The Great Game [Reader Insert]

Greenwich Goes On

     New Scotland Yard

     Not long after Sherlock made the post, the pink phone rang again. The hostage woman had sobbed, had begged for someone to come and get her.

     Lestrade was informing the team about the woman in his office. I mean, he was explaining it in his office. The woman wasn't in his office. Give me a break. It's 11:54 pm. 

     Sherlock was staring out the window doing that little thing that you secretly loved where he'd put his hands together in front of his face in some sort of deep concentration, sometimes drumming his fingers together.

     "She lives in Cornwall," Lestrade said, sitting at one end of a big metal desk in the center of the room. "Two men broke in wearing masks, forced her to drive to the car park and decked her out in enough explosives to take down a house." He looked deeply concerned and a bit stressed as he spoke. "They told her to call the Study in Pink phone. She has to read out from this pager." Lestrade pushed the pager that lay in front of him forward closer to the center of the table.

     You took a look at it and articulated, "If the hostage deviated by one word, the sniper would set her off."

     "Or if you and Sherlock hadn't solved the case," said John.

     From by the window took a deep, satisfied breath. "Elegant," he murmured. You nodded in agreement.

     "But what was the point?" Lestrade had to ask. "Why would anyone do this?"

     Sherlock finally looked over from the window. "Oh, (Y/N) and I can't be the only people in the word who get bored."Right as he said 'bored,' the pink phone beeped a text alert. Everyone was on the alert immediately.                                                                                                                                                   Sherlock turned on the phone. 

     "You have: One new message."

     After a brief pause, you heard the Greenwich pips playing. But this time, there were only three short pips and then the long one. It was like the pips were meant to symbolize levels, and you'd just passed one. 

     "Is there anything else?" You ventured to ask. Sherlock nodded slightly and handed the phone to you. On the screen was a picture of a dark car with one door open. You held the phone out for Lestrade to see. "See if it's been reported, will you?" You ordered more than asked. He nodded and reached for his desk phone. As Lestrade punched in some numbers, your own phone- the smartphone began to rang. 

     You pulled it out of your inner coat pocket and were surprised to find that it wasn't from Mycroft. Mycroft gave you this phone specifically to contact him; no one else should have that number. Speaking of which, the caller number was blocked. 

     With a start, you realized what that meant and quickly answered.

     For a moment, the only sounds that came from the phone were ragged breaths. And then a frightened voice spoke. "It's... okay... that you've gone to the police. But don't rely on them."

     Sherlock must have noticed your grim expression, for he sent you a quizzical look. You pulled the phone from your ear and put it on speaker.

     "Clever you, guessing about Carl Powers. I never liked him," the voice came again, followed by a trembling breath. Some poor man who was being held hostage by the bomber/murderer again.

     Lestrade, who'd had the desk phone up a few inches from his face, slowly lowered it with wide eyes. You, Sherlock and John all exchanged alarmed looks in turn.

     "Carl laughed at me," the hostage whimpered. "So I stopped him laughing." Was it just you, or was that the sound of some vehicle passing by in the background?

     "You've stolen another voice. What's that noise?" you asked.

     "The sounds of life, (Y/N)," replied the hostage fearfully. There was a pause filled with more identifiable sounds of traffic and people chatting. "But don't worry..." the speaker choked back a cough. "I can soon fix that."

     "What do you want!?" you demanded.

     "You and Sherlock solved my last puzzle in nine hours. This time, you have eight."

     (Happy Valentine's Day! I'm not the biggest fan of Valentine's Day- it's a bit of a lie of a holiday, but whatever. I'm going on vacation this weekend and will most likely be unable to post, so. Just letting you know ahead of time. I know I say this a lot, but seriously, sorry for such a short chapter. My computer's still having a lot of issues and I've no clue how to solve them. Hopefully it'll work out.)