Chapter 3 - The Empty Hearse (Part 2)

(Jared's POV)

CRIME SCENE...

Sherlock carefully uses tweezers to lift the lapel of the skeleton's jacket. Molly still stood some distance away waiting to write anything down as I grabbed her hand. Greg leans close to Sherlock and speaks softly.

"This gonna be your new arrangement, is it?" Lestrade asked, glancing towards Molly and I.

"Just giving it a go." Sherlock said.

"Right. So, John?"

"Not really in the picture any more." Sherlock said, moving away from the table and turns back to look at the whole picture.

Cement dust drifts down from the ceiling as a distant rumbling can be heard.

"Trains?" Molly asked, while I let go of her hand.

"Trains." Sherlock said, dropping into a squat and calls up a mental compass showing the orientation of the room.

Steepling his fingers in front of his mouth, Sherlock zooms in on the corpse. Molly walks across to the body and starts to look closely at the bones in its neck. Sherlock stands up and walks over to join her.

"Male, forty to fifty." Molly said, looking round at Sherlock. "Ooh, sorry, did you want to be ...?"

"Er, no, please. Be my guest." Sherlock said.

John's voice sounds in Sherlock's mind again, "You jealous?"

John's second word appears simultaneously in front of Sherlock's mind's eye.

JEALOUS?

"Sherlock, you're jealous that John is spending time with Mary at work rather than with us solving cases, aren't you?" I asked, walking towards Sherlock.

"Shut up! Both of you!" Sherlock said, angrily, through gritted teeth.

Molly and I glanced nervously at Greg. Sherlock takes out his magnifier to look more closely at the hand holding the syringe while Molly and I continue investigating the skeleton.

"Ugh. It doesn't make sense." I said, grabbing Molly's hand again. "This was solved by Madame Vastra centuries ago. How did it end up here in the modern day?"

"What doesn't?" Lestrade asked.

Sherlock gently blows away the dust around the hand and continues blowing towards the edge of the table.

"This skeleton – it's ... it can't be any more than ..." Molly said.

"... six months old." Sherlock, Molly, and I said, simultaneously.

Sherlock has found a hidden compartment in the side of the table and he opens it and slides out a book from inside it. He blows the dust from the cover, gives it a sarcastic glance and shows it to Molly and I. Scrawled across the cover are the words:

How I Did It

By

Jack the Ripper

"Wow!" Molly said, excitedly.

"Hmm." Sherlock said, flamboyantly dropping the book onto the table.

Greg leans forward to peer at the cover.

"'How I Did It' by Jack the Ripper?!" Lestrade exclaimed.

"Mm-hm." Sherlock said.

"It's impossible!" Molly said, happily.

"Not impossible. It's just a bit unlikely." I said, smiling.

"Welcome to my world." Sherlock said, and Greg grins with delight.

As Sherlock leans down to repack his pouch of tools, John's voice sounds in his head.

SMART ARSE

"Can't help but think you're being too much of a smartass." I said, while Sherlock grimaces, flailing towards his own head. "Showing off again without John."

"Get out. Both of you." Sherlock said, quietly, through clenched teeth and he is continuing to repack his pouch, he talks more loudly to Molly and I, along with a grinning Greg. "I won't insult your intelligence by explaining it to you."

"No, please – insult away!" Lestrade said, angrily.

Sherlock has already picked up his pouch and is heading for the door but he stops when his internal John throws in another comment:

You forgot to put your collar up

"Sherlock, your collar is down. It looks wrong." I said, sadly.

Appearing confused and disoriented by this internal commentary and me replicating the internal commentary, Sherlock turns back to the others and I.

"The-the-the corpse is-is six months old; it's dressed in a shoddy Victorian outfit from a museum. It's been displayed on a dummy for many years in a case facing south-east judging from the fading of the fabric. It was sold off in a fire-damage sale ..." Sherlock said, getting out his phone and showing the screen to Greg. "... a week ago."

"So the whole thing was a fake." Lestrade said.

"Yes." Sherlock said, turning and heading out of the room.

"Looked so promising."

"Facile." Sherlock said, already out of sight.

"Why would someone go to all that trouble?" Molly asked.

"It doesn't make sense. Why mention something a friend of mine dealt with during Victorian times?" I asked, squeezing Molly's hand.

"Why indeed, John, Jared?" Sherlock asked, in the distance.

Molly and I looked awkwardly at Greg.

LATER...

Sherlock – with Molly and I at his side – pushes the doorbell to a flat. Instead of the bell ringing or buzzing, it plays a recording of a London Underground announcement of a male voice saying, 'Mind the gap. Mind the gap'. Molly and I giggles quietly. A young man answers the door and Sherlock immediately holds out the bobble hat towards him.

"Oh. Thanks for hanging on to it." Howard said.

"No problem." Sherlock said.

Howard's Building...

Taking the hat, Howard leads us inside.

"So, what's this all about, Mr Shilcott?" Sherlock asked.

We go into a room which is mostly taken up by a train set with model Tube trains running round it. On the wall is a photo of Howard, wearing his bobble hat, grinning happily and doing a thumbs-up to the camera while he stands in front of a train which doesn't seem to be in Britain. The rest of the room is full of all sorts of different train memorabilia.

"My girlfriend's a big fan of yours." Howard said.

"Girlfriend?!" Sherlock exclaimed, chuckling sarcastically.

"Sherlock. Rude." I said, and Howard looked round indignantly and Molly and I threw Sherlock a look.

"Sorry. Do go on." Sherlock said.

"I like trains." Howard said.

"Yes."

"I work on the Tube, on the District Line, and part of my job is to wipe the security footage after it's been cleared." Howard said, sitting down at his computer. "I was just whizzing through and, er, I found something a bit bizarre."

Howard turns towards the computer and Sherlock throws a silent and quirky 'Ooh!' at Molly and I, who smile. Howard pulls up the relevant footage and the others walk to either side of him to look at the screen, which shows the platform of a Tube station. A train is stationary and its doors are open. There is only one man on the platform. He looks like a business man and is carrying a briefcase.

"Now, this was a week ago. The last train on the Friday night, Westminster station, and this man gets into the last car." Howard said.

"'Car'?" Molly asked.

"We call them cars, not carriages. It's the legacy we set up for the New York Subway system. Which you British used for the London Underground." I said, as Molly turned and threw a look at Sherlock. "New York City, my old stomping ground. Man, I should visit that city again sometime."

"He said he liked trains." Sherlock said.

"Hmm!" Molly said.

"And the next stop ..." Howard said, showing the appropriate footage. "... St James's Park station ... and ..." The footage shows the doors of the last car opening – and nobody gets out. Suddenly Sherlock is more interested. The doors close again. "I thought you'd like it." He replays the earlier footage. "He gets into the last car at Westminster, the only passenger ..." He switches to the later footage. "... and the car is empty at St James's Park station. Explain that, Mr Holmes."

"Couldn't he have just jumped off?" Molly asked.

"That's impossible for the London Underground and the New York Subway system." I said, as Sherlock shook his head.

Molly looks away from the video footage and watches Sherlock.

"There's a safety mechanism that prevents the doors from opening in transit. But there's something else. The driver of that train hasn't been to work since. According to his flatmate, he's on holiday. Came into some money." Howard said.

"Bought off?" Sherlock asked, turning to look at Molly.

Molly has been gazing at him for the last few seconds and now looks startled by his question.

"Hmm?" Molly asked, blankly.

Sherlock looks disapprovingly at her for a moment, then turns to Howard. Molly looks embarrassed.

"So if the driver of the train was in on it, then the passenger did get off." Sherlock said.

"There's nowhere he could go. It's a straight run on the District Line between the two stations. There's no side tunnels, no maintenance tunnels – nothing on any map. Nothing. The train never stops, and the man vanishes. Good, innit?!" Howard exclaimed.

Sherlock closes his eyes, replaying a close-up of the passenger on the platform as his head turned towards the camera, "I know that face."

Sherlock's eyes snap open, but now he's in his Mind Palace, calling up footage of trains travelling along Tube lines, racing along the various lines on the Tube map, and generally recalling everything he can about the London Underground. Some time during the process he physically relocates to the stairs outside the flat, presumably so that he can concentrate better, but he frowns when he realises where he is, as if he doesn't remember moving. Shutting his eyes to get back into the zone, he continues his search, mentally walking down a long flight of stairs beside escalators in an Underground station. Briefly the face of the disappearing man appears in his mind before more images from the Tube network and maps flash though his brain, and then the man's face appears again.

(Open POV)

BAKER STREET...

John walks towards the front door of 221 and stops a couple of feet away from the doorstep, looking thoughtfully at the door. A man comes around the corner and walks along the road, barging past him and bumping roughly into his shoulder. John turns to look at him as he continues onwards without speaking.

"'Scuse you." John said, sarcastically.

The man glances over his shoulder at him but doesn't stop. Behind John, another man walks up to him, grabs his left wrist and instantly jabs the needle of a syringe into the right side of his neck. John tries to grab at him but the drug is already starting to take effect and his weakening struggles are in vain. The first man comes back and they both hold him as he starts to fall. They carefully lower him to the ground and he lies there, still vaguely conscious but unable to move.

HOWARD'S BUILDING...

Molly looks up the stairs and slowly walks up them towards Sherlock with Jared as he stands there with his eyes closed. After a moment he opens his eyes but can see only a ticking clock, followed by a journey through a Tube tunnel.

"The journey between those stations usually takes five minutes." Sherlock said, in a quick fire rate, his eyes rapidly flickering back and forth. "That journey took ten minutes – ten minutes to get from Westminster to St James's Park." He looks down at Molly and Jared. "So I'm going to need maps – lots of maps, older maps, all the maps."

"Right." Molly said, sadly.

"Maps of the London Underground then. Should I use the Torchwood software to check?" Jared asked.

"Exactly." Sherlock said, walking past Jared and Molly and continuing down the stairs. "Fancy some chips?"

"What?" Molly asked.

"I know a fantastic fish shop just off the Marylebone Road. The owner always gives me extra portions." Sherlock said.

"Did you get him off a murder charge?" Molly asked, following Sherlock with Jared behind her.

"No – I helped him put up some shelves." Sherlock said.

"So, no sonic screwdriver like the Doctor. Just using deductions." Jared said, happily.

"Precisely."

Molly and Jared giggles and Sherlock smiles briefly.

"Sherlock?" Molly asked.

"Hmm?" Sherlock asked, stopping at the bottom of the stairs and turning back to Molly.

"What was today about?"

"Saying thank you."

"For what?"

"Everything you did for us."

"It's okay. It was my pleasure." Molly said, reaching the bottom of the stairs with Jared and starts towards the door but turns back as Sherlock speaks.

"No, I mean it." Sherlock said.

"I don't mean 'pleasure.' I mean, I didn't mind. I wanted to."

"Moriarty slipped up. He made a mistake. Because the one person he thought didn't matter at all to us was the one person that mattered the most. You made it all possible." Sherlock said, stepping closer and speaking intensely but softly before drawing in a breath. "But you can't do this again, can you?"

Molly smiles, and when she speaks her voice is a little choked.

"I had a lovely day. I'd love to – I just ... um ..." Molly said, looking down.

"Oh, congratulations, by the way." Sherlock said, following Molly's gaze.

"Seriously. Congratulations, Molly. Who's the lucky man?" Jared asked, as Molly is wearing a diamond solitaire engagement ring.

"He's not from work." Molly said, and Sherlock and Jared smiled. "We met through friends, the old-fashioned way. He's nice. We ... he's got a dog ... we-we go to the pub on weekends and he ... I've met his mum and dad and his friends and all his family. I've no idea why I'm telling the both of you this."

"Molly, I want you to be happy. You deserve it. Even if this man is or isn't for you."

"After all, not all the men you fall for can turn out to be sociopaths!" Sherlock said, happily.

"No?" Molly asked.

"No." Sherlock said, stepping closer to Molly, he gives her a beautiful smile, then leans in and kisses her on the cheek.

Molly closes her eyes and keeps them closed as he turns and walks out of the front door with Jared. After a moment she turns and looks at his and Jared's disappearing backs.

"Maybe it's just my type." Molly said.

Outside it's snowing. Sherlock and Jared walk down the path, sighing a little and Jared pulls Sherlock's coat around him. They turn to the right and walk off down the road. Molly follows down the path, pulling out her gloves and putting them on. She stops at the pavement and watches Sherlock and Jared walk away, then turns and walks off in the opposite direction.

NIGHT TIME...

There's a full moon in the sky. John slowly starts to regain consciousness. He seems to be surrounded by foliage, and the flickers of moonlight coming through the greenery seem like a flashlight being shone on him. Choking, he tries to move his hands but finds that he can't. He opens his mouth to cry out but no sound will come. He tries to raise his head but eventually sinks back down again. There is a bleeding wound on the right side of his head just at his hairline.

London...

Elsewhere, Mary is walking along a street but stops to take out her phone when it beeps a text alert. Taking off her glove to activate the phone, she sees the message:

Save souls now!

John or James Watson?

She flicks to the next screen:

Saint or Sinner?

James or John?

The more is Less?

Frowning, she lowers the phone and hurries on.

Baker Street...

Some time later she is at the door of 221. Mrs Hudson opens the door to her knock.

"Oh, Mrs Hudson." Mary said, while Mrs H frowns as she gently pushes her way in.

221B Baker Street...

"Sorry – I-I think someone's got John – John Watson." Mary said.

Upstairs in 221B's living room, Sherlock – still in his coat, tossing Jared a bag of chips just inside the door – turns at the sound of her voice. Mrs H follows Mary.

"Hang on! Who are you?" Mrs Hudson asked.

"She's Mary Morstan." Jared said, as Mary stops part way up the stairs.

"Oh, I'm his fiancée. John's fiancée." Mary said, turning back to look at Mrs Hudson.

"Ah!" Mrs Hudson said, smiling.

Sherlock and Jared are already coming onto the landing as Mary hurries up the stairs.

"Mary? What's wrong?" Jared asked.

"Someone sent me this. At first I thought it was just a Bible thing, you know, spam, but it's not. It's a skip-code." Mary said, taking her phone from her pocket.

Sherlock and Jared looks at Mary closely, then turns them attention to her phone as she shows them the first part of the message:

Save souls now!

John or James Watson?

"Crap. I remember this. It's the first word, then every third word." Jared said, looking down at the text message. "Save...John...Watson..."

Mary pulls up the next message:

Saint or Sinner?

James or John?

The more is Less?

The unimportant words seem to fade, leaving just the vital ones:

Saint

James

The Less

"Now!" Sherlock said, urgently, as Jared dropped his chips to the floor.

Sherlock races down the stairs with Mary and Jared following.

"Where are we going?" Mary asked.

"St James the Less. It's a church. Twenty minutes by car." Sherlock said.

Baker Street...

Sherlock pelts out into the street, "Did you drive here?"

"Er, yes." Mary said.

"It's too slow. It's too slow." Sherlock said, pacing about in the middle of the road.

Sherlock is oblivious to the approach of a car, which swerves around him, the driver blaring his horn. Jared takes his hoverboard out of his sling back and places it onto the ground, he slips his right foot into the strap.

"Sherlock, Jared, what are we waiting for?" Mary asked, frantically.

Sherlock turns towards a single oncoming headlight.

"This." Sherlock said, stepping directly into the path of the approaching motorcycle and holds up an imperious hand.

The driver slams on the brakes and the bike skids to a halt just in time.

London...

Shortly afterwards Sherlock and Mary – wearing the helmets of the driver and his pillion passenger – with Jared on his hoverboard and his hands on Mary's shoulders, are racing through the streets on the bike and hoverboard. In Sherlock's mind, he is calculating how long it will take to get to St James the Less Church. Currently the journey will take 10 minutes. Mary's phone sounds a text alert and she checks it. It reads:

Getting warmer Mr Holmes Mr Shay

You have about ten minutes

They drive on.

"What does it mean? What are they going to do to him?" Mary asked.

"I don't know." Sherlock said.

"They're gonna burn him!" Jared said, worried.

"Oh, my God!" Mary said, terrified.

Wherever John is, he is struggling to move. The sound of children's voices can be heard some distance away. He grunts as he frantically strains to escape but he can make no louder noise.

On the motorcycle, Mary holds her phone over Sherlock's shoulder so that he can see the latest message:

8 minutes

and counting...

Sherlock turns his attention back to the road and accelerates, but shortly afterwards they approach a roadblock. The road ahead is cordoned off with police tape, and two police officers are explaining the situation to stopped cars.

"Damn!" Sherlock said, slamming on the brakes and halting the bike.

Sherlock looks to his left and rapidly works out an alternative route which he overlays onto the original route. The original one has an ETA of 8 minutes; the new, more direct route shows an ETA of 5 minutes. Sherlock turns the bike with Jared behind the bike on his hoverboard and they head up onto the pavement and into a walkway between two buildings. One of the police officers uselessly chases after him.

"Oi! Oi! You can't go down there!" A police officer yelled.

On the other side of the buildings, the path descends down a long flight of steps but Sherlock heads straight down them and turns onto the road at the bottom, which happens to be The Mall. They race onwards towards Buckingham Palace.

Elsewhere, a fireworks party is starting in a small park in a square near a church. Children wave their sparklers around, and some people are playing small drums. One little girl, Zoe, gazes at the gigantic bonfire which has been piled up in the middle of the park, made up of broken wooden pallets, furniture and anything else which has been scavenged. She looks up at the Guy Fawkes guy which has been perched on the top, completely unaware that John is lying on the ground in the middle of the bonfire, out of sight of all the people nearby. The children gather near, perhaps knowing that it is not long until the fire will be lit. John opens his mouth and tries again to cry out but all he can manage is a faint moan. He thrashes, trying to push himself up and continuing to moan quietly. And now a man approaches the bonfire carrying a flaming brand of wood. The children watch him delightedly. John manages to produce some slightly louder croaks but they cannot be heard above the excited chatter of the children and the drumming. Smiling cheerfully, the man lowers the brand to the foot of the fire.

On the motorcycle, Mary receives a new message:

Better hurry

things are

hotting up here...

They continue onwards but their speed is impeded when they cross a bridge and are blocked by a slow-moving lorry.

At the park the man with the brand, trying to light the bonfire without any success, looks round and shakes his head.

"No. It's not gonna work. Bit damp. I'll get something to help it along, yeah?" A man asked, walking away.

Part of the bonfire is smoldering and the smoke drifts across John, who continues to try and cry out. His voice is getting a little stronger and he manages to let out a couple of louder but wordless cries. Standing nearby, Zoe frowns at the sound, looking in concern at the guy on top of the fire as the noises continue.

On the motorcycle, Mary shows Sherlock the newest message:

Stay of execution.

you've got two

more minutes

Sherlock checks his mental map, which shows that if he continues by road, their ETA is 3 minutes. However, if he goes in a straight line it will only take 1 minute. He swerves the bike off the road and heads straight down into a pedestrian underpass.

At the bonfire, Zoe's father – the one who tried to light the fire – comes back with a small can of petrol. Zoe turns to him.

"He doesn't like it, Daddy." Zoe said, plaintively.

"Eh?" Zoe's dad asked.

"Guy Fawkes – he doesn't like it!" Zoe said, pointing up at the guy.

"Stay back, Zoe. Back. Now." Zoey's dad said, unscrewing the lid of the can.

Zoe stares at her father as he starts to splash fuel over the wood of the bonfire. Inside, John's cries are getting louder.

The motorcycle charges on through the underpass.

Zoe's dad continues pouring petrol over the fire.

Sherlock forces the bike up a steep flight of steps and out onto the street again. They are finally driving along beside the fence surrounding the park. Mary receives one more text:

What a shame

Mr Holmes. Mr Shay.

John is quite a Guy!

Mary holds the phone over Sherlock's shoulder to show him, "What does it mean?"

"Son of a bitch! Tonight's Bonfire Night!" Jared said, angrily.

Smiling, Zoe's dad takes his flaming brand to the fire and tosses it onto the petrol-soaked wood. Sherlock's head whips round as the bonfire begins to blaze and all the onlookers cheer.

"Oh my God. You're right, Jared." Sherlock said, accelerating around the square towards the only gap in the fence surrounding the park.

The onlookers continue to celebrate the ignition of the fire.

John's voice finally comes to him and he yells as loudly as he can, "Help!"

Zoe screams, and now others can hear John's voice and react with horror. Her father runs to hold her back and to comfort her.

Sherlock races the bike into the park and hurls himself off. Jared let's go of Mary's shoulders and is skating towards the fire with his over

"Jump off!" Sherlock said, looking at Mary.

Mary quickly steps off as he drops the bike onto its side. The fire is really taking hold now, and John wails as the heat increases. Throwing off his helmet, Sherlock runs towards the fire with Jared skating on his hoverboard towards the fire, as the two are shoving people out of their way.

"Move! Move! Move! Move! Move!" Sherlock yelled.

"Get the fuck out of the way!" Jared said, as he and Sherlock reached the front of the crowd and raced on towards the bonfire. "John!"

"John!"

"John! Get out, John!" Mary said, running behind Sherlock and Jared.

Jared removes his foot off the hoverboard's foot strap and placed the item back inside his sling bag.

Sherlock and Jared crouch down, peering through the flames and trying to see where John is while throwing some of the wood aside. Sherlock, Jared, and Mary continue to cry John's name and the consulting detective hears them.

"Help!" John yelled.

Now Sherlock has a location and he plunges his arms into the inferno, throwing pieces of the bonfire aside and creating a path into it. At last he is able to reach in and he grabs John's arms and hauls him out, pulling him across the ground to safety before rolling him over onto his back. John lies there, looking extremely dazed as Sherlock and Jared loom over him.

"John? John!" Sherlock said, gently patting John's face.

"John, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Jared said, sadly.

"John." Mary said, covering her mouth and crying.

"Hey, John." Sherlock said, softly.

John gazes up at them blankly and their faces fade out for a moment. He blinks as if trying to force his vision to work.

(Jared's POV)

221B...

It is daytime and Sherlock is wearing a suit but without the usual dressing gown over it and is sitting in his armchair with his eyes closed, sighing quietly and occasionally drumming his fingers on the arms of the chair. I am playing Super Mario RPG on my Nintendo Switch. A grey-haired couple, also known as the parents of Sherlock and Mycroft, are sitting on the sofa and the woman appears to have been talking for some time.

"... which wasn't the way I'd put it at all. Silly woman. Anyway, it was then that I first noticed it was missing. I said, 'Have you checked down the back of the sofa?'" Sherlock's mom asked.

"I hate losing things, Mrs Holmes." I said, while Sherlock screws his face up, then tilts his head forward a little, almost nodding off to sleep until his head jerks back up again. "That's why I rely on Apple AirTags."

"I can't wait for those to be released in the future, Jared, dear." Sherlock's mom said, as her son steeples his fingers in front of his face as she looks round at her husband. "He's always losing things down the back of the sofa, aren't you, dear?"

"'Fraid so." Sherlock's dad said, and Sherlock glares towards the kitchen.

"Keys, small change, sweeties. Especially his glasses."

"Glasses."

"Blooming things. I said, 'Why don't you get a chain – wear 'em round your neck?' And he says, 'What – like Larry Grayson?'"

"Larry Grayson." Sherlock's dad said, almost simultaneously as his wife.

"And who's Larry Grayson?" I asked, while Sherlock rose quickly to his feet, buttoning his jacket as he walked towards his parents.

"He was one of the hosts of the Generation Game." Sherlock's mom said, smiling.

"Is it like Family Feud?"

"In a way."

"Jared, now isn't the time to talk about game shows. So, did you find it eventually? Your lottery ticket?" Sherlock asked, stepping onto the coffee table and then onto the sofa between his parents.

Sherlock's mother leans to the side to get out of her son's way, and Sherlock's father stares up at his son as he starts idly flicking through the paperwork stuck to the wall.

"Well, yes, thank goodness. We caught the coach on time after all. We managed to see, er, St Paul's, the Tower ... but they weren't letting anyone in to Parliament." Sherlock's mother said, as Sherlock frowns and looks down at her. "Some big debate going on."

The living room door opens and John walks in.

Sherlock looks round in surprise, "John!"

"Sorry – you and Jared are busy." John said, sadly.

"Er, no-no-no, they were just leaving." Sherlock said, stepping off the sofa and reaching down to pull his mother to her feet.

"Oh, were we?" Sherlock's mother asked.

"Yes."

"No, no, if you've got a case with Jared ..." John said.

"No, not a case, no-no-no." Sherlock said, looking at his mother. "Go. 'Bye."

"Yeah, well, we're here 'til Saturday, remember." Sherlock's mother said.

"Yes, great, wonderful. Just get out." Sherlock said, herding his parents towards the door.

"Well, give us a ring. You too, Jared, dear."

"Talking about game shows. I can't wait." I said, happily.

"Very nice, yes, good. You'll be talking with Jared over your mobile later. Get out." Sherlock said, bundling his parents onto the landing, he tries to close the door but his mother turns and sticks her heavy shoe into the doorway to stop the door from shutting.

Sherlock pulls the door open a little, staring down at his mother's foot.

"I can't tell you how glad we are, Sherlock. All that time people thinking the worst of you." Sherlock's mother said, quietly.

Sherlock and I glanced round at John, who has walked over to the window and is deliberately keeping his back to us.

"We're just so pleased it's all over." Sherlock's mother said.

Grimacing, Sherlock tries to slam the door on her foot to make her remove it. She doesn't budge.

"Ring up more often, won't you?" Sherlock's father asked.

"Mm-hm." Sherlock said, hurriedly.

"She worries."

"Promise?" Sherlock's mother asked, looking between Sherlock and I. "Both of you?"

"I promise to call you both when Sherlock's busy on a case. You two must be incredibly worried about him." I said, as Sherlock and I glance round towards John as if to ascertain that he can't hear us.

"We are, Jared, dear. For Sherlock and for you. Since you love hanging out with him."

"I know. He is amazing. As amazing as the Doctor."

Sherlock leans close to his mother.

"Same here. I promise." Sherlock said, quietly, and his mother smiled and reached up to stroke his cheek. "Oh, for God..." He shoves the door closed and lets out a deep sigh before turning to John and I. "Sorry about that."

"No, it's fine. Clients?" John asked.

"... Just my parents." Sherlock said, hesitating briefly.

"Your parents?"

"In town for a few days."

"Your parents?"

"Mycroft promised to take them to a matinee of 'Les Mis'. Tried to talk me into doing it." Sherlock said.

"Les Misérables isn't my kind of musical." I said, frowning. "It isn't one based on Harry Potter or Back to the Future."

"A music based off of Harry Potter or Back to the Future? How does that even work?" John asked, going to the window to look out. "And Sherlock, those were your parents?"

"Yes." Sherlock said.

"Well ..." John said, chuckling briefly. "That is not what I ..."

John turns to look at Sherlock, then looks out of the window again.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"I-I mean they're just ... so ..." John said, looking at Sherlock who directs a hard gaze at him, narrowing his eyes. "... ordinary."

"Which is why I love talking to them." I said, while John smiled. "They don't have superpowers or travel across all of time and space. I could talk to Brian and Wilfred, but they've met the Doctor. Sherlock's parents are more normal than them."

Sherlock tuts disparagingly, "It's a cross I have to bear."

John chuckles, then slowly takes a few steps across the room before turning back, "Did they know, too?"

Sherlock won't meet John's eyes, "Hmm?"

"That you and Jared spent the last two years playing hide and seek." John said.

Sherlock picks an imaginary piece of fluff off the keyboard of his laptop which is open on the dining table, "Maybe."

"Ah! So that's why they weren't at the funeral."

"Did you talk to the Ponds and River Song about this?" I asked, walking towards John.

"Yes. They said you did the same bloody thing to them two years ago by a lakeside in Utah with the Doctor."

"I'm sorry, John." I said, defensively. "How was I supposed to remember that the Reichenbach Fall and Lake Silencio took place in 2011?!"

"Mm. Your foreknowledge." John said, cynically slowly steps towards the door.

I watched John for a moment, then lowered my head.

"I'm sorry. But I've had a lot of adventures since then." I said, softly.

Drawing in a deep breath, John meets my eyes for a second and then looks down, breathing out slowly.

"See you've shaved it off, then." Sherlock said.

"Yeah. Wasn't working for me." John said, frowning.

"Mm, I'm glad."

"Me too." I said, happily.

"What, neither of you liked it?" John asked, looking between Sherlock and I.

"No. We prefer our doctors clean-shaven." Sherlock said, smiling.

"That's not a sentence you hear every day!" John said, slowly walking across the room again and is now in front of his old chair.

John sits down in his old chair, grunting a little. There are healing cuts and gashes on the side of his head where it was scratched by the foliage while he was thrashing about under the bonfire.

"John, how are you doing? After almost being burned to a crisp on Guy Fawkes Night." I said, letting out a sigh.

"Yeah, not bad. Bit ... smoked." John said.

"Sorry about not warning you about it."

"You were with Sherlock and Molly, Jared. So don't beat yourself about it." John said, looking at Sherlock and I seriously. "Last night – who did that? And why did they target me?"

"I don't know." Sherlock said.

"Is it someone trying to get to the both of you through me? Is it something to do with this terrorist thing you talked about?" John asked.

"I don't know. I can't see the pattern. It's too nebulous." Sherlock said, walking towards his wall of information. "Why would an agent give his life to tell us something incredibly insignificant? That's what's strange."

"'Give his life'?"

"According to Mycroft. There's an underground network planning an attack on London – that's all we know." Sherlock said, looking down and frowns as an apparently random memory comes to him of the dust trickling down from the ceiling in the 'Jack the Ripper' room. He turns and gestures to the paperwork on the wall. "These are my rats, John. Jared already knows about them."

"Rats?"

"My markers: agents, low-lifes, people who might find themselves arrested or their diplomatic immunity suddenly rescinded. If one of them starts acting suspiciously, we know something's up. Five of them are behaving perfectly normally, but the sixth ..." Sherlock said, pointing to the relevant photograph.

"I know him, don't I?" John asked, pointing to that photo.

It is the photograph is of the man who got into the disappearing Tube car.

"Lord Moran, peer of the realm, Minister for Overseas Development. Pillar of the establishment." Sherlock said.

"Yes!" John said, excitedly.

"He's been working for North Korea since 1996."

"What?"

"He's the Big Rat. Rat Number One. And he's just done something very suspicious indeed."

Later, Sherlock is showing Howard's footage of the mysterious Tube train disappearance to John and I, as the army doctor takes off his coat and is sitting at the dining table.

"Yeah, that's ... odd. There's nowhere he could have got off?" John asked, looking at the screen.

"Not according to the maps. This could be like Old City Hall in New York City." I said, sadly.

"Mm."

"Old City Hall in New York City. Jared, that must be a hint you've given me. There's something – something, something I'm missing, something staring me in the face." Sherlock said, turning to the wall again but then his phone beeps and he takes it out of his pocket.

"Any idea who they are – this underground network?" John asked, sitting down in front of the computer.

Sherlock looks at a sequence of photos taken of Lord Moran walking along a road next to the Houses of Parliament. The sequence seems to indicate that he has just come up from Westminster Tube station.

"Intelligence must have a-a list of the most obvious ones." John said, looking at the computer screen.

"Our rat's just come out of his den." Sherlock said.

"Al-Qaeda; the IRA have been getting restless again – maybe they're gonna make an appearance ..."

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES! I've been an idiot – a blind idiot!" Sherlock said, triumphantly.

"What?" John asked.

"Oh, that's good. That could be brilliant." Sherlock said, pacing across the room.

"What are you on about?"

"Mycroft's intelligence – it's not nebulous at all. It's specific – incredibly specific."

"What do you mean?" John asked, firmly.

"Not an underground network, John, Jared. It's an Underground network."

"Right. ... What?"

"Sometimes a deception is so audacious, so outrageous that you can't see it even when it's staring you in the face." Sherlock said, leaning over John's shoulder and my shoulder to replay the Tube footage of the lone passenger – Lord Moran – getting into the train at Westminster. "Look – seven carriages leave Westminster ..." The footage switches to show the next station. "... but only six carriages arrive at St James's Park."

"But that's ... I ... it's-it's impossible." John said, at a loss for words.

"Moran didn't disappear – the entire Tube compartment did. The driver must have diverted the train and then detached the last carriage." Sherlock said.

"Detached it where?! Sherlock, you said there was nothing between those stations." John said.

"It won't be on the maps, John. I said Old City Hall for a reason." I said, smiling.

"Jared's right. Once you eliminate all the other factors, the only thing remaining must be the truth." Sherlock said, pointing at the screen. "That carriage vanished, so it must be somewhere."

"But why, though? Why detach it in the first place?" John asked.

"It vanishes between St James's Park and Westminster. Lord Moran vanishes. You're kidnapped and nearly burned to death at a fireworks par..." Sherlock said, pacing and he stopped and figured it out before turning to John and I. "What's the date, John and Jared – today's date?"

"Hmm? November the ... My God." John said, his eyes widening.

"This is why I've been on edge after Trenzalore." I said, pacing around the room. "I had unfinished business at Baker Street with you guys."

"Which is why you've been pushing the events of these back, Jared." Sherlock said, looking at the information wall and walking slowly towards it. "Lord Moran – he's a peer of the realm. Normally he'd sit in the House. Tonight there's an all-night sitting to vote on the new anti-terrorism Bill." He stops in front of the sofa and smiles. "But he won't be there. Not tonight." Sherlock turns to look down at John and I. "Not the fifth of November."

"'Remember, remember.'" John said, quoting the 5th of November lyrics.

"'The 5th of November.'" I said, letting out a sigh.

"'Gunpowder treason and plot'. Jared, you may not be British. But you are a journalist." Sherlock said, smirking.

Shortly afterwards Howard Shilcott – sitting in his living room and wearing his bobble hat – is Skyping with the boys on the laptop while Sherlock, John, and I frantically search through maps and papers on the kitchen table at 221B.

"There's nothing down there, Mr Holmes, I told you. No sidings, no ghost stations." Howard said.

"There has to be. Check again." Sherlock said, turning the laptop around so that John and I can see the screen.

Howard leans offscreen.

John is looking through a book, "Look – this whole area is a big mess of old and new stuff. Charing Cross is made up of bits of older stations like Trafalgar Square, Strand ..."

"Nope. It's none of those. We've already checked them." I said, looking at my MacBook Pro with the Torchwood software loaded up and I looked closer at an older map on the screen. "There's St Margaret's Street, Bridge Street, Sumatra Road, Parliament Street ..."

"Hang on, hang on." Howard said, taking the pom pom that he's been chewing out of his mouth. "Sumatra Road. You mentioned Sumatra Road, Mr Shay." He leans offscreen. "There is something. I knew it rang a bell." Howard began muttering to himself. "Where is it?" He comes back into view. "There was a station down there."

"Well, why isn't it on the maps?" John asked.

"'Cause it was closed before it ever opened."

"What?"

"They built the platforms, even the staircases, but it all got tied up in legal disputes, so they never built the station on the surface." Howard said, holding up a book to the camera to show the relevant page, grinning, he pointed to the appropriate spot on the page.

Sherlock has been slowly straightening up while Howard spoke, "It's right underneath the Palace of Westminster."

"And so what's down there? A bomb?" John asked, when Sherlock walked away. "Oh ..."

John and I hurried after Sherlock, grabbing our coats as he went.

(Open POV)

"With many commentators saying the vote on the terrorism Bill will be too close to call, MPs are now making their way into the Chamber for what the government is calling the most important vote of this parliament. Over now to our ..." A newsreader said, on the television.

Hotel room...

Lord Moran is lying fully dressed on the bed watching the TV. He points the remote control at the television and changes to a different channel.

"What freedoms exactly are we protecting if we start spying on our own people? This is an Orwellian measure on a scale unprecedented ..." A male voice said, on the TV.

London...

Sherlock, John, and Jared walk briskly along the road near the Houses of Parliament and head to the stairs leading down into Westminster station.

London Underground...

They walk across the concourse, past the fangirls, through the ticket barriers and along the corridors.

"So it's a bomb, then? A Tube carriage is carrying a bomb." John said.

"Yup. It must be a bomb."Jared said, sadly.

"Right." John said, taking off his glove and getting his phone from his pocket.

"Um, John? What are you doing?"

"Calling the police."

"What? No!" Sherlock yelled.

"Don't do that!" Jared said, angrily.

"Sherlock, Jared, this isn't a game. They need to evacuate Parliament." John said, frowning.

"They'll get in the way. They always do. This is cleaner, more efficient." Sherlock said, looking at Jared. "Jared, if you would."

"On it." Jared said, stopping at a locked maintenance entrance, reaching into his coat, takes out his sonic screwdriver and uses it to open the gate. "Sonic screwdriver. Thank you, Doctor."

"And illegal." John said.

"A bit." Sherlock said.

The gate opens and the boys and their fanboy go inside. Sherlock pulls the gate closed behind them and they take out flashlights and start to walk down into the maintenance tunnels. A couple of paces behind Sherlock, John checks his phone, which reads, 'NO SERVICE'. Sherlock raises his head as if sensing what John's doing.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked, not even looking round.

"Coming." John said, sighing and putting his phone away.

They continue onwards for a long time, walking along narrow tunnels and walkways and climbing down steep metal ladders. At long last they walk onto the platform of Sumatra Road station.

Sumatra Road Station...

Sherlock shines his torch along the length of the track but there is no sign of a train, "I don't understand."

"Well, that's a first!" John said, scoffing.

"There's nowhere else it could be." Sherlock said, turning to face the track and brings his hands up to either side of his head, screwing his eyes shut and concentrating.

In his mind, Sherlock finds himself sitting on a seat inside the missing Tube car/carriage. He is the only passenger. At the far end, smoke comes under the bottom of the cab door and pours towards him. He turns his head to look and a fireball ignites behind the smoke and then races along the carriage, engulfing Sherlock's position and continuing onwards.

Sherlock's mental image of himself relocates to the tunnel about a hundred yards away from the front of the carriage. The inferno billows out of the carriage towards him but just before it reaches him it is sucked up a large open vent in the tunnel's roof.

At ground level above the Tube line, heated gas shimmers as it is forced through various air vents inside the Houses of Parliament. Outside, the perspective shifts to the opposite side of the River Thames ... and the entire Palace of Westminster goes up in a massive explosion.

Sherlock's eyes snap open.

"Oh!" Sherlock said, turning to the left, grabbing Jared's hand and running towards the end of the platform.

"What?" John asked, chasing after Sherlock and Jared.

"This is awesome." Jared said, while he and Sherlock carefully jumped off the end of the platform as the two were now onto the tracks. "I love this."

"Hang on. Sherlock? Jared?" John asked.

"What?" Sherlock asked, turning back to look at John.

"That's ... Isn't it live?"

"This is safe. As long as we avoid touching the rails." Jared said, setting off along the tracks behind Sherlock. "I hijacked a train once with Doctor Brown and Marty McFly in the Old West. That was a long time ago, though."

"Hijacking a train. That is something you would do, Jared! 'Course, yeah! Avoid the rails. Great!" John said, jumping down onto the tracks.

"This way." Sherlock said.

"Sherlock? You sure?"

"Sure."

They don't have to walk far before the missing carriage is revealed partway round a gentle bend.

"Ah. Look at that." John said.

They continue on, then Sherlock looks up and sees the large open vent which he just saw in his mind.

Sherlock shines his flashlight into the large open vent, "John. Jared."

"Hmm?" John asked, as the three of them stop and shine their torches upwards, realising that there are several small explosive devices attached to the sides of the vent. "Demolition charges."

"Shit." Jared said, and they continue towards the carriage, John ducking down and shining his light underneath and around it as they approach.

John blows out a long breath as they get close and again he squats down to check the underside while Sherlock looks along the side. Sherlock opens the door to the driver's cab and they climb in and then go carefully through the opposite door into the carriage itself.

Train car...

Slowly the three work their way along it, looking at every seat, every corner, shining their torches along the ceiling and the floor. At the second set of side doors, Sherlock and Jared slow down, paying particular attention to something.

John progresses on to the very end, "It's empty. There's nothing."

Unfortunately, he's wrong.

"You think there's nothing?" Jared asked, already spotting a pair of intertwined black and red cables strung along the wall and down to one of the seat backs. "There it is."

John turns back and points his torch where Jared is gently lifting the cushion, bending low to shine his light underneath.

Sherlock lifts his head and looks round at John and Jared, "This is the bomb."

"What?" John asked.

Sherlock stands up and lifts the cushion all the way up. The cavity underneath is full of wired-up explosives.

"It's not carrying explosives. The whole compartment is the bomb." Sherlock said, while he, John, and Jared work their way along the carriage, lifting other cushions at random.

Each one has an identical explosive device under it.

Hotel room...

Moran opens a briefcase and lifts the lid. Inside is what is clearly a detonator – it has a small screen, a number pad, a slot for a key, and a Let'sSendTheWorldToHell button which almost disappointingly is neither very big nor painted red. A couple of keys lie beside the device.

Train car...

While John continues lifting seat cushions, Sherlock looks around the carriage and then takes a few steps along the aisle before realising that a floor panel is loose. As John looks down at the latest batch of explosives, Sherlock takes off his gloves and bends to the panel, forcing his fingers into the gap and lifting it. Underneath is what can only be described as the 'mother bomb' – a device massively larger than the ones under the cushions. While John and Jared takes several deep nervous breaths, Sherlock props the panel up against the wall of the train. The three of them look down at the massive device, then John looks up at Sherlock and Jared.

"We need bomb disposal." John said.

"There might not be enough time to get them now." Jared said, sadly.

"So what do we do?" John asked.

"I have no idea." Sherlock said, after a brief pause.

"Neither do I." Jared said, frowning.

"Well, one of you has to think of something." John said, sternly.

"Why d'you think we know what to do?" Sherlock asked.

"Because you're Sherlock Holmes. You're as clever as it gets." John said, looking between Sherlock and Jared. "And you're Jared Shay. You have enough foreknowledge as it gets."

"Doesn't mean we know how to defuse a giant bomb. What about you John?"

"I wasn't in bomb disposal. I'm a bloody doctor."

"And a soldier, as you keep reminding us all." Sherlock said, angrily pointing his flashlight at John.

John looks down at the countdown clock currently frozen at 2:30, "Can't-can't we rip the timer off, or something?"

"That would set it off. Jared, what about your sonic?" Sherlock asked.

"If that person knows me. Like really knows me. That bomb could be deadlock sealed. Making my sonic screwdriver." Jared said, pacing back and forth. "I don't even know how to diffuse a bomb. It was always sonic. Sonic this. Sonic that. With the Doctor."

"You see? You both know things." John said, as Sherlock and Jared turned away, with the two sighing.

Hotel room...

Moran types the code 051113 onto the number pad. He inserts one of the keys into its slot and turns it. The device beeps. He releases the key, then reaches to the Not Big Red Button and presses it.

In the Tube carriage...

All the lights come on and the countdown clock on the mother bomb begins to tick down. The boys and their fanboy look around in shock, and John groans.

"Er ..." Sherlock said.

"Um..." Jared said, grabbing Sherlock's hand.

"My God!" John said, breathing fast.

Sherlock paces away from John, to pace at the same speed as Jared, "Er ..."

"Why didn't either of you call the police?" John asked, looking between Sherlock and Jared.

"Please just ..." Sherlock said.

"Shut up..." Jared said, squeezing Sherlock's hand.

"Why do both of you never call the police?" John asked, furiously.

"Well, it's no use now." Sherlock said.

2:15

"So neither of you can switch the bomb off. You can't switch the bomb off and you didn't call the police." John said, angrily turning away for a moment, then turns back again.

Sherlock and Jared look at John.

"Go, John." Sherlock said, pointing towards the driver's cab. "Go now."

"There's no point now, is there, because there's not enough time to get away; and if we don't do this ..." John said, gesturing down to the mother bomb. "... other people will die!"

1:57

John looks down at the clock for a moment, then points at Sherlock, "Mind Palace."

"Hmm?" Sherlock asked.

"Sherlock. Use your Mind Palace. Since Jared's sonic screwdriver is bloody useless." John said.

"How will that help?"

"You've salted away every fact under the sun!"

"Oh, and you think I've just got 'How To Defuse A Bomb' tucked away in there somewhere?"

"Yes!" John yelled.

"He's not wrong." Jared said, and Sherlock thinks about it for a second.

"Maybe." Sherlock said, letting go of Jared's hand and bringing his fingers up to the sides of his face and screwing his eyes shut.

"Think." John said, intensely while Sherlock lifts his head a little, still concentrating before the army doctor spoke softly. "Think. Please think." Sherlock groans. "Think!"

Sherlock's hands come away from his face and flail, while his eyes remain closed and he continues to make groaning noises. John closes his eyes, shaking his head as the noises get louder and finally Sherlock lets out a cry and opens his eyes. He breathes heavily for a moment, then he lowers his hands and looks at John and Jared with a blank but apologetic look on his face. John stares at him in disbelief.

"Oh my God." John said, turning away.

Sherlock tears his scarf from around his neck and doubles over, burying his head in his hands, still making incoherent groaning noises. He drops to his knees next to the bomb while John wanders a little way down the carriage.

"This is it." John said, while Sherlock is flailing uselessly over the bomb behind him.

"It is." Jared said, as he is pacing back and forth still.

"Um, er ..." Sherlock said, and John stops and stares into space.

"Oh my God." John said, softly.

"Turn that off. Oh God! Er, um, er ..." Sherlock said, still patting around the device and mumbling vaguely.

1:29

John turns back towards Sherlock and Jared, and the consulting detective raises his head.

"I'm sorry." Sherlock said, softly.

John screws his eyes closed for a moment, then looks at Sherlock again, "What?"

"I can't ... I can't do it, John, Jared. I don't know how." Sherlock said, softly, his eyes starting to fill with tears, and he straightened up on his knees. "Forgive me and Jared?"

"Please, John. If this is our last adventure together. Can you please forgive us?" Jared asked.

"What?" John asked, tightly, furiously.

"Please, John, forgive me and Jared..." Sherlock said, bringing his hands up into a praying position. "... for all the hurt that we caused you."

"No, no, no, no, no, no. This is a trick." John said, waving a finger at Sherlock. "I can believe Jared. But not you, Sherlock."

"No."

"Another one of your bloody tricks."

"No."

"You're just trying to make me say something nice and you've convinced Jared to do the same." John said.

Sherlock chuckles briefly, "Not this time."

"It's just to make you look good even though you behaved like ..." John said, grimacing, fighting back tears, and turns away as he tries to steady his breathing.

Sherlock moves away from the bomb and he and Jared sit on the edge of two of the nearby seats. John grips one of the handrails, looking down at the floor, then stamps his foot furiously. His voice is low but savage when he speaks.

"I wanted the both of you not to be dead." John said.

"We know." Jared said, sadly.

"Yeah, well, be careful what you wish for." Sherlock said, while John sighs. "If we hadn't come back, you wouldn't be standing there and ..." Baring his teeth, John turns away, shaking his head. "... you'd still have a future ... with Mary."

"You would. You'll have a married future with Mary and maybe someday have a child." Jared said, frowning.

"Yeah. I know." John said, turning and pointing at Sherlock and Jared, grimacing and turns away again.

Sherlock clenches his fist against his mouth, then wipes his nose, his face full of despair. Finally John turns back.

"Look, I find it difficult." John said, his voice low and tight, while Sherlock and Jared nodded, their heads lowered. "I find it difficult, this sort of stuff."

"I know." Sherlock said, looking up at John.

"Same here. After all of these adventures, I became the Doctor." Jared said, looking up at John. "John, you're my only human connection since I don't have Team RWBY here."

John blows out a breath, lowering his head, then he straightens up and looks at Sherlock and Jared.

"You two were the best and the wisest men ..." John said, his voice not much more than a whisper, and he sniffs. "... that I have ever known." Sherlock and Jared look at the army doctor, both of their eyes wide and tear-filled. The blonde sighs, lowering his head again before raising it once more. "Yes, of course I forgive both of you."

Sherlock and Jared gazed at John. John meets Sherlock's eyes and Jared's eyes for a moment, then he takes in a deep breath through his nose, closes his eyes, raises his head and braces himself for death.

(Jared's POV)

From the point of view of a video camera, Sherlock and I are sitting on a sofa in front of a window and looking directly into the camera.

"The criminal network Moriarty headed was vast." Sherlock said.

Sherlock and I were standing beside Mycroft as he sits in his office in the Diogenes Club. Mycroft appears to be reading a report; Sherlock and I are looking at our phones.

"Its roots were everywhere like a cancer, so we came up with a plan." Sherlock said.

"This plan was foolproof." I said, as Mycroft started to type on his laptop. "All I was hoping for was for the events ahead to not change due to my presence alone."

Sherlock and I leaned down to look at the screen.

"That's all Jared was relying upon, a leap of faith. Mycroft fed Moriarty information about us." Sherlock said.

Mycroft was walking into Jim's cell, and Jim closing his eyes delightedly.

"Moriarty in turn gave us hints – just hints – as to the extent of his web. We let him go ..." Sherlock said, looking into the camera, as we remember Jim being taken into court for his trial. "... because it was important to let him believe he had the upper hand." He looked into the camera. "And then we sat back and watched Moriarty destroy our reputation bit by bit."

"The last time someone beat me, he took over the world." I said, looking back at the camera as I thought about Sherlock sitting on the floor in the lab at Bart's, repeatedly bouncing a small ball off the cupboard in front of him. "'The Year That Never Was' as me and my friends called it. That alternate 2008 to 2009 was super rough."

"We had to make him believe he'd beaten us, that Moriarty utterly defeated us, and then he'd show his hand." Sherlock said, and I thought about him, me, and on the rooftop, interspersed with Sherlock continuing to bounce the ball in the lab, and Sherlock and I on the roof looking around the area surrounding Bart's as if calculating escape routes. "There were thirteen likely scenarios once we were up on that roof. Each of them were rigorously worked out and given a code name. It wasn't just our reputation that Moriarty needed to bury – we had to die."

I then thought of Sherlock and I falling from the roof and John's anguished cry of our names.

Roof...

"You two can have me arrested ..." Jim said.

Mrs Hudson in the hallway of 221, bringing a mug of tea to the workman which he gratefully accepts, then – out of her sight – puts one of his tools into his toolbox, revealing the pistol and silencer lying inside.

"... you noth can torture me; the two of you can do anything you like with me ..." Jim said, as I thought about the plain clothes police officer looking ominously round to Greg in his office. "... but nothing's gonna prevent them from pulling the trigger." I thought about the sniper assembling his rifle in a building overlooking the pavement outside Bart's, while John is in a taxi on his way back to the hospital. "Sherlock, your only three friends in the world will die... and Jared, your only six friends in the world will die ... unless ..."

"... unless we kill ourselves – complete your story." Sherlock said.

Jim nods and smiles ecstatically, "You've gotta admit that's sexier."

Sherlock is shaking Jim's hand.

"But the one thing I didn't anticipate was just how far Moriarty was prepared to go. Jared knew just how far Moriarty was prepared to go due to his foreknowledge of all this being a TV show to him back then. I suppose that was obvious, given our first meeting at the swimming pool – his death wish, Moriarty's death wish." Sherlock said, as I thought about Moriarty shoving the pistol into his mouth and pulling the trigger, and Sherlock and I's cries of alarm as we recoil in shock, then look around and slowly go to the edge of the roof. "I knew we didn't have long. I contacted my brother; set the wheels in motion."

On the roof, Sherlock types a single word – LAZARUS – into his phone and sends the message.

"And then everyone got to work." Sherlock said, grabbing my hand.

On the ground, a group of men carry a giant airbag – currently deflated – out into the street. Molly looks out of the window. Sherlock and I stepped up onto the ledge. Beside the ambulance station, on the other side to where John will later stand, the team is rolling out the airbag. Molly closes her eyes briefly, then looks upwards. Standing a short distance away from the hospital, a woman looks up towards the roof as if awaiting a signal. John's taxi continues on its way to the hospital. As the airbag team continue their work, other people are standing and waiting. One of them has a stethoscope around his neck. The first woman looks around and sees the man on the cycle waiting nearby, one foot on a pedal and ready to go. A few feet away a second cyclist pushes his bike into position. The first cyclist has an earpiece in his ear, and many of the others – possibly all of them – do too. A faint male voice can be heard, presumably relaying instructions through the earpieces. John's taxi turns into the road near the ambulance station, and a large group of men comes around the corner behind it. The taxi pulls up. Sherlock takes his phone from his pocket and sees a reply to his earlier text:

LAZARUS IS GO

John gets out of the taxi and heads towards the hospital, taking Sherlock's phone call as he goes. Unseen by John – whose view is blocked by the ambulance station – the truck full of rubbish bags is in position by the bus stop, several people are waiting by the wall of the ambulance station, and the airbag is inflating at the other side of the station.

"It's a trick. Just a magic trick." Sherlock said, over the phone.

"All right, stop it now." John said, talking into the phone.

"No. Stay where you are. Don't move." I said, urgently.

On the far side of the station, the team is carrying the airbag forward with blowers still attached to it as it continues to inflate.

John's attention is fully focussed on Sherlock and I.

"All right." John said, talking into the phone.

The team puts the airbag down on the road just behind the truck.

"Keep your eyes fixed on us." Sherlock said, his voice becomes frantic. "Please, will you do this for us?"

The woman takes a phone call, and the second cyclist gets onto his bike.

Sherlock lowers his phone to his side, then drops it onto the roof.

"It was vital that John stayed just where we put him. That way, his view was blocked by the ambulance station." Sherlock said, as a voice over.

John lowers his own phone and screams upwards, "SHERLOCK! JARED!"

Sherlock and I spread our arms to either side and fell forward, plummeting towards the ground. Inside the building, Molly and Martha gasp as we fall past her window. From John's point of view, the last thirty feet or so of the fall are blocked from his view by the station.

Unseen by John, Sherlock and I are plunging towards the airbag, twisting as we go.

"We needed to hit the airbag – which we did." Sherlock said, as a voice over.

We had turned ourselves onto his back in mid-air and made a perfect landing in the centre of the airbag. Immediately everyone else springs into action, starting to run into position.

"Speed was paramount." Sherlock said, as a voice over.

We scramble towards the edge, the team pushing the bag down to help us get off quickly.

"The airbag needed to be got out of the way just as John cleared the station." Sherlock said, as a voice over.

The moment Sherlock and I are on the ground, the team picks up the airbag and starts to run towards the left-hand side of the station. John starts to run along the right-hand side of the station. More extras are running into position.

"But we needed him to see a body." Sherlock said, as a voice over.

Inside the hospital, a body is lying on a stretcher dressed in a Belstaff coat and a blue scarf. Molly, Martha, and two male team members haul the bodies up and shove them out of the open window. The bodies impact the ground directly below where Sherlock and I fell.

"That's where Molly came in." Sherlock said, as a voice over.

"As well as Martha. Martha-Smith Jones, knowing me for years, helped with this." I said, as a voice over. "Martha trusts me as much as she does with the Doctor, Anderson."

Sherlock and I run with the airbag team as they head around the left side of the station. On the other side of the station, the cyclist is pedalling after John.

"Like figures on a weather clock, we went one way, John went the other." Sherlock said, as a voice over.

John runs to the corner of the station, then slows down and stops in the middle of the road as he gets his first glimpse of the still figure lying on the pavement. The extras are already starting to gather around it, and the truck drives away.

"Then our well-timed cyclist ..." Sherlock said, as a voice over.

The cyclist slams into John and sends him crashing to the ground.

"... put John briefly out of action ..." Sherlock said, as a voice over.

At the other side of the station, a man is applying fake blood to Sherlock's head and my head. Two men come out of the hospital gates and race towards the bodies.

"... giving us time to switch places with the corpses on the pavement." Sherlock said, as a voice over.

The two men pick up the bodies and drag them away. While John lies on the ground struggling to remain conscious, Sherlock and I race in and lie on the pavement, while the extras run in to surround us. The bodies are dragged back into the hospital grounds and the gates are closed.

"The rest was just window dressing." Sherlock said, as a voice over.

A woman kneels down and pours a bag of blood onto the pavement around Sherlock's head and my head, and the man with the stethoscope applies more blood to Sherlock's face and my face.

"Think of it like special effects. Like the audience in Elizabethan England thinking the witches in Love's Labour's Won was that when it was real." I said, as a voice over.

Grimacing with pain, John rolls onto his side and looks across to the pavement.

"And one final touch ..." Sherlock said, as a voice over.

While the extras finish applying blood to Sherlock and I, we reach into our coat pockets and take out the rubber ball the consulting detective was playing with earlier as he handed one to me.

"... squash balls under the armpits." Sherlock said, as a voice over.

We reach inside our shirts and push the ball under our right arms.

"Apply enough pressure and it momentarily cuts off the pulse." Sherlock said, as a voice over.

"I didn't even have to use the STL this time." I said, as a voice over. "Like how I used it for Lake Silencio."

Slowly John hauls himself to his feet and stumbles across the road, while one of the extras checks Sherlock's right wrist and another checks my wrist to make sure there's no pulse. John finally reaches the crowd.

"Let me come through, please." John said, while the bystanders try to hold him back.

"It's all right ..." A woman said.

"No, they're my friends."

"It's all right, it's all right."

"No, they're my friends." John said, as the woman continues trying to reassure him as he pushes forward to take hold of Sherlock's wrist, then my wrist. "They're my friends. Please, let me just check..."

The bystanders pull him away. A stretcher is wheeled over and, while John watches in anguish, the bodies are lifted onto it.

Anderson's living room...

In front of the video camera, Sherlock and I looked dispassionately into the lens. Anderson is sitting on a chair on the other side of the camera.

"Everything was anticipated; every eventuality allowed for. It worked ..." Sherlock said, smiling slightly. "... perfectly."

"More perfectly than Lake Silencio." I said, happily.

"Molly and Martha? Molly Hooper and Martha-Smith Jones? They were in on it?" Anderson asked.

"Yup. They were. Do you remember the girl that was abducted by Moriarty?"

I closed my eyes to think about Claudette Bruhl screaming at the sight of Sherlock and pointing at him, and Lestrade dragging him out of the room.

"Get out!" Lestrade yelled.

I then thought about Anderson and Sally Donovan standing in front of Lestrade while they made him consider Sherlock's guilt and my guilt.

"You assumed she reacted like that because I was her kidnapper. But I deduced Moriarty must have found someone who looked very like me to plant suspicion, and that that man – whoever he was – had to be got out of the way as soon as his usefulness ended. That meant there was a corpse in a morgue somewhere that looked just like me. And I assumed that there was another corpse in a morgue somewhere that looked just like Jared." Sherlock said.

"For me, it's not that hard with the Torchwood software. All Martha had to do was get in contact with Jack." I said, happily. "Martha, Jack, and I go back a long way, Anderson."

Anderson nods, "Clever."

"Molly and Martha found the bodies, faked the records, and we provided the other coats. We've got lots of coats." Sherlock said.

"And what about the sniper aiming at John?" Anderson asked.

"Mycroft's men intervened before he could take the shot. He was invited to reconsider." Sherlock said.

I closed my eyes to think about Mycroft answering his ringing phone.

"Is it done?" Mycroft asked, listening for a moment. "Good."

Mycroft hangs up.

"And Sherlock, what about your homeless network?" Anderson asked.

"As I explained, the whole street was closed off ..." Sherlock said, smiling. "... like a scene from a play." Anderson looks at Sherlock and I thoughtfully. "Neat, don't you think?"

Anderson looks off to the side, "Hmm."

"What?" Sherlock asked.

Anderson shrugs, "Not the way I'd have done it."

"Oh really?" Sherlock asked, folding his arms.

"No, I'm not saying it's not clever, but ..." Anderson said.

"What?" Sherlock asked, sternly.

Anderson shrugs again and waves his arm about as if he's searching for the right words, "... Bit ... disappointed."

Sherlock sighs, "Everyone's a critic. Anyway, that's not why we came."

"No?" Anderson asked.

"No. I think you know why we're here, Phillip. 'How I Did It' by Jack the Ripper?" Sherlock asked.

Anderson looks at us wide-eyed, his mouth opening but no words coming out for a moment. He lowers his head.

"Didn't you think it was intriguing?" Anderson asked, looking up hopefully.

"Lurid. A case so sensational, you hoped we'd be interested." Sherlock said, standing up.

"And that is despite the fact that Madame Vastra encountered Jack the Ripper during Victorian times." I said, rolling my eyes. "You overdid it, Phillip."

"Jared's right. You did overdo it. You and your little 'fan club.'" Sherlock said, pacing around Anderson.

"I just couldn't live with myself, knowing that I'd driven the both of you to ..." Anderson said, stopping.

"But you didn't. You were always right. We weren't dead."

"No. No, and everything's okay now, isn't it?" Anderson asked, staring up at Sherlock while the consulting detective continued to pace.

"Yeah." Sherlock said, while Anderson laughs in a relieved way, and the consulting detective stops and looks down at him. "Of course you've wasted police time, perverted the course of justice, risked distracting us from a massive terrorist assault that could have both destroyed Parliament and caused the death of hundreds of people."

"Oh, God." Anderson said, tearfully breaking down in tears, grabbing Sherlock and I and pulling us close. "Oh, God, I'm sorry, Sherlock, Jared. I'm so sorry."

Anderson hangs on to us and weeps against Sherlock's coat and my hoodie. Looking uncomfortable, Sherlock tentatively pats him on the shoulder a couple of times.

"It's okay, Anderson." I said, as Anderson abruptly stopped crying and looking round. "I forgive you. Sherlock does too."

"Hang on." Anderson said, standing up and walks over to his wall of papers. "That doesn't make sense." Behind him, Sherlock and I roll our eyes and the two of us quietly sigh with an exasperated sound. "How could the two of you be sure John would stand on that exact spot? I mean, what if he'd moved?"

Sherlock turns and quietly leaves the room with me.

"Hey – how did you do it all so quickly? What if the bike hadn't hit him?" Anderson asked, oblivious to the departure of Sherlock and I, before becoming suspicious. "And anyway, why are the both of you telling me all this?" He chuckles. "If you two'd pulled that off, I'm the last person you both would tell the truth ..."

Turning around, Anderson trails off when he realises that he's alone in the room. He stares for a moment, then chuckles. He switches between looking at all his paperwork and looking to where Sherlock and I had been standing.

"Sherlock Holmes and Jared Shay!" Anderson said, quietly, sounding amused before chucking again, pointing to the spot where Sherlock had just been standing, before speaking even softer,with a combination of amusement and exasperation. "Sherlock! Jared!"

Anderson's chuckle slowly develops into laughter, and then into hysterical laughter as he starts tearing at the papers on the wall, ripping them off and whooping and giggling. Eventually he collapses in the corner, rising up onto his knees to continue clawing at the papers and still laughing hysterically until he slumps back down again.

(Open POV)

John is standing in the Tube carriage with his eyes closed and his head raised. He grips the handrail and lowers his head, blowing out a long breath. Nearby it sounds as if Sherlock and Jared are crying. Both of their heads are lowered and the back of their hands are across their mouths while their bodies shake with what seem to be sobs. John screws his eyes even more tightly closed. Sherlock and Jared lowered their hands and turned their heads away, then turned back, hooting with laughter. John opens his eyes and looks across to them as Sherlock and Jared giggles in high-pitched hilarity. Staring at them, John steps forward and looks down at the countdown clock on the mother bomb. It is repeatedly flicking back and forth between 1:28 and 1:29. John turns away as if he can't believe it.

Jared closed his eyes to think about Sherlock frantically staring down at the bomb while John turns away. Sherlock's gaze immediately falls on a small switch on the side of the bomb. He grins, then squeezes his fingers down the side of the device to flick the switch.

In the present, John turns back to look at the clock again and then stares upwards in disbelief.

"You ..." John said, and Sherlock and Jared stood up, tears of mirth streaming down his cheeks.

"Oh, your face!" Sherlock siad, laughing hysterically.

"We got him good, didn't we?" Jared asked, looking at Sherlock.

"We did."

"... utter ..." John said.

"Your face!" Sherlock said, excitedly.

"You ..."

Sherlock grins, "We totally had you."

"You cocks! I knew it! I knew it! You f..." John said.

"Oh, those things you said – such sweet things! I-I never knew you cared!" Sherlock said, simultaneously.

"I will kill the both of you if either of you ever breathe a word of this ..." John said, glaring at Sherlock and Jared.

"I won't. I promise." Jared said, happily.

"Scout's honour." Sherlock said, grinning while holding up two fingers in a Boy Scout's salute.

"... to anyone. You both KNEW!" John yelled.

"Ahh." Sherlock said, squatting down to the bomb.

"Sherlock, you knew how to turn it off!" John said, furiously.

"John, there's an off switch to the bomb." Jared said, smiling.

"What?"

"There's always an off switch." Sherlock said, while John bends down to look at the switch, and the consulting detective stands up again. "Terrorists can get into all sorts of problems unless there's an off switch."

"So why did you and Jared let me go through all that?" John asked, tightly.

"I didn't lie altogether. I've absolutely no idea how to turn any of these silly little lights off." Sherlock said, chuckling and wipes the tears off his cheeks. "Oh!"

Through the open door of the driver's cab, a voice over a walkie-talkie radio can be heard, and flashlight beams are approaching along the tunnel. John stares, then points towards them.

"And Jared, you did call the police." John said.

"Of course I called the police. I didn't do that when I was in Victorian London." Jared said, looking at John. "Clara got mad when the Doctor and I didn't do it there."

Three armed officers are approaching, flashlights shining from their raised rifles.

"I'm definitely gonna kill both of you." John said, looking between Sherlock and Jared.

"Oh, please! Killing us – that's so two years ago." Sherlock said, quirking a smile at John, he turned and headed towards the driver's cab with Jared.

Despite himself, John lets out a silent laugh. Sherlock chuckles as he continues on with Jared, and John lets out an exasperated sigh.

HOTEL...

A uniformed female member of staff wheels a trolley along the corridor, presumably on her way to deliver a meal to one of the rooms. She passes Room 305 and the camera stops and focuses on the door. Lord Moran opens the door and looks cautiously up and down the corridor before picking up his briefcase and leaving the room. When he gets to the lift, he presses the Down button repeatedly, clearly not understanding that, like traffic lights, pushing the button more than once will never make things happen more quickly. It doesn't matter anyway, because almost immediately a gun is cocked behind his head and the muzzle held to the back of his neck. The gun is being held by the uniformed woman we just saw. As Moran raises his hands, two men run towards him from opposite directions, also aiming pistols at him.

(Jared's POV)

BAKER STREET...

It is now daytime and outside the door to 221, reporters and photographers are milling around in the road.

221B Baker Street...

Over a phone can be heard the song 'Do you hear the people sing?' from 'Les Miserables.'

Mycroft's voice comes over the phone, his tone desperate, "Sherlock, please. I beg of you. You or Jared can take over at the interval."

Sherlock is in his bedroom, walking over to the wardrobe mirror and one-handedly buttoning his jacket over the purple shirt.

"Oh, I'm sorry, brother dear, but you made a promise. There's nothing we can do to help." Sherlock said, talking into his phone.

"Sorry Mycroft." I said, drinking a bottle of Coke.

"But you don't understand the pain of it – the horror!" Mycroft said, his voice over the phone.

Grinning, Sherlock ends the call and the two of us turn to John who is approaching along the corridor.

"Come on, Sherlock, Jared. You two will have to go down. They want the story." John said.

"Lake Silencio was much easier than this." I said, while Sherlock rolled his eyes and walked past John and I. "Much, much easier."

"In a minute." Sherlock said.

We walk into the living room where Mary is sitting on the sofa holding a glass of champagne. Mrs Hudson sits in the nearby chair and Greg is sitting in John's chair, also holding a champagne glass. Sherlock pops the cork on a new bottle and walks across the room with the bottle and a glass, kneeling down beside the coffee table to pour.

"Oh, I'm really pleased, Mary. Have you set a date?" Mrs Hudson asked.

"Er, well we thought May." Mary said, happily.

"Oh! Spring wedding!"

"Yeah. Well, once we've actually got engaged."

"Yeah."

"We were interrupted last time." Mary said, looking pointedly at Sherlock.

"Yeah." John said.

"John, Mary, I want to know if I can go to America a month before your wedding." I said, smiling. "There's a court trial I have to attend. It'll be quick. I promise."

"You can."

"Don't keep us waiting." Mary said, as Sherlock smiled at her. "This case involves Dahlia Hawthorne, I assume."

"It does." I said, sadly.

"Well, I can't wait for the wedding." Lestrade said, raising his glass in a toast.

John, who has just put his jacket on, smiles round at him. Putting down the glass he just poured, Sherlock stands up and walks towards the far window.

"You will be there, Sherlock?" Mary asked.

"Weddings – not really my thing." Sherlock said, looking across and winking at Mary.

"It is more of my thing than Sherlock's. I've attended two weddings of Donna Noble, a wedding of the Ponds, and a wedding between the Doctor and River Song." I said, and Mary smiled. "I wouldn't miss your wedding with John, Mary."

The door opens.

"Hello, everyone." Molly said.

"Hey, Molly." John said.

"This is Tom." Molly said, holding hands with the man accompanying her, causing John to stares at her boyfriend, almost does a double-take and then looks across the room to where Sherlock is looking out of the window. "Tom, this is everyone."

"Hi." Tom said, while John continues to look at him in surprise.

Tom could practically cosplay Sherlock at any respectable fandom convention. He is tall and slender, has dark curly hair – a little shorter than Sherlock's – and has large pale blue eyes and prominent cheekbones. He is wearing a dark coat with the collar turned up and the scarf around his neck is tied the same way that Sherlock ties his.

"Hi." Lestrade said.

"It's really nice to meet you all." Tom said, while he looked at John and I. "Hi."

"Hey." I said, as John looked Tom up and down, grinning, then finally pulled himself together. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Jared."

"Wow. Yeah, hi Tom. I'm John." John said, shaking Tom's hand. "Good to meet you."

John looks across to Sherlock, who turns round from the window.

"Ready?" Sherlock asked.

"Ready." John said.

"Ditto." I said, smirking.

Tom turns to meet Sherlock, who smiles down at Greg as he walks past him, then catches sight of Tom for the first time. He stops dead and his eyes widen. Tom looks at him equally wide-eyed as Sherlock gives him the once-over from his feet upwards.

"Champagne?" Lestrade asked, walking across the room behind us.

"Yes." Molly said, and Sherlock's jaw drops open a little and he turns his eyes towards John and I, who grins back at him expectantly.

Finally Sherlock holds out his hand to Tom, and they shake hands. Glancing down at Molly, Sherlock walks in between the couple and out of the door with me. Tom turns to watch him go.

Greg hands Molly a glass of champagne.

"Thanks." Molly said.

John starts to follow Sherlock and I, but stops briefly to take another look at Tom, who is taking a glass from Greg.

"Thank you." Tom said.

Still apparently not quite able to take in the similarity, John heads out of the room and closes the door behind him.

Mrs Hudson gestures Tom towards the sofa, "Sit down, love."

"Oh, thanks." Tom said, as he walks over there, Greg turns to Molly.

"So, um, is it serious, you two?" Lestrade asked.

"Yeah! I've moved on!" Mary said, smiling.

A little doubtfully, Greg looks across to Tom who is already being chatted to by Mary and Mrs H.

Outside on the landing, John walks over to Sherlock and I, where the consulting detective is looping his scarf around his neck. John points back towards the door.

"Did you, er ...?" John asked, quietly.

"I'm not saying a word." Sherlock said, quietly.

"No, best not." John said.

"If only you were able to meet the Doctor, Sherlock." I said, and Sherlock looks down at how he has just tied his scarf, then throws up his hands with an exasperated expression and sighs. "Then WhoLock can be real."

John looks at the door again, then turns back to Sherlock and I, "I'm still waiting."

"Hmm?" Sherlock asked.

"Why did they try and kill me? If they knew you were on to them, why go after me – put me in the bonfire?" John asked.

"I don't know. I don't like not knowing." Sherlock said, picking up his coat and trotting down the stairs, John and I followed. "Unlike the nicely embellished fictions on your blog where Jared helps you come up with the case titles, John, real life is rarely so neat." He stops at the bottom of the stairs to put on his coat where John and I stop a couple of steps from the bottom. "I don't know who was behind all this, but I will find out, I promise you."

"Don't pretend you and Jared are not enjoying this." John said.

"Hmm?" Sherlock asked, not looking round.

"Being back. Being heroes again."

"Oh, don't be stupid." Sherlock said, scoffing.

"You'd have to be an idiot not to see it. The both of you love it." John said, looking between Sherlock and I.

"Love what?" Sherlock asked, turning to face John.

"Being Sherlock Holmes and Jared Shay."

"I don't even know what that's supposed to mean." Sherlock said, turning and walking down the hall, putting on his gloves.

"Just because I'm one of the main characters, John. It doesn't mean I love this." I said, frowning.

"Sherlock, Jared, you are gonna tell me how you did it? How the two of you jumped off that building and survived?" John asked.

"You know our methods, John. We are known to be indestructible." Sherlock said, stopping but not turning around.

"No, but seriously. When you were dead, I went to your graves."

"I should hope so."

"I made a little speech. I actually spoke to you two."

"We know. We were there." Sherlock said, turning to look at John.

"I asked the two of you for one more miracle. I asked you both to stop being dead."

"We heard you." Sherlock said, softly.

"We did. I stopped by the graves before going to Trenzalore." I said, and the three of us look at each other for a moment, then Sherlock drew in a sharp breath and turned round.

"Anyway, time to go and be Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock said, smiling and starts towards the door, then hesitates for a moment and grimaces slightly before reaching to the coat rack.

Taking his deerstalker from its peg, Sherlock puts it onto his head and tugs it into position, then opens the front door and goes out with me to meet the reporters as they gather round us, taking photos and shouting questions. John closes the door and steps to our side.

Appledore...

Somewhere in a creepy-looking storage room, or laboratory, or warehouse, many rows of shelves are filled with files and folders. Displayed around the room are grotesque dolls, stuffed animals and unpleasant-looking sculptures. At the end of the room, a man wearing thin-rimmed glasses is watching film or CCTV footage displayed on the wall. It shows several angles of John being rescued from the bonfire. Some of it is on a loop, and Mary's anguished cry of 'John!' repeats several times while Sherlock drags John out from underneath the bonfire. The man watches intently as the footage repeats over and over again, and his gaze finally settles on a freeze-frame of Sherlock leaning down to the fire just before he pulls John free. The man looks fixedly at Sherlock's image ... and his pupils rapidly contract.