𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐄𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 || 𝐁𝐁𝐂 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤

19: Taxi!

I jumped to look out of the window, where I saw the taxi pulling away. "They just got in a cab. Sherlock and John, they just drove off in a cab!" I said angrily.

Donovan glanced at me pityingly.

"I told you. Sherlock does that," she said. Something's wrong I thought.

"He bloody left. Again. We're wasting our time!" she said.

Donovan stepped over to where Lestrade was standing.

"Does it matter? Does any of it?" she said. She stepped closer to Lestrade confidentially.

"He's just a lunatic, and he'll always let you down. And you're wasting your time. All our time," she added. He looked bleakly at her, and he seemed to acknowledge this as the truth. I frowned. This isn't right. Something is wrong with this picture. I glanced at the still-open computer. Dully, I hear Lestrade calling round the room.

"Okay, everyone - we're done here," he said. The police officers start packing up their equipment. As the last of the police are leaving, only Lestrade loitered. He seemed frustrated and disappointed.

"Why did he do that? Why did he have to leave?" he asked me. I shrugged.

"You know him better than I do," I said.

"I've known him five years, and no I don't, you seem to know him quite well. You two are more alike than you realise," said Lestrade. "Why do you put up with him?" I asked curiously.

"Because I'm bloody desperate, that's why!" He admitted. He strode towards the door. He hesitated and looked back.

"And Because Sherlock Holmes is a great man. And I think, one day, if we're very, very lucky he might even be a good one," he admitted. As Lestrade moved to the exit, I noticed the computer. Updating Location-Location Updated. A map was appearing on the screen. Frowning, I strode over to it.

Holy shit.

I realised now where Sherlock and John went. Taxi Driver. I cursed myself mentally before grabbing the computer, and, after some thought, my gun, before racing down the stairs.

Running out onto the street, I quickly hailed a cab.

"Drive," I hissed, opening the computer again. I was fumbling with the computer, checking I was going in the right direction. I had my mobile pressed to my ear.

"No, Detective Inspector Lestrade. I need to speak to him, it's important, it's an emergency." I swore colourfully.

"Left here, left!" I yelled at the idiotic taxi driver. The cab seemed to take forever, but soon we were at the destination.

The cab had now parked, behind a vacant cab. Sherlock and John's one, I realised. I quickly paid the driver. As I did so, I looked around frantically between the two buildings. Which one, which one?? Taking a guess, I picked one at random. I raced up the stairs, pounding along the corridor.

"Sherlock! John!" I yelled, kicking open doors and looking inside every room.

"Sherlock!" I yelled. I throw open yet another door. Empty! I raced along the corridors. Banging a door open. Then another one. Then another. This time I stopped and stared in the doorway.

I'm in the wrong building! I was in an identical classroom where I was nothing but a helpless spectator!

I looked out of the window, where I see Sherlock standing there, staring at a pill. The Taxi Driver was looking at him, smiling and malevolent. I saw John there also, but he looked dazed. He must have been drugged, I thought. This game is meant for Sherlock. But why?

"Sherlock! John!" I screamed. Sherlock and the taxi driver were standing opposite each other. I was watching, horrified, as Sherlock picked up the pill. Why's he doing that, why, why?? I thought desperately. John was unresponsive, not seeming to be aware of his surroundings.

I pulled out my gun, taking a deep breath.

Sherlock, his hand trembling, moved the pill closer and closer to his mouth. I took careful aim. All those years of violent training as a pawn came back. All my missions, willing and unwilling.

The pill touched his lips.

I pulled the trigger.