The Great Game (Sherlock Holmes x OC)

SIX- Got A Bit Of Burglary To Do

Anita, the boys, and Lestrade were back at the Hickman Gallery with Mrs. Wenceslas. Sherlock was standing in front of the Vermeer painting, looking up information on his phone.

"It's a fake. It has to be," Sherlock stated.

"The painting has been subject to every test known to science," Wenceslas defended. Sherlock spun around and glared at her.

"It's a very good fake, then. You know about this, don't you? This is you, isn't it?" Sherlock accused. Wenceslas turned to Lestrade and Anita, looking exasperated.

"Inspectors, my time is being wasted. Would you mind showing yourself and your friends out?" she asked as the pink phone rang. Sherlock ripped it from his pocket and switched it to speaker.

"The painting is a fake. It's a fake. That's why Woodbridge and Cairns were killed," Sherlock stated, but the person on the other end wasn't responding. They could only hear faint breathing.

"Oh come on. Proving its just the detail. The painting is a fake. I've solved it. I've figured it out. It's a fake!" Sherlock shouted, but got no response. He took a few breaths to calm down.

"Okay, I'll prove it. Give me time. Will you give me time?" he asked. And finally the voice spoke.

"Ten."

Instantly, Sherlock spun back to the painting as Anita sucked in a breath.

"It's a kid. Oh, God. It's a damn kid!" Anita breathed out, her heart racing.

"What did he say?" John asked anxiously.

"Ten," Sherlock replied.

"Nine."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes as he scanned every inch of the painting.

"It's a countdown. He's giving me time," Sherlock explained.

"Jesus!" Lestrade exclaimed.

"The painting is a fake, but how can I prove it? How? How?" Sherlock said, his brain running a million miles a minute.

"Eight."

Anita turned to Wenceslas and glared at her.

"This kid is going to die. Tell him why the paintings a fake," Anita ordered. Wenceslas flinched and opened her mouth but Sherlock held his hand up to stop her.

"No, shut up. Don't say anything. It only works if I figure it out," Sherlock said. Anita was getting frantic now. She was not going to be telling some parents that their little boy had been blown up.

"Seven."

He turned back to the painting as Anita and John stood back. Anita did want to help, but couldn't seeing as Sherlock had to figure it out himself.

"Must be possible. Must be staring me in the face," Sherlock mumbled to himself.

"Six."

"Come on, Sherlock," Anita urged under her breath.

"Woodbridge knew, but how?" Sherlock asked.

"Five."

"It's speeding up!" Lestrade exclaimed.

"Sherlock!" John and Anita called, urgently. Sherlock's gaze fell on three tiny white dots of paint in the night sky. His mouth fell open.

"Oh!"

"Four."

"In the planetarium! You heard it too! Oh that is brilliant! That is gorgeous!" he exclaimed as he turned and shoved the pink phone into John's hand, he walked away from the painting, grinning as he pulled out his own phone.