Sherlock - The Game Is On!

The Great Game- Three

The cab reaches a holt and Sherlock almost flings himself out the cab. We walk through the door stopping at 221C. "Mar-Mar please may we have the spare key to the 221C?"

"He had a look, didn't you, Sherlock, when you first came to see about the flats? I can't get anyone interested in it. The damp I expect. It's the curse of basements. I had a place once, when I was first married, black mould all up the walls, it was like a weight on your chest..."

"Door's been opened. Recently."

"No can't have been. This is the only key." I take the key from her and open the door. Bare room. Pale daylight spills through the dusty net curtains. In the centre of the room was a pair of battered trainers. "Shoes?" Sherlock shuts the door in Mar-Mar's face, I slap him at the back if the head. Ruffling his curls he's quick to examine the room. Just as he was about to crouch the Pink phone goes off, Putting it on speaker, we all listen:

"Hello?"

"Hello, sexy." Over the phone was a terrible whimpering. A women was crying and her voice wracked with sobs.

"Who is this?"

"I've sent you a... Little puzzle... Just to say... Hi."

"Who's talking? Why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying... I'm typing... And this stupid bitch... is reading it out."

"The curtain rises..."

"What?" John questioned. "Nothing."

"No. What do you mean?"

"Just that Sherlock's been expecting this for some time." I answered. "Twelve hours to solve my puzzle, Sherlock. Or I'm going to be so naughty." Not soon after the phone call ends. Grabbing the shoes, we leave to go St Bart's for analysis.

Sherlock was examining the trainers, A microscope projects images onto the wall behind him. John was pacing next to him, clearly panicked. "Who do you suppose it was? The women on the phone, the crying woman?"

"Oh, she doesn't matter. Just a hostage. there's no lead there."

"For God's sake, I wasn't thinking about leads."

"Then you're not going to be much use to her." I just kept quiet, wanting no part in this. "Are they trying to trace the call?" Sherlock's phone pings. "The bomber's too clever for that. Michelle pass me my phone."

"Where is it?" I glance around. "Jacket." It's only then that I realised that he was talking about the one he's wearing. I reach inside his jacket, trying to ignore the fact I've just touched his chest, and get his phone out. I start typing. "Who is it?"

"No one worth mentioning." I said. "Delete it."

"No need I'm responding to him, Mycroft thinks it's important but then again he didn't cancel his dental appointment."

"What?" John asked. Placing his phone back in his jacket, I sit back down and get to work with the missile plans. "Mycroft never texts if he can talk. Look, Andrew West stole those plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains, end of story."

"Wrong. But do go on." I stated. "The only mystery is this: Why is my brother so determined to bore me when someone else is being so delightfully interesting?"

"He's teasing you because I've already got the memory stick. Only a matter of time before I have a title." I stated. "Yeah, try and remember there's a woman who might die!"

"What for? This hospital is full of dying people, Doctor. Go and cry at their bedsides, see what good it does them." I grumbled at John. "You're a machine, Michelle." Not going to lie, that hurt me a bit. "Thanks for pointing out the obvious."

"Michelle I didn't mean..."

"Any luck?" Molly came through asking Sherlock. I collected my things, swinging my bag over my shoulder I left to give Mycroft the memory stick.

Waltzing into his office he set his things aside. "Good Afternoon Michelle."

"Hi Mycroft." I placed the files and USB on his desk. Throwing myself into a chair looking down at the floor. "What seems to be troubling you?" I huffed out a breath before looking at him. "Would you say I'm a machine? John seems to think so cause I'm not weeping beside these victims strapped in bombs. Not only that but I have this memory I've seemed to of unlocked."

"Unlocked how?" He questioned, clasping his hands on the desk. "During Soo Lins death something snapped in me. I can't explain it but it was a memory or I think it was. Two boys and myself playing by the beach." Mycroft sat their unmoving. I raised a brow. "It just keeps playing in my mind. I was their with Soo Lin Yao but I didn't save her. I had to be curious. It just feels like it's another death I could of prevented. Hits to close to home." Mycroft stared on for a moment before breathing out: "Your not a machine Michelle, try not to overthink it. The brain can create things to relive emotional context into a easier process. On good note." He handed me my MI5 and MI6 badges. "You now have the highest clearance. Well done and I'll be sure to send you certificate of Ladyhood to you." He smiled. I nodded my head in thanks and left.

I then spent the rest of the day with Anthea. "Then he called me a machine." I finished my rambling with that. "Michelle your far from machine. You've changed since you've met Sherlock, I admit but not for the worst... For the better. Sherlock's changed too. Mycroft is no longer concerned for him." She gave me a brief smile whilst we finished our coffees. "Come on, I'll take you home."

We drove back to Baker Street, walking through the door I noticed the boys were in the kitchen. "Can I help? I want to help. there's only five hours left."

"How quant."

"What is?"

"You are. 'Queen and country'."

"You can't just ignore it." With that John storms out the kitchen and was about to leave. "Michelle? You're here!"

"Well of course, I live here." I mumbled. "Michelle, look I'm sorry. You're not a machine."

"Oh you think it was calling me a machine that bothered me, no my dear Watson it was the venom laced with it. Do hold your tongue in the future because next time I shan't hold mine" He visibly gulped before leaving.

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Oooo things are changing. What do you thinks going on? Comment your thoughts and ideas and see ya in the next one 🧐