A Scandal in Belgravia [Reader Insert]

That's a Pretty Messed-Up Thing to Do

     "Alright, John, you can turn it off now!" you called. You couldn't focus on the code to the safe while that incessant beeping was still going. Maybe it was a side-effect of your ADHD.

     "She said you can turn it off now!" Sherlock was as impatient as you. But the alarm persisted.

     You heard John shout "Give me a minute!" and a short moment later, the high-pitched beeping stopped. Finally.

     You turned your attention to the number pad on the safe, as did Sherlock. There was one number more worn that the others.

     "You know, you should always use gloves with these things," commented Sherlock. "Heaviest oil deposit is always after the first digit, which is clearly a three. But after that, it's almost impossibly to read."

     "The make says it's a six-digit sequence," you pointed out.

     "Can't be her birthday," Sherlock muttered. He looked back to Irene, who looked slightly distressed but was doing a good job of hiding it. "No disrespect, but you were clearly born in the 80s, the the eight is barely used, so-"

     "I'd tell you two the sequence right now!" Irene blurted. "But you know what? I already have."

     You and Sherl looked at each other in confusion. When? Wouldn't you have noticed?

     Irene was glad to note your lack of understanding. She smiled. "Think."

     Suddenly the group was interrupted by a group of men in black dress suits. They barged in and one shouted, "Hands behind your head!" Sherlock and Irene obeyed, but you barely moved until you saw that they had John at gunpoint. You hesitantly raised your hands in surrender.

     "Miss Adler, on the floor," the same man ordered. He seemed to be the leader of the group. Before Irene had the opportunity to do as he said, another one of the Americans (clear from their complexion and shoes) shoved her to her knees besides John and pressed a gun against her neck. 

     "You two." The main American, who you decided to call Blondie, pointed his gun at you and Sherl. "Open the safe."

     "American," Sherlock observed. Oh dear, poor slow mind, he only realised that Blondie was American after hearing his accent clearly. "Interesting. Why would you care?"

     "The safe," the American repeated. "Now."

     "We don't know the code," you told him calmly.

     "We've been listening. She said she told you."

     "Well, if you've been listening, then you know she didn't."

     "I'm assuming I missed something." Neilson scowled. "From your reputation, I'm assuming you two didn't."

     "She's the one who knows the code!" John said. "Ask her!"

     "I would, but she also knows the code that automatically calls the police and sets off the burglar alarm," Blondie responded. He looked at Irene with distaste. "I've learned not to trust this woman."

     Irene stared right back at him innocently. "They don't know the-"

     "Shut up," Blondie growled. "One more word out of you- just one- and I will decorate that wall with the insides of your head. For me, that will not be hardship."

     Irene shut her mouth.

     "Mr. Archer," Blondie said, "at the count of three, shoot Dr. Watson."