Disregard the Danger [BBC Sherlock - Johnlock, Warstan & Johnlockary]

What you crave most of all

“Mr. Magnussen asked me to have a look at the wiring,” she tells the security guard in a calm voice that belies her pounding pulse, hoping that the whole house hasn’t been alerted to her presence. She glances around the room, calculating options.

“Oh? Is that why you’re wearing camouflage and a mask?”

She smiles. “Standard company uniform. We like to be distinctive.” The only way out of the room is through the door. The nearest weapon besides her gun is a hefty marble paperweight on Magnussen’s desk, at her feet. (Advantages over firearm: easier to render someone unconscious non-lethally; silent; not hers and therefore not likely to leave telltale evidence leading back to her.) “How’d you know I was here?”

He gestures with his baton for her to come down off the desk. “Saw someone entering this wing on the security camera -- nobody’s scheduled to be here right now. Nobody in a mask, especially. I’m sure Mr. Magnussen will have a number of questions for you. But since he’s not here just now, you can come have a chat with me and my friends for a while. Keep us entertained with more stories about your employer.” He bares his teeth in a predatory grin.

She reaches out her arm. “Sure. Give a girl a hand getting down?”

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

She’s not going to be able to get close enough to knock him over the head, then. She sighs, grabs her gun, and shoots him in the forehead.

She quickly replaces the ceiling panel (bug not yet installed, but no time for that now), then jumps down off the desk and examines the body. He’s over six feet and two hundred pounds. And she has no idea how long she has to dispose of him. Possibly a very short time indeed, if her gunshot summoned anyone else, or if the security guard told anyone else what he’d seen.

She could just flee. But the last thing she wants is to make the already cautious Magnussen even more paranoid. She needs to take the body with her. She’s not going to be able to carry him through the ducts, though.

She needs a distraction. She smells stale smoke on the security guard, so she reaches into his jacket. She’s in luck -- cigarettes and a lighter. She runs down to the other end of the wing, to the bathroom at the far end of the hall. Without removing her gloves, she lights a cigarette and holds it up near the smoke detector. After the smoke alarm goes off, she tosses the cigarette out the window. The grass is damp and unlikely to catch, but she can always hope.

She runs back and uses her jacket to quickly clean up the blood on the floor. As she does, she scans the floor plan in her mind. (Deep breaths. Think.) Where can she go from here with minimal risk of detection? Where can she stow a body?

The outbuildings would be best. Some of them are rarely used. But no, can’t risk the time out in the open.

Think.

The garage is connected to the house. She’ll have to traverse a staircase. But it’s the best bet.

She hefts the guard’s body into a fireman’s lift. Staggering under the weight, she heads down the hall, away from the commotion that’s now converging on the smoke alarm.

She heads for the garage. She has to stop a number of times along the way, setting the body down long enough to catch her breath. She continues to hear people rushing by, but luck is with her, and nobody sees her. The one good thing about carrying a dead body is that she doesn’t have to work to keep him quiet. She keeps herself as silent as possible and tries not to stumble under the weight.

On the staircase, she loses control. The guard’s body thuds down the stairs in awkward somersaults, and she very nearly follows. She’s sure, absolutely positive, that someone heard.