When they got back to the flat, John checked his little sister over. Alex didn't seem to have anything wrong with her, but John still didn't want her to go to bed. Sherlock helped her clean the wound.
"You're lucky you only escaped with that much." He said.
"I know." Alex nodded.
"You were very brave. Foolish, but brave all the same." Sherlock said.
"Thanks." Alex said. "When do we talk to the gallery?"
"I was thinking right now." Sherlock said. "John doesn't want you to sleep at all if you have a concussion."
"But I'm so tired!" Alex said.
"I know." Sherlock sighed. "But that'll keep you awake. Then we can go to St. Barts and get you checked out."
"Fine." Alex sighed. "I'm going to be irritable, so I think it would be best if you and John didn't talk to me. I don't want to hurt anyone."
"Alright." Sherlock said.
They went back out and got a cab. They called Lestrade and went into the gallery when he got there. They went up to the floor that the painting was on.
"It's a fake, it has to be." Sherlock said.
"That painting has been subjected to every test known to science." Miss Wenceslas said.
"Well, it's a very good fake then!" Sherlock said. He turned to look at her. "You know about this, don't you? This is you, isn't it?"
"Inspector, my time is being wasted." Miss Wenceslas said. "Would you mind showing yourself, and your friends, out?"
The pink phone rang. Sherlock answered it. Alex watched nervously, fearing what could happen to who it was or to her brother and best friend if they didn't solve this.
"The painting's a fake! It's a fake, that's why Woodbridge and Cairns were killed!" Sherlock said. The person on the other line didn't say anything. "Oh, come on! Proving it's just a detail. The painting is a fake! I've solved it, I've figured it out! It's a fake, that's the answer, that's why they were killed!"
The other line was still silent. Sherlock inhaled deeply. "All right, I'll prove it! Give me time, will you give me time?"
"Ten..." A young child's fearful voice said. Alex cupped her hands over her mouth.
"Oh my God!" She said. "That's a kid! He's got a kid!"
"It's a kid! Oh, God, it's a kid!" Lestrade said.
"Sherlock, solve it! Solve it now!" Alex said.
"What did he say?" John asked.
"Ten. It's a countdown, he's giving me time." Sherlock said, starting to look at the painting.
"Nine..." The kid said.
"Jesus!" Lestrade said.
"It's a fake, but how can I prove it?" Sherlock muttered to himself. "How, how?"
"Eight..." The kid said. Alex turned to Miss Wenceslas.
"This kid will die!" She said. "Tell us why the painting's a fake! Tell us!"
"Seven..." The kid said.
"No, shut up! It only works if I figure it out!" Sherlock said. "Don't say anything!"
Sherlock went back to looking at the paiting and mumbling to himself as words flew around his brain. "Must be staring me in the face."
"Six..." The kid said.
"How, how? But how?!" Sherlock said.
"Five..." The kid said.
"He's speeding up!" John said.'
"Sherlock!" Alex said.
"Four..."
"Oh! Oh, in the planetarium, you heard it too!" Sherlock said. "Oh, that is brilliant, that is gorgeous!"
"Three..."
"What's brilliant? What is?" John asked.
"This is beautiful, I love this!" Sherlock said.
"Two..."
"SHERLOCK!" Alex screamed.
"The Van Buren supernova!" Sherlock shouted into the phone. There was a moment of silence.
"Please, is somebody there?" The kid said. "Somebody, help me!"
Alex sank to her knees in relief. She started sobbing. Sherlock handed Lestrade the phone and gave him quick instructions. He then went over to Alex.
"Hey, hey, it's okay." He said. "I solved it. The kid's fine."
"I'm just really tired. I sometimes start crying when this happens." Alex sighed. "Just, explain what you mean."
"The Van Buren supernova so-called." Sherlock said. "Exploding star, only appeared in the sky in 1858."
"So how could it have been painted in the 1640's?" Alex said. "Oh, Sherlock."
"What?" Sherlock said, looking at her.
"Nothing. I'm just glad that the kid's okay." Alex said.
"Lestrade, can we talk to Miss Wenceslas in the morning?" Sherlock asked, glaring at her. "We've had a very trying night."
"Uh, sure." Lestrade shrugged.
"Come on, Alex. I want to get you checked out." Sherlock said. He helped her up again.
They took a cab to St. Barts. Sherlock knew Molly would be here late tonight. He took Alex up to where she was.
"Molly, we think Alex has a concussion. Can you check her out?" Sherlock asked.
"Sure!" Molly smiled.
Molly performed a series of tests on Alex. She then smiled at Sherlock and John.
"She's fine. There's just going to be a large bruise for a couple of days." Molly said. "Just keep an eye on her."
"Can I go to sleep?" Alex asked.
"Yeah." Molly nodded.
"Thank goodness." Alex sighed in relief.
They then left and went back to the flat. When the cab stopped, John got out and turned to Sherlock, who wasn't moving.
"Sherlock, what is it?" John asked.
"She's asleep." Sherlock said. Alex had fallen asleep on Sherlock's shoulder.
"Just pick her up and carry her upstairs." John said. "See ya in the morning."
"See ya." Sherlock said.
He picked up Alex and carried her up to the flat. He set her on the couch and tucked her in. Alex opened her eyes slowly.
"Sherlock?" She said.
"Shh." Sherlock said. "Just go back to sleep. It's been a very tiring night."
"Ok." Alex said. She rolled over. "Night."
"Night." Sherlock said.
He went into his bedroom and went to sleep. When he woke up the next morning, he got ready quickly and forced John and Alex to do the same. Alex smiled at Sherlock.
"Thanks for carrying me into the flat last night." She said.
"You're welcome." Sherlock said. "Let's go!"
They went to Scotland Yard, where Lestrade had Miss Wenceslas. Sherlock sat in a chair in the corner and Alex sat on the arm of it.
"You know, it's interesting. Bohiemian stationary, an assasian named after a Prague legend, and you, Miss Wenceslas." Sherlock said. "The whole case has a distinctly Czech feeling about it. Is that where this leads?"
"What are we looking at, Lestroodle?" Alex asked.
"Lestroodle?" Lestrade said.
"That's what I'm calling you now." Alex said. "What are we looking at here?"
"Well, criminal conspiricy, fraud, accessory after the fact at the very least." Lesrade said. "The murder of the old woman, all the people in the flats."
"I didn't know anything about that!" Miss Wenceslas said. "all those things, please, believe me!"
Lestrade looked over to Sherlock and Alex. Alex believed her and Sherlock knew she wasn't lying. They both nodded at Lestrade.
"I just wanted my share of the 30 million." Miss Wenceslas said. "I found a little old man in Argentina. Genius, I mean, really. Brushwork immaculate. Could fool anyone."
"Ahem." Alex said.
"Mmm." Sherlock said.
"Well, nearly anyone." Miss Wenceslas corrected herself. "But I didn't know how to go about convincing the world the picture was genuine. It was just an idea, a spark which he blew into a flame."
"Who?" Sherlock asked.
"I don't know." Miss Wenceslas shook her head.
"Oh, sure." Alex scoffed.
"It's true!" Miss Wenceslas said. "It took a long time, but eventually I was put in touch with people. His people. But there was never any real contact. Just messages, whispers."
"And did those whispers have a name?" Sherlock asked.
"Moriarity." Miss Wenceslas whispered.
Sherlock sat back in his chair. He looked to Alex and put a protective arm around her shoulders. Alex looked surprised at him for a moment.
"I don't want you or John to go anywhere without me or letting me know, do you understand?" He asked.
"Uh huh." Alex nodded. "Where is he?"
"I don't know." Sherlock said, suddenly growing worried. He got up. "We have to go!"
Alex called John. She breathed a sigh of relief when he picked up. She found out that he was still trying to figure out the Andrew West case. They got in a cab and met him there. They saw him and Alex ran up to her brother and hugged him tightly.
"Alex, Alex, hey!" John said. "I'm glad to see you too."
"Don't you dare leave the flat again without telling me!" She scolded.
"Ok, I won't." John said.
"The points." Sherlock said, announcing his prescence.
"Yes!" John said, standing up and turning around.
"Knew you'd get there eventually. West wasn't killed here. That's why there was so little blood."
"How long have you been following me?" John asked.
"Just now." Sherlock shrugged. "You don't think I'd give up on a case like this just to spite my brother, do you? Come on. We've got a bit of burgalry to do."
They took a cab to an apartment. Sherlock filled John in on everything that had happened with Miss Wenceslas. Alex didn't say a word. When they finally got to the place, Sherlock started deducing.
"The missile defence plans haven't left the country, otherwise Mycroft's people would have heard about it. Despite what people think, we do still have a secret service." Sherlock said.
"Yeah, I know." John said. "I've met them."
"Which means whoever stole the memory stick either can't sell it or doesn't know what to do with it." Sherlock said. "My money's on the latter."
"We're here." Sherlock said hopping up the stairs easily. John and Alex followed him.
"Sherlock!" John whispered urgently. "What if there's someone in?"
"There isn't." Sherlock said. He picked the lock and pushed the door open.
"Where are we?" Alex asked.
"Oh, sorry, didn't I say?" Sherlock asked. "Joe Harrison's flat."
"Joe...?" Alex started.
"Brother of West's fiance." Sherlock explained, smiling as he opened the curtain. "He stole the memory stick, killed his perpective brother-in-law."
"Then why did he do it?" John asked.
The three of them heard the door open. John took out his gun. Alex started walking towards the stairway.
"Let's ask him." Sherlock said.
Alex went outside the flat. Joe saw her and took her for a threat. He held up his bike to hit her with and she screamed. John ran out of the flat and held up his gun. Sherlock came running too.
"Don't, don't you dare!" John said.
"You alright?" Sherlock asked.
"Yeah, fine." Alex said. "Thanks, John."
"Don't mention it, sis." John said. He looked back to Joe, who had put his bike down. "Now, are you going to come quietly?"
"It doesn't seem like he's got any choice." Sherlock said.
Joe sighed and walked into his flat. He sat on the couch, while John shut and locked the door. Sherlock turned to Joe.
"Why'd you do it?" He asked. Joe was silent for a minute.
"It wasn't meant to...God, what's Lucy gonna say?" He said. "Geez..."
"Who's Lucy?" Alex asked.
"His sister." John said. "Why did you kill him?"
"It was an accident, I swear!" Joe said.
"But stealing the plans for the missile defense program wasn't an accident, was it?" Sherlock asked.
"I started dealing drugs." Joe sighed. "I mean, the bike thing's a great cover, right? I don't know how it started. I just got out of my depth. I owed people thousands. Serious people. Then at Westie's engagement do, he starts talking about his job. Usually he's so careful."
"Was so careful." Alex corrected.
"But that night after a few pints, he really opened up. He told me about theses misslie plans, beyond top secret. He showed me the memory stick, waved it in front of me. You hear about these things getting lost, ending up on rubbish tips and whatnot." Joe said. "But there it was. And I thought that it could be worth a fortune. It was pretty easy to get the thing off him, he was so plastered. Next time I saw him, I could tell by the look on his face that I knew."
"What happened?" John asked.
"I pushed him down the stairs. Hard. I was gonna call an ambulence, but it was too late. I just didn't have a clue what to do. So I dragged him up here. I just sat in the dark, thinking." Joe said.
"When a neat little idea popped into your head." Sherlock said. "You took the body of West to the train station and threw him on top of a train, carrying Andrew West all the way from here. His body would have gone on for ages if the train hadn't hit a stretch of track with curves."
"You still have it then, the memory stick?" Alex said. Joe nodded.
"Fetch it for me, if you wouldn't mind." Sherlock said. Joe walked out of the room. Sherlock walked over to Alex and John. "Distraction over, the game continues."
"Maybe that's over too." John said. "We've heard nothing from the bomber."
"Five pips, remember, John. It's a countdown." Sherlock said. "We've only had four."
They went home after they had retreived the memory stick. Sherlock told Joe that he would be talking to Mycroft shortly. They heated up some leftovers for dinner and Sherlock turned on the telly. Sherlock was sitting with his legs pulled up to his chest. Alex came and sat in the space that his legs weren't occupying and then Sherlock wrapped his legs around her. She laid back against him, feeling relaxed.
"No, no, no!" Sherlock shouted suddenly. "Of course he's not the boy's father! Look at the turn-ups on his jeans!"
"I hate you!" Alex said.
"Why?" Sherlock asked.
"You spoiled the ending for me!" Alex whined.
"Knew it was dangerous." John said.
"Hm?" Sherlock said.
"Getting you into crap telly." John said.
"Not a patch on Connie Prince." Sherlock said.
"I see so many patches." Alex said. "This actually has a purpose in the world."
"Have you given Mycroft the memory stick?" John asked.
"Yeah. He was over the moon." Sherlock lied. He was keeping it with him. "Threatened me with a knighthood. Again."
"You know, I'm still waiting." John said.
"For what?" Alex asked.
"For him to admit that some knowledge of the solar system and you'd have cleared up the fake painting a lot quicker." John said.
"Didn't do you any good, did it?" Sherlock asked.
"Yeah, but I'm not the world's only consulting detective." John said, shutting his laptop.
"True." Sherlock smiled.
"I won't be in for tea. I'm going to Sarah's." John said. "Milk, we need milk."
"I'll get some." Sherlock said, still looking at the television. He was ignoring what he'd said only a few hours earlier about telling John and Alex not to go anywhere without him. John turned around.
"Really?" John asked hopefully. (HE LOOKS SO HOPEFUL IN THIS SCENE AND HE DIDN'T EVER GET HIS MILK)
"Really." Sherlock said.
"And some beans, then?" John asked.
"Mmhm." Sherlock nodded, not paying attention at all.
John sighed and left the flat. Sherlock took out his laptop and started posting a message meant specifically for Moriarty on his website. It read: Found: The Bruce-Parlington plans. Please collect. The pool, midnight. He closed his laptop after posting it and watched a little more telly until midnight.
"Alex." He said, shaking her. "We have to go."
"Where?" Alex asked.
"We have to meet Moriarty." Sherlock said. "I want you there."
"Why?" Alex asked.
"You've helped a lot with this and it only makes sense that you come." Sherlock said.
Sherlock and Alex got a cab. They went to the pool where Carl Powers had died. Sherlock and Alex walked in. Sherlock had his arms behind his back and Alex had hers in the pocket of her jacket. Sherlock twiddled the memory stick in his fingers.
"Keep close." He whispered to Alex. Then, holding up the memory stick, he said louder, "I brought you a little getting-to-know-you present. That's what it's all been for, isn't it? All your little puzzles, making me dance, all to distract me from this!"
The door suddenly opened. Alex and Sherlock turned around to see who it would be. Sherlock's body grew stiff as a board. Alex gasped and put her hand over her mouth.
John.