How They Met Alice (BBC Sherlock Fanfiction)

Chapter 28

(Alice’s POV: )

 Sherlock came in through the door leading into the area we were set up in. The lights were on but, in his view, there was nobody else around. Somewhere between Baker Street and here, he had taken his coat off and was just wearing his suit, so presumably the heating was finally on. He looked quite sharp in his suit, or so I thought. I tried not to focus on that.

He walked slowly towards the shallow end of the pool, probably very aware that the upper gallery where people sit and watch the swimmers was still in darkness. He stopped at the edge of the pool and turned, trying to see up into the area of the gallery above his head. Finally he turned towards the pool again, raising one hand and holding up the memory stick.

“Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present. Oh, that’s what it’s all been for, hasn’t it? All your little puzzles; making me dance – all to distract me from this.” Sherlock said loudly. He gestured with the memory stick, and then began to turn in a slow circle as he waited for a response. When his back was turned to the pool, a door opened halfway down the room. Sherlock looked over his shoulder, still holding the memory stick aloft. And John walked through the door and into the pool area, wrapped snugly in a hooded jacket with his hands tucked into the pockets. He turned and looks at Sherlock as the detective stared back at him in absolute shock. I struggled to stay where I was and not shout out to the two.

“Evening.” John said. Moriarty was softy speaking into a small microphone, smiling manically. Sherlock’s raised hand began to lower slowly but otherwise he didn’t move, still staring over his shoulder in utter disbelief. “This is a turn-up, isn’t it, Sherlock?”

“John. What the h*ll..?” Sherlock asked softly, sounding as shocked as he looked. I turned around to Moriarty, glaring at him directly in the eyes. He still just smirked at me.

“Bet you never saw this coming.” John continued. I turned back around, my fists clenching and unclenching, matching my jaw as the two interacted. Finally Sherlock managed to move, and started to walk slowly towards the man he had believed to be his friend until now. The shock and bewilderment on his face made him look about twelve years old. Then, with a look of despair that matched Sherlock’s, John took his hands from his pockets and pulled open his jacket to reveal the bomb strapped to his chest. A sniper’s laser immediately began to dance around over the bomb. I brought a hand up to cover my mouth. “What... would you like me... to make him say... next?” John asked. Sherlock continued to step towards him but now he was looking everywhere but at John as he tried to see who else was in the area. “Gottle o’ gear... gottle o’ gear... gottle o’ gear.” John added, obviously narrating words spoken into the earpiece. His voice almost broke on the last phrase.

“Stop it.” Sherlock ordered. “Where’s Alice?”

“Nice touch, this: the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him.” John tried not to cringe as he listened to the next words. “I can stop John Watson too.” He looked down at the laser point on his chest. “Stop his heart.”

“Who are you?” Sherlock demanded, turning in all directions. Our door opened and Moriarty led us out, saying in a high-pitched voice,

“I gave you my number.” He gave Sherlock a brief glimpse of his suit, but he moved us behind a column.  “I thought you might call.” He added plaintively. Sherlock turned towards us. Moriarty led us out with his hand in his pocket, his other one holding the gun still being pointed at me. He casually began to stroll alongside the deep end of the pool, heading towards Sherlock and John. All hint of plaintiveness had gone from his voice.

“Is that British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket...” Jim started. Sherlock reached down to his trouser pocket and removed a pistol from it. “...or are you just pleased to see me?” he finished. I wrinkled my nose in disgust, thankfully facing away from him and towards Sherlock.