Sherlock arrived at Mycroft's estate that night to inform Mycroft, John, Janine, and Molly of everything he had learned. After he finished speaking, the room remained silent as everyone let the truth soak in. "We knew it wouldn't be easy to hear", Sherlock reminded Mycroft, "but that it was necessary for us to know". Molly shook her head with tears in her eyes, "How could a human being be so dreadful?", and then walked out of the room. Janine simply stood up straight and excused herself to go check on Molly; but before leaving she gently touched Sherlock's arm for a moment in kind regard. "You're being awfully quiet," Sherlock said to Mycroft's back. Mycroft was staring out the window seemingly lost in thought, and didn't respond. "Mycroft?", Sherlock asked impatiently and walked around to see someone he no longer recognized; a man defeated by guilt and anger. Sherlock said nothing more and simply grabbed his brother and held him tightly. "It's not your fault. It's not your fault.", Sherlock repeated, while they both let out all the emotion of a lifetime of lies and deception. John watched from across the room trying to hold back his tears as well, but to no avail. A few moments later they all composed themselves again. Mycroft excused himself from the room and John looked to Sherlock. "What now?", John asked, and Sherlock, who had turned to look out the window promptly responded: "We wait, John. Now, we wait."
The next day Sherlock was awoken to a text which simply read: "324 North Winchester Ave". Sherlock rushed into John's room swinging the door wide open loudly, "Wake up, John!". "Sherlock? What is it?", John exclaimed as he rubbed his eyes. "The game, John, is on!", Sherlock excitedly yelled as he threw John's coat into his room. "Quickly!" They got ready in lightning time and rushed past Mrs. Hudson who was bringing them their morning tea. "Going out already?", she asked. "Yes, Mrs. Hudson...", and Sherlock kissed her on the cheek before continuing past her on the stairs,..."the game is on!". "It's good to see you boys having some fun together again!", she yelled down after them.
"What's going on?", John asked as they entered a cab. "I was able to enlist some help in locating our good friend Moriarty from someone on the inside. Don't you get it John? We have a chance to catch him off-guard at his own game!", Sherlock explained. "Doesn't this cab go any faster?", Sherlock impatiently yelled to the driver. They arrived at the texted address within the hour. It was the address of an old, abandoned factory where within minutes Mycroft and Lestrade arrived as well with special ops at the ready. Sherlock turned to Mycroft and Lestrade, "Remember, we're going in first and I'll give you the signal if and when the cavalry is needed". "Be careful in there", Lestrade reminded them, "this could still be some sort of trap". Sherlock and John nodded and then entered the facility from a side door. They walked quietly toward the central room where rusted metal stairs and empty tanks stood coldly indifferent. "Where is he?", John whispered. Sherlock frustratingly spun around, "I'm here, Moriarty!", he yelled out. "Come on, let us have our final battle of wits right here, right now! This game has gone on long enough!". The echoes of his voice slowly faded away leaving an uneasy silence in its wake. "We should separate for the moment to cover more ground", John concluded, and motioned for Sherlock to take out the gun he had given him, just in case. Sherlock walked off to the right with his gun at the ready, while John continued straight into another large room of the facility. It was only a moment before John yelled out for Sherlock who ran as fast as he could to John's side. "What is i...t?...", but as he looked up, Sherlock immediately knew the answer to his own question. They both covered their faces from the rancid smell of decomposing flesh; for there in the middle of the room were the neatly arranged pieces of a man's body. Sherlock gave the signal, and the building was thoroughly searched and found empty.
Mycroft and Lestrade entered the room in shock. "What happened?", Lestrade asked at the sight of the scene in front of them. "Obviously, we didn't do it.", Sherlock replied. "Someone beat us to it!". Lestrade rolled his eyes, sighed, and called it in to CSI. Sherlock walked over to examine the scene more closely. "He does appear to be of similar build to Moriarty, but this man was killed elsewhere and later placed here. This was one killer, as we can see here, and he was precise. Yes, this was an expert. A seasoned serial killer from the looks of it. He took his time...enjoyed it, but wait...what's this?. It seems the killer has cut the skin of this man's face off?". "Why is that so familiar", Sherlock said aloud to himself. "What did you say?", Lestrade asked. "What?", Sherlock replied, "that his face is missing?". "I've seen that before", Lestrade answered. "What do you mean?", Sherlock asked. "You're not going to like it", Lestrade continued. "This fits the profile of a serial killer that I've encountered before. There are hundreds of murders linked to him and...". "What is it?", everyone asked in impatient unison. "...and one of his victims...was Helena Walsh." Everyone looked at Lestrade in stunned silence with the realization that it did seem to be the same. Sherlock stared off in thought and then rose from his crouched position to walk over to where everyone else was standing, "I believe I may know who the killer is and why he killed Helena". "What?", exclaimed Lestrade. "Who?". "There's only one way to be sure", Sherlock said as he looked at Mycroft. Mycroft immediately knew what he meant. "No!", he firmly stated, "absolutely not!". "There's no choice, Mycroft", Sherlock replied, and Mycroft shook his head, all the while knowing his brother was right. There was no other choice.
YOU ARE READING
Sherlock Season 5: No More Secrets
FanfictionBegins two weeks after the events of Season 4.
