The Science of Starting Again//Book Five

Chapter 18~ Fear of Red

Teddy's P.O.V

John met the two of us at Magnussen's skyscraper of a news building. Night had taken over since Sherlock and I had gone shopping, the city lights bright and keeping the darkness at bay. After grabbing some coffee the three of us caught an elevator to our destination that definitely wasn't final. A few meters away from us was the place we really wanted to be: Magnussen's own personal lift. I couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt while Sherlock filled John in. Even though Sherlock had told me how important it was we get into Magnussen's penthouse, the fact that he had to trick Janine still gnawed at my conscience.

"There's a camera at eye height to the right of the door," Sherlock was saying, pulling me out of my mind. "A live picture of the card user is relayed directly to Magnussen's personal staff in his office - the only people trusted to make a positive ID, at this hour, almost certainly his PA."

"S-so how's that help us?" John asked, looking up at my brother. Sherlock smiled, staring down towards the elevator.

"Human error," Sherlock answered, before patting his breast pocket and gesturing at me. "We've been shopping."

Without another word Sherlock began walking towards the elevator, John and I in tow. I wasn't surprised to see that John still looked a little confused, something he confessed to me as we walked.

"What does he mean by 'human error'?"

"It means that he's going to be a bit of a prick but... for all the right reasons," I sighed, before lifting my coffee to my lips and drinking what was left. It was dilute to me, nothing like the hard whiskey I used to have at any hour of the day. It also did little to settle my nerves. However, it was better than nothing. I didn't dwell too long on these thoughts, knowing that they would only make me feel annoyed in the end.

"Here we go, then," Sherlock said, holding up his card that had been pressed against his phone for the last few minutes. He placed it against the reader and the three of us watched as the reader screen went from blue to red, beeping once. Sherlock slipped the corrupted card away, staring intently at the camera and waiting for step two of his plan. From my side John spoke, still unsure about Sherlock's complete plan.

"You realise you don't exactly look like Magnussen," he pointed out quietly. Sherlock only smiled, replying in a soft voice that was barely audible.

"Which, in this case, is a considerable advantage."

There was a moment of silence before-

"Sherlock, you complete loon! What are you doing?!"

Realizing that the voice belonged to Janine John stared at me in shock, swiveling his head towards Sherlock who was grinning.

"Hang on - was that ...? That ...!" he stammered, being cut off by Sherlock's hand and my grip on his arm. He looked at me, head tilted slightly, but I only sucked my lips in a signal to be quiet. Had Janine heard John there was a chance she would think that something fishy was going on, moreso if she saw or heard me. However, she seemed oblivious to our presence which meant our plan was still on track.

"Hi, Janine," Sherlock said, looking around before returning his gaze to the camera, smiling cheekily. "Go on, let me in."

"I can't! You know I can't. Don't be silly," Janine replied through the intercom, her Irish accent coming through. This didn't stop Sherlock, though. With a soft voice he replied, almost looking embarrassed.

"Don't make me do it out here. Not... in front of everyone," Sherlock said, pausing slightly as a woman strolled past.

"Do what in front of everyone?" Janine asked. I watched my brother let out a deep breath, reach into his pocket, pull out a small red box and open it. Inside sat the diamond engagement ring we had picked out earlier in the day, glimmering in the bright lights of the building. Over the intercom I heard Janine's gasp and next to me John stared at the ring, shock written all over his face. Even I couldn't help my lips opening slightly with a sharp inhale of breath. There was something so odd, so foreign about seeing Sherlock propose. Although I knew it was a sham I still couldn't help thinking it. I never really gave much thought to my brothers and I marrying one day. Mycroft was too cold, Sherlock too work-orientated, me too childish and stubborn; I would not give my father the satisfaction of seeing me married, the one thing he had wanted from me since the day I was born. As though that would straighten me out. Marriage was a strange thing to think about when it came to my siblings and I. So to see Sherlock propose with a smile on his face, his eyes as big as the moon, it was a strange sight. It worked, though. The reader's screen changed from red to blue and the elevator's doors opened.