A New Mystery at 221 Baker Street

Chapter 23: Not Dead

AN: Episode Transcript provided by Ariane DeVere/Callie Sullivan

***

Sherlock stood in the living room, composing a sad lament on his violin. It had been a week since he identified Irene's body at Bart's.

"What are you thinking about?" Alice asked from the doorway. "Sherlock, I know you. You compose when you think," She looked over to John for any clues, getting only a shrug in response.

Sherlock put down his violin and pointed to John's open computer with his bow. "The counter on your blog is still stuck at 1,895," He proclaimed.

John looked over at his computer. "Yeah, it's faulty. Can't seem to fix it,"

"Or you've been hacked and it's a message," Sherlock pulled Irene's phone out of his pocket and typed 1895 into the passcode. To his disappointment, the phone remained locked.

WRONG PASSCODE

3 ATTEMPTS REMAINING

"Just faulty," Sherlock said. He put the phone back into his pocket and resumed his lament.

"Right," John said, turning towards Alice "Well, we're going to out for a bit," Sherlock didn't respond and the two left the flat.

"Has he ever had any kind of relationship... ever?" Alice asked as they walked down the stairs.

"I don't know, he's Sherlock. You're the closest, other than Mycroft, to understand what goes on in his head," John responded, just as confused. Alice nodded and sighed.

As soon as Alice closed the front door to 221 Baker St, a young woman, whom Alice recognized, approached them. "John? Alice?"

"Yeah?" John responded. He sighed when he saw a black car pull up beside them. "You know, Mycroft could have just phoned us if he didn't have this bloody stupid power complex," John told the woman as he and Alice slipped into the car. Alice couldn't help but giggle when she saw them arriving at the empty Battersea Power Station.

"Couldn't we just go to a cafe?" John asked as the two were led throughout the building. "Sherlock doesn't follow us everywhere,"

"Through there," The woman said, gesturing to an opening.

"Thanks, Kate," Alice whispered to the woman as she followed John.

"He's writing sad music; doesn't eat; barely talks- and only to correct the telly," John walked further into the room. "I'd say he was heartbroken but he's Sherlock. He does that all anyway,"

"Hello, Doctor Watson," Irene said, walking out of the shadows. "Miss. Whitmer,"

John stared at Irene in shock. "Tell him you're alive," he said slowly. Alice walked closer to him in case he needed some support.

Irene shook her head. "he'd come after me,"

Alice scoffed. "I'll come after you if you don't," she said with a hint of anger.

"You were dead on a slab. It was definitely you," John continued, trying to comprehend how Irene was standing in front of him.

"DNA tests are only as good as the records you keep," Irene explained.

"Oh and I bet you knew exactly what the record-keeper likes," Alice said, her anger coming out more and more.

"Look, I made a mistake, I sent something to Sherlock for safe-keeping and I need it back," Irene said, raising her hands in defense. "And I need your help,"

"No," John responded. "We're not going to help you,"

"It's for his safety,"

"Tell him your alive,"