SHERLOCK I, II, III & IV • #wattys2016

baker street bound

“Where are we going?” Simon asked, looking down at both his wounds. He glared at Sherlock for getting him shot.

“Back to your place.” Sherlock turned to an elevator and made to push the button before it opened up and two figures stood before him.

“Don’t shoot!” the strangers yelled, ducking in different directions in case Sherlock and Simon had weapons.

“Charlie?” Simon gasped.

“John,” Sherlock said under his breath.

The two figures stood up and stared at the two fighters, smiles slipping on to their faces.

“How did you wake him up?” Sherlock asked, looking at John with a straight face. Though, inside, his heart was celebrating.

“The notepad,” Charlie held up the black book. “The remedy was inside. Where’s Andrew?”

“Sherlock killed him,” Simon said.

“What happened to you?” Charlie looked at the bleeding wounds.

“Sherlock shot me.”

John stepped forward, the color in his face had returned and his eyes were awake and eager to join in on the commotion. “What did I miss?”

“A lot,” Sherlock said softly. “Right now, we need to go to the place where Alana was killed.”

“Why?” John asked, a tremor in his voice was heard. He cleared his voice, but his friends knew the memory was just as fresh as when he heard about it, and saw the crime scene himself. “What for?”

“Because, John, Alana would not have left this world without leaving us with evidence. She was too smart to let herself be killed.”

“But why go there?”

“She might have left it there.”

“Or,” Sherlock stopped and he looked off in the distance of a revelation. “Never mind, we need to get back to the flat. We need get back to Baker Street.”

“What about Molly?” Simon reminded.

“Oh, right. Charlie can you go back and fetch Molly? The open door back there is where she’s being hidden. Don’t worry, Andrew’s dead.”

Simon hobbled over to the wall and leaned up against it as he took of his vest jacket and weaponry. “Here, Charlie, put this on in case there are others.” He threw his equipment over to his friend, who slipped them on promptly.

“Thanks, I won’t be long. I’ll join you all back at the flat.” Charlie saluted them and headed off to the cracked door where he was to rescue Molly.

Sherlock and John helped Simon into the elevator and pressed the ‘down’ button.

“Sherlock, who do you think, or, where do you think the file is?” John asked pensively.

Smirking and shaking his head ever so slowly, the detective said in a weary voice, “It’s been with us all along. For a moment, Andrew had it in his possession, but, he didn’t think about looking there.”

The elevator door opened and the three filed out. Quickly, but carefully since they hauled a wounded man, headed outside the building and to the car parked across the street. They didn’t say a word to one another, but they knew they all shared the growing excitement to the final chapter of their case. Sherlock unlocked the car door and placed Simon in the back where he could stretch out and elevate his feet to keep the blood from flowing so heavily. John took shotgun.

“Glad you could come,” Sherlock said to John, shutting the driver’s door.

“I’m actually disappointed I missed out on all the action,” John said as he buckled his seat belt. “Do you want to tell us your theory now?”

“No,” Sherlock exclaimed, “Got to wait for Charlie. And besides, you know I need an audience.”

John laughed quietly. “I forgot.”

“Can we hold the intimate reunion until we get back to the flat?” Simon asked through gritted teeth. “John, you’re a doctor—,”

“Yes, you’re going to make it, Simon. Sherlock shot you in the perfect places. Though, I’m sorry he did.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “You both are mental.”

Sherlock pressed his foot onto the gas and headed towards Baker Street. He knew Charlie and Molly (that is, if he successfully saved Molly) would hail a cab and meet them at the flat. He wasn’t too worried about their safety because Charlie was a good gunmen as well as someone who had a slight talent for deduction. He had no doubt on sending Charlie to save his lab partner.

“What are you going to do after the case?” John asked Sherlock curiously. “This is actually a serious question.”

“I know it is.”

“Well, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know, probably take up beekeeping.”

They drove for a good fifteen minutes before parking outside Speedy’s Café. Sherlock popped out of the driver’s seat and opened the back door. He motioned to John to help Simon inside while he went and knocked on the front door.

As he stood in front of the golden numerals “221,” Sherlock’s shoulder’s dropped in completion. The hard part had passed, the next section would be easy and extraordinarily fun.  The dark green door opened and there, standing in the doorway with her purple dress and shock of dark red hair, was Mrs. Hudson.

“Oh, Sherlock! I thought you’d never come back!” the lady cried, embracing her fond friend. “Oh, Sherlock, are you all right? Is everyone all right?”

Glancing over at John and Simon, he answered confidently, “Yes, we are. Simon’s wounded, but John will tend to him. Charlie and Molly are on their way back.”

“Is it finished?”

“Not quite. I still have to share a few things. But you can rest assure that there’s not going to be any World War Three.”

Placing a hand on her bosom, Mrs. Hudson exhaled in relief. “Good. Now, Lestrade and Elise are upstairs, I know they’d love to hear the ending to all this.”

The three friends walked inside the cozy flat, all trading happy expressions as they passed one another.