THE BAKER STREET TRIO (SHERLOCK X READER)

Chapter 11; The Great Game

“You want to help, right?” Sherlock asked John.

“Of course.”

“Connie Prince’s background, family history, everything. Get me data.” Sherlock ordered.

“Right.” John nodded, wasting no time.

Y/N and Sherlock were out the door when Lestrade’s voice stopped them. “There’s something else that we haven’t thought of.”

“Is there?” Sherlock said flatly.

“Yes. Why is he doing this, the bomber?” Lestrade inquired.

Sherlock stopped in his tracks and turned slowly as Lestrade continued: “If this woman’s death was suspicious, why point it up?”

“Good Samaritan.” Sherlock offered.

“Who press-gangs suicide bombers?” Lestrade challenged.

“Bad Samaritan?” Y/N added lamely.

“I’m serious, here.” Lestrade insisted. “Listen, I’m cutting you slack here ― both of you ― I’m trusting you, but somewhere, some poor bastard’s covered in Semtex and just waiting for you to solve the puzzle. So just tell me, what are we dealing with?”

Sherlock and Y/N answered at the same time.

“Something new.”

“Something bad.”

~

A corkboard was mounted on the wall above the couch in 221B. It had notes from the past two cases and several photos of Connie Prince both dead and alive. Sherlock paced back and forth while Lestrade watched and Y/N sat in Sherlock’s chair with her tea, thinking.

“Connection, connection, connection. There must be a connection.” Sherlock muttered. “Carl Powers, killed twenty years ago. The bomber knew him, admitted that he knew him. The bomber’s iPhone was in the stationary from the Czech Republic. First hostage from Cornwall, the second from London, the third from Yorkshire judging by her accent.” Sherlock switched from one area of the board to other as he recounted each case.

“What’s he doing? Working his way around the world, showing off?” Sherlock wondered.

The pink phone rang. Sherlock answered immediately and put the call on speaker phone.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” An old woman said slowly as the line was fed to her. “Joining the dots.”

Y/N rose slowly from the chair and came to stand with her friends, listening in attentively.

“Three hours.” The woman gasped. “Boom. Boom.” She said with a sob before the line disconnected.

Sherlock shoved the phone away and steepled his fingers underneath his nose, letting out a frustrated breath. Y/N’s mind was working at full speed, trying to puzzle out the link between the three cases. She looked to her left at Sherlock and saw the tension coiled tightly in his shoulders and furrowed brow.

Without a word she placed a hand on his shoulder, moving her thumb back and forth soothingly. His posture relaxed minimally, but he hadn’t shied away from the contact, which made Y/N feel almost special.

“Ah!” Sherlock said softy, turning around and grabbing his mobile from the desk.

While he dialed and spoke to someone on the other end, Mrs. Hudson came up the steps with some biscuits and her signature “Hoo-hoo!”

“Hello, Mrs. Hudson.” Lestrade greeted fondly.

“Hi Mum.” Y/N said, giving the shorter woman a warm hug.