Kneeknocker Maze

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"There is only a small probability of that statement being accurate."

Susanna and Sherlock locked gazes; gray-blue meeting violet-blue in a heated glare. They'd had their share, albeit few, domestics before; but none of them threatened such serious implications as this one, "I can do this, and I will, Sherlock."

Popovitz and Overstreet looked between the couple, feeling the tension increase. Sherlock drew his lips into a thin line, "Then we both go."

"I need you here in the lab."

"Then we stay together in the lab." Susanna exhaled.

"You're not coming. I'm bringing Sgt. Popovitz and you will stay here." Susanna said firmly, effectively putting her foot down. Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

"I will go."

"Sherlock, no. This is my case," Susanna stated with finality and then looked over at Popovitz, "Are you ready, Sergeant?" The marine nodded and Overstreet handed her the gun.

"Ready." She echoed back. Susanna inhaled and retrieved her backpack, rooting through it and extracting a switchblade with a cord on it. She slipped it around her neck.

"Alright, then. We're off to the engine room." Susanna explained as she and Popovitz walked to the door. Sherlock stood glued to the floor, his eyes pleading with his girlfriend of only two months to stay. She sighed and shook her head, then the two ladies were gone.

Sherlock grumbled and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. His mind's eye produced a thousand possible scenarios where this whole mission went wrong and Susanna paid the price. He wanted to march out after her and bring her back to the lab, kicking and screaming even, but an internal voice told him to let Susanna do what she came to do. So against his better judgement, he stayed behind and started the analyses with Overstreet.

Susanna and Popovitz walked as silently as possible through the boat's corridors, monotonously hurdling over the kneeknockers in their path. They made sure to stop and listen at regular intervals, since the crewman -Lieutenant Samuel Forge- had a distinct foot step.

About one level up from the engine room, Popovitz got sick again from the heat and fumes and in the rush of helping the marine, Susanna lost her bearings on their location. It was dark, loud and stank with thick lubricant grease, oil, and hydraulics, which aggravated Susanna's headache more and didn't help her memory recall.

"Come on, Marine, where are we?" She asked firmly. Popovitz heaved again, trying to calm herself.

"We need to go one more level down,.. but there's only one entrance that will guarantee that we get into the engine room without a fuss."

"Where, Sergeant?" Susanna pressed.

When Popovitz couldn't remember, they decided to continue looking. Susanna switched on her ear piece, "Sherlock?"

"Susanna?! Where are you? I've been trying to reach you for the past ten minutes!"

"One level up from the engine room and looking for the right entrance. Popovitz got sick a couple minutes ago so we lost our way a bit."

"Do NOT touch Popovitz, Susanna! Overstreet and I have determined that they, and the other victims, were injected with a highly noxious virus. One that the crew onboard have been studying and cultivating for months as a bioweapon."

"Well that puts a damper on things."

"Susanna, we've been exposed to it."

"Kinda figured, Sherlock. Any antidotes?"

"We can try to mix one up here in the lab but they sent off the last batch of the official antidote to the U.S. and English governments two weeks ago, along with the formula."

"Have you informed Mycroft and my Dad?"

"No."

"Then please hop to it." Susanna instructed and turned off her earpiece before Sherlock could protest. She looked at Popovitz and they moved forward.

After another five minutes of creeping about, they heard Lt. Forge's footsteps pounding against the nonskid-covered floors. It was dark, but Susanna could hear just where he was and where he was going relative to their position, "Shh. Wait." She told Popovitz, who had slumped against the wall. Susanna quickly removed her earpiece and handed it to her companion, moving to follow their quarry.

Back in the lab, Sherlock was ready to fly apart at the seams and give in to his impulse- to run down to the engine room and join Susanna. But he and Overstreet were prepping the antidote cultures and he had to monitor Overstreet's symptoms. The Sailor had vomited three times since the girls had left, which was consistent with Popovitz.

"Mister Holmes?" His hand flew up to the earpiece. It was Popovitz, not Susanna.

"Yes?"

"I've lost Susanna, sir. She went on alone when we heard Forge in one of the corridors and now I think she's followed him to the engine room."

Sherlock set his jaw, "That's it! Where are you?" Popovitz informed him and Overstreet nodded to him as the detective stormed out of the lab.

Susanna smiled, mildly pleased with herself. She had tailed Forge all the way down to the engine room antechamber. The man was taller than Sherlock and bulked up with muscle, but he limped with his right leg and stumbled every so often on the non-skid because his steps were so heavy. This would work to her advantage. She took a deep breath and shook herself free of anxieties. I can do this.

Then she cleared her throat and stepped out of the shadows, hands behind her back, "Lieutenant Forge."

I will do this.

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