Sherlock - The Game Is On!

The Final Problem- Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Third POV

The white lights return and David whines quietly. John screws his eyes shut for a moment, and his finger wavers as he tries to apply pressure to the trigger. "Please!" He cries in desperation. John's finger begins to tighten on the trigger.

David closes his eyes again...

"I can't." He lowers the gun and turns to Sherlock. "I'm sorry. I can't do it." Weeping in anguish, David falls forward onto his hands. Sherlock steps towards John. "I know. It's all right."

David scrambles to his feet and runs to John, snatching the pistol from his hand and raises it in front of himself with both hands shaking as he stumbles backwards, crying. "Stop! No, no, stop." John tires to plead.

The Holmes brothers back away towards the wall, Sherlock and John holding out placatory hands towards David. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right." Sherlock forgives. "I'm so sorry." He turns the pistol and pushes the tip of the muzzle under his chin. "Remember me." He sobs out.

All three of them rush towards him but he pulls the trigger. They slow down and stop, John sighing out an anguished breath. As the bullet's shell clinks noisily to the floor, in the corner of the room rivulets of blood trickle down the glass wall.

Mycroft turns away choking, bracing one hand against the wall and coughing against the other hand as he tries not to vomit. Sherlock looks briefly towards him and then turns to John. "Are you all right?" John clenches his hands.

- - Interesting. - -

David's body is slumped in the left corner near the hatch, the pistol lying near his right hand. "All right, there you go. You got what you wanted..." Sherlock breathes sharply for a moment. "And he's dead."

- - Dead or alive... - -

She spins on her chair to face the screen.

- - He really wasn't very interesting, but you three... - -

S he leans closer to the camera.

- - You three were wonderful. Thank you. - -

She leans even closer.

- - You see, what you did, Doctor Watson... - -

John raises his head to look at her.

- - Specifically because of your moral code because you don't want blood on your hands, two people are dead instead of one. - -

"Two people?" John questions.

- - Yes. Sorry, hang on. - -

Eurus rotates the chair so that she's facing the window. The woman on the balcony is obscured from the men's view. She lifts a pistol high so that they can see the muzzle above the back of the chair, then lowers it and there's a gunshot.

John raises both hands to his head and backs away in frustration. "Oh!" Mycroft gasps and also turns away, sighing.

After a moment she rotates the chair round to face the side of the room. From the cell, David's wife can be seen slumped in the chair on the balcony, her head thrown back.

- - What advantage did your moral code grant you? - -

Sherlock looks dispassionate as he watches the screen. Behind him, John has both hands clasped behind his head and is breathing heavily.

As Eurus starts to speak again, Sherlock briefly presses his lips together:

- - Is it not, in the end, selfish to keep one's hands clean at the expense of another's life? - -

Lowering his hands, John takes a few paces towards the screen, shouting angrily towards it: "You didn't have to kill her!"

Eurus chuckles and turns more towards the camera.

- - The condition of her survival was that you or Mycroft had to kill her husband. This is an experiment. There will be rigour. Sherlock, pick up the gun. It's your turn next. - -

Sherlock turns to look at the pistol on the floor, lying near David's hand and a large pool of blood.

- - When I tell you to use it and I will, remember what happened this time. - -

"What if I don't want a gun?"

- - Oh, the gun is intended as a mercy. - -

"For whom?"

- - You... For now. - -

"How so?" Sherlock questioned again.

- - If someone else had to die, would you really want to do it with your bare hands? It would waste valuable time. - -

Sherlock turns to face and look at John. Mycroft stares at him, still wide eyed. John gazes beyond Sherlock towards the screen. "Probably just take it." He mutters to Sherlock.

Sherlock steps across the cell, bends down and picks up the gun. He takes out the clip and checks it, then slots it back into the grip and looks up to the screen. "There's only one bullet left."

- - You will only need one. But you will need it. - -

On the left wall, the second panel away from the glass slides to one side, revealing a narrow passageway.

- - Please, go through. There's a few tasks for you, and a girl on a plane is getting very, very scared. - -

Sherlock turns and walks towards the opening, then stops in the entrance and turns back to face his brother: "Treats?"

"Yes. You know, a violin."

"In exchange for?"

"She's very clever."

"I'm beginning to think you're not." Sherlock spoke with precise. The lights turn red as Mycroft lowers his eyes, and Jim's voice sounds cheerfully over the speakers:

- - Come on now! Aaaaaall aboard! Choo-choo! Choo-choo! - -

Sherlock turns and walks into the corridor, John following him.

On the screen, Jim pulls the imaginary cord of a steam train as he continues to make choo-choo noises.

Looking unhappily down to David's body, Mycroft follows the other two.

"Michelle? What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in the safe house." I twist my head around and notice Anthea. "Oh hiya." I welcomed. She huffed out a breath. "Well?"

"Oh yeah. Someone rigged the 'safe house' with explosives and I needed to get work done." I looked up once, before carrying on with my text to Mary. "What?! Are you alright?" She walked further into the room hurriedly. "Me? I'm fine. Good job she still owed me a favour."

"Who?"

"Anthea, darling." Irene's voice trailed on. "Auntie Shelly." Mj came bouncing through the door with her parents not far behind. I opened my arms to welcome the young spirited girl. "Hi, Mj." I twist my head. "Everything go according to plan?" I question Irene.

"Yes."

"Well, in that case, your off the hook. You have paid your debt." I smile. Irene walks forward graciously and opens up for a hug. "Thank you." She whispers into my side.

"General." Eric salutes. Stepping back from Irene, I too step forward and salute him. "Corporal Lyons. At ease, solider... Eric, how are you?" I step further and greet him with a hug. "I'm good. Took the old services bomb squad to sort everything out." I nod my head in appreciation.

"I'm sorry, I'm confused. Who rigged the house?"

"I thought it was obvious." I stated.