Sherlock - The Game Is On!

The Lying Detective- Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Third POV

Not long afterwards, Smith leads Sherlock and John along a bright white-painted corridor whilst the nurse from before leads Mary to Michelle's room. "Where are we going now?" Sherlock asks. "I want to show you my favourite room."

They walk past a door. Sherlock glances towards it, then does a double-take. "No, let's go in here." He pulls the door open and goes inside. A sign on the wall inside shows that this is Suite W34, Directors Boardroom B-2. There's a white rectangular table in the middle with three chairs on each side and one at each end. There are drug stands beside each of the side chairs. Sherlock walks around the table, gesturing towards it. "So you've had another one of your little meetings."

He smiles humourlessly at Smith. "Oh, it's just a monthly top up. Confession is good for the soul... Providing you can delete it." Smith answered. John looks closely at a bag hanging from one of the stands. "What's TD12?"

"It's a memory inhibitor."

"Bliss."

"Bliss?" John parrots, questionably. "Opt-in ignorance. Makes the world go round."

"Anyone ever 'opt' to remember?" Sherlock asks, beginning to fold his arms. "Some people take the drip out, yeah. Some people have the same... Urges." He claps his hands together. "Come on. Wasting time."

"Indeed." Sherlock looks to his pocket watch. "You have, I estimate twenty minutes left." Smiling, he snaps the watch closed and walks towards the door which Smith is about to push open. Smith turns back towards him. "Sorry?"

"I sent a text from your phone, remember? It was read almost immediately. Factoring in a degree of shock, an emotional decision and a journey time based on the associated address, I'd say that your life as you know it has twenty minutes left to run." He pauses for a moment. "Well, no, seventeen and a half, to be precise but I rounded up for dramatic effect, so please do show us your favourite room." Nodding his head in agreement to himself, he walks closer to Smith, glaring at him intensely. "It'll give you a chance to say... Goodbye."

Smith chuckles unpleasantly. "Come along." He turns around. Sherlock pulls a brief humourless smile behind him, then heads for the door which Smith is holding open for him. They walk away, Smith letting the door go behind him.

"Sherlock - The Game Is On!" Michelle smiles. Sherlock walks through her, shaking his head to try and rid of her.

Shortly afterwards, the three men are in an elevator. John has his head lowered and is pinching the bridge of his nose. Sherlock looks uncomfortable and twitchy. "Speaking of serial killers, you know who's my favourite?" There's the sound of a 'bing' as the lift stops. "Other than yourself?" Smith chuckles. The doors open and he leads the others out. "H. H. Holmes."

Smith leads them along a blue-painted corridor. The ceiling is very high above them and pipework runs along it. "Relative of yours?"

"Not as far as I know."

"You should check. What an idiot." He pushes through a set of double doors and looks around the room as he walks in. "Everyone out." Sherlock and John stop just inside the doors. Deeper in the room, a body is lying on a silver chrome examination table, covered by a sheet up to its neck. A male mortician stands at the other side of the table holding a clipboard and pen. He wears green scrubs with a blue disposable plastic apron over the top. A woman, similarly dressed, is nearby with her hands on a wheeled trolley with medical equipment on it. Tall silver-coloured cabinet doors are set into the walls.

The man looks up at Smith. "Mr Smith, we're actually in the middle of something."

"Saheed, isn't it?" Near the doors, Sherlock puts his hands in his coat pocket and leans against the side of a cupboard, watching with interest. "Saheed, yes."