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

{ fifty-six }

A/N one thousand followers, just in time for my birthday late this month! You guys are seriously the best. Love y'all so much. Oh, and buckle up. This chapter's a ride!

"I don't understand," Carmen said softly.

Sherlock was staring blankly, his mind going into overdrive and shutting his body down. John shifted on his feet, "So, where are the vaults then?" Magnussen moved into the room. Carmen stared into the room that he had just opened the door to. It was no bigger than a walk-in closet. It was painted a bright white, with a black leather chair sitting alone in the middle of the tiny room.

There was no stairway down into a deeper level. No file cabinets filled to the brim with incriminating evidence. No folders with TOP SECRET stamped on the front. Just a white room and a black chair. Carmen couldn't even understand what was going on. Was Magnussen joking? But even that thought was too absurd for her to consider. The shark was always serious.

"Vaults?" Magnussen asked, "What vaults? There are no vaults underneath this building." He sat down in the leather chair, situating himself before speaking again, "It's all in here." He gestured around the bright white and clearly file-less room.

Sherlock's eyes were wide as he took this in. Shock, Carmen knew, never hit Sherlock often. But when it did, it wrecked hell on his mind. Magnussen leaned forward in his chair, pressing his fingertips to his forehead, "Appledore is my mind palace. You know all about mind palaces, don't you Sherlock?"

Carmen reached over to Sherlock to grasp his arm and he tried in vain to shrug her off. Even in his shell-shocked state he wouldn't let her near him. There was no need to give Magnussen more ammunition against the two of them. "How to store information so you never forget it," Magnussen continued, "All you have to do is picture it."

John let out a shuddering sigh of anger. Carmen was worried about Sherlock. His eyes were pale, sickly blue as he stared into the white room. Something Carmen had never seen passed over his face. For once, he looked scared. Different than the other times he had faced an enemy. Different than his face when he peered over at her their first night in the hospital after they'd been shot. This was mind-numbing, bone-chilling fear. This was realizing you were completely and utterly beaten.

"I just sit here and close my eyes," Magnussen whispered, his voice echoing creepily, "and I go down into my vaults. I can go anywhere in my vaults. My memories." He reaches out into the air, miming opening a drawer, "I'll look at the files on Mrs. Watson." Sherlock looked down at the floor, face pale and pupils pinpricks.

Magnussen mimed flipping through files and John chuckled dryly in an attempt to keep from yelling in rage. Carmen, seeing Magnussen's eyes closed, reached for Sherlock's hand. It was as cold as ice. She laced her fingers with his. He didn't even twitch a muscle, he just stared into the room.

"This is one of my favorites," Magnussen said, opening the 'file' and thumbing through it, "Oh, it's so exciting. All those whack jobs for the CIA. Oh, she's gone a bit freelance now. Bad girl." He let out a chuckle that Carmen swore made the temperature in the room drop a few degrees. "Oh, she's so wicked," he chuckled, "I can really see why you like her so much, John."

He mimed putting the file back and closing the drawer. Magnussen opened his eyes and Sherlock spurred to life, shoving Carmen's hand away from his quickly. Luckily, it went unnoticed by Magnussen. Or so they thought.

"See?" Magnussen said triumphantly.

John cleared his throat, "So there are no documents? You have nothing here."

Magnussen shrugged, "Oh, sometimes I send out for something if I really need it. But mostly I just remember it all."

Sherlock turned his head to the side, looking like he was going to be sick. He knew what he had to do. And though it was something he had sworn not to do, though it went against every bit of his morals. He would do it. For the people he loved.