Against the Odds

Chapter 11: Moriarty

They sat in Scotland Yard, Lestrade at his desk while Sherlock sat opposite, next to the shaken Miss Wenceslas. John had gone to investigate the Andrew West case secretly, again, while Rose was waiting outside Lestrade's office, staring into space and Sherlock sent her the occasional concerned glance.

Sherlock had his hands clasped beneath his chin as he mused: "You know, it's interesting. Bohemian stationery, an assassin named after a Prague legend, and you, Miss Wenceslas. This whole case has a distinctly Czech feeling about it. Is that where this leads?"

She didn't answer and Sherlock asked curtly: "What are we looking at, Inspector?" Lestrade began to list thoughtfully: "Well, um, criminal conspiracy, fraud, accessory after the fact at the very least. The murder of the old woman, all the people in the flats..."

Miss Wenceslas interrupted, panicked: "I didn't know anything about that! All those things! Please believe me." She looked at the DI pleadingly and Sherlock gave a tiny nod from behind the woman to indicate she was telling the truth. She continued, unaware: "I just wanted my share. The thirty million."

She looked back at Sherlock, sighed and lowered her head as she admitted: "I found a little old man in Argentina. Genius. I mean, really: brushwork immaculate, could fool anyone" Sherlock snorted sarcastically and Miss Wenceslas glanced at him briefly as she corrected: "Well, nearly anyone."

She turned back to Lestrade as she continued her story: "But I didn't know how to go about convincing the world the picture was genuine. It was just an idee... a spark which he blew into a flame." Sherlock looked at her and asked sharply: "Who?"

Miss Wenceslas shook her head and replied: "I don't know." Lestrade scoffed and Miss Wenceslas panicked, saying desperately: "It's true! I mean, it took a long time, but eventually I was put in touch with people ... his people."

Sherlock began to sit up slowly and his expression became more intense as Miss Wenceslas continued: "Well, there was never any real contact; just messages ... whispers." Sherlock leaned in and demanded slowly and darkly: "And did those whispers have a name?"

Miss Wenceslas hesitated, looked at Lestrade and then nodded. She turned to Sherlock as she whispered her admittance: "Moriarty." Slowly Sherlock sank back into his chair, a look of realization on his face.

Miss Wenceslas turned back to Lestrade who watched Sherlock as the man gazed into the distance thoughtfully, placing his hands before his chin in thought and slowly he grinned.

*******

Sherlock led Rose with him as they walked over to where John was talking to the rail guard at Battersea. Sherlock glanced at Rose who was looking much better. "Alright then?" He asked and she smiled, nodding.

"Thank you, by the way." She said and he glanced at her. She clarified: "For earlier. I needed that hug." He looked taken aback before he smiled and said simply: "You're welcome." They stopped behind John who was walking by the rails, the guard walking off.

"So, you're finally going to tell him?" She asked and Sherlock grinned. "So, you knew, too." He mused and she shrugged. "Body found without a ticket, missing plans and his sudden disappearance the night he died?" Sherlock grinned.

John was muttering: "Right: so, uh, Andrew West got on the train somewhere... or did he? There's no ticket on the body. Then how did he end up here?" Beside him, the points change and the tracks slid to the side into a new layout. John knelt beside the tracks thoughtfully.

Sherlock stepped up and said: "Points." John cried excitedly as he jumped to his feet: "Yes!" His face fell when he saw Sherlock and Rose. Sherlock said proudly: "Knew you'd get there eventually. West wasn't killed here; that's why there was so little blood."