The Art Of Corruption ~ A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction {Book III}

Chapter 25- Sugar and Cyanide

Millie's POV

----------------------------

Emily never came over yesterday, like she said she would.

I'm beginning to realise that I've been a bit too trusting. She's lying, about something. Workload has never stopped her from turning up at Baker Street before, and that, combined with her panicked phone calls and general vagueness, has served only to fuel my growing sense of suspicion. I've mentioned this to Sherlock and John, but they both brushed it off as unimportant.

I know her better, though.

Mary's staying in a nearby hotel, and has been helping us investigate the cause of the explosion. Brandon House was an unusual target; it's not a particularly important building, and there was no significant individual on the premisis. It seemed unprovoked. And yet a total of fifty-three people were killed, and a further twelve seriously injured. Sherlock and I were called up to the scene to investigate the cause of the detonation, and we soon gauged that this was no unplanned attack. There was no bomb shell, or indication of a manual trigger. Sherlock insisted that the surrounding internet gateways were scanned, and that revealed much more telling evidence; the explosion was set off externally, controlled by a string of complex commands entered from an unknown location. The code was unbreachable. The IT-intelligence workers on the scene said they'd never seen anything like it before.

But I think I have.

Which is why I am currently sitting up at three in the morning, analysing the numbers and symbols and hypenated lettering. I don't know what it means- I am very much an amateur when it comes to computing- but I do have an excellent memory. And, stored in my memory, is the image of Emily in Switzerland, hacking into the radio wavelength. I remember the programming she used, and the systematic, almost alphabetical entering of data. 

Data that is very similar to the printed copy of the code used to set off that explosion.

Is that what she was concealing on the phone? She's turned to crime again? I don't understand. Emily has made it clear from the beginning that legal work wasn't her style, and we've grown to accept that as part of her. Recently she's backed off from the criminal occupation, focusing on helping us with our cases. But this, this is more than just crime. This is a terrorist attack. It is so unlike Emily to get involved with this kind of thing, and that is why I am still awake, sifting through sheets of code and trying to persuade myself that it wasn't Emily behind the explosion.

After another hour of unsuccessful, unrevealing work, I decide that there is only one viable option left. I'm going to see her, myself. I won't tell her I'm visiting, because catching her off guard is the only way to uncover the things she wants hidden. She's not a liar, but at the same time, she's very good at concealing the truth.

I will find out what's going on.

--------------------------------

Emily's POV

--------------------------------

It's another hot, humid day, and I'm sick of it. I've regressed to a hermit lifestyle, refusing to leave my room, partly out of fear, and I'm being cooked alive. Sweltering doesn't begin to describe it. Lethargy has set in, so I don't even have the energy to occupy myself with work. I can only lie flat out on my bed, the standing fan offering a slight reprieve, listening to the threats and the shouting and the phone calls eminating from my living room. Sometimes it's just a teleconference. Other times I hear people, using my apartment as a temporary criminal meeting place. It always starts with violence; raised voices, the occasional smash. It always ends in the same way, too: pressure points being hit, a threat that finds the right nerve, and then everything goes silent. And he wins.