Sentiment

Chapter 8 | Live To Die Another Day

"Come on, John!" the detective urged his friend as he pocketed his gun and headed down the stairs, as if there was no outside world than what Sherlock Holmes currently cared for.

"Woah! Sherlock! Where are we going?" John asked from his awkward loneliness in the living room before he followed the man, like the second car follows the locomotive.

The tall man stopped on the pavement and had his back turned to John, as he waved for a taxi. The doctor could see the stiff stance beneath Sherlock's thick coat plainly. There was a beat, before Sherlock swirled around to face his friend, the same unwillingness to take pause plainly written across his face as well. John understood his friend, or at least assumed he did. He wanted to save the woman, too, though it sort of pained him to admit as much. She had been a great help in solving the puzzle of Sherlock's deteriorating mind, and had in her own way then won the blond man's respect. Whether it was this frustration and stress of a friend in distress that Sherlock's eyes now conveyed, or a deeper emotion, John couldn't know.

As the sounds of the cars whizzing by outside, the tall, dark-haired man managed through gritted teeth, "If you don't mind... According to the text Irene has a thirty minute head-start on us and I'd appreciate getting to her while she still has a pulse. Could we take this on the way?"

A black cab stopped outside Baker Street then and with a pleased hum, Sherlock opened the door and stressed his friend inside. John sat down in the backseat and pondered the clues thus far as the detective gave the cab driver a destination and jumped into the backseat as well.

The doctor turned and gazed at the detective hesitantly. Sherlock noted and sighed heavily. The detective really didn't think there was much time for it, but if it would help the slower mind and let them move on to the major issue...

The man inhaled until his lungs could fill no more and shared his deductions in lightning speed, "Tempus fugit. Time flies. Suggests the location to their rendez-vouz is somewhere relating to time. A clock, a clock shop, clock maker? Now, what about 0963? Despite being written like military time code it is obviously not telling the time since there aren't sixty-three minutes per hour. No, what's missing is a simple comma. 96,3."

"Ok. 96,3-what?" John questioned and to his defense he did feel it was an honest question considering the fact that his friend had just a few hours earlier been declared insane, though wrongful it had been. There could still be remnants of the drug in Sherlock's system and he just wanted to make sure his friend was sure of what he was doing now.

"Meters, obviously," the detective said dully. "Now, where does time fly at 96,3 meters, John?"

The blond man glanced sideways at his friend and saw the unmistakable twinkle in the man's pale eyes. Even though Sherlock wanted to rush out to save the woman, he seemed at the same time excited to have a proper puzzle to solve for once. "...I'm not sure the drug has worn off yet."

"A clock tower. The great bell of Westminister, actually. The bell tower stands at 96,3 meters. 61 meters is the bell tower, the remaining part is the taper. Big Ben, John."

The other man nodded thankful not to be left out of the loop anymore and positive his friend was fully himself. "Very well! There's something I don't understand though."

"Isn't there always?" Sherlock muttered as he shifted in his seat and watched shop lights and buildings swish by outside the car window in the dead of night like a blur of colors.

John thought about not asking, but in the end knew he had to, "I just don't get why she'd go at all? If she knew he was intending to kill her, why willingly meet her doom?"

The Holmes boy sighed and pulled out the woman's phone from his coat pocket. "There were two more texts between Irene and Moriarty a few hours before the final cryptic text. First one from Irene telling the criminal she had outsmarted him, and Moriarty's reply... Here. 'I applaud you, Ms Adler. Come alone when I call for you later or they die.'. Obviously he meant you and I. She went because he gave her no choice."