Contact High → Sherlock Holmes (BBC) [on hold]

{ eighteen }

The fire alarm shrieked as Irene paced nervously. With one flick of the eyes, she had given up the location of her most prized possession. Carmen walked over to where Sherlock stood. The newly discovered safe glinted temptingly. "You can turn it off now," Sherlock called out to John.

John fanned the burning magazine in his hands, trying to quell the smoke. The alarm continued. "I said you can turn it off now!" Sherlock yelled. The sound was pulsing against his ears unpleasantly. "Gimme a minute!" John yelled back. There was a sound of people coming down the stairs. Four men in black trench coats came down the stairway, the leader reached up and shot the fire alarm. His gun had a long silencer on it. John's eyes widened as the second man held a gun at him.

John raised his hands up above his head. Inside the room, Sherlock looked at the safe and bit his lip as he deduced the code. "Mmm. Should always use gloves with these things, you know? Heaviest oil deposit is always on the first key used -- that's quite clearly a three -- but after that the sequence is almost impossible to read. I'd say from the make that it's a six digit code. Can't be your birthday, no disrespect but clearly you were born in the eighties... And the eight's barely used. So..." Sherlock trailed off as he considered the options.

Irene paced the room, "I'd tell you the code right now, but you know what? I already have."

Sherlock turned to look at her quizzically. Carmen frowned. She was pretty sure she'd remember Irene telling Sherlock a safe combination. Sherlock furrowed his brows. Irene smiled, "Think!"

The door burst open and a man walked in, brandishing a gun. Carmen held back a gasp. "Hands behind your head, on the floor, keep it still," the man shouted. Carmen and Irene both complied immediately. Sherlock raised his hands in surrender but didn't move to get down on the floor. "Sorry, Sherlock," John muttered.

"Don't you want me on the floor, too?" Sherlock asked sarcastically. The man, who had an American accent, smirked, "No, sir. I want you to open the safe."

"American? Interesting," Sherlock muttered, "Why would you care?"

Carmen sighed and the man behind her dug his gun in the back of her head. She froze. "The safe. Now, please," the American said angrily.

"I don't know the code," Sherlock defended.

"We've been listening," the American snapped, "She said she told you."

"Well if you've been listening you know she hasn't," Sherlock said.

The man took a step forward, his gun trained on Sherlock's heart, "I'm assuming I missed something. From your reputation I'm assuming you didn't, Mister Holmes."

"For God's sake, she's the one who knows the code, just ask her!" John shouted angrily, gesturing to Irene. "Yes, sir," the American said, "She also knows the code that automatically calls the police and sets off the burglar alarm. I've learned not to trust this woman."

"Mister Holmes doesn't--," Irene started.

The American cut her off, "Shut up! One more word out of you -- one more -- and I'll decorate that wall with the insides of your head. That, for me, will not be hardship."

Sherlock glared at the man as his brain went through the different things the code could be. The American grew impatient, "On the count of three, shoot Ms. Hughs."

"What?" John yelled, he moved to get up but the man behind him shoved his gun harder into the back of his neck. Carmen's hands shook as she stifled a scream. "I don't have the code!" Sherlock muttered frantically. Carmen cowered under the gun the man held to the back of her head. Bile rose in her throat as she heard the man cock the gun.