Painting Murders - (A Sherlock fanfic)

Tracking is not an option

I debated whether or not to take the tube but finally decided against it.

I'd travelled in cabs with all sorts of things: suitcases, school projects, heavy bags, even with the weekly shopping. I could safely say I never expected to get into cab with a rucksack carrying a full toolbox, coil of cable, a network rooter and five different hard drives from several computers.

Taking the tube, upon reflection, would have been a bad idea.

The cabbie gave me a funny look when I chucked the rucksack onto the back seat before sliding in myself, the weight of the bag making the whole taxi rock slightly.

"Got a dead body in there, missus?" The cabbie asked in a cheerful voice as I slammed the door.

"Oh no, far too messy." I laughed, "It's some parts for wiring up a computer. My dad is fitting my Grandma's house up with internet so she can use her computer." I lied and the cabbie laughed.

"Ah, getting grandparents into this day and age, eh? Sounds tedious." He commented lightly then pulled away from the curb, "Where too then?"

"221b Baker Street." I said before staring out of the window and thinking up very possible way that my situation could end badly.

The cabbie pulled up onto the pavement right outside 221B and I lugged my bag out after me and onto my shoulder before handing the cabbie my fare in cash. He waved slightly as he drove off.

I walked up to the front door and knocked twice before Mrs Hudson waved me in happily.

"Ah Everly, the boys were expecting you. Something about fixing the internet connection upstairs?" She chirped, not even bothering to question the lie further.

"Yep." I said, not willing either to back up the lie further. It was easy to lie to some people and not to others. Mrs Hudson was not good for lying to, she made me feel guilty.

"Well, up you go. Shout me if you need anything." She said gesturing to the stairs.

I clambered up them, heaving my heavy bag behind me until I got to the flat.

Inside Sherlock was sat in his armchair with his knees up and John was stood at the window. In the middle of the floor was everything I'd asked for. I noticed that the laptop I was to use was actually John's.

"You need to sort your brother out." I grumbled as I shut the door behind me and dropped the bag. It made a dull thud under which the floor shuddered.

"Why?" Sherlock asked inquisitively.

"Because he just waltzed into my house and threatened me with court and then calling social services on my Dad. All because he found out I was with you last night when we found the body." I recited as Sherlock sat unmoving.

"Really?" John asked looking worried, "Maybe this isn't such a good idea then Sher-," I cut John off.

"Threats or not, if another person is found dead, I don't think I'd be able to live with myself knowing I could have potentially found some information that could have helped prevented it." I said, then crouched down to separate out the bits on the floor.

"You know this laptop is going to get smashed up, right?" I said holding it up.

John looked appalled then shot a glare at Sherlock who dismissively said, "So what?"

I handed the laptop to John who tucked it protectively under his arm.

"Surely you still have my old one," I said looking at Sherlock, "I mean, don't you steal evidence from Lestrade all the time."

Sherlock pursed his lips then disappeared from the room before reappearing with a very familiar looking bashed up laptop. He passed it down to me.

"Hello baby," I said to it. I'd had many a good hacking experiences with this laptop, and obviously my major downfall. So I guessed it seemed appropriate that I kept to tradition and used it again just for old times' sake.

I set it down and began unscrewing the bottom so that I could access the hard drive.

"What are you doing?" John asked, pulling up a chair so that he could observe me properly.

"Hard drives are like the memory and brain of a laptop," I said to him as I worked. "Inside this particular model of laptop, the IP address is also inside the hard drive. So I'm going to remove it, make another hard drive out of separate parts so that the IP address is scrambled and then if anything does go wrong, it can't be traced as easily." I muttered, prising out the hard drive with my screw driver before putting it on the floor.

I broke up the five other hard drives into separate parts before assembling each component and finally held a very mismatched, Frankenstein of a device.

I screwed it back into the laptop before holding it up.

"Voila." I smiled and John nodded.

"So what's all this other stuff for?" John asked, pointing to the reel of cable I'd brought over and the tool box and the computer.

"Where's your network rooter?" I asked instead of answering him.

"Come again?"

"Internet. The little box thing that gives you internet." I explained very simply, "It should have flashing lights on it."

Sherlock pointed over to the box with lights on stood in the corner of a book shelf behind him.

I smiled and unplugged it, bringing it back over to the floor and sitting down.

I took the side off the computer and pulled out the circuit board with most of the plugs still attached. John and Sherlock watched silently as I basically pulled their internet rooter to bits before fitting it into the computer and running some of the spare cable from inside the rooter to part of the circuit board then to one of the hard drives. I then shoved the wireless cable into the HDMI slot on my laptop and, using the plies, cut off the other end of the cable so I could wire it up to inside the computer.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock suddenly asked making me jump slightly so that I touched a live wire with my screwdriver. It sparked making us all pull back.

"Making a network." I smiled going back to my work.

"Why?" John asked.

"Because, John, there are several ways that people can track hackers. One is through the IP address. Another is through the network rooter they use. So instead of 221B Baker Street flashing up on the monitor if we're found out, nothing will flash up and it will take them twice as long to track us."

John made a noise as if to say that he understood even though he didn't understand at all.

I cross ran another cable from the computer, through another hard drive and then through the USB port on the other side of my laptop. The whole floor was beginning to look like a massive circuit board.

"Right," I sat back on my heels and looked at my watch. Since I'd been up since six O'clock that morning, I felt like it should have been afternoon but in reality it was only quarter to eleven. Not even lunch time.

"If Mycroft has increased security since the last time, and if we're going in the same way as before-," I paused to look up at Sherlock who fished around in his pocket and held out a CD with EVIDENCE visibly stamped on it, "- I wager we have around half an hour maximum before someone realises something is wrong." I said, holding my breath as I pressed the POWER button.