Two Months Later
"That was so much fun!" I smiled at Sherlock as we entered 221B.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it." Sherlock smiled at me. I leaned in to kiss him as I stood one step above him so I could reach his height. He held my face lightly, then inhaled deeply. I backed up as he slid past me and walked upstairs. I followed him into the flat as he wandered off to his room and I threw my shopping bag on the couch.
"Sherlock..." I began heading toward his room.
"We have a client." He said to me and I furrowed my eyebrows as I walked into his room to see Irene laying on his bed.
"Should I wake her?" I asked Sherlock, an edge in my voice.
"No-," I jumped on the bed and pulled her hair, shaking her awake. Sherlock quickly wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me from the bed. However, she woke with a gasp.
"Ow!" she yelled.
"Get the hell up and get your ass in the living room!" I yelled. "Ms. Adler," I added calming down as I stood next to Sherlock who looked at me, shock evident in his facial expression. As I stood next to Sherlock, he just stared at Irene, no emotion showing on his face. One of these days I would love to know what he's thinking.
John showed up about a half hour later, and Irene sat in the famous "client chair" as Sherlock sat in his chair and John in his. I sat on the arm of Sherlock's, and he kept an arm around me.
"So who's after you?" Sherlock asked.
"People who want to kill me." She said.
"Who's that?" Sherlock asked.
"Killers."
"It would help if you were a tiny bit more specific," John added.
"So you faked your own death in order to get ahead of them," Sherlock asked.
"It worked for a while." She admitted.
"Except you let John and me know that you were alive, and therefore Sherlock." I butted in.
"I knew you'd keep my secret." She said gesturing to us.
"You couldn't," Sherlock said.
"But you did, didn't you? Where's my camera phone?" She asked.
"It's not here. We're not stupid." John stated.
"Then what have you done with it? If they've guessed you've got it, they'll be watching you." She said.
"If they've been watching me, they'll know that I took a safety deposit box at a bank on the Strand a few months ago," Sherlock said.
"I need it." She said.
"Well, we can't just go and get it, can we?" I added looking to Sherlock.
"Molly Hooper. She could collect it, take it to Bart's; then one of your homeless network could bring it here, leave it in the café, and one of the boys downstairs could bring it up the back." John asked.
"Very good, John. Excellent plan, with intelligent precautions." Sherlock said pushing my waist back so he could stand.
"Thank you. So, why don't... Oh, for..." John stuttered over his words and I looked up to see Sherlock hold up Irene's phone.
"So what do you keep on here – in general, I mean?" Sherlock asked.
"Pictures, information, anything I might find useful." She explained.
"What, for blackmail?" John asked.
"I give you props for that," I said to her and we high-fived. I guess girls can get along to some extent; she isn't trying to get in Sherlock's pants right now, so she doesn't seem too bad.
"For protection. I make my way in the world; I misbehave. I like to know people will be on my side exactly when I need them to be." Irene added.
"So how do you acquire this information?" Sherlock asked.
"I told you – I misbehave." She smirked, and I eyed her. Just when I was starting to like her.
"But you've acquired something that's more danger than protection. Do you know what it is?" Sherlock asked.
"Yes, but I don't understand it." She sighed.
"I assumed. Show me." Sherlock said. Irene held her hand out, and Sherlock pulled the phone back behind him, keeping it from her.
"The passcode." Sherlock prompted. She just held her hand out, and Sherlock stood there and handed me the phone. "Tell Liz; I'm sure there's something you girls can work out." Irene and I walked into the kitchen, and she looked at me.
"Just give me the phone." She sighed.
"No, you'll take it and run," I stated.
"I will not. I need help, what would be the point of running?"
I handed her the phone, and she frowned in confusion.
"It's not working." She said loudly. Sherlock walked in and took the phone from her.
"No, because it's a duplicate that I had made, into which you've just entered the numbers one oh five eight." He said and pulled out the real camera phone from under the cushion in his chair. "I assumed you'd choose something more specific than that but, um, thanks anyway." Sherlock smirked as he entered the numbers and the screen blinked, "WRONG PASSCODE. 1 ATTEMPT REMAINING". I looked at him and the phone in shock.
"I told you that camera phone was my life. I know when it's in my hand." She said.
"Oh, you're rather good," Sherlock smirked.
"You're not so bad." She replied leaning in toward him, and I looked at John.
"Hamish." He spoke up. We all turned to look at him. "John Hamish Watson – just if you were looking for baby names." He said. I glared at John and smacked the back of his head.
"Ow, sorry."
"There was a man – a MOD official. I knew what he liked." Irene began, and I scoffed. "Oh, Liz, right when I thought we were getting along." She said. She moved so she could type the correct passcode into her actual phone, and she pulled up a photo.
"One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn't know it, but I photographed it." She began as she handed the phone to Sherlock. "He was a bit tied up at the time. It's a bit small on that screen – can you read it?" she asked. Sherlock took a seat at the table with John and looked at the photograph.
"Yes," Sherlock replied.
"A code, obviously. I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it – though he was mostly upside down, as I recall. Couldn't figure it out." She said.
"What can you do, Mr. Holmes?" She asked. Her eyes were on me as she leaned over his shoulder. "Go on. Impress a girl." She said, and Sherlock looks blankly as she kisses his cheek.
"There's a margin for error, but I'm pretty sure there's a Seven Forty-Seven leaving Heathrow tomorrow at six thirty in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently, it's going to save the world. Not sure how that can be true but give me a moment; I've only been on the case for eight seconds." Sherlock spoke quickly. I looked at Sherlock, glaring at him. John and Irene both looked at him with wide eyes, obviously impressed. "Oh, come on. It's not code. These are seat allocations on a passenger jet. Look..." He showed the screen to John and me.
"There's no letter 'I' because it can be mistaken for a '1'; no letters past 'K' – the width of the plane is the limit. The numbers always appear randomly and not in sequence, but the letters have little runs of sequence all over the place – families and couples sitting together. Only a Jumbo is wide enough to need the letter 'K' or rows past fifty-five, which is why there's always an upstairs. There's a row thirteen, which eliminates the more superstitious airlines. Then there's the style of the flight number – zero zero seven – that eliminates a few more; and assuming a British point of origin, which would be logical considering the original source of the information and assuming from the increased pressure on you lately that the crisis is imminent, the only flight that matches all the criteria and departs within the week is the six thirty to Baltimore tomorrow evening from Heathrow Airport." He stood up and looked down at Irene. She smiled up at him. "Please don't feel obliged to tell me that was remarkable or amazing. John's expressed the same thought in every possible variant available to the English language." Sherlock added.
"I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice," Irene said, and I looked at the floor, shifting my body so I wouldn't jump across the chair in front of me and knock her to the ground.
"John, please can you check those flight schedules; see if I'm right?"
"You're always right," I scoffed. I pulled up the flight schedules on my phone and checked.
"Uh-huh. I'm on it, yeah." John said shocked by the intense looks being exchanged between Sherlock and Irene.
"I've never begged for mercy in my life," Sherlock added.
"Twice." Irene piped up and
"You're right. Flight double oh seven." I smiled.
"What did you say?" Sherlock asked turning to look at me.
"You're right? As always, asshole." I said. He smirked at me, but continued.
"No, no, no, after that. What did you say after that?"
"Double oh seven. Flight double oh seven." I elaborated.
"Double oh seven, double oh seven, double oh seven, double oh seven..." Sherlock repeated as he walked up to me and put his hands on either side of my face. I was surprised by what Sherlock did next. He kissed me. "... something ... something connected to double oh seven ... What?" he muttered, then kissed me again. Sherlock finally realized and sat down in his chair.
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