Play the Game - Sherlock fanfic (Sequel to Painting Murders)

Meet the Players (part 2) (Sherlock 3ed person POV)

He held the pen drive tightly in his gloved hand staring at the swing set.

This was a surprising turn of events.

Everly was on her feet, back straight, face set to the blankest of expressions possible, her hand outstretched to him.

"Give me it Sherlock." She said again.

He looked at her, suddenly more aware of her involvement then he had realised.

"You?" He managed to say.

"You sound surprised considering you've probably known all along, come on Sherlock, it's pointless pretending anything else." She sounded tired, as if she way willing the whole situation to go away and never return. Remorseful.

"But Hydra . .?" He began but she cut him off.

"Hydra isn't a government program Sherlock!" She snapped impatiently, "It's not some glorious system, it's not a team, it's not an exciting criminal mastermind, it isn't even some really interesting person sat in a room with lots of high tech equipment. It was me, Sherlock. Stupid little old me, sat at my Dad's kitchen table four years ago with a laptop and a little idea. That's all."

"You're Hydra?" He frowned, almost not believing her.

"Can you stop, please? I hate it, I hate listening to that name. It was fun to begin with, it was nice being the smart one for once. Watching everyone fall into my trap, into my playground. But then I realised something, Sherlock. Being smart isn't fun when people are getting hurt. Being smart isn't fun when you're still on your own at the end of it own. You don't make friends by being the smartest person in the room and bragging, you make enemies. All those people who lost important files, documents, personal information – my victims, it didn't feel good. So I shut it down. Never to be seen or heard of again. A whisper. A myth." She paused, clearing her throat, her face twisting into a bitter emotion, "Until now."

Sherlock closed his fist around the pen drive, "Why now? Why choose now to bring it all back to the surface? What was your plan at the end of all this?"

It was her plan to look shocked.

"You think I did this?" She laughed dryly, "I didn't do any of this Sherlock, I've been working my ass off like you to stop all this! I don't know who is behind all this, I don't know how they even got hold of the virus. I destroyed it, I know I did! Sherlock, please, you have to give me that pen drive so that I can destroy it once and for all!" She was begging him now. It all seemed wrong.

Sherlock took out his phone and opened his messages, texting the number again that Ledger had provided him.

I am here, where are you?

He pressed send.

Across from him there was a text alert noise as Everly pulled out her phone.

She shook her head and sat back on the swing, pressed her hands to her face and cried. Sobbed and sobbed, hiccupping between gasps for air.

Sherlock could only stand and stare. He had no idea what was going on, everything had suddenly become very complicated. So he did what he thought was probably right. He walked over and sat next to Everly and put an arm around her shoulder, waiting for her to stop snivelling pathetically.

"I'm not the bad guy in this case, Sherlock. I promise." She wept, using the back of her hand to wipe her nose. It was only then that Sherlock realised just how tired she really looked. All that emotion over the last few days building up. It was worry. Worry that, this time around, she wouldn't be able to stop what was happening.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the London ambiance, until finally Sherlock spoke.

"Moriarty."

Everly looked up from her hands, "Moriarty?"

"Yes. The bad guy in this case, as you so eloquently put it. He's the one who found out about the Playground, about you. He found Ledger to do all the leg work for him, who in turn found Nick rebuilding the virus and gave him that last pieces of the puzzle. Then he had Ledger steal back the program and plant it around. His final act was to lead it all back to you. If Lestrade had gotten the number I texted, it would have been you that was arrested. As the original hacker, you would have taken the fall, there would have been no way to prove your innocence." Sherlock looked at her face, pale in the setting sunlight.

"Oh God." Everly pressed her palms into her arms and pulled in a deep breath, "I knew it was bad. I had a feeling. A horrible, horrible feeling."

"Humm." Sherlock handed her the purple USB, "This is yours then. Destroy it. Properly this time."

Her eyes lit up, "I set a termination program on the computer at the last crime scene, any trace of the virus apart from what is on this USB is gone, forever. I found a solid way to kill off what I created." She said then laughed, "I sound like Victor Frankenstein."

Sherlock snorted, "When you escalate to grave digging and bringing life back to the dead, give me a call. It sounds like a fascinating break through." He nudged her arm.

"Thank you, Sherlock." She said, holding the pen drive tightly, "I'm sorry that you didn't get to meet a real criminal mastermind tonight. Or catch Moriarty. I'm sorry it had to be me." She smiled wearily.

He shrugged his shoulders, "You can't have it all I guess. Plus, in your own dull little way, you are a criminal. Especially when I first met you."

"Not a mastermind though?" She laughed properly this time.

He cocked an eyebrow, "No. Don't get cocky."

She got to her feet also and looked around, "What now then?"

Sherlock pursed his lips, "Food?"

"There's a Maccie D's not far from here. I can message John and tell him to meet us there." Everly suggested, "I could murder a Mayo Chicken right now."

Sherlock had no idea what she was talking about but agreed all the same, not willing to admit his ignorance.