221B

Chapter 4 - The Great Game

At St. Bartholomew's Hospital, Sherlock sits at a bench looking into a microscope as a computer screen beside him show that a scanner is running tests. I lean against the wall with my arms folded, looking at the computer screen, and John wanders up and down on the other side of the bench.

"So what do you suppose it was?" John asks.

A phone trills a text alert.

"Hmm?" Sherlock asks absently, not reacting to the phone.

"The woman on the phone-the crying woman."

"Oh, she doesn't matter. She's just a hostage. No lead there."

"For God's sake, I wasn't thinking about leads." John says, exasperated.

"You're not going to be of much use to her." Sherlock replies.

The scanner continues to throw up "NO MATCH" results.

"Are-are they trying to trace the call?"

"The bomber's too smart for that." I answer. "Even if they tried, nothing would turn up."

The same phone trills another text alert.

"Pass me my phone." Sherlock says.

"Where is it?" John asks.

"Jacket."

John looks at me with a look very similar to, "I'm going to kill him". He turns to his right, stiffly marches around the table, and slams one hand onto Sherlock's shoulder. He roughly pulls his jacket open with the other hand and start to rummage in his inside pocket.

"Careful." Sherlock says rather angrily, not looking up.

John pulls the phone out and looks at it. "Text from your brother."

"Delete it." Sherlock replies automatically.

"Delete it?"

"Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it."

John looks at the message again.

"Well, Mycroft thinks there is. He's texted you eight times. Must be important."

"Then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?" Sherlock says, raising his head in exasperation.

"His what?" John asks, sighing tiredly.

"Mycroft never texts if he can talk. Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story. The only mystery is this: why is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?"

"Try and remember there's a woman who might die here." John says.

"What for?" He looks up at John. "This hospital's full of people dying, Doctor. Why don't you go and cry by their bedside and see what good it does them?"

John looks at me with disbelief, and I shrug in response. Sherlock, unmoved, looks back into the microscope. Just then the computer beeps.

"Ah!" Sherlock cries out delightedly, looking across to the screen. The screen flashes "SEARCH COMPLETE", and at that same moment, Molly walks in.

"Any luck?" She asks.

"Oh, yes!" Sherlock says triumphantly.

Molly comes over to look at the screen, and then, a man with short dark hair around his thirties, wearing slacks and a T-shirt, comes in the door and stops apologetically.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't-" He starts.

"Jim! Hi!" Molly says to him.

Jim makes a move as if to leave the room, but Molly stops him.