The Coffee Shop

Chapter 12 - Thursday 6th April, 19:37

"Sherlock, red light!!"

"Oh please, no one checks these things."

"You cannot speed in central London! You shouldn't speed anyway, but especially not in a city!"

"Listen to John! What're you doing?!"

"I feel sick."

Sherlock, John, Lestrade and Mycroft weren't their usual collected selves. This was because Sherlock had decided on driving, when he had not driven a car for over ten years, and had not thought to tell the rest of them this crucial bit of information until they were racing at high speeds down the streets of London.

"Christ, watch that cyclist!"

"I'm nauseous. Lestrade, please can you open the window."

"For the love of God, hold it in!"

Sherlock looked behind him. "Deep breaths, Mycroft. You'll be fine."

"Eyes on the road!" Lestrade said desperately.

"Focus, Sherlock." Said John, who was sitting next to him in the passenger's seat.

Sherlock listened to him, and changed gears.

"We're not far," He said, trying to sound calm. "I'm sorry for speeding, everyone. I'm... afraid. That we won't get there in time." He shook himself out of it. "...Wish I hadn't quit smoking."

"Now you tell us," John said.

Sherlock smiled.

"I should have a plastic bag up front." Lestrade said. "Can you pass it to me? For Mycroft. He's not looking too peachy."

John checked the dashboard, the floor and finally the glove compartment.

"It's on Sherlock's side."

"Oh." John said. "Sherlock, could you pass me the... thanks."

John handed Lestrade the plastic bag. Lestrade put an awkward arm around Mycroft, and told him to breathe in, then out. After a few minutes of this, Mycroft's colouring looked less green. Then he gave the bag to him.

"If you're going to be sick, do it in here. You're not puking over my car."

"How kind." Mycroft croaked.

"Yeah, well, you're not."

Mycroft took the bag.

They neared another crossing. "Don't race through, this time." John told Sherlock gently.

"Yes, alright, I know."

They sat quietly, waiting for the lights to change.

"What's the plan then?" Lestrade asked. "We just take a speedboat? You've got to admit, it sounds a bit far-fetched."

"I work for the British Government." Mycroft said. "If anyone asks questions, I'll tell them it's of national importance."

"...I cannot believe I'm saying this, but that might actually work."

"You're a Detective Inspector." Said the older Holmes brother. "You can use that too."

"Don't be smug about it, though." Sherlock spoke from the front. Both men rolled their eyes.<

The lights went from red, to amber. Sherlock gently pressed the acceleration, and when the lights turned green, he drove once more.

"Has anyone checked Facebook?" John asked.

"Why?" Lestrade asked.

"I don't know. He could have posted something else, updating his audience."

Fishing his phone out of his coat pocket, Sherlock turned it on, unlocked it, and handed it to John, all while keeping an eye on the road. "Here."

John accepted it gratefully, and located the Facebook app.

It did not take him long to find what he was looking for.

"Oh my God." John said, thunderstruck. "That must be him."

Mycroft looked up. "What do you mean?"

"There's a photo of the kidnapper."

"James must have taken it." Mycroft provided.

"He's still alive." Said Lestrade, exhaling with shaky relief, rubbing his face with his palms. "Oh, my God."

"And he's helping us," Sherlock said, his voice low. "He's not safe."

"The sooner we get there, the better." Agreed John, switching the phone off.

They drove.