A/N - Judge Judy fans where you at because there is a reference in here that you are bound to get 😂
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The couple were searching the flat thoroughly, under every table and chair, behind every piece of furniture, upstairs and downstairs, searching for the other eye in any and every nook and cranny they could find.
With Sherlock scanning every centimeter downstairs, Elizabeth checked upstairs, finding what appeared to be a shared office room. On one side was a bookshelf full to the brim with books on copywriting and similarly on the other side of the room was a bookcase except with books on law and courts. More evidence that led the thief to making a deduction of her own was the fact that there were case files in a filing cabinet on the side of the room with the law bookcase.
"Sherlock! I think his wife is a lawyer!" She called to him, then made a comment to herself, "Though, I don't know if that helps."
"Keep looking for the eye!" The detective had called back to her.
With a resolute nod, she approached the desk at the back of the room, pushed up against the wall. On the desk lay a book of London A-Z, a smudge of blood staining the width of the thick city atlas. She opened it, promptly coming across a square hole in the book where half the eye (the back part of the eye) lay. She grimaced.
'Eye think you're getting warmer,' was the note written in blood on the page.
"Sherlock! I found part of the eye!"
Elizabeth noticed that the square that had been cut out for the eye to be placed omitted three locations.
"And I found the other." He announced, walking into the office with a small transparent plastic box, "Business cards. Best way to find people. People in law firms have business cards too. Ruth King is a commercial barrister who met her husband when she defending his case in court. He was going to be sued for plagiarism - happens a lot in a copywriting career because people aren't always aware when they've plagiarised another's work."
"How did you get all that from a business card?"
"Most common reason copywriters are sued, the rest is informed guesswork."
Sherlock set the small plastic box down, removing the cover to reveal the other half of the eye, it's beady little pupil staring at them both. Carefully, he slipped out a business card to see the address.
Again, he frowned, "No. This is wrong. Ruth works under a law firm - specifically Perkins & Collins. As a barrister, she wouldn't have met Henry until the trial. We're looking for the court."
"There's only one court like that, isn't there?"
"Which simplifies things. Where?"
She pulled out her phone, rapidly Googling it, "Commercial & Admiralty Court, Rolls House, Holborn. Fits in alphabetically with with the three missing places in the A-Z book and is twenty minutes away from here, walking and on tube."
"Then let's run." A thrilled look crossed his expression as he took her hand and pulled her with him.
* * * * * * * *
The two arrived at the courts less than twenty minutes later having sprinted to and from the tube station. Barely anyone was out in the streets by the court at around half eleven at night. Finding the glass doors open, the couple strolled in, aware that there might be a trap. Makeshift signs pointed down the hall and led them into one specific courtroom.
In the defendant's chair sat Ruth King, bound to the furniture, gagged, and sobbing her heart out regardless of the gag in her mouth. Her right hand was tied to the arm rest, a scary, guillotine-like contraption daintily hanging above her limb. In the witness box sat her forbidden lover, a lad who couldn't have been older than twenty-five, also bound to his seat and gagged with a similar guillotine-like contraption over his left hand. The thick ropes holding the deadly part of the contraption up, all led back to the magistrate's bench.
There was loud static in the room, startling the four of them. But then they heard Moriarty's voice, full of humour and disregard for the human life.
"You have entered the courtroom of Judge James Moriarty. The people are real! The cases are real! And the rulings are final! Welcome to your case finale."
"Jesus, just when I thought he couldn't get any sicker." Elizabeth's eyes burned with hate for the man who had raised her.
"Mr Holmes, Miss Parrish, this evening one life has already been condemned." Sherlock noted that his chilling voice had been recorded, "But I wonder which of these two you will set free unscathed. Pick Ruthie, the adulterer and dear Felix will wrongly lose a hand. However, Pick Felix and poetic justice will be served. Pick no one and, well..."
Two red dots appeared on the foreheads of both people. Sherlock spun trying to see where the snipers had been placed but couldn't make out any vantage points whatsoever. But there were windows. The snipers had to be placed outside the building.
"That simply isn't an option. And just in case neither of you believe me..."
Elizabeth's eyes rounded as she saw red dot appear on Sherlock's front. Without a thought, she roughly shoved him up against the press box, narrowly saving him from a bullet that shattered the glass of the window above Felix's head. Each took a breath.
"Glad we all understand each other. Pick who loses a hand at the magistrate's bench."
There was more static and then silence save for the dull, hysterical crying from Ruth, the muffled shouting from Felix and the heavy breathing of the couple who were recovering from their own near-death experience.
"Thank you." Sherlock breathed.
"Any time." She paused, looking at the potential victims, "What are we doing then?"
"If we don't play his game, they both die."
"And if we do, someone loses a hand."
"Surgery has come a long way - "
"You're not seriously considering it, are you?"
All Sherlock could do was give her a grave stare.
"No. There has to be - "
"Elizabeth, I understand your bias of Moriarty but listen to me when I tell you: this is tame in comparison to the last event he organised. People died last time. People have died this time but he's giving us an option to save two people now. The only sacrifice we have to make is someone's hand."
She shook her head, "We can’t make that choice."
"We don't have the choice to not make the choice. Do you want two people to die?"
"No, of course not!"
"Then we need to decide whose hand we're severing." Sherlock said this coldly, emotionlessly as he headed towards the magistrate's bench, giving Ruth and Felix a blank look each, "Leave their gags in, it'll be easier to decide - "
"They deserve a say!" Elizabeth spoke, alarm clear in her tone.
As Sherlock stood behind the bench, staring down at Elizabeth who lingered below, he shook his head sternly, "Do not remove their gags."
"How can you switch off so easily? These are people's livelihoods we're playing with. How can you be standing up there, treating this decision so trivially?" Distress wore away at her expression, "How do you get to decide this?"
"I don't - we are deciding this. Not them. Elizabeth, you are making this harder than it needs to be, come up here so we can decide."
"Not without their say." She headed over to Ruth, who was still crying and began to pull out her gag.
"Elizabeth, don't - argh!" Sherlock ran an irritated hand over his mouth.
"Please, please, don't do this." Ruth wailed and begged, "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry, please don't do this to me."
The thief then walked over to the witness box to remove the gag from Felix's mouth.
"What the hell is this? Who the hell are you people?" Felix snapped, "You better not be cutting off my hand, I'll have you sued!"
"Both of you, shut up for a second." Elizabeth snapped at them before pointing at Ruth, "You cheated on your husband with him," She then looked and pointed at Felix, "And you should have known better than to entertain her fantasies. An affair is not how one fixes a marriage."
"Where is Henry? Is he okay?" Ruth snivelled.
"I'm not answering that now. We - "
"Oh God, he's dead isn't he? Henry's dead!" Mrs King began to bawl again.
"Ruth, Ruth, listen, hush up, okay, we're going to be fine." Quietly, Felix said to himself, "At least, I will be."
Sherlock was losing his patience. Removing their gags was the worst thing Elizabeth could have done to herself. With two not-so-innocent people playing the pity party, Sherlock knew that this decision would tear her apart.
The other window shattered as a bullet hit it, the glass raining down in the courtroom like shooting stars. Ruth had shrieked at the sharp, sudden sound. Clearly, the snipers were equally as impatient for this choice judging by the red dots that had reappeared on each bound person's torsos.
"We don't have much time. We need to make a decision now!" Sherlock reiterated.
"Okay hold on. We have a choice to make and if we don't make it you're both going to die. So make your claims. Why shouldn't you be the one to face a consequence?"
Felix impulsively spoke up first, annoyance and frustration lacing his tone, "I'll tell you why - I did nothing wrong! Ruth was the one that came onto me. She was the one that flirted with me. And so I gave in - I didn't know she was married. She lied to me! She cheated!"
"Ruth?" Elizabeth looked to the widow.
"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, please, just don't do this. I love my husband, I do, please..." She continued sobbing incoherent words but had no real defence for herself.
Elizabeth looked up at Sherlock on the magistrate's bench, her eyes glistening as he knew they would. His look didn't soften though. Not now. Now required him to be detached, now required him to put logic over morality. This case was essentially 'The Trolley Problem' - an ethical dilemma to which there appeared no right or wrong answer.
Especially when science had come so far.
Sherlock knew Elizabeth would never be able to choose, especially after hearing both speak their piece. From the very beginning when he walked in, Sherlock knew he would be left alone with the responsibility.
"Go outside. Call an ambulance."
"Sherlock - "
"Call an ambulance. Go."
Slipping her phone out of her jacket pocket, she began walking out of the courtroom, desperately trying to shut out Ruth's crying. Elizabeth had no idea who Sherlock would choose, especially seeing as Ruth had no defence.
"Hey! Tell me what's going on - what are you doing?" Felix tried to interrupt, "Who are you picking?"
But Sherlock ignored him. He ignored the teary pleading from Ruth too. Nothing could get through to influence his decision or else it wouldn't be made. Taking a breath, he looked down at the rope tied to the bench. Science had come a long way, he kept repeating to himself in his head. Replantation of the limb would be possible and movement of the hand would one day be possible again.
He just had to pull one string from one bow.
And he did.
Her scream felt like it would haunt him.
* * * * * * * *
Later on that night, the ambulance had arrived as had the police. The area surrounding the building was awash with electric blue lights flashing and blinding all who gathered to question the occurrences of the evening.
Elizabeth was sat against the front of a police car, an orange blanket around her that the medics had given her. She insisted she didn't want it but the medic insisted she did. Cheekily, he had said to her that it was a parting gift before rushing off to assist his partner paramedic with Ruth. She watched the scene of officers and crime scene investigators, silently fascinated by their vulture like attitude towards the scene. Any little morsel of information or evidence they would gobble up.
The paramedics were loading Ruth into the back of the ambulance, her right arm amass with cream bandages slowly turning red at the end. They had sedated her to keep her calm. Elizabeth saw that the one paramedic had her hand in a bag of ice before he climbed into the back, his partner in aid heading to the driver's seat at the front. She grimaced at the thought, still shaken by the unfortunate events that had happened tonight.
Sergeant Donovan approached her and the thief looked away.
"Look, you don't have to like me and I don't have to like you but I still have a job to do." Sally stated, "Are you able to give me a statement right now?"
Elizabeth didn't respond.
Sally sighed, "Would you prefer to give one tomorrow?"
The thief nodded.
The sergeant accepted this, "Alright. Be down the station tomorrow no later than six p.m."
And off she went again, talking to other officers about what they had found.
* * * * * * * *
Back inside the Rolls building, Sherlock, Lestrade and other CSI team members stayed. The detective had zoned out by the press box, replaying Mrs King's scream in his mind as he stared at the now empty defendant's chair. He would have to forget it or he would naturally cease to function.
"Sherlock? You alright?" Lestrade asked, approaching him.
He blinked at the inspector, "Yes. Fine."
"Really? You did just amputate a woman."
"To save her life."
Lestrade nodded, "Still. Can't have been an easy thing to do."
"No, it wasn't because her gag had been removed."
Concerned, Lestrade's eyes narrowed, "Sherlock - "
"To operate effectively under duress in a situation like this, one must detach themselves. Because she removed their gags I struggled to dissociate."
"She - Elizabeth?"
"Yes. Moriarty knew it would cause a minor conflict. Elizabeth has a good moral compass, a strength normally, but in the wrong situations it can be a weakness, like this evening. She let her emotions interfere and - "
"Sherlock, Sherlock," Lestrade raised his hands, motioning for him to slow down, "Are you hearing yourself? Listen, mate, she hasn't joined you on many cases and when she has, have they ever been this extreme? Being able to detach yourself is a skill. It's not her fault."
"I never said it was."
"No, but you were headed that way whether you realise it or not. And Sherlock, I am sorry you had to go through that but you did save two people because of it. Focus on that."
Sherlock didn't respond, instead changed the subject, "Did you find the snipers?"
"No. Had my men check the rooftops but nothing, not even a little piece of hair left behind."
"Can't say I'm surprised."
"And Shaun Bagshaw. He's dead. Waiter must have taken his name from the recently deceased list."
"Again, doesn't surprise me. Would have been too easy if he used his real name."
"Wouldn't it be nice if they did make easy?"
"Idealism won't get you far in this job."
"No. But a man can dream." Lestrade shrugged and then patted Sherlock on the back, "Go on now, get back to her. And be nice. You can stop detaching now. It's over."
* * * * * * * * *
Sherlock saw her, still sitting on the front of the police car, orange shock blanket pulled around her tighter as the temperature continued to drop. It reminded him of when he had met John. That first case together, A Study in Pink as John had named it on his blog, when his blogger had saved him from meeting an untimely end due to his own ego.
He sighed before approaching her.
Elizabeth was just staring off, lost in her own thoughts, replaying the events that had unfolded when suddenly she heard:
"Are you in shock?"
She looked to her left to see Sherlock standing there. Remembering his irritation with her, she was unsure of how to respond. Her eyes just stared at him for a moment. This lacklustre look of hers was all he needed to confirm his question.
"I didn't actually want it." She spoke quietly, "They just gave it to me."
Sherlock stepped forwards, sitting beside her on the car, "The blanket helps you to feel safe and secure. It's supposed to warm and calm you to help bring you out of the shock."
The thief nodded, absorbing this slowly, "Why's it orange?"
"Usually part of an emergency kit and has good visibility in most environments."
She nodded again, commenting, "You know a lot."
"Yes."
"And you knew how I would react to their input?"
He spoke a little quieter, "Yes."
"I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I heard her scream too."
"But she's alive." Sherlock swallowed, "They're both alive because of us. We solved the case, we found them."
"But a man is dead and two people are injured because of it."
"Sometimes...the best decisions are the hardest ones to make. Tonight was hell. But we did our best."
She looked at him again, her eyes squinting because of the bright blue lights, "How did you choose?"
"'If thy right hand offend thee, cut it off.'" Sherlock answered, looking at her, his resignation notable in his tone, "Matthew, chapter five, verse thirty. While Felix was quite frankly a cock about it all, I couldn't condemn him. The worst thing he's done is be an arsehole."
Elizabeth gave a breathy laugh, "For some people that would be enough."
He shared a little laugh with her, "But not in this situation. Ruth was hurting so she cheated. In your words, that's not how you fix a marriage. And according to the Bible, it's bad enough to have your hand severed."
Elizabeth leaned her head against Sherlock's shoulder and the detective wrapped his arm around her, pressing a loving kiss to her head. He was tired. Elizabeth was tired. And Rita wouldn't be leaving hospital for the foreseeable future. She would still be there tomorrow morning.
"As I recall, we still have cake at home."
"We do." Elizabeth found a smile finally made its way to her lips.
"C'mon then," Sherlock spoke softly, "Let's go home."
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A/N - In case you were wondering about the layout of the court: