The School and The Sociopath [Teen!Lock]

Aftermath - Chapter Four

Sherlock's POV

Beep... Beep... Beep...

'It... Sherlock, that's a real bomb, isn't it?' John Watson spoke from beside me, his callused and tanned hand placed cautiously on my arm. I nodded.

'Yes, it's real for sure.' I knelt down to the height of the bombs strapped onto Molly Hooper's legs. There was a small red light flashing on each of them, a countdown strapped onto another, which read: 4:54.

'You know what to do, Sherlock. Work it out, and the bomb will be diffused.' Molly spoke, her voice cracked and sounded broken, she sounded the same as before she left. But she wasn't the same, it was obvious. She was... different. But, she was still absolutely gorgeous. As she always had been.

'Work what out? How you did it? Well... How the hell am I supposed to do that in four minutes?! Why is James doing this?'

'He prefers Jim, or just Moriarty. Makes him seem... Dangerous.' Molly spoke quietly, shamefully.

'He is fucking dangerous.' John growled, sitting down in a chair beside Molly and rubbing his temples irritably.

'I asked why?!' I began to loose my temper. If this was for real, we now had 4:02 minutes to work this out.

'O-Oh...' Molly cleared her throat. 'He said he knew you would be an issue for him in the future, since you had already out-smarted every single one of his plans. As you both grew, you would both get better, but you would always be smarter than him. He knew you... felt strongly for me, and apparently I mean a lot to you. So, by ridding you of me through what seemed like your own fault, it would put you into a state of guilt and grief, so you would no longer be an issue for him.'

Moriarty was right. Molly meant everything to me, and against my own will, she still does. It worked, for the past four years I had been hung over the death of Molly, trying to figure out how and why she had to "die". I hadn't helped anyone on a case for four years, I let Moriarty take over me. If we survived this, I would be destroying myself even so.

'Why now? Why have you come back?'

'Jim said he was far enough ahead and... Well, psychopaths get bored without their little play toys.' Molly smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

'Work it out.' A voice from beside me spoke up.

'What?' My eyebrows creased together as I looked to the source of the voice; John

'You heard me. Work. It. Out. That's all you need to do, we need to live, Sherlock. I have Mary, remember?'

'Right, yes, of course Mary. That's what matters right now.' I growled, then remembered not to get mad at John. Never get mad at John Watson.

'All you need to do if figure out how I did it, Sherlock. You're a genius, remember? You can do this...Please.'

I closed my eyes and found myself wandering down the dark and dingy corridors of my mind palace. I was in the most frequently used area, the area where I kept everything related to Molly Hooper. I kept going, into a back-passage, I flicked the lights on. The room was decorated with white tiles on not only the walls but the floors, the cheap light flickered above me. I moved to the corner where I found a small book. I snapped my eyes back open after reading a few pages, in the real world that had taken a few seconds.

'Fake blood pouches stored underneath your clothing, someone had a button which made the pouches explode a split second after the "gunshot" was fired. Making it give off the effect that you had actually been shot.' I spurted out the explanation, then looked expectantly to Molly.