A Network of Love

Deadly Whispers

Part 7

"I still don't get the whole communicating part" I say; my brain cells are clearly just starting to function. Sherlock sighs "It must be so annoying for you" he shakes his head, as if in pity. I don't even feel attacked anymore by those comments; I know that he more than respects me and is happy to have me. "There will be bombs at the Tower, Big Ben, the London Eye, almost any sight you can imagine." he starts his speech matter of factly. Images flash before my inner eye, of bombs hitting metre deep craters into the ground. I try to imagine that with Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. There are always so many tourists there, houndreds, sometimes thousands and they would all die. I don't even dare to think of the other sights... The tea i have just drunken threatens to come back up- but I gulp and ball my hands into fists, trying to concentrate on Sherlock's words. "The middle is obviously St Paul's, as all the phone calls and packages are directed to it or come from it. Then there is the inner circle, the Tower, Big Ben and the London Eye. The outer circle consists of the London Dungeon, Westminster Abbey, the Buckingham Palace. Now, many of those are very close together, so there will be a massive explosion" he explains further and a smile appears on the corner of his lips. "Please, Sherlock" I shake my head at him while I try to process the talking flow that has just been thrown at me. "What?" he looks at me confused. "Stop smiling" I demand. "Oh, that. sorry. Anyways if one works at the Buckingham Palace and he wants to tell 'Paul' something, he has to call the Tower and the Tower calls Paul. Same with packages; they never get delivered directly." "And the delivery guy is in on it too; he's the one who makes it all possible" I begin to catch up seeing now bigger parts of the plan. Sherlock raises his eyebrows at me, obviously pleased. "You begin to catch up" he muses, "but it was not only one delivery guy; it was yet another system they needed. Oh, they're leader is so smart, he even outwitted Mycroft's listening devices" Sherlock chuckles, not able to hide his joy.

"So what's the plan?" I ask him. "We go into St Paul's and up to the Whispering Gallery, where Nancy, who also goes by the name 'Paul' will be there with a device that will give the command to blow everything up." he declares cheerfully. I pat my jacket pocket where my gun is; it is still there from yesterday and I am very glad about it. The cab stops and we get out, seeing the majestic Cathedral in front of us. There are so many people in the little garden; if we fail they won't be anymore. I gulp again, but I am not nervous. The military has made me calm in the presence of death. Like Mycroft once told me; with Sherlock I see the battle field again and I miss it when I lose it. We step into the West Entrance and Sherlock walks straight through the ticket encounter which causes some shouting but I quickly pay his and my card. When I turn around to him again he is gone. All sorts of evil thoughts rampage through my brain; what if they took him, what if he is up there alone, what if, what if? Frantically I look through the crowds, at every seat that stands beneath the dome. Finally I see him, or rather his coat, standing at the entrance to the stairs that lead up to the Gallery. I walk over to him, there is a red rope in front of the stairs. "You can't just go off like that, I was worried!" I hiss at him, angry that he made me feel that way without reason. "Why would you be worried?" he asks. I scoff; after all this time solving crimes together, he still thinks that he is no worth to me. I hear him mutter something, that he knew that it would be locked and only she would be up there. "Because, Sherlock, you are more than my best friend to me and I simply cannot lose you" I answer him. My mind races, did I really just say that? "Huh. I feel the same way" he says nonchalantly and starts climbing up the low stairs. I dart after him, not trusting my ears. After 150 stairs we are at the top, standing at the entrance of the Whispering Gallery. Sherlock presses himself against the wall, pulling out his gun. We hear footsteps to our left and Sherlock steps out into the battle. I hear a surprised "Oh" from him. I ache to know what's going on but I have a better idea. A man chuckles in the Gallery, it is not Sherlock and it can't be Nancy. So who is it then? I walk through a door a little on my left that says 'Staff', knowing from childhood memory when I was here with Harriet that there are many staff entrances to the Gallery. "You didn't expect that, did ya?" the unknown man laughs. "Karl Trohm" are Sherlock's dark words. The other terrorist? But Sherlock said that Nancy is the middle... "You fell into our trap just great!" Karl declares. "Tracking that package and breaking into the flat- he knew you couldn't resist" "Who?" Sherlock demands to know and I hear the click of him loading his gun. "Moriarty" is the four syllable answer. My body stiffens in front of the entrance; judging from his voice it must be right behind him. The sound of Sherlock sighing travels into my ear. "Of course!" he cries out. "This plan is so flawless, it has to be him" "This will be your death Sherlock" the terrorist threatens, "If I press this read button, everything here will get blown up. But that's not it; it will also give the others the signal to press their red buttons. London will burn" he promises. I step out the door and before he can react, I jump at him from behind, wrapping my arm around his neck. "Gaah" he cries out, my grip is like steel, the military training is still in my every bone. But Karl reacts and shoves his elbow behind him into my groin. I huff, my vision growing black. In about two seconds I am in the same position as he was before; only that there is a gun at my temple. "Sherlock" I gasp for air. I see him standing there, in his trenchcoat that makes him taller than he seems to be and his curly hair, through which I'd love to run my fingers through some day. He holds his gun in front of him and I can see from his expression that he frantically searches for a way to shoot him without shooting me. I feel Karl's body shake, he is laughing evilly again; he could audition for the role of a supervillain with that laugh. Yep; those are the thoughts that I think in a near death situation. "What are you going to do now, Superbrain?" he challenges him. Suddenly I see a solution. I mark a x with my fingers at the massive arm that is clasped around my neck. Before Karl can notice it, Sherlock understands and shoots; the bang hollows throughout the Gallery, I squeeze my eyes as I fall towards the ground, my feet not strong enough to carry my weight because of the shock. I land roughly on my knees, hearing Karl's scream behind me, who doesn't sound so supervillainy anymore. Suddenly there is another bang and I feel a sharp pain shoot through my lower leg. It is slightly familiar, the scenery in front of me changes and I am back in Afghanistan, in the midst of falling soldiers, when the bullet hit my leg. Large black dots appear in front of my eyes and the last thing I see is Sherlock's fist connects with the terrorist's temple, knocking him unconscious.