(SCOTLAND YARD, Alice’s POV: )

Greg handed a sheet of paper to Sherlock as he led him, John and I into the department’s main office.

“This fax arrived an hour ago,” He said, sounding business-like. I walked on my tip-toes to see the note over Sherlocks shoulder. There was a large handwritten note on the paper saying:

“HURRY UP

THEY’RE

DYING!”

Sherlock handed the note to me, and then I passed it to the doctor.

“What have you got for us?” Lestrade asked.

“Need to find a place in the city where all five of these things intersect,” Sherlock explained. He handed a piece of paper to Greg, who read it aloud.

“Chalk, asphalt, brick dust, vegetation... What the h*** is this? Chocolate?” He questioned, unbelieving.

“I think we’re looking for a disused chocolate factory,” I said happily, thinking about dark chocolate. John gave me a look.

“We need to narrow that down. A sweet factory with asphalt?” Lestrade replied.

“No. No-no-no. Too general. Need something more specific. Chalk; chalky clay – that’s a far thinner band of geology,” Sherlock clarified.  He looked in front of him, his eyes going crazy. I could only guess that he was looking at a mental map.

“Brick dust?” Lestrade scoffed.

“Building site. Bricks from the nineteen fifties,” Sherlock answered.

“There’s thousands of building sites in London,” Lestrade complained, rubbing his face in despair. Sherlock looked exasperated at the distraction.

“I’ve got people out looking,” The detective told the DI.

“So have I,” Lestrade reasoned.

“Homeless network – faster than the police,” Sherlock said, smiling snidely.

“Far more relaxed about taking bribes,” I added. Sitting at a desk nearby, Anderson looked up and rolled his eyes. Sherlock’s phone trilled a text alert, followed by several more alerts. He brandished his phone triumphantly at Greg as the messages continued to pour in. Smiling smugly, he lifted the phone up high and called up his mental map in front of him again, flicking his eyes across to the phone to look at each photograph and then “transfer” it to the map.

“John, Alice,” He called. He held the phone out to show us the picture. I had no idea what was special about it.

“Rhododendron Pentium. It matches,” he said, sort of not really explaining. He went back to the mental map and after just a few seconds, found what he was looking for,

“Addlestone,” He announced.

“What?” Lestrade asked.

“There’s a mile of disused factories between the river and the park. It matches everything,” Sherlock explained. He turned and hurried out of the office with John and I in hot pursuit.

ADDLESTONE

Several police cars raced to the disused factory and the police officers, together with Sherlock, John and I ran inside the dark building. Everyone switched on flashlights and Sally coordinated the police as they started to search in all directions.

“You, look over there. Look everywhere. Okay, spread out, please. Spread out,” She ordered. Greg led another team, including us three, into another part of the factory. Lestrade directed his officers.

“Look in there. Quietly. Quietly,” He said softly. As we made our way deeper into the factory, Sherlock and I found a large number of empty sweet wrappers scattered on the floor around a candle on a plate. Sherlock bent down and touched the wick of the candle.

“This was alight moments ago,” He told me- or himself. I’m not sure. He called out loudly,

“They’re still here.” I bent down next to him and he froze for a moment, as if considering something. He reached into his pocket, and then brought his hand out again empty. I was confused, but didn’t ask. “Sweet wrappers. What’s he been feeding you?” He mumbled. He picked up one of the wrappers and looked at it more closely.

“Hansel and Gretel,” I said. He held the wrapper closer to the beam of his flashlight and sniffed the paper before touching the tip of his tongue to it and grimacing at the taste. I sighed. He looked at the wrapper in startled realization of what he had just tasted.

“Mercury,” He said, surprised and a little intrigued.

“What?” Lestrade asked.

“The papers: they’re painted with mercury,” Sherlock explained. John groaned.

“Lethal. The more of the stuff they ate...” I realized.

“It was killing them,” John said.

“But it’s not enough to kill them on its own. Taken in large enough quantities, eventually it would kill them,” I continued, gesturing appropriately.  The police continued searching the building but Sherlock was now locked onto his thoughts about the riddle.

“He didn’t need to be there for the execution. Murder by remote control. He could be a thousand miles away… The hungrier they got, the more they ate... the faster they died.” He grinned. “Neat.”

“Sherlock,” John and I warned.

“Over here!” Donovan called. Everyone ran in the direction of her voice. Sally and other officers reached down to the lost-now-found children. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry,” She said comfortingly.

SCOTLAND YARD

Sherlock was pacing outside an office while John sat nearby. I sat next to John, rubbing my ring and my mind anywhere but the riddle. The door to the office opened and Donovan and Lestrade came out.

“Right, then. The professionals have finished. If the amateurs wanna go in and have their turn...” Donovan said sarcastically to Sherlock. John stood up and walked over to the others and I sighed and got up as well. Lestrade looked seriously at Sherlock.

“Now, remember, she’s in shock and she’s just seven years old, so anything you can do to...” Lestrade warned.

“...not be myself,” Sherlock finished.

“Yeah. Might be helpful. Alice could do it. She’d be best, actually,” He replied, rambling a bit at the end to himself. Sherlock looked round to John and I and, doing everything but roll his eyes, reached up and unpopped the collar of his coat, folding it down flat before leading us and the others into the office. The little girl was sitting at a table looking down into her lap. A female liaison officer was sitting beside her stroking her arm reassuringly. I looked at her sadly, feeling bad for her. Being in shock at that age was not pleasant.

“Claudette, I...” Sherlock began, walking in and making sure she would be able to see me beside him. He got no further as the girl lifted her head, took one look at him and began to scream in terror. “No-no, I know it’s been hard for you,” Sherlock continued, trying to be reassuring. I was frozen in surprise at her reaction to Sherlock. I mean, I felt like doing that sometimes, but not- not like that. She continued screaming and scrambled to get away while pointing at him in terror. “Claudette, listen to me...” Sherlock began to beg.

“Out. Get out!” Lestrade commanded urgently, grabbing his arm, and bundling Sherlock out of the room as the girl’s screams continued. Sherlock pulled me along with him.

Shortly afterwards, Sherlock was standing at the window of another office looking out into the night through the slats of the Venetian blinds. Donovan stood at the other side of the office watching him thoughtfully. I stood with my back to Sherlock’s, looking into the room tiredly.  

“Makes no sense,” John said, breaking the silence.

“The kid’s traumatised. Something about Sherlock reminds her of the kidnapper,” Lestrade reasoned.

“So what’s she said?” I asked.

“Hasn’t uttered another syllable,” Donovan answered, glaring at me.

“And the boy?” John questioned.

“No, he’s unconscious; still in intensive care,” Lestrade replied. I groaned and leaned back on Sherlock. His balance didn’t falter. Suddenly he grabbed my arm and made it to where I was looking across the way to the building opposite to Scotland Yard. On the second floor, spray paint had been applied to three of the office windows. Sherlock and I stared at the enormous letters that had been painted:

“I O U” Seconds later, the lights on that floor went out. I felt an uncomfortably familiar sensation in my stomach and I –as a subconscious action- brought a hand up. Behind us, the others were unaware of what we had just seen because the view was blocked by the blinds.

“Well, don’t let it get to you. I always feel like screaming when you walk into a room! In fact, so do most people,” Lestrade told Sherlock, voicing my thoughts from earlier and smiling a little. He looked round to Sally and John. “Come on,” He said. He and John left the room. Sally stayed behind as Sherlock turned away from the window and walks towards the door, holding my wrist and dragging me along.

“Brilliant work you did, finding those kids from just a footprint. It’s really amazing,” Donovan suddenly said, sounding sincere at the beginning but her tone becoming… suspicious at the end.

“Thank you,” Sherlock replied, not really thinking about what she said.

“Unbelievable,” She added pointedly. Sherlock hesitated momentarily, then continues on, still holding onto my wrist.

Outside shortly afterwards, John waited for Sherlock and I to join him and then looked down the street.

“Ah,” He said, happy that a cab stopped for him and his short stature. He raised his hand to hail the approaching taxi. As we walked to the edge of the curb, John looked round to Sherlock. “You okay?” The doctor asked.

“Thinking,” Sherlock replied. The taxi pulled up at the curb.

“This is our cab. You get the next one,” Sherlock said before John could climb in.

“Why?” John questioned.

“You might talk,” Sherlock replied curtly. He held the door open and tugged on my wrist to tell me that I was supposed to go with him.

“And Alice won’t?” John mumbled as Sherlock got in and closed the door.

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