The Final Game
Characters
Sherlock Holmes - Lizzy
John Watson - Sasha
Watson’s therapist - Elijah Cole
D.I. Greg Lestrade - Joe
Anderson - Brandon Meyer
Mrs. Hudson - Patrick
Irene Adler - Karin
Jim Moriarty - Elizabeth Gougar (Bette)
Valeria von Cressida (world’s deadliest assassin and hired hand for Moriarty) - Skyler
Mycroft Holmes - Arthur (me)
Anthea (Mycroft’s personal assistant) - Lemuel?
Donovan - Sean
Molly - Brooke
Mary - Cole
Charles Augustus Magnussen - Matthew Busch
Evil cabbie - Eli
Mrs. Holmes - Ms. Rogers?
Mr. Holmes - Mr. Morris?
London, England
In a small and somewhat darkened room, vaguely lighted by the dim fluorescent lights on the ceiling, two technicians sat and stared at the massive bank of screens that showed every cover of the building - inside and out. It was the same routine they had been doing for nearly six months but it was a very important one. Though they had been on duty for more than three hours and, so therefore tired, they were constantly watching the screens for anything unusual.
“Is our shift nearly up?” one of them asked irritably as he sipped some water from his cup that was beside him. He was in his mid-thirties and quite thin, almost like a walking broomstick, and had sandy blond hair. “God, this water is terrible,” he said as he set the cup down, his face clearly telling his partner that the water was not tasty at all.
“Well, what do you expect?” his partner, a much older fellow who had dealt with this ordeal of graveyard shift. “The damn water cooler is broken so we have to use the tap now until those bloody blokes fix it.”
Before the sandy-hair man could respond, the fluorescent lights suddenly flickered out and the room was nearly plunged into darkness save for the computer screens. He froze, hearing only his heartbeat and his faint breath - he could have swore that it was becoming harder to breath.
“Damn power,” swore the older fellow as he took a drink of water from the cup that was next to him as well. “That damn storm must have knocked out the generator, I’ll have to go take a look. You alright?”
The sandy-haired man looked at his hands, which were shaking like leaves, and as he ran them through his hair he realized that they were also sweaty. His breathing was getting shorter but he dismissed this only being nervous as he sat down.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said as he swallowed harder this time. “I’ll stay here and make sure everything is secure. Honestly, I’m okay.”
The older man looked at him warily and then shrugged as he turned and walked towards the hallway that lead to the generator room. But as he was walking away, he felt his breathing suddenly stop and he crumbled to the floor; his breathing now turning into shallow gasps as spasms took control over his body. He heard a gunshot and saw his partner slam into the wall, two bullet holes in his chest as he slowly slid down and blood streaks were now painted on the dull, white walls.
