Chapter Seventeen: Bang

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Jeff's mouth tightened, and slowly he squeezed the trigger

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Jeff's mouth tightened, and slowly he squeezed the trigger. A small flame burst out of the end of the muzzle.

Sherlock smiled smugly, "I know a real gun when I see one." he said rolling his eyes.

Calmly Jeff lifted the pistol/cigarette lighter and released the trigger. The flame went out, "None of the others did." he said in somewhat disappointed.

"Clearly." Sherlock scoffed, "Well, this has been very interesting. I look forward to the court case." he stood up and watched Lorenzo do the same then walked towards the door.

Jeff put the gun onto the desk and calmly turned in his seat, "Just before you go, did you figure it out..." Sherlock stood at the door and half-turned towards him, "Which one's the good bottle?"

The high functional sociopath nodded, "Of course. Child's play."

Jeff asked, "Well, which one, then?" Sherlock opened the door a little but showed no sign of leaving the room, "Which one would you 'ave picked, just so I know whether I could have beaten you? What about you, Lorenzo? Did your brain figure it out?" Sherlock closed the door again, "Come on. Play the game." Jeff chuckled.

Slowly Sherlock walked back towards him as Lorenzo rolled his eyes. When he got to the table, he reached out and swept up the bottle nearest to Jeff, then walked past him.

Jeff looked down at the other bottle with interest but his voice gave nothing away as he spoke, "Oh. Interesting." he picked up the other bottle as Sherlock looked down at the bottle in his own hand, "So what d'you think? Really, what do you think?" this time he stood up facing Sherlock, "Can you beat me? Are you clever enough to bet your life?" he asked.

Sherlock lifted his gaze from the bottle he's holding.

Jeff continued to hold up his pill as he looked at Sherlock, "I bet you get bored, don't you? I know you do. A man like you..." Sherlock unscrewed the lid of the bottle, "So clever. But what's the point of being clever if you can't prove it?"

Sherlock took out the capsule and held it between his thumb and finger, raising it to the light to examine it more closely.

"Still the addict." Jeff said antagonising him.

Whilst Sherlock and Jeff were talking, Lorenzo noticed someone in the other building holding a gun towards the taxi driver.

Lorenzo was trying to deduct who it was, as there was no light in the other room but was cut out of his thoughts by Jeff asking him a question.

Jeff moved his own pill towards his own mouth, "You're not bored now, are you? You should try it too, Lorenzo." he said.

"Nah." he replied smirking, "I don't want blood to get on my new shirt."

A gunshot rang out and a bullet impacted Jeff's chest close to his heart, continuing through his body and smashing into the door behind him.

As he falls to the floor, Sherlock dropped his pill in surprise; he turned over the desk behind him and hurried to the window, bending down to stare through the bullet hole in the glass.

The window of the opposite room was open but there was nobody in sight.

As Sherlock straightened up, Jeff breathed heavily and coughed. Sherlock turned back, looking around the room and seeing one of the pills lying on the desk as Jeff convulsed on the floor and gasped and coughed in pain.

Sherlock snatched up the pill, kneeling down and brandished it at Jeff, who had a large pool of blood underneath him and was staring up at him in shock.

"Was I right?" Sherlock hissed making Jeff turn his head away in disbelief, "I was, wasn't I? Did I get it right?"

Lorenzo was instantly next to Sherlock, "No." he told making Sherlock look at him, "Both pills contained the poison." he looked at Jeff. "He just happened to grow immunity to it. So obvious."

"Okay, then," said Sherlock with a frighteningly calm voice, "Tell me this. Your sponsor-who is it?"

The still-writhing taxi driver shook his head faintly.

"The one you told us about," Sherlock pressed, "Our fan. I want a name." Jeff only shook his head again in response.

"You're dying, but there's still time to hurt you." Lorenzo growled, placing his foot next to the dying man's wound, "Give me a name."

"...No," the taxi driver croaked, the pain getting unbearable.

Lorenzo pressed down with his foot and cabbie cried out in pain, "A name! Now!" Lorenzo repeated angrily. He then pushed down on the cabbie's ribs, causing the dying man to scream in excruciating pain, but the wild look in Lorenzo's eyes remained as he snarled, "Name him!!!"

"Moriarty!" Jeff bursted out, sobbing through his pain.



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