A Consulting Detective, Ex Army Doctor, and Child Mercenary Walk Into A Room

Chapter 3: The Reichenbach Fall

My phone starts ringing so I pick it up. It's John. "Lune?" "What happened, John?" I asked calmly. "They found your dad 'not guilty'," John said, flabbergasted. "Of course they did," I whispered. "Sherlock was right. No defense. And yet they let him walk free." "He planned it this way," I said. Jim is too clever. "It makes no sense at all. The prosecution case was overwhelming. And the defense was nonexistent." I put a hand over my eyes. "Should have known he would get to the jury," I groaned. "The security surrounding them was massive. Well, you saw." My phone starts to lose connection as the conversation goes on. "John? My phone's breaking up." "Lune? Jim's gone. Slipped away afterwards. We're never going to find him now, are we?" Beeeep.

I put my phone down when the call ended. I gave a tight lipped smile to Sherlock who immediately went to the kitchen. He gets the kettle and fills it with water from the tap. Sherlock opens a cupboard and takes out three cups and saucers, tea pot, and a milk jug. As Sherlock meticulously brews the tea, I lay out the tea tray. I set it onto the side table and Sherlock pours the tea. He takes out his violin and starts to play a Bach Sonata for solo violin in g minor. Dad pushes the door open to our flat and Sherlock suddenly stops. "Most people knock. But then you're not most people I suppose, Jim. Kettle just boiled." Sherlock turns to face him. "You're not going to finish your ditty? Johann Sebastion Bach would be appalled. May I?" Dad asked. Jim took a seat in John's armchair while Sherlock set down his violin and bow, then sat opposite of him. "You know, when he was on his deathbed, Bach, he heard his son at the piano playing one of his tunes. The boy stopped before he got to the end and ..." "... the old man jumped up, rushed to the instrument and finished it off," I continued. "That's right Lune. Couldn't cope with an unfinished melody."

Jim smiles a little. "Be honest, you're just a tiny bit pleased." "With the verdict?" I asked as I picked up one of the teacups, added a splash of milk and turned and offered the cup to Jim. "With me ... back on the streets, darling. Every fairytale needs a good old-fashioned villain. Sherlock needs daddy, or he's nothing. Because we're just alike, he and I - except Sherlock's boring. Sherlock's on the side of the angels." Jim takes a sip of his tea as Sherlock is busy making his own. "Got the jury of course," Sherlock states. "I got into The Tower of London; you think I can't worm my way into twelve hotel bedrooms?" Dad scoffs. "Cable network," Sherlock points out. "Every hotel bedroom has a personalized TV screen and every person has their pressure point; someone that they want to protect from harm. Easy peasy." Jim takes out an apple from his pocket and really digs into it with a pocket knife.

"So how are you going to do it ... burn Sherlock?" I asked, my eyes glistening with curiosity. Dad laughs but looks directly at Sherlock. "Oh, that's the problem - the final problem. Have you worked out what it is yet, Sherlock? What's the final problem? I did tell you ... but did you listen?" Jim asks in a sing-song voice. He starts drumming idly on his knee. "How hard do you find it, having to say 'I don't know'?" Dad asks Sherlock. "I dunno," Sherlock says nonchalantly. "Oh, that's clever; that's very clever; awfully clever," Jim says while chuckling in an upper class tone. Sherlock smiles humorlessly. "Speaking of clever, have you told your little friends yet?" "Told them what?" Sherlock asks. "Why I broke into all those places and never took anything," Jim says. "No." "But you two understand." "Obviously," Sherlock and I say at the same time. "Off you go, then." Dad carves a piece of his apple and puts it into his mouth with the flat of his knife. "You want me to tell you what you already know?" Sherlock asks. "No; I want you two to prove that you know it."

"You didn't take anything because you don't need to," Sherlock starts. "Good." "You'll never need to take anything again," I continued. "Very good. Because ...?" "Because nothing ... nothing in The Bank of England, Tower of Londen, or Pentonville Prison could possibly match the value of the key that could get you into all three," Sherlock finishes. "I can open any door anywhere with a few tiny lines of computer code. No such thing as a private bank account now - they're all mine. No such thing as secrecy - I own secrecy. Nuclear codes - I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order. In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is kind; and honey you should see me in a crown," Jim says in delight.