"It's true," said Casey to Eleanor. "She gets the best treatment here. Treated like a VIP, very important prisoner, and has the least amount of ties. She has no friends, and people are afraid of her. Gets the most visitors, has been everywhere in this prison. Knows things some guards don't even know."

Eleanor laughed. "I don't believe it."

"Who did you kill?" Eleanor and Casey dropped their comfort when Emma suddenly appeared beside them.

"What?" Casey questioned.

"Not you, Gallagher. Jordan. Who did you kill?"

Eleanor did not let Emma's demeanour ruin her own street cred. "How many names do you want?"

Emma laughed, putting Eleanor on edge. Eleanor dropped her eyebrows, ready to verbally attack, but Emma beat her to it. "Why did you do it? Want to know what blood looked like? What the stomach looked like? What the heart looked like? Want some extra cash? What did you want?"

Casey got up and left, obviously scared of Emma.

"Cut the crap," Eleanor said. "I've heard about you. Little Miss Perfect-"

"I prefer profound-"

"I don't care." Emma frowned, but Eleanor continued. "If you're as smart as they say you are, tell me who I killed."

With no hesitation, Emma answered. "Mom."

Eleanor laughed. "I never had a mom."

Emma giggled back, in a very mocking manner. "You had a sister though. A sister sixteen years older than you? Who took care of you because you didn't have a motherly figure? She's basically your mom. Is her name... Sophie?"

Eleanor visibly tensed up. "I don't know what game you're playing at, but I don't want to be a pawn."

"You're not," she quickly cut in. She needed Eleanor to be on her side, because Eleanor knew why Sherlock would soon come in to talk to her. "You're the most valuable player. I need you."

"Why?"

Before Emma could answer, a guard (the same as before) walked up to her. "Miss, you've got another visitor."
Eleanor scoffed as Emma walked back into the visitors room. With each and every footstep, Emma was taken less and less seriously. The noise of the other prisoners was quickly replaced by Eleanor's laugh, which would be permanently engraved in Emma's mind.

-------------

"I really hate jail."

"I know, you tell me that every time I visit."

Instead of the big otter in a scarf that she was expecting, she instead got a grieving man, one she actually did confront. "How are you doing John? I'm so sorry by the way. How's Rosamund?"

John hunched, clenched the phone tighter than before, knuckles turned white. "Crying, always. I don't know what's more annoying, living with Sherlock or being woken up in the middle of the night from a baby crying." Even though he missed Mary and still felt bad about cheating he managed to laugh at what he just said. John had a fantastic way with words.

Instead of smiling, Emma let out a growl, concerning John. "Is everything alright?"

"She won't talk to me. Can you read me your last blog post, but add some detail so I can imagine it like I was beside Sherlock? He's too technical."

"I haven't written any more blog posts. You know that."

Emma scoffed and shook her head. "She won't talk to me," she muttered.

"Who? The girl with the pink spiked hair? Or the one with the golden moustache?"

Emma laughed, "No, the one with the tattoo on her face. Eleanor. I need information on Eleanor. She knows what's going to happen."

"How?" John opened his wallet and took out a picture of Rosamund. Emma told him that whenever she sounded crazy he should take out a photograph of Rosie, and that Rosie's soft brown eyes would help calm her down. John put the picture against the glass and continued to speak. "No one knows the future for certain."

Emma lowered the phone and her head with it, hiding from the friendly guard behind her. "Tell Sherlock 51.5007N and 0.1246W. He will know what I am talking about. I have to go."

And with that Emma dropped the phone, John dropped his photograph, and Sherlock got a phone call.

-------------

SHERLOCK

Emma has been in jail for a year now. She always talks about how she hates it, even though prison for her is like being in a modest hotel. She has been quiet recently, meaning that something big is coming up. The final problem. The end. A phone call confirmed Sherlock's thoughts and ideas.

"51.5007N and 0.1246W" John's phone calls never disappointed Sherlock, as John knew his phone calls had to be important or they would never be answered again. "That's pretty much all she said. I'm just leaving the jail now. Do you want me to come--" Before John could finish his question, Sherlock was already out of the door, hailing a cab. 

When he got to the destination, Big Ben, Sherlock searched around for a clue. Anything. He found Lestrade, who had already put tape around the scene so no one could enter. "How did you get here before me?"

Lestrade smiled. "Got a head start." His smile quickly vanished and was replaced by a look of disdain and utter horror. Sherlock noticed that, but disregarded it. Unimportant. His attention was fully directed towards Big Ben. He muttered to himself, why, why why, when it dawned on him that there was a place they had not checked. Inside.

Without asking Lestrade, Sherlock ran into the building and quickly started climbing the 334 steps to the top. About half an hour later, Sherlock was behind the clock face, looking at the hands and numbers, and panels of glass. Behind him stood a wall of 28 lightbulbs. In between the face and the wall was him, standing alone, panting after having climbed so many stairs, and no clues as to why he would have to go there. He called John, "What else did she say? What else did Emma tell you?" As Sherlock was yelling into his phone, Lestrade and Sally came up the stairs. 

"Sherlock, there's nothing here. You're acting erratic. Are you on... are you..."

"No, Lestrade. I'm not on any drugs." Sherlock focused back on the cell phone in his hand. "John. What else did Emma say?"

However, John would never be able to answer this question, as the connection had been lost. Sherlock scoffed, put his cell in his pocket, and directed his attention back to Lestrade. "Why would you think I'm on drugs?"

Sally shook her head and started descending down the 334 stairs. Lestrade walked closer to Sherlock. "This is why. You don't know why; regularly you would have berated me for thinking such things, and would have known why I thought them. And you completely disregarded the dead body downstairs."

Sherlock looked through the clock face at the city line, letting a laugh escape his lips. "There wasn't a body down there."

"Why do you think I taped it off? There was a man killed in plain sight in front of a huge tourist attraction, and you didn't even notice it." Sherlock began to feel faint. "This isn't like you."

Sherlock turned around to face Lestrade, mumbling words from his childhood. "Redbeard. Mycroft. Mum." And words from his present. "John. Emma. Mrs. Hudson." And finally, right before he fainted, muttered his deepest fear. "Alone."

Lestrade called down to the paramedics below, and started to drag Sherlock down the 334 stairs. The more steps taken, the more it looked as though Sherlock would never wake up.

-------------

LESTRADE (before going to Big Ben)

Sally rushed into Lestrade's office, looking bewildered. "You have to come and see this."

Lestrade followed her out into her office, running past his coworkers who had no idea what was going on. There, on Sally's computer monitor was an image that she had known all too well; everyone Sherlock is close to knows it all too well.

Lestrade clutched his coffee tighter in his hand. "What do you think this could mean?"

Before Sally could answer his question, his cell phone started to ring. Scared, he dropped his coffee all over himself. Lestrade and Sally both looked at each other, and Sally told him to put it on speaker phone. Lestrade put the phone on speaker to hear these words, before he even said hello:

"Take it off speaker. Sally doesn't need to hear it."

The voice was robotic, sounding barely human. Lestrade put the phone call off speaker, putting the phone to his ear. Sally put her ear to the other side of the phone so she could still hear whoever it was on the other end.

"For God's sake, Sally, can't you just leave the office? You don't need to hear it. This message. Is not. For you."

Lestrade looked at Sally, who slowly walked out of her office and closed the door behind her. Lestrade immediately started peering out the window, trying to see if anyone had been looking in. They could not be on the ground, because that angle would not have allowed whoever it was to have seen into the office.

"No point. I'm not out there."

Lestrade starting looking around the office for any hidden cameras.

"You are slow, aren't you?" 

The more he listened, although robotic with a dramatic pitch change, the less it sounded like a man.

"Stop looking." The voice said. "Stop looking and listen."

After a few seconds of dramatic silence, the voice started up again.

"51.5007N and 0.1246W." Lestrade started to write that onto a piece of paper before the voice stopped him. "No bother, I just made a memo on your phone. Who said murderers can't be nice?" The person on the other end hung up.

Lestrade checked his memos, and saw a picture of the Big Ben, with the caption "better be your division". He immediately called on his team to go with him to see what had happened.

Upon arrival, people were screaming and fleeing from the scene. Lestrade got a message from an unknown number. 

"HEADS UP"

He looked around and saw a man, beheaded, from a bomb. The bomb had been made at home, put on the neck of a man (hidden in his tie) and set off right in front of Big Ben. 

After closing the area with police tape, Sherlock arrived, disregarded the man, and ascended Big Ben.

-------------

JOHN (after the 'Big Ben Incident'-- In 221B with Rosie and Mrs. Hudson)

"I'm sure he's fine dear," reassured Mrs. Hudson, holding and rocking Rosie back in forth in her arms. "Sherlock always gets better. If he doesn't, I'll just put him in my trunk again." 

John did not find this funny. "Do you think he's back on the drugs?"

"Oh, God no! Not with little Rosie around." She brought Rosie to her crib in the other room and came back into the living room. "He's clean, John. Something is happening, but that something does not have anything to do with drugs. You know, my husband was big on the drugs. A huge cartel. I would know if Sherlock was getting high. Believe me, I would know." After her last line she began to put the kettle on to make tea, and John turned on the television to the news.

Greg Lestrade was on the screen, just outside of Big Ben. The body was not visible, hidden beneath a sheet while forensic specialists scanned the area. "I can not make any comments as of now, except that the threat based around this man is now... done with. We have not found any thing indicating any other threats. Only time will tell. No one has to worry for now, and the tourist attraction will be open--" Lestrade looked down at his phone the same time that John got a text.

'WRONG'

"Sorry, that was just a work thing. Nothing to worry about--"

'WRONG'

"I'm sorry. This is all I can say for now. No further comments."

Greg Lestrade walks off the screen as John turns off the TV. Mrs. Hudson brings in the tea, and John sits in his chair. Rosie starts crying. John gets up from his chair to comfort Rosie. Mrs. Hudson goes to her own flat. The tea gets cold.