A New Mystery at 221 Baker Street

Chapter 19: More Americans

AN: Episode Transcript Provided By Ariane DeVere/ Callie Sullivan

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"Two men alone in the countryside, several yards apart, and one car," Sherlock stated, starting to pace again.

"Oh, I thought you were looking for the photos now," Irene said, looking at Sherlock, then at Alice.

"Looking takes ages, I'm just going to find them but you're moderately clever and we've got a moment, so let's pass the time," Sherlock stopped pacing and turned towards Irene. "Two men, a car and nobody else. The driver's trying to fix his engine; getting nowhere. And the hiker's taking a moment, looking at the sky. Watching the birds? Any moment now, something is going to happen, what?"

"The hiker's going to die," Irene said.

"No," Alice said, correcting Irene's deduction. "That's the result. What's going tohappen?"

"I don't understand," Irene admitted, looking at Alice.

"Well try to," Sherlock belittled.

"Why?" Irene challenged.

"Because you cater to the whims of pathetic and take your clothes off to make an impression. Stop boring me and think. It's the new sexy,"

"The car is going to backfire," Irene realized.

"There's going to be a loud noise," Alice explained further.

"So what?"

"Oh, noises are important," Sherlock said, "Noises can tell you everything. For instance..." A few seconds later, the smoke alarm went off. Immediately, her eyes drifted from Sherlock and to the mirror over the wall. Noticing this, Sherlock walked towards the mirror. "On hearing a smoke alarm, a mother would look towards her child. Amazing how fire exposes our priorities," Sherlock began to run his fingers along the bottom of the mantlepiece. He flipped the switch and the mirror slid upwards, revealing a safe. "I really hope you don't have a baby in here,"

"Not the best time for a joke right now," Alice commented as Irene stood up.

"Right," Sherlock said, "John, you can turn it off now,"

"Give me a minute," John called from the hallway.

"Sherlock," Alice said, hearing a gun firing from the hallway.

Sherlock still focused on his deductions, turned back to the safe, looking closely at the number pad. "You should always use gloves with these things. Heaviest oil deposit's always on the first key used- that's obviously a three- but after that, the sequence is almost impossible to read. I'd say from the maker, it's a six-digit code.

"It can't be your birthday. No disrespect, but you were clearly born in the '80s. 8 is barely used so-"

"I'd tell you the code right now," Irene said "But you know what? I already have. Think,"

The door burst open and a CIA agent walked in, aiming his gun at Sherlock.

"Hands behind your head," He ordered Sherlock before turning his attention to Irene. "On the floor, keep still,"

Three more agents walked in, one with his gun to John's back. "Sorry, Sherlock," John said with his hands above his hand.

"Miss. Adler on the floor." The head agent said as another agent shoved Irene onto her knees, his pistol pointed to the back of her neck.

"Matthew Neilson, what fuck?" Alice said to the lead agent. He walked over to her and smiled.

"Hi, Ally. So this is where you went. How long has it been, 3-4 years now? Mind getting on your knees too? I'd hate to be the one to inform your family of your early demise," Neilson said.