Sherlock - The Game Is On!

The Lying Detective- Nine

Chapter Nine

Third POV

In the chaos that is 221B's living room; Sherlock tears at some of the photographs near the door, then turns towards the windows, putting both hands to his head in frustration. "These pictures..." Mrs Hudson's voice rings from the kitchen.

She pushes back the plastic ten from around the sink and pours tea from the pot into a cup and saucer. "They're that man on the telly, aren't they?" Sherlock, being frantic with his movement, turns back and forth. However, he lowers his hands and turns to look at her. "What pictures?"

"They're everywhere." She answers. "Oh, these pictures?" Sherlock dramatically gestures around the room. "Oh, you can see them too." For a second, he points to the gun directly at her. "That's good." Turning away, focusing in on a few of the many photographs.

Screwing his eyes closed for a moment, he spins around, still zooming in on individual images before directing his view to the padded envelope. Which is stabbed to the mantlepiece. Pulling in a shaky breath and putting on clenched hand to his chest, he turns away.

"Culverton Smith." The therapist reads from the laptop on the side table in the back room. Pushing her glasses up her nose, she bends down to the computer and runs her finger over the pad. "This, I think, is relevant from this morning. He's publicly accused Mr Smith of being a serial killer." Clicking on the top article, it shows with better view, Sherlock whom wears his deerstalker and a smiling Smith. The two photos are divided by a jagged white line that looks like lightning striking. The main headline reads: 'He's a serial killer!' The strapline reads:

Net detective blasts Culverton Smith on Twitter:
-Defamatory remark goes viral on social media networking site
-Media tycoon yet to comment

"Christ! Sherlock on Twitter. He really has lost it."

"Don't you dare make jokes. Don't you dare. I was terrified!" Mrs Hudson cries.

With his back to the kitchen, Sherlock gestures dramatically with the pistol still in one hand. "Cup of tea!" He spoke through gritted teeth. When he receives no response, he turns around. "Oh, for goodness sake."

In the kitchen, Mrs Hudson clutches his freshly made tea with shaking hands and stares in terror when Sherlock begins to approach her. "What's the matter with you?" She whimpers in response. He storms closer, staring manically. "Are you having a earthquake?!"

Time slows, the cup and saucer fall from Martha's hands...

Mrs Hudson looks to John and Mary, pleadingly. "Either one of you need to see him. He needs you!" John stays silent for a moment before Mary slaps his head. "Now you just listen to me for once in your stupid life. I know my niece is in critical care and I know your upset. But how do you think Sherlock's dealing with this?" John opens his mouth to talk but she carries on: "I tell you something, John Watson. You will not have me if you turn him away."

She storms out the door, passing Mary when she reaches the front door. Mary urges John silently. Sighing to himself, John dutifully follows with his wife beside him.

Outside, Mrs Hudson folds her arms on tops of the Aston cars roof with her head lowered crying. The police and helicopters have left and it's just three of them standing together. John blows out a breath and steps towards her. "Have you spoken to Mycroft, Molly? Anyone?"

"They don't matter. You do! Both of you matter! Would you see him? Please. Or just take a look at him as a doctor? I know you'd change your minds."

"Yeah, okay."

"Do you promise?" She beams to the pair. Mary steps forward. "We promise, Mrs H."

"Thank you!" Instantly turning away, she walks to the rear of the car. The Watsons frown. She begins to open the boot.

Inside the boot, Sherlock looks up at her anxiously. John and Mary walk towards them with no expression. "Well? On you go." Sherlock squints against the daylight with wrists handcuffed in front of him. "John, examine him!" Mary gestures. John throws her a look before glancing back to his best mate. Sherlock blinks at him.

The teacup and saucer fall from Mrs Hudson's shaky hands. In slow motion, Sherlock reaches forward to drop his pistol then continue downwards to beat the falling saucer. He catches it and the tea splashes . The fall is at a Halt.

Before he straightens up again, Mrs Hudson reaches across the table and picks up the gun by its muzzle with her right-hand, pulling it towards her and reaching for the other end with her left.

Sherlock rises up. As his knees straighten and his hand shakes, Mrs Hudson turns and points the gun at him, cocking it. He jumps at the sight. "Right then, mister. Now I need your handcuffs. I happen to know there's a pair in the salad draw." She shrugs. "I've borrowed them before." Sherlock stares at her with startled indignation. "Oh, get over yourself. You're not my first smackhead, Sherlock Holmes."