Jenny Smith-Holmes

Chapter 12: The Pool

Jenny's P.O.V.
I had finished telling Mrs. Hudson my stories when she said it was time for bed. She had lead me to her couch to sleep before she went off to her own bed. About a few minutes later I was getting I feel asleep.
(The conversations are in Gallifreyan, just so you know)
"Senlor!" I heard my nickname called out. It was Rullana Golven ; a Time Lord who showed me around the academy after I literally run into him, lost. He is 49, a year older then me, but he is in the Arcalian Chapter. He technically goes to a different school than me, but all of the colleges are in a big building, The Time Lord Acadamy. So I have to have classes with the rest of the Prydonian Chapter, and he has to have classes with the rest of the Arcalian Chapter. But we still get together every day after classes. Today we were working in the forest because it was an amazing day outside. Rullana had disappeared a while ago and now, I guess, I'll find out why.
"What?" I replied. I was trying to do my homework on Laws of Time.
"Come here! There's something you need to see!" I was sitting under a silver-leafed tree. I sighed as I put my book and papers on the ground by the tree and jumped up. I ran towards his voice. My crimson robes and my orange scarf were flowing behind me as I ran.
"What am I suppose to be looking at, Rullana?" I said as I slowed to a stop, "Aren't suppose to be working on your homework, too?"
"I finished it a while ago. But anyways, look at this." Rullana was sitting on the ground in his brown robes and green scarf. In front of him was a lot of art supplies and a painting. I sat next to him and stared at the painting.
"Oh my goodness, Rullana! It's beautiful, I didn't know that you could draw so well." I said in astonishment. He had painted the view of the Citadel with the twin suns in the background.
"Thanks, Senlor." He smiled at me. His brown hair caught the suns' rays and made it shine. His glasses were balanced on his nose in front of his brilliant blue eyes. I choose my nickname like most other Time Lords do, I took the first 5 to 8 letters of my name and I used my last name. I looked over at his pile of papers and smiled.
"Lair, you're not done with all of your homework. You've not finished your Languages homework." He looked at me like I was kidding.
"When do I ever finish my Languages homework? The only languages I know are Gallifreyan and Original Earth English. I'm not you, were I can master a language every other week." He said kind of sarcastically.
"Well, I am in Prydonian Chapter, but you are in the Arcalian Chapter. You can learn anything if you put your mind to it. You just don't care for other languages and that's why you're not learning any of them. I can help you like how you're helping me with Cosmic Sciences." He looked over at me and smiled again.
"I'd like that, Senlor."
3rd person's P.O.V.
Sherlock opened the door leading into the area surrounding an indoor swimming pool. The lights were on but there was nobody else around. Somewhere between Baker Street and here, he had taken his coat off and was just wearing his suit, so presumably the heating in the room was on as well. He walked slowly toward the shallow end of the pool, very aware that the upper gallery where people sit and watch the swimmers was still in darkness. He stopped at the edge of the pool and turned, trying to see up into the area of the gallery above his head. Finally he turned toward the pool again, raising one hand and holding up the memory stick.


"Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present. Oh, that's what it's all been for, hasn't it? All your little puzzles; making me dance – all to distract me from this." Sherlock yelled to the empty room. He gestured with the memory stick, then began to turn in a slow circle as he waited for a response.
When his back was turned to the pool, a door opened halfway down the room. Sherlock quickly looked over his shoulder, still holding the memory stick aloft, to see John Watson walk through the door and into the pool area. He was wrapped snugly in a hooded jacket with his hands tucked into the pockets. John turned and looked at Sherlock as the detective stared back at him in absolute shock.
" Evening." John said a bit nervous, but Sherlock didn't answer.
Sherlock's raised hand began to lower slowly but other than that, he didn't move. He was still staring over his shoulder in utter disbelief.
" This is a turn-up, isn't it, Sherlock?" Jon continued
" John. What the hell ...?" Sherlock asked quietly.
" Bet you never saw this coming."
Finally Sherlock managed to move, and started to walk slowly toward the man he had believed to be his friend until now. The shock and bewilderment on his face make him look like he was a twelve year old finding out his parents lied to him about Santa being real.
Then, with a look of despair that matched Sherlock's, John took his hands from his pockets and pulled open his jacket to reveal the bomb strapped to his chest. A sniper's laser immediately began to dance around over the bomb.
" What ... would you like me ... to make him say ... next?" The nervousness began to show a little more.
Sherlock continued to step towards him but now he was looking everywhere but at John as he tried to see who else was in the area.
John, obviously narrating words spoken into an earpiece, said "Gottle o' geer ... gottle o' geer ... gottle o' geer." His voice almost broke on the last phrase.
" Stop it." Sherlock said.
" Nice touch, this the pool, where little Carl died. I stopped him." John tried not to cringe as he listened to the next words. "I can stop John Watson too," He looked down at the laser point on his chest, "stop his heart."
Sherlock started talking while turning on the spot as he tried to look in all directions, "Who are you?"
A door opened at the far end of the pool and a soft male voice with an Irish accent spoke from that direction.
"I gave you my number, I thought you might call." The voice said plaintively. Sherlock turned towards the new arrival, who slowly walked out into the open.
It was Jim, Molly's boyfriend. But this wasn't the fumble-fingered, casually-dressed Londoner (who did indeed leave his number for Sherlock in the lab at Bart's); this was a sharply-dressed man with immaculate hair and a murderous look on his face. With his hands in his pockets, he casually began to stroll alongside the deep end of the pool, heading towards Sherlock and John. All hint of plaintiveness was gone from his voice.
" Is that British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket ..." Sherlock reached down to his trouser pocket and removed a pistol from it. " ... or are you just pleased to see me?
"Both." Sherlock raised the pistol and aimed it at Jim. Jim just stopped and looked back at him, unafraid.
" Jim Moriarty. Hi!" Jim said. Sherlock tilted his head as he looked closely at the man. Jim was acting as if he needed to remind Sherlock of who he was.
" Jim? Jim from the hospital?" He begins to walk alongside the deep end again. Sherlock brought up his other hand to support the one aiming the gun. Jim bit his lip as if disappointed.
" Oh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that was rather the point." He turned to face Sherlock just as the sniper's laser flickered over John's upper chest. Sherlock briefly turned his head towards John with a questioning look on his face.
Jim started to walk again. "Don't be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I don't like getting my hands dirty." Jim had reached the corner of the pool before he stopped.
" I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see ..." He looked surprised, as if he had only just realized the connection, " ... like you!"
" 'Dear Jim. Please will you fix it' for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister?" Sherlock started.
Starting to walk forward again, Jim grinned as he recognized the TV show and catchphrase that Sherlock was quoting.
" 'Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me' to disappear to South America?"
"Just so." Jim stopped walking.
" Consulting criminal." Sherlock remarked. "Brilliant." He added softly.
Smiling proudly, "Isn't it? No-one ever gets to me – and no-one ever will."
"I did." Sherlock said cocking the pistol.
" You've come the closest. Now you're in my way."
" Thank you."
" Didn't mean it as a compliment."
" Yes you did."
Jim shrugged. "Yeah, okay, I did. But the flirting's over, Sherlock ... " His voice became high-pitched and sing-son, "Daddy's had enough now!" He started to stroll closer to Sherlock, but he was still behind John. "I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play."
John was starting to feel the strain and closed his eyes briefly. Sherlock's eyes couldn't help but flicker across to him a couple of times as he tried to keep his focus on the man approaching them.
" So take this as a friendly warning," he paused, " my dear. Back off." Jim smiled.
" Although I have loved this – this little game of ours." He put on his London accent for a moment. "Playing Jim from I.T." He switched back to his Irish accent. "Playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?"
" People have died." Sherlock said seriously.
" That's what people DO!" Jim screamed the last word furiously, his personality changed in an instant.
"I will stop you." Sherlock said softly.
"No you won't." Jim stated, much calmer.
Sherlock looked across to John. " You all right?" John deliberately kept his gaze away from his friend, having been given instructions earlier about not talking to him. Jim walked forward again and reached John's side.
Jim gets closer to John and says" You can talk, Johnny-boy. Go ahead." Refusing to specifically obey Jim's orders, John met Sherlock's eyes and nodded once. Sherlock took one hand off the pistol and held out the memory stick toward Jim.
" Take it."
" Huh? Oh! That!" Jim strolled past John and reached out for the stick, grinning.
" The missile plans!" He took the stick from Sherlock's fingers and brought it to his mouth and kissed it. Behind him, John was silently murmuring to himself, maybe trying to keep himself focused, or maybe winding himself up to take action. Jim lowered the memory stick and looked at it.
"Boring!" He said sing-song. He shook his head. " I could have got them anywhere." He playfully tossed the stick into the pool. Having seen his opportunity, John raced forward and slammed himself up against Jim's back, wrapping one arm around his neck and the other around his chest. Sherlock backed up a step in surprise but kept the pistol raised and aimed at Jim.
" Sherlock, run!"
Jim laughed in delight. " Good! Very good."
Sherlock didn't move. He still was aiming his gun at Jim's head but now was starting to look up a little anxiously, wondering what action the hidden sniper might take.
"If your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, then we both go up." Said John, a little savagely.
"Isn't he sweet? I can see why you like having him around. But then people do get so sentimental about their pets." Stated Jim calmly. Grimacing angrily, John pulled him even closer onto the bomb that was now sandwiched between them. Jim scowled around at him.
" They're so touchingly loyal. But, oops!" He grinned briefly at John, then looked back towards Sherlock.
" You've rather shown your hand there, Doctor Watson." He chuckled as a new laser point appeared in the middle of Sherlock's forehead. John stared in horror as Jim looked around at him expectantly. Sherlock, either having seen the edge of the laser beam shining from the gallery or having realized what's happening from John's expression, shook his head slightly.
"Gotcha!" Jim said in the same sing-song voice. He chuckled as John released his grip on him and stepped back, holding his hands up to signal to the sniper that he woulnd't be trying anything else. Jim glanced around at him, then turned back towards Sherlock while he brushed his hands down his suit to straighten it. He gestured to it indignantly. " Westwood!"
Jim lowered his hands and stood calmly in front of Sherlock who was still aiming the pistol at his head.
" D'you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock, to you?"
" Oh, let me guess I get killed." Sherlock sound bored.
" Kill you?" He grimaced, "N-no, don't be obvious. I mean, I'm gonna kill you anyway some day. I don't wanna rush it, though. I'm saving it up for something special. No-no-no-no-no. If you don't stop prying, I'll burn you."
He ran his eyes briefly down Sherlock's body, then met his eyes again and his voice became vicious. " I'll burn the heart out of you." His face was a snarl as he said the word 'heart' but at the end of the sentence he looked almost regretful.
"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one."
" But we both know that's not quite true." Sherlock blinked involuntarily. Jim looked down, smiling, then shrugged. "Just look at John and Jenny." He added in a whisper.
" Well, I'd better be off."He nonchalantly looked around, perhaps checking his exit route, before turning back to Sherlock. "Well, so nice to have had a proper chat."
Sherlock raised the pistol higher as he took in a breath and extended it closer to Jim's head.
" What if I was to shoot you now – right now?"
"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face." He opened his eyes and mouth wide, mimicking surprise, then he grinned at Sherlock.
" 'Cause I'd be surprised, Sherlock; really I would." He screwed up his nose. "And just a teensy bit disappointed. And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long."
Jim slowly turned away from Sherlock.
" Ciao, Sherlock Holmes." Looking back at Sherlock with some distaste, he walked calmly toward the side door which John had came through earlier. Sherlock slowly stepped forward to keep him in his sight.
" Catch ... you ... later." Sherlock said slowly. The door opened and Jim's voice could be heard, high-pitched and sing-song.
" No you won't!" The door closed. Sherlock didn't move for a few seconds, his gun was still aimed toward the door, then his gaze drifted across to John and he instantly bended, putting the pistol on the floor, then dropped to his knees in front of John as he started unfastening the vest to which the bomb was attached.
" All right?" Sherlock asked John. John tilted his head back, breathing heavily. "Are you all right?" Sherlock repeated.
" Yeah-yeah, I'm fine."
" I'm fine." Repeated John. Sherlock, who was also breathing too fast, continued trying to tug the jacket and vest off.
" Sherlock." Finally Sherlock managed to roughly strip the jacket and vest off John's arms.
" Sh-Sherlock!" Sherlock bended over and skimmed the bomb as far away along the floor as he can, while John staggered at the sudden removal of the bomb.
"Oh, gosh." John whispers. He reached up and pulled the earpiece from his ear, and began breathing breathing heavily as delayed shock began to hit him. Sherlock turned and stared at him for a moment, then hurried back to pick up the pistol before racing toward the door that Moriarty left through. John's knees buckled and he staggered toward the nearest support, which was the edge of one of the changing cubicles.
" Oh, Christ." He turned and dropped down into a squat, bracing his back against the cubicle's edge as he blew out a long breath and tries to calm himself down. Sherlock came back in, having apparently seen no sign of Moriarty outside. He started to pace up and down near John, so hyper and distracted that he didn't even realize that he was scratching his head with the end of a loaded and cocked pistol.
" Are you okay?" John asked breathlessly.
Sherlock replied fast, still pacing and scratching his head with the gun, "Me? Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine. Fine." He turned to John, wide-eyed and breathless.
" That, er ... thing that you, er, that you did; that, um ..." he cleared his throat, "... you offered to do. That was, um ... good." He was waving the pistol around while he was talking.
John, staring blankly ahead of himself, said "I'm glad no-one saw that." Sherlock had temporarily lowered his hand long enough to NOT be risking accidentally shooting himself in the head – although he had terrible jitters as he held the gun down by his side. He lifted the gun again as he raised his hand to rub his chin while looking down at John in confusion. " Hmm?"
John started, still not looking at Sherlock, "You, ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk."
Sherlock shrugged, "People do little else." He looked down at John, and then grinned. John snorted laughter, then leaned forward and prepared to stand up. But before he can move, the beam from a sniper's laser began to dance over his chest. John looked down at it and his face filled with horror.
"Oh ..."
A door near the deep end of the pool opened and Jim came through, clapping his hands together and turning to face the men.
"Sorry, boys! I'm soooooo changeable!" Jim said cheerfully. John grimaced in disbelief. Sherlock kept his back to Jim, looking up into the gallery to try and judge how many snipers there might be up there. It was becoming clear that there are quite a few because there were at least two laser points hovering over John, and at least three more travelling over Sherlock's body. Jim laughed and spread his arms wide.
" It is a weakness with me but, to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness." He lowered his hands and put them in his pockets. Sherlock turned his head and looked down at John, who lifted his own head to meet his gaze.
" You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try to convince you but ..." he laughed and his voice became sing-song again "... everything I have to say has already crossed your mind!" Sherlock, who had looked away for a moment, now turned and looked down at John again, his face showing no emotion but his eyes screamed a silent request. John responded instantly with a tiny nod, giving him full permission to do whatever he deemed necessary.
"Probably my answer has crossed yours." He raised the pistol and aimed it at him. Jim smiled confidently, with no fear in his expression. Slowly Sherlock lowered the pistol downward until it was pointing directly at the bomb jacket. All three sets of eyes locked onto the jacket, John was breathing heavily and was Sherlock calm. Jim tilted his head, and looked a little anxious for the first time. As Sherlock held his hand steady, continuing to aim towards the jacket, Jim lifted his head and locked eyes with his nemesis. Sherlock gazed back at him and Jim began to smile. Sherlock's eyes narrowed slightly.