The Side of The Angels (A Sherlock Holmes Fan-Fiction)

Chapter Eighteen: Trial and Error

"Claudia?" The door opened and John entered my apartment as I was brushing my hair. "You're going to want to come upstairs."

"Why?" I asked.

"We have a...client." I looked up. He trailed off. It's her.

"It's her, isn't it?" He offered an awkward smile in response. I sighed. "Lovely."

"Just to clarify, you don't like Irene because...of Sherlock, right?" I shook my head.

"John you ask me this all the time, you'd think you would have figured out the answer by now."

"My gosh, you're just like him. I always have to figure it out, i can never get a straight bloody answer. The two of you were made for each other."

"Thank you." I smiled, walking past him up the stairs. She was sitting in Sherlock's chair, her hair wet, in Sherlock's blue dressing gown. He was sitting in the client chair. "Oh, so it's not a problem for her to sit in your chair."

"Claudia..." She greeted.

"Irene." John sat at the desk, and I chose to sit on the table beside Sherlock. "So...who's after you, then?"

"People who want to kill me." She replied.

"Who's that?"

"Killers."

"Wow. Very specific, thank you for all of that information." I said sarcastically.

"You're welcome."

"So you faked your own death in order to get away from them." Sherlock concluded.

"It worked for a while."

"Except you let John know that you're alive and therefore Claudia and I." 

"I knew you'd keep my secret, and because you would, Claudia would as well."

"You couldn't."

"But you did, didn't you? Where's my camera phone?" She asked.

"It's not here. We're not stupid."

"Then what have you done with it? If they've guessed you've got it, they'll be watching you."

"f they've been watching me, they'll know that I took a safety deposit box at a bank on the Strand a few months ago." Sherlock told her. 

"I need it."

"Well we can't just go and get it, can we? Molly Hooper, she could collect it, take it to Bart's. Then one of your homeless network could bring it here, leave it in the café and one of the boys downstairs could bring it up the back." John suggested.

"Very good, John, excellent plan, full of intelligent precautions." Sherlock told him.

"Thank you, so why don't-" I took it out of my pocket, holding it up.

"He said he hid it where no one would look." I told him. "My animosity towards Irene isn't exactly a secret."

"Claudia, I'm hurt. I thought we were becoming quite good friends." I rolled my eyes and  handed it to Sherlock. She stood up.

"What do you keep on here? In general, I mean?"

"Pictures, information, anything I might find useful."

"For blackmail?" John asked.

"For protection." Irene and I said together. She winked at me and I glared at her.

"I make my way in the world, I misbehave. I like to know people will be on my side exactly when I need them to be."

"You know, normal people call that friendship." I told her.

"Well, I'm not normal. And neither are you, Claudia dear."

"So how do you acquire this information?" Sherlock asked.

"I told you, I misbehave."

"But you've acquired something that's more danger than protection. Do you know what it is?"

"Yes. But I don't understand it."

"I assumed," He said," Show me." She held her hand out. "The passcode." When she didn't move he handed it to her and she typed it in.

"It's not working." He stood up, taking it again.

"No, because it's a duplicate that I had made into which you've just entered the numbers 1058." I shook my head. "I assumed you'd choose something more specific than that but thanks anyway."

"That's not the passcode, Sherlock." I told him. But he had already typed it in. The negative tone rang out. One attempt remaining.

"Claudia understands. We get each other. Girl to girl. Claudia, explain why his little trick didn't work.'

"Explain it yourself." I told her.

"I told you that camera phone was my life. I know when it's in my hand."

"Oh, you're rather good." He said.

"You're not so bad."

"Hamish." John said suddenly. "John Hamish Watson, just in case you were looking for baby names." Sherlock looked to me and I rolled my eyes.

"There was a man. An MOD official and I knew what he liked. One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn't know it, but I photographed it." She handed him the phone. "He was a bit tied up at the time."

"This is just killing you, isn't it?" John whispered to me.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about you and Sherlock being involved and him and Irene flirting right in front of you."

"Shut up."

"Code, obviously. I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look a it, though he was mostly upside-down as I recall. Couldn't figure it ou. What can you do Mr. Holmes?" She leaned over him, her lips hovering close to his ear. I clenched the edge of the table. "Go on. Impress a girl." I could see the gears in his head turning. John took a sip of his tea, Irene kissed him on the cheek and before either could finish the action, the code was translated.

"There's margin for error, but I'm pretty sure there's a 747 leaving Heathrow tomorrow at 6:30 in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it's going to save the world, I'm not sure how that could be true, but give me a moment, I've only been on the case for eight seconds. Oh come on, it's not code. These are seat allocations on a passenger jet. Look! There's no letter I because it can be mistaken for a one.  no letters past K, the width of the plane is the limit. The numbers always appear randomly and not in sequence, but the letters have little runs of sequence all over the place. Families and couples sitting together. Only a jumbo is wide enough to need a letter K or rows past fifty-five, which is why there's always an upstairs. There's a row thirteen which eliminates the more superstitious airlines. Then there's the style of the flight number, 007, that eliminates a few more. And assuming the British point of origin, which would be logical, considering the original source of the information and assuming from the increased pressure on you lately that the crisis is imminent, the only flight that matches all the criteria and departs within the week is the 6:30 to Baltimore tomorrow evening from Heathrow Airport." He said. "Please don't feel the need to tell me that was remarkable or amazing, John's expressed that thought in every possible variant available to the English language." I nodded.

"Right." I stood up. "Well, when you're done showing off to your girlfriend, I'll be downstairs." I told him, waling between the two of them and leaving the flat. I know she just manipulated him into telling her that. I also know the passcode to her phone. I've always known. However, I am not going to be a part of this silly little manipulation game she has going on with Sherlock. Besides...

Trial and error is how you grow...and for Sherlock this is going to prove to be a rather large error.