The Good, The Bad and The Woman

Buckingham Palace

16. Buckingham Palace

The day after the ominous incidents, Sherlock, John and Irene were hard at work trying to figure out when, how and why to anticipate the coming terrorist attack. Thanks to questioning the attacker, they had learned it would be Buckingham Palace, a bomb and within the week. It narrowed it down considerably, but still left more leeway than any of them preferred.

John sat by the desk going through anything he could think of on the laptop while Irene was on the floor in front of the sofa table. She sat tailor styled and gazed up at the mind map upon the wall as if she was a curious cat beholding the world and all its yarn.

Sherlock entered the room, clad in a sharp suit but with his red dressing gown used as jacket, and set down a steaming tea cup before the woman on the floor.

"Thank you, dear," the brunette threw him a swift smile before she returned to her tedious task.

The kind gesture did not go unnoticed by the doctor who looked his friend up and down for a closer inspection. Kindness just did not seem to come natural to him. "... Is that a new shirt?"

"It was a gift from Irene. Berlin." Sherlock explained as he set down a second cup beside his best friend, who nodded in gratitude.

"Ah..." John bit back his smirk as he conspicuously looked down at the woman who was paying them no interest.

Sherlock's shoulders slumped as he sank into the chair opposite the desk. "It's not what you think."

"I didn't say anything," his friend offered innocently.

"No, but I could hear you thinking it!" The man's low voice reminded him of a wolf's growl. "Have you got anything?"

"I eh, it's kind of funny, I can't find anything on this Godfrey Norton," John acknowledged as he allowed his friend to change the topic. "He was a CIA-agent, but his file is closed. I don't know if that means he's classed as top security, if he's not an agent anymore or if he's supposed to be killed in action. I kind find any updated information."

"That's alright," Sherlock dismissed as he leaned back in his chair. He looked far more relaxed than anticipated considering he'd nearly lost both his brother and ex-partner the day before. "I hadn't expected you to, either."

"Because I'm not as clever as you?" the doctor questioned darkly and narrowed his eyes.

The curly-haired detective grinned knowingly but firmly shook his head. "No, John. He's been hidden from the start which suggests intelligence and a desire to remain unseen for the present time. I wouldn't underestimate his abilities to keep his secrets close to heart. But it won't get him far. If he believes he can build up Moriarty's network, he clearly suffers from a delusion of grandeur."

The blond man frowned and closed the laptop slowly. "Why do you say that?"

"Oh, think, will you?" Sherlock huffed and dramatically rolled his eyes. "No one will ever be able to replace Jim Moriarty. The criminals of today don't trust anyone from the outside. Moran was working for Jim once and so he could have been accepted – which is the very reason I believe he had to be killed. Norton clearly was not from the inside."

"… You said the same about Lord Moran, once," John pointed out and knew he was treading on dangerous ground. "And you were wrong."

"I corrected that mistake, as you are aware," the other man said with a piercing glare that nearly set his eyes aflame. "Norton is different though. I can tell."

"Well..." the blond grasped at straws as he tried to offer something of value. "You said he was clever. Is it possible he knows that?"

Sherlock said nothing as a shrill sound interrupted the conversation, beckoning their work to a swift time-out. His intense gaze fell on the woman's back as her phone kept ringing and John followed the wandering look. Irene was still intently gazing at the map as if expecting to see the answers revealed in the middle of the pattern of the wallpaper. After four more signals, she at last rose from the floor and walked out of the room to answer the call.