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Chapter 6 - The Great Game

Three hours left, John is gone, darkness has fallen, and Sherlock has moved to the side table in the kitchen, looking into his microscope.

"Sherlock-what can I do?" I ask, looking round at him.

He doesn't react.

Mrs. Hudson comes in through the kitchen door with a tray containing a couple of mugs. She puts them on the kitchen table, and Sherlock looks up.

"Poison."

"Poison?" I ask. "You mean he was poisoned."

What poison would practically be undetectable that even the autopsy couldn't pick it up?

"May I see?" I ask. Sherlock moves away a little bit and I sweep my hair to one side and hold it there with one hand as I look into the microscope.

"This looks familiar..." I mutter, looking at the small traces of poison which Sherlock had seen.

"What are you going on about?" Mrs. Hudson asks.

Sherlock slams his hands down on the side table and I straighten up at the same time.

"Clostridium botulium!" We both exclaim.

Mrs. Hudson cringes and flees from the kitchen.

"It's one of the deadliest poisons on the planet!" Sherlock exclaims, looking at me. "How did you know that?"

"I studied it in high school."

Sherlock furrows his brows. "When did you study clostridium botulium in high school?"

"Senior year."

"Where did you study it?"

"In class."

"Which school?"

"One of the three! I can't remember exactly which school!" I say.

"What kind of high school has it's students study clostridium botulium?" He asks himself.

I shrug my shoulders.

John comes into the living room and looks at Sherlock and I blankly. "What's clostridium botulium?"

"Carl Powers!" Sherlock looks at John.

"Oh, wait, are you saying he was murdered?" John asks. I nod.

Sherlock stands and walks over to where he hung up the laces from the trainers.

"Remember the shoelaces?"

"Yes." John answers.

"The boy suffered from eczema. It'd be the easiest thing in the world to introduce the poison into his medication. Two hours later he comes up to London, the poison takes effect, paralyses the muscles and he drowns." Sherlock explains.

"What-how-how come the autopsy didn't pick that up?" John asks.

"It's virtually undetectable. Nobody would've been looking for it." He walks around the table to where his laptop is. He begins to type something. He straightens up and points to the laces. "But there were still tiny traces of it left inside the trainers from where he put the cream on his feet." He bends down and continues to type, then straightens up a few seconds later. "That's why they had to go."

"So how do we let the bomber know-" John starts.

"Get his attention..." Sherlock says.

"Mmm-hmm." John says.

"Stop the clock." Sherlock says, looking at his watch.

"The killer kept the shoes all these years." I say.

"Yes." Sherlock says. "Meaning..."

"He's our bomber." John finishes.

The pink phone rings on the bedside table. Sherlock hurries over to it and switches it on.

"Well done, you. Come and get me." The same woman as before says over the phone, sobbing.

"Where are you? Tell us where you are." Sherlock says loudly and clearly.

In the morning, at New Scotland Yard, the three of us are in Lestrade's office. Sherlock stands at the window with his hands raised in front of his mouth, his fingers tapping together. John and I sit opposite Lestrade at his desk.

"She lives in Cornwall." Lestrade says. "Two men broke in wearing masks, forced her to drive to the car park and decked her out in enough explosives to take down a house." He looks up at Sherlock as he walks over to the desk. "Told her to phone you. She had to read out from this pager." He holds up a pager and puts it on the desk in front of John and I. John picks it up and looks at it.

"And if she deviated by one word, the sniper would set her off." Sherlock says.

"Or if you hadn't solved the case." John adds.

"Oh. Elegant." Sherlock says softly as if to himself, walking back to the window. John raises his head and sighs in exasperation.

"'Elegant'?" I repeat.

"But what was the point? Why would anyone do this?" Lestrade asks.

"Oh-I can't be the only person in the world that gets bored." Sherlock says.

Like the bullets and spraypaint on the living room wall?

Just then the pink phone beeps a message alert. John and I both turn to face him as Sherlock switches the phone on.

"You have one new message." The voice alert announces.

As Sherlock walks towards the desk, the phone plays the Greenwich pips again, this time there are three shorts pips and one long one.

"Four pips." John says.

"First test passed, it would seem. Here's the second." Sherlock says, then shows a new photograph to us. The photograph is a close-up of a car with the driver's door open. The number plate is clearly visible, and the rest of us get up to take a closer look. Outside in the main office, I hear a phone ring.

"It's abandoned, wouldn't you say?" Sherlock says.

"I'll see if it's been reported." Lestrade says, picking up his phone. Donovan comes into the office, holding up a phone.

"Freak, it's for you." She says. Sherlock crosses over to the door and takes the phone from her. John sits down again as Sherlock walks out into the general office and raises the phone to his ear.

I watch him for a moment, and soon after he speaks into the phone the look on his face changes.

"John." I say.

"Yeah?" He looks round at me. "Oh." He says, looking at the look on Sherlock's face. "That can't be good, can it?"

"Nope."

Sherlock looks round rather sharply, appearing to be alarmed.

John gets up as I open the door leading to the general office. John follows me out and we walk closer to Sherlock. John and I both look at him in concern.

"And you've stolen another voice, I presume." Sherlock says into the phone. Whoever is on the other end of the phone speaks. "Who are you?" Sherlock asks a moment later. "What's that noise?"

A few moments later Sherlock takes the phone away from his ear and looks down at it. Lestrade comes out of the office.

"We've found it." Lestrade says.

Sherlock turns a moment later and follows Lestrade.