A New Mystery at 221 Baker Street

Chapter 25: Negotiations

AN: Episode Transcript provided by Ariane DeVere/Callie Sullivan

***

Sherlock sat in the back of the black car on his way to Heathrow Airport. "There's going to be a bomb on a passenger jet," He began to deduce, "The British and American governments know about it. But rather than expose the source of that information, they're going to let it happen. The plane will blow up. Coventry all over again. The wheel turns. Nothing is ever new,"

The car passed hangars and arrived at a 747 Jumbo Jet parked on the tarmac. Sherlock got out of the car and walked over to the steps, only to see a familiar face.

"Well, you're lookin' all better," Sherlock said to Agent Neilson in an insultingly fake American accent. "How ya feelin'?"

"Like putting a bullet in your brain, sir," Neilson responded as Sherlock walked up the steps. "They'd pin a medal on me if I did, sir. But I won't. Ally seems to trust you, she even threw me out a window because my men hurt your landlady. Besides, I don't want to get on her bad side. She may be small but she is powerful,"

"Yes, well, Alice is full of surprises," Sherlock said, not turning back to face the American.

Sherlock pulled back the curtain and walked into the aisle. The plane was full but none of the passengers were talking or moving. Upon closer inspection, he realized that every passenger on the plane was dead.

"The Coventry conundrum," Mycroft said, pushing back the curtain at the front of the cabin. "What do you think of my solution? The flight of the dead,"

"The plane blows up mid-air. Mission accomplished for the terrorists. Hundred of casualties, but nobody dies," Sherlock said, putting the pieces together.

"We ran a similar project with the Germans a while back, though I believe one of our passengers didn't make the flight. But that's the deceased for you. Late, in every sense of the word,"

"How's the plane going to fly?" Sherlock asked, only to answer his question a second later. "Of course: unmanned aircraft, hardly new,"

"It doesn't fly; it will never fly. This entire project is canceled. The terrorist cells have been informed that we know about the bomb. We can't fool them now. We've lost everything. One fragment of one email and months and years of planning finished,"

"Your MoD man,"

"That's all it takes: one lonely naïve man desperate to show off, and a woman clever enough to make him feel special,"

Sherlock quirked his eyebrow. "Hmm, you should screen your defense people more carefully,"

"I'm not talking about the MoD man, Sherlock!" Mycroft yelled, slamming the tip of his umbrella on the floor. "I'm talking about you!" Alice entered the cabin from the same entrance as Mycroft. "A damsel in distress,"

"Alice, what are you..." Sherlock began to ask while a million questions began to enter his mind.

"In the end," Mycroft continued as Alice stood beside him. She was dressed professionally and stood as if her proper place in the world was by Mycroft's side. "Must you really be so obvious? Because this was textbook. The promise of love, the pain of loss, the joy of redemption; then give him a puzzle and watch him dance."

"Don't be absurd," Sherlock argued.

"How quickly did you decipher that email?" Mycroft asked, "Was it a full minute, or were you eager to impress?"

"I think it was less than five seconds," Irene said from behind Sherlock. She wore an elegant dress with her makeup and hair perfectly done.

Alice turned to Mycroft, his expression was full of regret. "I drove you into her path," Mycroft said. "I'm sorry, I didn't know,"