A/N: Here's another chapter for all of my amazing readers! I'm going to make a thing of giving shout-outs to people who vote and comment because it really makes my day so I just hope that I could make yours! So thank you to @LenaAlexander2000 @Annagamergirl9 @hysterialqueen- @MeguelineMaraschim @liliooy @PrincessDevil1413 @arianaheyhey @CourtneyHartman @Beckieq1988 @SamanthaMurphy2002 Oooooh I just can't wait until you read what I have planned for the end of this episode!!! Much love to you all!!
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"Where are we?" Kat asks the cabbie looking around when the car comes to a stop.
"Roland-Kerr Further Education College." He replies turning the car off and getting out. The cabbie walks around to her side of the car and opens the door to look at her.
"Why here?" Kat asks trying to stall and because she was genuinely confused with what she has just walked herself into.
"It's open." The cabbie replies with a small shrug. "Cleaners are in." He adds. "One thing about being a cabbie, you always know a nice quiet spot for a murder. I'm surprised more of us don't branch out."
Kat gives him an obvious fake laugh. "Funny. You know, you should have gone into comedy." Kat claps her hands feigning excitement, "So, you just," she gestures her hands out to the walk path sarcastically, "walk your victims in? How?"
She continues to laugh dryly until the man takes a gun out of his pocket and points it at her.
"Oh so you just walk your victims in at gunpoint?" Kat questions sarcastically. "Brilliant." She adds rolling her eyes. "You can't make people take there own lives at gunpoint you know." She tells dryly.
"I don't," The cabbie replies. "Usually." He adds. "However, you are proving to be a little more annoying then the others. I was hoping I wasn't going to have to use it on you but I guess I was wrong."
"I would say that there's a first time for everything but you seem to have made a lot of wrong decisions lately, so..." Kat trails off still trying to buy herself some time.
"Now, let's move, detective." The cabbie sneers and pushes the gun into her ribs.
Kt holds her hands up with her palms out in defense. "Okay, sorry. I'm moving." She says and he leads her farther into the building.
As soon as they take the long walk down the hallway, the two of them arrive in a big classroom and the cabbie turns to Kat and asks: "Well, what do you think?"
"Of what?" Kat questions looking around at the room. "Being held at gunpoint? I'm having the time of my life." She replies sarcastically with a smile.
The cabbie ignores her sarcasm, again, but his patience is wearing thin. "Well, it's up to you." He says. "You're the one who's going to die here."
"No, I'm not." Kat says more to herself than the cabbie.
"That's what they all say." He gestures to a table near them and pulls out a chair. "Shall we talk?"
"Bit risky, wasn't it?" Kat questions as they sit down across from each other, the gun still pointed at her. "Took me away under the eye of about half a dozen policemen. They're not that stupid, well Anderson maybe, but Lestrade isn't. And Mrs. Hudson will remember you. Not to mention Sherlock who has probably already figured it out and is tracking mine or Jennifer's phone and is on his way here now with the rest of Scotland Yard."
"You call that a risk?" The cabbie chuckles. "Nah, This is a risk." He reaches into his pocket with his free hand and places a bottle on the table that contains one pill. The pill is clear with what looks like small white beads and a few small red beads. "Oh, I like this bit." He smiles excitedly. " 'Cos you don't get it yet, do ya? But you're about to. I just have to do this," He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another bottle and places the other bottle on the table with another pill exactly the same as they first. "Weren't expecting that, were ya?" He adds.
"I'll admit," Sherlock Holmes says walking into the room, "It definitely wasn't one of my first theories."
"Sherlock Holmes," The cabbie says holding his arms out in welcome. "We meet at last." Kat, upon seeing the consulting detective, releases a breath she didn't know she was holding in.
"Kat, are you alright?" Sherlock asks slowly walking closer to her because the cabbie still has his gun trained on her.
"I'm alright, Sherlock." Kat tries to smile but her fear makes it look more like a painful grimace. When Sherlock sees how scared Kat is, he gets really angry and scared, but he doesn't understand why. He has no idea why her being in danger is making him so nervous.
"Sherlock Holmes look at you! Here in the flesh." The cabbie says excitedly. "That website of yours, your fan told me about it."
"My fan?" Sherlock questions slightly confused as he sits down next to Kat, secretly grabbing her hand under the table to comfort her.
"You are brilliant. You are a proper genius. 'The Science Of Deduction.' Now, that is proper thinking. Between you and me sitting here," The cabbie leans forward toward Sherlock and Kat. "Why can't people think? Don't it make you mad? Why can't people just think?"
"Oh, I see," Sherlock leans back with a smile. "So you're a proper genius too."
"Don't look it, do I? Funny little man driving a cab. But you'll know better in a minute. Chances are it'll be the last thing you ever know."
"Okay, there are two bottles. Explain." Sherlock demands changing the subject.
"There's a good bottle and a bad bottle." The cabbie replies simply. "You take the pill from the good bottle, you live. You take the pill from the bad bottle, you die."
"Both bottles are of course identical." Sherlock provides.
"In every way." The funny old man confirms.
"And you know which is which."
"Of course I know." The cabbie replies as if it were obvious.
"But I don't." Sherlock finishes and Kat didn't miss how Sherlock was verbally leaving her out of the equation and conversation. How he was speaking as if it wasn't an option for her to play this game of pill roulette. If she wasn't in a potentially life or death situation, she would smile at Sherlock Holmes's chivalry.
"Wouldn't be a game if you guys knew, and you're girlfriend's the one who chooses."
"Why should she? We've got nothing to go on. What's in it for us?" Sherlock demands, his thumb now rubbing soothing circles in the back of Kat's hand.
"I haven't told you two the best bit yet. Whatever bottle you choose, I take the pill from the other one. And then together we take our medicine." The cabbie informs them. "I won't cheat. It's your choice. I'll take whatever pill you don't. Didn't expect that, did you, Mr. Holmes?"
"This is what you did to the rest of them, you gave them a choice?" Kat finally speaks up.
"And now I'm giving you one. You take your time. Get yourself together. I want your best game."
"It's not a game, it's chance." Sherlock corrects him.
"I've played four times. I'm alive." The serial killer points out. "It's not chance, Mr. Holmes, it's chess. It's a game of chess, with one move and one survivor. And this, this is the move." The cabbie pushes one pill bottle forward towards the two 'hostages.' "Did I just give you the good bottle or the bad bottle? You can choose either one." They all sit in silence for a moment while Sherlock thinks over his options. "You ready yet, Mr. Holmes? Ready to play?"
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