(John’s POV: )

Shortly afterwards we were walking down a street. Alice walked on my right instead of my left, away from Sherlock. That seemed curious to me but again, I told myself I would question her later.

“The missile defence plans haven’t left the country, otherwise Mycroft’s people would have heard about it. Despite what people think, we do still have a Secret Service.” Sherlock said.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve met them.” I said, hoping to get a smile from Alice. She didn’t even acknowledge my comment.

“This means whoever stole the memory stick can’t sell it or doesn’t know what to do with it. My money’s on the latter. We’re here.” Sherlock explained.

“Where?” I asked, looking around. Sherlock turned into the drive of a maisonette and trotted up the steps at the side of the building which lead to the front door of flat 21A on the first floor. As he rummaged in his pocket, I whispered to him urgently.

“Sherlock! What if there’s someone in?” I demanded. Alice looked sheepish as Sherlock began to pick the lock. Sherlock gave her a knowing smirk.

“There isn’t.” He told me. He finished picking the lock and went inside, Alice following close behind.

“J*sus!” I exclaimed softly. I hurried inside and shut the door. Sherlock trotted up the short flight of stairs ahead of him and walked into the living room. “Where are we?” I asked.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t I say? Joe Harrison’s flat.” Sherlock told me, not even looking.

“Joe...?” I asked quietly, immediately thinking of Lucy’s brother. Sherlock went straight over to the window and pulled back the net curtain. He grinned in satisfaction at the sight which greeted him outside. Alice was bent down next to him.

“You can hack and steal but you can’t pick a lock?” Sherlock whispered, looking directly at Alice, amused. I had a feeling I wasn’t meant to hear that, so I looked away.

“Shut up! I was too busy.” She complained, still whispering. Sherlock gave her a sarcastic look.

“Brother of West’s fiancée.” Sherlock said in his usual tone. Outside the window was a one-storey extension, the roof of which could be easily climbed onto from the window. The extension spread all the way to the bottom of the garden which ended in a wall, and directly on the other side of the wall was the railway line. “He stole the memory stick; killed his prospective brother-in-law.” Sherlock continued, dropping to his knees. He pulled out his magnifier and ran it slowly along the edge of the window sill. I walked across to him and peered over his shoulder as he found some tiny blood-red spots on the paint.

“Then why’d he do it?” I asked, straightening up. I turned as someone was unlocking the front door. Sherlock and Alice also immediately stood up.

“Let’s ask him.” Sherlock said, somewhat eagerly. Alice stood slightly behind Sherlock, looking like she was ready to pounce. Reaching round to the back of my jeans, I walked quietly to the door of the living room as the front door slammed. I stepped out onto the landing just as Joe, wearing his courier gear, was leaning his bicycle against the wall. When he saw me he picked up the bike as if he intended to use it as a weapon or simply to throw it at me. I instantly raised my right hand and pointed my pistol at him. Alice had done the same as me, and I thought back to her confession about her injury and military service.

“Don’t.” I warned sternly. Joe kept coming but I shook my head. “Don’t.” I repeated. Joe stopped and lowered the bike, sighing in a mixture of frustration and fear.

Shortly afterwards he was sitting on the sofa as we stood and looked at him. He was very distressed.

“It wasn’t meant to...” Joe started. Sherlock looked away, exasperated. “G*d.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “What’s Lucy gonna say? J*sus.” He sunk back into the sofa.

“Why did you kill him?” I asked.

“It was an accident.” Joe said honestly, or what seemed like honestly. Alice sighed quietly and sat on the windowsill, leaning forwards and her hands folded together with her elbows on her knees. Sherlock snorted. “I swear it was.” Joe said pathetically.

“But stealing the plans for the missile defence programme wasn’t an accident, was it?” Sherlock asked sternly.

“I started dealing drugs. I mean, the bike thing’s a great cover, right? I dunno – I dunno how it started; I just got out of my depth. I owed people thousands – serious people. Then at Westie’s engagement do, he starts talking about his job. I mean, usually he’s so careful; but that night after a few pints he really opened up. He told me about these missile plans – beyond top secret. He showed me the memory stick; he waved it in front of me. You hear about these things getting lost, ending up on rubbish tips and what-not. And there it was, and I thought... well, I thought it could be worth a fortune. It was pretty easy to get the thing off him, he was so plastered. Next time I saw him, I could tell by the look on his face that he knew.” Joe looked up guiltily at me.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Westie and I scuffled on the landing outside the front door. I... shoved Westie and he... lost his footing and rolled down the steps... and landed heavily on the ground. I was gonna call an ambulance, but it was too late. I just didn’t have a clue what to do, so I dragged him in ’ere, and I just sat in the dark, thinking.” Joe confessed, struggling to keep his voice from cracking.

“When a neat little idea popped into your head.” Sherlock said scornfully.

“I hauled Westie across to the window, and a train pulled up on the tracks outside. I had dragged Westie out of the window and tugged him across the extension roof. Pulling him over the top of the wall, I stepped across onto the roof of the train and dragged him over, setting it into a position along the slightly curved roof so that it wouldn’t easily fall off. I stepped back onto the wall and the train left.

“Carrying Andrew West way away from here. His body would have gone on for ages if the train hadn’t met a stretch of track that curved.” Sherlock said, pulling the curtain net aside to look out the window.

“And points.” I said. Joe was looking sorrowfully, hopefully maybe, at Alice. She looked up at him, seeming confused.

“Exactly.” Sherlock congratulated me.

“D’you still have it, then? The memory stick?” I asked. Joe nodded.

“Fetch it for me – if you wouldn’t mind.” Sherlock requested. Sighing unhappily, Joe stood up and, sharing a glance with Alice, walked into another room. Sherlock walked closer to me.

“Distraction over, the game continues.” He said quietly.

“Well, maybe that’s over, too. We’ve heard nothing from the bomber.” I suggested.

“Five pips, remember, John? It’s a countdown. We’ve only had four.”

-Chapter 26

(NIGHT TIME, 221B; Third Person: )

 All three of them were in their coats because the windows still hadn’t been replaced. Sherlock was sitting in his armchair with his feet up on the seat and his arms folded tightly around him, trying to conserve heat. The pink phone was on the arm of the chair. John was sitting at the dining table, typing on his laptop. Alice was on the floor in front of Sherlock, shivering and sitting the same way he was. The TV was on and a Jerry Springer/Jeremy Kyle-type show was playing. As the audience booed noisily, Sherlock yelled indignantly at the telly.

“No, no, no! Of course he’s not the boy’s father!” He gestured at the screen. “Look at the turn-ups on his jeans!” Alice smiled and rubbed her legs uncomfortably. Sighing, Sherlock folded his arms again. John, who had looked round to see what Sherlock was protesting about, got back to his typing.

“Knew it was dangerous.” He said, making sure Sherlock could hear.

“Hmm?” Sherlock asked, turning his head.

“Getting you into crap telly.” John answered.

“Hmm. Not a patch on Connie Prince.” Sherlock answered.

“Have you given Mycroft the memory stick yet?” John asked, glancing at Alice, who hadn’t spoken since the old woman had died as far as he remembered.

“Yep. He was over the moon. Threatened me with a knighthood – again.” Sherlock replied, sounding disgusted at the idea of a knighthood.

“You know, I’m still waiting.” John added.

“Hmm?” Sherlock hummed again.

“For you to admit that a little knowledge of the solar system and you’d have cleared up the fake painting a lot quicker.” John said smugly. Trying to avoid the subject, Sherlock offered Alice the small space next to him, noticing her shivering. She reluctantly got up and they sat in the exact same way as each other, squished rather uncomfortably, but warmly. John smiled suggestively at Alice before glaring at Sherlock again. After a while he answered,

“Didn’t do you any good, did it?”

“No, but I’m not the world’s only consulting detective.” John bargained.  Alice smiled.

“True.” Sherlock nodded, smiling as well. John had closed the lid of his laptop and now stood up. He looked at Alice from behind.

“Alice?” He asked. She turned her head and looked at him innocently. “Are you okay?” He asked again, looking at her, concerned.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” She tried. John gave her a sarcastic look and Sherlock snorted.

“You hadn’t spoken since the old woman and you... weren’t happy at the gallery. I was stressed too but it wasn’t near as bad as that.” John explained. Sherlock looked at Alice, who had sighed unhappily.

“Just, Sherlock seemed so indifferent when she died, and I guess it upset me. I understand he’s focused on his work but... he is human... And the gallery, I was just... you know... My PTSD doesn’t help with those types of situations either.” She said, not looking at Sherlock once. John nodded, understanding.

“’He’s’ right here.” Sherlock said, sounding offended. Alice smiled and stood up.

“I’m going out. Just call when you need me back.” She announced, going out the door. John smiled, happy that she had gotten that off her chest.

“I won’t be in for tea. I’m going to Sarah’s. There’s still some of that risotto left in the fridge.” John said, a bit after Alice had left.

“Mmm!” Sherlock hummed, his full attention on the telly. John stopped at the door.

“Uh, milk. We need milk.” John said, aggravated.

“I’ll get some.” Sherlock announced.

“Really?!” John asked, turning around with a look of disbelief on his face.

“Really.” Sherlock said sincerely.

“And some beans, then?” John tested.

“Mmm.” Sherlock... responded, still not looking away from the TV. John hesitated, still surprised, but then nodded and walked away. Sherlock continued to gaze at the TV until he heard the downstairs door open and close, then he picked up his computer notebook from where it was tucked down beside him. Putting it on his lap and opening the lid, he stared at the message box on The Science of Deduction website before starting to type.

“Found. The Bruce-Partington plans. Please collect.” He typed. He lifted his eyes in thought for a moment, then quirked a small smile before returning to his typing. “The Pool. Midnight.” He sent the message, and then closed the lid, gazing thoughtfully into the distance.

(Alice’s POV: )

I walked out of 221b feeling much more energized than I had before. I thanked John in my head and exited 221. I was already used to the cold air, but that didn’t mean it was comfortable. I rubbed my hands together and shoved them in my pockets, beginning down the street in front of Speedy’s. About a block away, a black Rolls Royce pulled up next to me. My first thought was Mycroft. The door opened and I cautiously entered. I sat down and closed the door and the car began again. The man across from me was most definitely not Mycroft, but his face was shadowed so I couldn’t tell.

“Assuming this isn’t friendly relations?” I asked, sounding more confident than I thought.

“Not this time, Miss White, but next time perhaps.” He answered. I pursed my lips. He had a... unique voice. It was different... familiar almost.

“So I’ll see you again.” I said a bit disgusted.

“You’ve seen me before.” He said, sounding hurt that I didn’t recognize him.

“Well you only gave me your voice, and I tuned you out most of the time so I didn’t have much to go on, ‘Jim’.” I answered. He leaned forward, letting me see his face. It was definitely Jim from IT, and he was smiling manically.

“Jim. Jim Moriarty.” He introduced, reaching his left hand out. I raised an eyebrow and, ignoring his hand, said,

“You’re the game master.” I said dryly. He cocked his head to side a little bit.

“Game master. Haven’t heard that one before. I’ll have to use that one someday.” He replied happily.

“We’re going to the pool, correct? And then you’re going to strap me to Semtex as a trap for Sherlock.” I said angrily. He mock clapped.

“Very good! Very good! Or molto bene, as you prefer.” He congratulated, saying the last bit ominously. I didn’t respond in any way. “I can see why Sherlock likes you.” He finished, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head. I frowned.

“Why John?” I asked simply. He sat back up, seemingly surprised at my question.

“Because Sherlock has a friend, my dear.” He answered.

“Why me?” I asked again.

“Oh, Alice, Alice, Alice, Alice... He likes you, love.” He answered. I scowled and shifted my weight a bit.

“I’m not your ‘love’, or ‘dear’. Don’t even start with me. I can make you miserable.” I warned. He smirked.

“It seems as though you do not realize the severity of the situation. I know exactly who you are. I know everything about you. Things not even you know-” I cut him off.

“I know perfectly well.” I said sternly. He frowned.

“Then you should do your best to not upset me, love.” He answered with equal severity to me. I folded my arms and sat back, glaring at Moriarty.

2 Chapter Summer Break Special!! =D Enjoy, vote, comment fun peoples!! Thank you!