again and peers round it. "Oh, hello." He breathes calmly, sniffing and blinking hard. "Can I have a cup of tea?" He turns and walks back into the kitchen.

John and Mary walk along the hall in the therapist's house. Mrs Hudson closes the front door and follows him. "Did you call the police?"

"Of course I didn't call the police. I'm not a civilian!"