Chapter 25

John's POV

I looked at my boyfriend sceptically. "Are we really going to do this?"

Sherlock looked at me with an adorable, puzzled look on his face. "Why, yes of course. This is the only possible way out if such a dilemma."

"Sherlock, we're going to break in to Moriarty and Sebastian's room," I reminded him.

"No, I am going to break in, you're watching the door."

"Whatever. Shall we go now?"

Sherlock nodded and led me down the long hall to Moriarty's room. Sherlock knocked, and when there was no response, he picked the lock and went in. "Remember," he told me, looking at me, "If anyone comes, tap your fingers on the door and hold them off. Count to sixty then let them in. I'll jump out the window in that case."

I nodded as Sherlock silently closed the door, a bag over his shoulder, as he went to steal evidence of Mycroft and Greg kissing on the beach.

Everyone else was swimming and surfing, and Sherlock and I were stealing things. This camp had changed me. I was stealing things off of villains, lost my virginity to a male, and had almost drowned.

I stood there for a long while, before Sherlock opened the door and flew out, his bag now full of technology.

We ran back to our room and locked the door. I sat down on the cushiony carpet, and Sherlock joined me, putting the technology in front of us.

"Use gloves, and try get into these, okay?" An iPod and a cellphone were put in front of me. Sherlock had two laptops in front of him, and his gloved fingers were tapping away at the keys.

I got up and put on my gloves, before I sat back down and tried to get into them. "They're password protected," I commented.

Sherlock sighed impatiently. "Yes, that's why you have to think about it. Come on, we'll need to return these soon."

It was Tuesday evening, which meant movie night, so hopefully after swimming they'd get changed down in the little huts by the beach and then go straight through to the large lounging area, without coming back for anything.

I was typing in a pass code into the cellphone when it buzzed, indicating a text message. "Sherlock..."

Sherlock grabbed the phone out of my hand. He typed in a passcode telling me it is '4321' before reading the text message. A dark cloud passed over Sherlock's features before going back to neutral. "We need to see

Mycroft, immediately."

I had to jog in order to keep up with Sherlock as he briskly walked down to the lounging area. He had hidden all if the electronics belonging to Moriarty and Sebastian under the bed, but brought along the cellphone with him.

We went over to Mycroft when we got into the room occupied by the students, and Sherlock bent over and whispered something into Mycroft's ear.

"Bugger!" Mycroft whispered, getting up and following Sherlock out of the room. I followed the Holmes boys closely, and we all entered mine and Sherlock's room.

Sherlock pulled out the laptops and other equipment, and he helped Sherlock hack into it all, since I was apparently deemed incapable of such a thing.

"Sherlock, you mustn't go out there by yourself," Mycroft said as he tapped away on an iPod, deleting pictures and emails.

"And I don't mean you can just take John. I'll be out there too."

"Lestrade's father is a policeman, is he not?" Sherlock asked. "Call him out here, we may need his assistance."

"He's just returned from New Zealand, I doubt if the jet-lag will have passed by then."

"You're making up excuses," Sherlock tutted. "You just don't want any awkward moments to occur, but no doubt they will anyway."

"That's a lie," Mycroft tried.

"'Hello, Mr. Lestrade, thanks for your help, by the way, I'm shagging your son'," Sherlock said in a whiny voice, teasingly mimicking his older brother.

"Oh, do shut up, Sherlock."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Have you deleted everything?"

"Yes," Mycroft replied.

"Good." Sherlock and I took all the technology back, but Sherlock kept Moriarty's mobile, and we went and watched a movie with the rest of the students.

Eventually we all retired to our rooms, and I was changing into my boxer shorts when Sherlock stopped me. "No," he said, "we're going out again tonight. There is no point getting out of your clothing,"

"At what time?"

Sherlock handed me Moriarty's phone, and showed me a text on it. 'Meet me (it read) on the beach at two. Let no one else know. It's about Cory.'

"So... We're just going to ambush them, then?"

"I suppose you could put it like that, yeah."

"Have you any evidence to go on?"

"Sit down, and I'll tell you about it."

I sat down next to Sherlock and waited for him to explain. "I've said it many times, but Richard Cory was a wealthy man, who owned a lot of land, and had plenty of friends. He was a happy, carefree man, but his only sore point was that he was constantly on the news, despite being relatively private."

"Maybe he committed suicide because he felt suffocated?"

"No, no," Sherlock said impatiently. "I'll get to that momentarily. "He was always on the news, so everyone knew of his wealth and his succession, so he has really always been somewhat of a target.

"He managed to fall into the wrong crowd, getting into the middle of a drug ring, selling and buying drugs. It is also believed that he has done some despicable things, which makes him a more likely victim, and of course now a tragedy has occurred.

"Now for the gun. The bullet wound was on the right side of his head. Cory was left handed. There was nothing in his left hand to have made him use his right hand, and the wound inflicted was obviously fatal, therefore the trigger wasn't pulled by his own hand, for if it was he probably would've missed the target -his brain- and might still be alive. It would've been incredibly awkward for him to have to use his right hand, and obviously he couldn't have used his left hand, because that would've even worse for him."

"I think I understand. So what exactly are we going to do tonight?"

"Tell them what we know, and hope for a confession."

I kissed Sherlock on the cheek. "You're so clever," I told him lovingly.

"Obviously," he smirked, before passionately kissing me.

****

We walked down to the beach at a brisk pace, and I noticed Sherlock looking around carefully.

The moon illuminated the sand, and reflected off of the ocean beautifully. I thought back to the other night when Moriarty had told us to keep out of it.

Sherlock muttered something under his breath and pulled me back into one of the changing huts, and peeked around the door, looking out as three figures emerged from the darkness.

I got on the floor so I could see too what was happening.

Listening closely, I could just make out what was being said.

"What has happened?" Cane a German accent, sharp against in the peaceful night.

"Our electrical items were taken and-" the voice I recognised to be Moriarty's was cut off suddenly.

"I mean with Richard Cory, you halfwit! Have those boys stopped snooping about?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" The other man sounded annoyed and I could imagine the look on Moriarty's face.

"I can answer that," Sherlock pitched in, coming out of his hiding spot.

"Sherlock!" I said, trying to grab him, but only revealing that I too had been listening.

"We know all about the murder of Richard Cory."

"Murder, you say?" Said the older voice.

"Yes, Mr. Charles Augustus Milverton," Sherlock said the name slowly, "I know all about it, and what I didn't already know I know now. I know all about your blackmailing schemes, and how you're one of the slyest men in all of England. Everything has fallen into place."

"Oh really? And would you care to explain what it is you supposedly know?"

Sherlock took a deep breath before he began speaking. "Like I was telling John here earlier, Richard Cory was a wealthy man, who had no reason to commit suicide. He got in with a bad crowd, however, and had the unfortunate luck of becoming acquainted with Charles Augustus Milverton, the antagonist, and James Moriarty, an amateur criminal.

"Being placed under stress of being both blackmailed and threatened in other ways, Cory got himself into deeper trouble, and, through that, he became a dead man walking.

Moriaty had someone break into Cory's apartment, that person was none other than Sebastian Moran, who then killed our victim. Am I wrong?"

Charles, Moriarty and Sebastian, who was the third person, looked at Sherlock and I, obviously not knowing what to do.

Suddenly Sebastian jumped on Sherlock, and threw him to the ground. I then jumped on Sebastian, and pulled him off of my boyfriend, as Mycroft, Greg, Greg's policeman father and his squad, jumped out of their hiding spots, and tackled down the villains.

Once they had been carted off, we all went back to our rooms, and as Sherlock and I stripped down into our boxers and got into bed, I asked him how he had worked it all out.

"It was simple, really," Sherlock yawned. "I'll explain it some other time, but for now, let's go to sleep."

I climbed into the bed and allowed Sherlock to wrap his arms around my waist, and his legs to tangle with mine.