Staying Alive

Chapter 9 The Postcard

Chapter 9 The Postcard

"There's a pattern," Renae muttered, her fist thoughtfully pressed against her lips, stifling most of the short sentence.

Mary, however, possessed a keen sense of hearing. "What?"

"There's a pattern, there has to be." Her fist fell open in her lap palms up, her thinking quirks closely mirroring Sherlock's. She had steepled her fingers on occasion, but stopped as soon as John had mentioned that her brother did the exact same thing when he was in deep thought. How embarrassing to have such similar qualities.

"You mean this is more than just a treasure hunt?" John crossed his arms on the bench. Beside him sat Mary, and beside her sat Renae. They were the only people in Paris not giving a single thought to the dozens of shops and pleasantries around them, instead pondering the hidden meaning behind Moriarty's game. It was the perfect day to visit the shops, so the street was quite busy and it was a wonder they found an empty bench at all.

Renae bit her lip and talked through her thoughts as a thousand maps and photographs flooded her mind's eye. "He's sending us to famous landmarks -- specific ones. But why? Why these specifically? What's it all leading to? We don't have enough information yet."

"Which is why we're forced to keep on playing the game," Mary finished.

"I'm going to call Sherlock," Renae decided. She had a theory, but didn't want to be the one to break it to the already stressed parents. She rose from her seat and walked a few steps away with her back to them, the noise from the crowded street doing most of the work of keeping her conversation secret.

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"We were just talking about you," Sherlock greeted his sister. He had been looking down a microscope on the kitchen table and Molly had regained her position on the sofa, her cup of tea half-consumed and getting cold. Molly turned down the volume on the telly when she saw Sherlock quickly switch from hunched over a slide to stretched back in the chair with a mobile to his ear.

"I think I've figured it out, but," Renae paused. "but you have to promise me that you won't try to intervene."

"Don't be ridiculous, I don't make promises to anyone," Sherlock snapped. "What have you found out?"

"He keeps sending us to places that are world-famous architectural landmarks. But not just any. He has been very specific."

"I would expect no less of your boyfriend."

"Sherlock."

"You cannot date a consulting criminal!"

"We're not exclusive!"

"Ah," Sherlock sighed, "that makes it all better. Thank you, dear sister."

Molly giggled silently. The world could not handle the level of sass that would culminate if those two shared space for too long.

Renae continued, "The names of the places Moriarty is having us go, they mean something." Sherlock kept quiet, but started fiddling around with his slides with his spare hand. "If what I'm dreading is true... uh..."

Someone on a bicycle had stopped where she was standing and held out a postcard. Taken back but not at all shocked, she thanked the nameless man and he rode away without a single word.

"Renae?" Sherlock asked, not sure what her confused "thank you" meant.

"It is as I expected," Renae replied. "We've been sent to the Sphinx and Eiffel Tower -- words that begin with some of the most used letters in the alphabet. That is no coincidence."