Brilliant {A BBC Sherlock Fanfic}

Chapter Nine: The Carl Powers Conundrum

CHAPTER NINE: THE CARL POWERS CONUNDRUM

Despite knowing that they had five hours to solve the "Carl Powers Conundrum" as John so eloquently put it-although Sherlock disagreed with that statement-Amelia was starting to feel stressed. Granted, she'd dealt with a lot in the past week, mostly because of Sherlock, but with Jim joining their little party, Amelia was ready to snap. Which meant that, most likely, somebody or something was going to get hurt.

Amelia spread her papers over the table, drumming her fingers as she thought. According to what Sherlock had said, Carl Powers had been a young competitive swimmer who'd gone to a swim meet, had some sort of fit, and had drowned. Carl's clothes had been found in his locker, but his shoes were nowhere in sight. Currently, Amelia was trying to determine whether or not the shoes they'd found in 221C had, in fact, belonged to Carl. She flipped through various photos of the young swimmer, trying to find one where she could match the shoes.

"John?" she called out, before remembering that her brother had gone to go talk to Mrs Hudson in 221A. "Sherlock?" she tried again.

"What?" he barked from downstairs, coming up to the second level, carrying boxes of chemistry equipment. He pushed some of her work to the side and took a seat, preparing his own small laboratory.

Amelia sighed. "Can I help? You never tell me what's going in that funny little head of yours, and I want to help. There's only five hours left."

 "You could help by telling me who the hell Moriarty is!" Sherlock snarled, slamming his fist down on the table. A mug threatened to topple off the surface, but Sherlock caught it just before it fell and placed it gently on the floor. He blew out a breath, and rubbed his temples.

"I don't know." Amelia lied. She got up and patted Sherlock on the back, leaning over his shoulder to speak to him in his ear. "Sherlock, it's alright. You just need to breathe, yeah?" Amelia immediately started to back off as John knocked on the kitchen door, but Sherlock caught her hand, keeping her close.

"It's your brother." John said to Sherlock, holding his phone in the air. "He's texting me now. How does he know my number?"

"How does he not know your number?" Amelia muttered, snatching the phone out of John's hand. "He's Mycroft." She frowned down at the message, rolling her eyes.

Any developments?

 -Mycroft Holmes

"Must be a root canal." Sherlock mused aloud.

"Look," John said, exasperated with Sherlock's dawdling. "He did say 'national importance.'"

Sherlock snorted, handing a newspaper article to Amelia who took it and promptly crushed it in her hands. Sherlock narrowed his eyes in disapproval, "How quaint." He said.

"What is?" John asked.

"You are." Sherlock answered. "Queen and country."

"You can't just ignore it." Amelia said sternly, rummaging through the fridge and pulling out a large uncooked beef roast in a metal dish. Amelia grabbed a few peeled potatoes and carrots, along with a few chunks of onions, and threw it into the dish with the roast. Amelia smiled, thankful that Mrs Hudson had prepared everything beforehand.

"I'm not ignoring it." Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. "Putting my best man onto it right now."

"Right. Good." John nodded, folding his arms across his chest. He blinked once and then looked to Sherlock, puzzled. "Who's that?"

Sherlock smiled knowingly. "Why you, of course." he said, turning to John. He steepled his fingers, eyeing Amelia. "You could go too, if you wished."