Brilliant {A BBC Sherlock Fanfic}

Chapter Eleven: Every Genius Needs an Audience

CHAPTER ELEVEN: EVERY GENIUS NEEDS AN AUDIENCE

~The next morning at Scotland Yard~

Amelia sat in Lestrade's office, her feet on the DI's desk despite the glares that he gave her. Amelia crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes shut. She had barely gotten any sleep the night before, her mind churning with thoughts of Moriarty and Sherlock.

Amelia yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. She looked to John who sat beside her, then lowered her feet, and leaned onto the table. "So, what ever happened to that woman on the phone?"

"Why are you here again?" Lestrade asked.

Amelia smiled in response, "I'm a genius. I need an audience." She shrugged. "I go back to my first point. What happened to the woman?"

"She lives in Cornwall." Lestrade answered. "Two men broke in wearing masks, forced her to drive to the car park and decked her out in enough explosives to take down a house." He glanced up at Sherlock, who towered over Lestrade due to Sherlock's impossibly tall height. "Told her to phone you. She had to read out from this pager."

He placed a simple pager before Amelia who immediately picked it up and started examining it. "And if she deviated by one word, the sniper would set her off." Amelia said as she tilted her to the side, impressed by simple ingenuity of the idea.

"Or if you hadn't solved the case." John said, looking to Sherlock.

Sherlock absentmindedly walked back towards the window, his hands behind his back. "Oh." He said softly, speaking more to himself than to anyone else in the room. Except, perhaps, Amelia. "Elegant.

"Elegant?" John said in disbelief.

"But what was the point?" Lestrade insisted, being the detective that he was. "Why would anyone do this?"

Sherlock remained silent for the smallest moment, his eyes briefly flicking to Amelia who was currently looking down at her lap. "Oh-I can't be the only person in the world that gets bored." His thoughts drifted to thoughts of shooting the wall and Amelia throwing books at the same place. A smile briefly made its way onto his pale, thin lips but a quick alert from the pink phone snapped him back to focus. He unlocked the phone, John sending him a quizzical glance.

"You have one new message," said the phone, alerting the group.

Amelia frowned as they listened to the message. "Four pips."

"First test passed, it would seem." Sherlock said. "Here's the second." He held the phone out for Amelia, John and Lestrade to see, though John noticed the way that the phone's screen directly faced Amelia, and Amelia alone.

The youngest Watson frowned, oblivious to this fact, as she took a closer look of the car in the photo. The car's doors were open, the number plate visible enough to read. "It's abandoned, wouldn't you say?" Amelia said, arching her eyebrow at Sherlock.

"I'll see if it's been reported." Lestrade said, picking up his desk's phone to investigate the strange car.

"Freak," Donovan said as she walked into Lestrade's office, holding a phone. "It's for you."

No one but Sherlock noticed the way that Amelia stiffened visibly, clenching her fists to keep her emotions under control. Puzzled over Amelia's reaction, Sherlock took the phone from Donovan, walking out of the small office with the phone pressed to his ear.

"Hello?" Sherlock said uncertainly.

"It's okay that you've gone to the police." a young man said, sobbing uncontrollably.