His Last Vow (Part 1)

(Open POV) 

There is a pair of thin rimmed spectacles lying on top of a table.

"Mr Magnussen, please state your full name for the record." Lady Smallwood said, nearby.

"Charles Augustus Magnussen." Magnussen said, in a heavy Danish accent.

Lady Smallwood is a woman in her early sixties. She is sitting at another table some distance away, facing him. With Magnussen's glasses off, his view of the woman is blurred.

"Mr Magnussen, how would you describe your influence over the Prime Minister?" Lady Smallwood asked.

"The British Prime Minister?" Magnussen asked.

"Any of the British Prime Ministers you have known."

Magnussen sits alone at a table in a large room. The wall to his left is floor-to-ceiling glass. He is facing three more tables which are laid out in a U-shape. There are eleven people sitting at these tables. Each person has a microphone on a stand in front of them, and the session is being filmed and projected onto a screen behind Lady Smallwood. She sits at the centre of the table facing Magnussen. She is clearly the chairperson of what must be the parliamentary commission to which a rolling news headline referred in 'The Empty Hearse' at the same time that the TV news announced that Sherlock was alive. There is a glassed-off viewing gallery at the rear of the room where observers – perhaps mostly journalists – are sitting and watching the proceedings with headphones on their ears. Magnussen answers all his questions in a flat tone, showing no emotion.

"I never had the slightest influence over any of them. Why would I?" Magnussen asked.

"I notice you've had ..." Lady Smallwood said, looking through a report on the table in front of her. "...seven meetings at Downing Street this year." She looks up at Magnussen. "Why?"

"Because I was invited."

"Can you recall the subjects under discussion?"

"Not without being more indiscreet than I believe is appropriate."

A man to the right of Lady Smallwood leans forward to his microphone.

"Do you think it right that a newspaper proprietor, a private individual and, in fact, a foreign national should have such regular access to our Prime Minister?" Garvie asked.

While he has been speaking, Magnussen has picked up his glasses and put them on. As soon as Garvie comes into focus, information appears in front of Magnussen's eyes in a white font:

JOHN GARVIE

MP ROCKWELL SOUTH

ADULTERER (SEE FILE)

REFORMED ALCOHOLIC

PORN PREFERENCE: NORMAL

FINANCES: 41% DEBT (SEE FILE)

STATUS UNIMPORTANT

then, in red underneath:

PRESSURE POINT: >

The last line flashes momentarily.

"I don't think it's wrong that a private individual should accept an invitation." Magnussen said.

The line stops flashing and adds further information:

PRESSURE POINT: >

DISABLED DAUGHTER

(SEE FILE)

"However, you have my sincere apologies for being foreign." Magnussen said.

"That's not what I meant. That is not in any way ..." Garvie said.

"Mr Magnussen, can you recall an occasion when your remarks could have influenced government policy or the Prime Minister's thinking in any way?" Lady Smallwood asked, talking over Garvie.

While Lady Smallwood has been speaking, Magnussen has turned his gaze to her and information immediately appears in front of his eyes.

LADY ELIZABETH SMALLWOOD

MARRIED

SOLVENT

FORMER GYMNAST

PORN PREFERENCE: NONE

VICES: NONE

and, in red underneath:

PRESSURE POINT: >SEARCHING

The line flashes for a moment.

Magnussen takes off his glasses and reaches for a small cloth on the table, "No."

"Are you sure?" Lady Smallwood asked.

Magnussen pauses while he cleans the lenses on his glasses and then puts them on again. He looks at Lady Smallwood and the information about her reappears in front of his eyes. The basic details about her then disappear leaving just the red line which is no longer flashing and now reads:

PRESSURE POINT: >

HUSBAND

"I have an excellent memory." Magnussen said, holding Lady Smallwood's gaze.

DUSK...

Ornate electronic gates open across a wide drive, and a black car bearing the licence plate 1 CAM drives through and progresses along the drive which curves across the centre of a small lake. At the end of the drive is a large beautiful and almost futuristic-looking house with tall windows and curved walls. At the house, a man in a suit opens the door to Magnussen and he walks into an opulent-looking hall which has walls that are part bare pale grey brick and part plastered in white. The floor is a pale colour and glass panels line the staircases. Magnussen walks downstairs, passing a kitchen which is all pale brown tiling and stainless steel. He progresses to a glass wall with a glass door in it which leads into a room – possibly a study – which has a table inside on which are some slender and strange-looking ornaments. He goes in and walks across to a double set of wooden doors. He pauses for a moment, then opens them.

He walks down a light brown wooden spiral staircase, again lined with glass panels. Further down, the spiral staircase becomes narrower and is now made of light grey metal. The stairs lead into a large library. The shelves are full of files and ledgers. He walks through the stacks, his fingers raised and flicking towards various shelves as if he is trying to remember where he has put something specific.

At the rear of the library the room becomes familiar to us and this is the place where the man we now know to be Magnussen watched the footage of Sherlock rescuing John from the bonfire at the end of 'The Empty Hearse'. It is dark and creepy in this area and the grotesque dolls, stuffed animals and unpleasant-looking sculptures are still on display. Magnussen goes to a rotating card index and flicks through it until he finds what he wants, then he moves on and soon afterwards we see him looking at a file which has a photograph of Lady Smallwood paperclipped to the inside. He smiles a little. Next to her photograph is a picture of a man of around her age, and now Magnussen slides under the paperclip a photo of a beautiful girl who appears to be in her late teens. The girl has ornately coiffed hair and is wearing a strappy white top and is looking directly into the camera, clearly posing for the photograph.

Not long afterwards, Magnussen is sitting in a chair facing a large wall. A film projector whirrs beside him and the photograph of the girl is now being projected onto the wall. He is holding the original photograph in one hand and looking at it. After a moment he raises the photo to his mouth and runs one corner slowly down his bottom lip.

Some time later Lady Smallwood is sitting at a table in a room which has several other tables and chairs scattered around. It's possible that this room is in an exclusive club similar to The Diogenes Club. She is looking at paperwork. A smartly dressed attendant speaks to a man near the door.

"Your car's waiting outside, sir. See you tomorrow." The attendant said.

The man leaves. Magnussen is sitting in an armchair some feet away from the table. Lady Smallwood puts down her papers and pen and looks across to Magnussen as he stands up and walks across the room towards her.

"May I join you?" Magnussen asked.

"I don't think it's appropriate." Lady Smallwood said.

"It isn't." Magnussen said, going over to a wheeled chair nearby and rolls it across to the side of her table.

"Mr Magnussen, outside the enquiry we can have no contact, no communication at all." Lady Smallwood said, while Magnussen sat down, then reached out and grasped her hand. "Please don't do that."

"In 1982, your husband corresponded with Helen Catherine Driscoll."

"That was before I knew him."

"The letters were lively, loving – some would say explicit – and currently in my possession."

"Will you please move your hand?"

"'I long, my darling, to know the touch of your ...'" Magnussen said, narrating part of one of the letters, pausing briefly, then continuing. "'... body.'"

"I know what was in the letters." Lady Smallwood said.

"She was fifteen."

"She looked older."

"Oh, she looked delicious. We have photographs, too – the ones she sent him." Magnussen said, smacking his lips. "Yum yum."

"He was unaware of her age. He met her only once before the letters began. When he discovered the truth, he stopped immediately. Those are the facts." Lady Smallwood said.

"Facts are for history books. I work in news."

"Your hand is sweating."

"Always, I'm afraid. I have a condition."

"It's disgusting."

"Ah, I'm used to it." Magnussen said, stroking his finger across the top of Lady Smallwood's hand. "The whole world is wet to my touch."

"I will call someone. I will have you removed." Lady Smallwood said, trying to withdraw her hand from his but Magnussen clamps his fingers around it.

"What is that?" Magnussen asked, gently lifting Lady Smallwood's hand, turns it over and then clamps his fingers around it again as he raises her wrist towards his face and sniffs it. "Claire de la Lune?" He looks up at her. "A bit young for you, isn't it?" Lady Smallwood pulls her hand free and flails towards him but he seizes her arm and holds it still. "You want to hit me now? Could you, still? You're an old lady now. Perhaps you should settle for calling someone." Lady Smallwood tugs her hand free and this time Magnussen releases it and she looks away. "Well? Go on." Lady Smallwood continues to look away. "No? Because now there are consequences. I have the letters and therefore I have you."

"This is blackmail."

"Of course it isn't blackmail. This is ... ownership."

Lady Smallwood turns to glare at Magnussen, "You do not own me."

The attendant walks across the room towards them but stops some distance away. Magnussen's eyes turn briefly as if hearing his footsteps but otherwise he takes no notice of him. Instead, he half-rises, leans towards Lady Smallwood, sticks out his tongue and runs the tip of it up the side of her face. She cringes. He sits back down.

"Claire de la Lune." Magnussen said, picking up a paper napkin from the tray on Lady Smallwood's table, sticks his tongue out again and rubs the napkin over it. "It never tastes like it smells, does it?" Lady Smallwood stares ahead of herself and Magnussen puts the napkin down, gives her one last look and then stands and walks away with the blackmailer looking at the attendant. "Lady Smallwood's bill is on me. See to it."

"Yes, Mr Magnussen." The attendant said.

Lady Smallwood lowers her head and lets out a shuddering breath.

Rolls Royce...

Later, Lady Smallwood is driven home. Sitting in the back of her Rolls Royce, she is holding an open compact mirror in one hand and has a handkerchief pressed to the side of her face where Magnussen licked it. She breathes out shakily.

"Oh, God." Lady Smallwood said, quietly.

Lady Smallwood's chauffeur looks in his rear view mirror at her, "You all right, ma'am?"

"Fine, yes." Lady Smallwood said, lowering the handkerchief and looks at herself in her compact mirror, and she talked softly, angrily. "Magnussen." Furiously, she snaps the compact closed, as she talked louder, but to herself. "No-one stands up to him. No-one dares. No-one even tries." Lady Smallwood picks up her ornate bottle of Claire de la Lune perfume from her handbag and starts spraying herself with it. "There isn't a man or woman in England capable of stopping that disgusting creature ..."

Lady Smallwood stops, staring out of the window for a moment.

"Ma'am?" The chauffeur asked.

"Turn the car around. We're going back into town. Turn around." Lady Smallwood said.

The chauffeur does a U-turn and starts driving back the way they just came, "Where are we going, ma'am?"

"Baker Street."

Watsons' bedroom...

John and Mary are asleep in bed, Mary's hand resting on top of John's on top of the covers. John's hand twitches as his dream flashes back to his time in Afghanistan and he hears gunfire and explosions and sees his comrades fall and grimace in pain around him. He shakes his head in his sleep and his dream moves to a flashback of Sherlock during their first meeting at Baker Street.

"Seen a lot of injuries, then? Violent deaths?" Sherlock asked, in the dream.

"Enough for a lifetime." John said, in the dream.

There's a pounding sound nearby, as if someone is knocking on the front door.

"Wanna see some more?" Sherlock asked, in the dream.

"Oh, God, yes." John said, in the dream.

"Told you, Sherlock. John wants this as much as me." Jared said, in the dream.

The banging sound comes again and John jolts and sits up in bed.

"John? Can you get that?" Jared asked, nearby.

Half asleep, in his mind's eye, John can see Sherlock looking intensely at him.

"The game is on." Sherlock said, smiling.

John wakes up properly and throws back the covers.

(Jared's POV)

Now wearing a dressing gown over his night clothes, John goes to the front door where someone is still knocking.

"John. The door?" I asked, eating a chocolate croissant and Lucky Charms cereal along with drinking a cup of coffee. "Thank you."

John opens the door and sees a woman standing there looking back at him. She has clearly been crying for some time.

"I know it's early." A woman said, tearfully, before starting to cry. "Really, I'm sorry."

John stares at her a little blankly. Mary comes into view at the end of the hall, putting on her dressing gown. She peers down the hall.

"Is that Kate?" Mary asked.

"Yup. It's Kate." I said, lifting my spoon up from my cereal bowl full of Lucky Charms. "Morning, Mary."

"Morning, Jared. I hope your breakfast is going well." Mary said, while Kate sobs, holding a tissue to her nose. "John, dear. Invite her in?"

"Er, sorry, yes. D-d'you wanna come in, Kate?" John asked, stepping aside and Kate walks down the hall towards Mary, still crying.

"Hey ... " Mary said, sympathetically.

Later, Mary, Kate, and I are sitting on the sofa.

Mary is stroking Kate's arm while she continues to cry, "It's all right."

John comes over and puts three mugs onto the coffee table, "There you go."

"It's Isaac." Mary said, looking at John and I.

"Ah, your husband." John said, looking at Kate.

"Isaac is Kate's son." I said, picking up my coffee mug.

"Son, yeah."

"He's gone missing again. Didn't come home last night." Kate said.

Mary and I let out sympathetic sighs and the former assassin looked at John.

"The usual." Mary said.

"He's the drugs one, yeah?" John asked, as he starts to pace back and forth.

Kate breaks down in tears again.

"Er, yeah, nicely put, John." Mary said, scoffing.

"Look, is it Sherlock Holmes you want? Because I've not seen him in ages." John said, sadly.

"It's been almost a month." I said, rolling my eyes.

John continues pacing, the fingers of his left hand twitching.

"Who's Sherlock Holmes?" Kate asked.

"See? That does happen." Mary said, looking at John.

"There's a – a place they all go to, him and his ... friends." Kate said, while I closed my eyes to imagine someone cooking-up a drug in a spoon with a lighter held underneath and nearby, someone blearily props their head on their hand. "They all ... do whatever they do ..." I then thought about the first person clicking the lighter closed. "... shoot up, whatever you call it."

"Where is he?" John asked.

"It's a house. It's a dump. I mean, it's practically falling down."

"No, the address." John said, and Mary and I turned and looked at him. "Where, exactly?"

Watsons' house...

Shortly afterwards John is dressed and walking down the path outside the house and heading towards their car parked at the kerb. Mary, still in her pyjamas and dressing gown, is following him, dragging me behind her.

"Seriously?" Mary asked, squeezing my hand.

"Why not? She's not going to the police. Someone's got to get him." John said, turning back to Mary.

"Why you?" Mary asked, stopping at the gate as John continues on.

"I'm being neighbourly."

"John Hamish Watson. The entire time I've known you." I said, as Mary let go of my hand. "When have you ever been neighborly?"

"Since now. Since this exact minute." John said, chuckling briefly.

"Why are you being so ...?" Mary asked, twirling her hands expressively.

"What?" John asked, stopping at the driver's door and turning back to Mary.

"I dunno. What's the matter with you?"

"There is nothing the matter with me." John said, loudly, before talking quickly, less forcefully. "Imagine I said that without shouting."

"I'm trying." Mary said, walking briskly towards the passenger side of the car as I walked to the back of the car.

"No, you can't come. Only Jared can come. You're pregnant." John said, with me entering the back of the car, then closing the door.

"You can't go. Jared can come with us. I'm pregnant." Mary said, opening the passenger door and getting in, shutting the door, then she looked at me. "Did you like it?"

"Nice comeback, Mary." I said, as John looked away for a moment, then got into the car. "Took you long enough, John. Let's go."

Concrete waste ground...

Later, we parked on a piece of concrete waste ground outside the address Kate gave them. John opens the boot of the car and takes out something, then walks round to the passenger side.

Mary laughs and points at what he's tucking into the top of his jeans, "What is that?!"

"It's a tyre lever." John said.

"Why?" Mary asked.

"'Cause there were loads of smackheads in there, and one of them might need help with a tyre." John said, nodding towards the house. "If there's any trouble, just go. We'll be fine. Let's go, Jared."

John turns and starts to walk towards the house but Mary and I get out of the car.

"Er, John, John, John, John." Mary said, while John stops and turns back to her. "It is a tiny bit sexy."

"Yeah, I know. Jared, come on." John said, nonchalantly.

John and I walked across to the front door of the house, which has a large sign stuck to the front of it saying, 'PRIVATE PROPERTY. KEEP OUT', and he bangs loudly on the door.

"Hello?" John asked.

The door is opened by a young man wearing a jacket with the hood pulled up over his head. He looks scruffy and dirty.

"What d'you want?" Bill asked.

"'Scuse us." John said, barging his way in and dragging me down the hall.

Bill looks outside for a moment, then turns towards John and I, "Naah, naah, neither of you can come in 'ere!"

"We're looking for a friend." John said, looking into a room as he continued dragging me.

"John..." I said, as my arm is still being tugged by John.

"Not now, Jared." John said, reaching the last room, he looked in there and then starts walking back again, pulling me behind him.

"But John..." I said, and John, he continues on, looking into doorways as he goes, still being dragged around.

"A very specific friend – we're not just browsing." John said.

"You lot have gotta go. No-one's allowed 'ere." Bill said.

"Isaac Whitney. You seen him?" John asked, stopping several paces away from Bill, squeezing my hand, and clearing his throat.

Bill takes a flick-knife from his pocket and snaps the blade open, holding it towards John and I.

"I'm asking you if you've seen Isaac Whitney, and now you're showing me a knife. Is it a clue?" John asked, as Bill gestures with his knife towards the open door behind him. "Are you doing a mime?"

"Go. Or I'll cut you and your friend." Bill said, as I let go of John's hand.

"Ooh, not from there. Let me help." John said, walking towards Bill, stopping close enough to him that he could stab him if he wanted to.

"You really shouldn't have done that." I said, and Bill stared back at John wide-eyed. "You don't know who you're messing with."

"Now, concentrate." John said, now in full soldier mode, slowly, precisely. "Isaac Whitney."

"Okay, you asked for it." Bill said.

Before Bill can even think about moving, John lashes out with his left hand, seizing Bill's right arm and slamming his right hand down onto the arm. As Bill cries out in pain John wraps his right hand round the front of Bill's neck and slams him against the wall, then uses his right foot to sweep Bill's feet from under him. Bill slumps to the floor and John steps back. Bill chokes and groans in pain. I bend down and pick up the flick-knife which has fallen to the floor.

"Right." John said, squatting down beside Bill. "Are you concentrating yet?"

"You broke my arm!" Bill yelled.

"Nope. John sprained it." I said, looking all around me to make sure there's no-one else nearby.

"It feels squishy! Is it supposed to feel squishy?" Bill asked, holding out his right arm to John and I. "Feel that!"

John reaches out and squeezes the arm. Bill groans.

"Yeah, it's a sprain. I'm a doctor – I know how to sprain people." John said, releasing the arm and Bill groans. "Now where is Isaac Whitney?"

"I don't know!" Bill said, while John and I gave him a look. "Maybe upstairs."

"There you go." John said, patting Bill's leg. "Wasn't that easy? Let's go, Jared."

"Right." I said, as John stood up and I followed him towards the stairs. "Let's find Issac."

"No. It's really sore. You two are mental, you are." Bill said, grumpily.

"Nope. I'm more used to seeing all of time and space." I said, pocketing the flick-knife as I continued following John.

"And I am just used to a better class of criminal." John said, and we walked up the stairs and into a large room at the top.

Several people are lying or sitting on mattresses around the edge of the room. All of them look very stoned and unaware of what's going on in the real world. Grimacing, John walks slowly across the room.

"Isaac? Isaac Whitney?" John asked, while we walked over towards two people lying side by side on mattresses.

"Isaac?" I asked, quietly. "Where are you?"

One of them tiredly raises a hand. The young man gazes blearily up at John and I as we walk to his side and kneels down beside him.

"Hello, mate." John said, putting a supporting hand behind Isaac's back. "Sit up for us? Sit up."

John helps Isaac to sit, then lifts one of his eyelids. The boy's eyes roll uncontrollably and he tries to focus on John.

"Doctor Watson? Jared?" Isaac asked.

"Yep." John said, lifting Isaac's other eyelid.

"Where am I?"

"We're at the back end of the universe with humanity. Isaac, look at us." I said, smiling.

"Jared, have you and Doctor Watson come for me?" Isaac asked, blearily.

"D'you think we know a lot of people here?!" John exclaimed, when Isaac laughs hazily. "Hey, all right?"

"Besides Sherlock and Isaac." I said, while I looked on the mattress to Isaac's right and behind John, another person – wearing jogging bottoms and a jacket with the hood up – rolls over, props himself onto one elbow and looks round to us. "Not really."

"Ah, hello, John, Jared." Sherlock said, as John raises his head, his eyes widening. "Didn't expect to see either of you here."

"Jared, you knew Sherlock would be here." John said, and Sherlock pushes his hood back as the army doctor turns around to look at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because this is downright humiliating. It could either be with you and Mary or Sherlock for a month." I said, sadly. "I chose you and Mary. Because that way, I wouldn't be in a dump."

"This wasn't a dump." Sherlock said, squinching up his eyes and peers at John and I. "Did you both come for me, too?"

John looks at Sherlock for a second, then his eyes begin to narrow.

Outside...

Shortly afterwards, Isaac stumbles over to the car where Mary is now sitting in the driver's seat.

"Hallo, Isaac." Mary said, happily.

"Mrs Watson, can I – can I get in, please?" Isaac asked, blurrily.

"Yes, of course, get in. Where's John and Jared?" Mary asked, pointing her thumb between her.

"They're 'avin' a fight." Isaac said, opening the rear car door.

"Who is?" Mary asked, urgently.

Over at the house, on the first floor landing of the fire escape, Sherlock angrily punches open a temporary door which had been nailed across a doorway, knocking it off all its nails and sending it crashing across the fire escape.

"For God's sakes, John, Jared! I'm on a case!" Sherlock said, angrily.

"A month – that's all it took. One." John said, as he and I are following Sherlock down the fire escape. "I can now see why Jared chose to not come with you, Sherlock."

Halfway down, Sherlock vaults over the side of the fire escape and onto a wall beside it.

"I'm working." Sherlock said, jumping down onto the top of a wheelie bin beside the wall and then down onto another one laying on its side before stepping to the ground.

John and I follow.

"Sherlock Holmes in a drug den! How's that gonna look?" John asked, and I took out my hoverboard from my sling backpack.

"Pretty shitty." I said, while I placed my right foot into the hoverboard's foot strap and I moved the hoverboard towards Mary's car using my feet. "This is why I chose to hang out with you and Mary this month."

"That's better than hanging out in a drug den with Sherlock!"

"I'm undercover. Jared chose to not go undercover with me." Sherlock said, looking at John.

"No you're not! You're not undercover!" John said, angrily.

"Well, I'm not now!" Sherlock said, gesticulating angrily.

Mary has driven the car quickly towards the house, and she pulls up alongside us with a squeal of brakes. I made it to the trunk of the car with the help of my hoverboard and I placed my hands onto said trunk, hanging on with help of my electromagnetism.

"In. Sherlock, John, quickly. Jared, hang on with your hoverboard and ability." Mary said, sternly.

"I'm hanging on." I said, as electrical shocks are coming out of my hands while holding onto the trunk of Mary's car. "Ready to go when you are, Mary."

John gets into the passenger seat while Sherlock gets into the seat behind him. Bill hurries over towards the car, cradling his hurt arm. Mary sighs in exasperation at Sherlock, John, and I then turned to look through the front windscreen at the new arrival standing in front of the car.

"Please. Can I come? I think I've got a broken arm." Bill said, frowning.

"No. Go away." Mary said, scoffing.

"No. You should let him." I said, frowning.

"Why?"

"Yeah, just get in. It's a sprain." John said, looking at Bill, while leaning out of the open side window and pointing towards the rear of the car.

Bill runs round the side of the car.

"Anyone else? I mean, we're taking everybody home, are we?" Mary asked.

Sighing, Sherlock shifts to the centre of the rear seat to give Bill some room. Bill gets in and looks round at him.

"All right, Shezza?" Bill asked.

"'Shezza'?" John asked, incredulously.

"I was undercover." Sherlock said, tetchily.

"Seriously – 'Shezza', though?!" Mary exclaimed.

Sherlock sighs again.

"Mary, we're not going home and you're not going home. We're going to Bart's. John. Can you call Molly?" I asked, hanging on to the side of Mary's car.

In the rear seat, Sherlock is wiping some of the dirt off his face with a handkerchief.

"Why?" Mary asked.

"Because Sherlock Holmes needs to pee in a jar." John said, holding his phone to his ear and turning to look over his shoulder at his friend before directing the rest of the sentence to Mary.

Sherlock lowers his handkerchief and closes his eyes with exasperation. Mary drives us all away.

Lab at Bart's...

Molly is finishing her tests on Sherlock's urine sample. He is standing nearby, leaning back against the central bench and looking sulky. On the other side of the lab Bill is sitting on a side bench while Mary is wrapping a bandage round his arm. Isaac is also sitting nearby. Molly takes off her gloves with two loud snaps.

"Well? Is he clean?" John asked.

"Especially being in an area full of druggies for a month?" I asked, eating some chocolate chip cookies. "It was a bullshit decision."

Throwing her gloves down, Molly turns to John and I.

"Clean?" Mary asked, turning and walks over to face Sherlock, then slaps him hard around the face with her right hand.

Mary, Bill and Isaac look over to them in surprise. Molly slaps him again just as hard and then, for good measure, slaps him again with her left hand. Sherlock blinks and grimaces.

"How dare you throw away the beautiful gifts you were born with?" Molly asked, glancing briefly towards John and I and then looked back at Sherlock. "And how dare you betray the love of your friends? Say you're sorry."

"Sorry your engagement's over – though I'm fairly grateful for the lack of a ring." Sherlock said, holding his face.

"Stop it." Molly said, angrily. "Just stop it."

John storms towards Sherlock, his face stern but his voice low, "If you were anywhere near this kind of thing again, you could have called, you could have talked to us."

"Please. Do relax. This is all for a case." Sherlock said.

Mary, still wrapping Bill's arm, shakes her head as I am leaning against a table.

"A ca... What kind of case would need you doing this?" John asked.

"John, I might as well ask you why you've started cycling to work and why Jared started listening to Problem by Ariana Grande featuring Iggy Azalea." Sherlock said.

"No. We're not playing this game." John said, shaking his head, turning and walking away.

"Quite recently, I'd say. You and Jared are very determined about it." Sherlock said.

"Not interested."

"That's because that song is good, Sherlock." I said, letting out a sigh.

"I am." Bill said, while Sherlock turned to look at him. "I am interested." Bill looks down at Mary. "Ow."

"Oh, sorry. You moved. But it is just a sprain." Mary said.

"Yeah. Somebody 'it me."

"Huh?"

Bill turns his head to look at John, "Eh, just some guy."

"Yeah, probably just an addict in need of a fix." John said.

"Yes. I think, in a way, it was." Sherlock said, pointedly, looking directly at John.

John holds his eyes for a moment, then looks away.

"Is it his shirt?" Bill asked.

"I'm sorry?" Sherlock asked, looking round at Bill.

"Well, it's the creases, innit?" Bill asked, as he looks across to John and Sherlock does likewise and zooms in on the creases in his shirt. "The two creases down the front. It's been recently folded but it's not new." Sherlock smiles slightly. "Must have dressed in a hurry this morning ..." I closed my eyes to remember John in his bedroom, folding a shirt on top of the bed. "... so all your shirts must be kept like that." John stares at Bill in confusion. "But why? Maybe 'cause you cycle to work every morning, shower when you get there an' then dress in the clothes you brought with you."

Sherlock looks at Bill, clearly impressed.

"You keep your shirts folded ..." Bill said, still looking at John, as I thought about the army doctor, in his bedroom, putting the folded shirt into a small backpack. "... ready to pack."

"Not bad." Sherlock said.

"An' I further deduce ..." Bill said, still looking at John, as Sherlock raises his eyebrows, and he, the army doctor, and I exchange a brief glance. "... you've only started recently, because you've got a bit of chafing."

John looks down his body.

"No – he's always walked like that. Remind me – what's your name again?" Sherlock asked.

"They call me The Wig." Bill said.

"No they don't."

"Well, they-they call me Wiggy." Bill said, awkwardly.

"Nope."

"Bill. Bill Wiggins." Bill said, hesitating, then looking down.

"Nice observational skills, Billy." Sherlock said, and his phone sounds a text alert and he takes out the phone and looks at the message. "Ah! Finally."

"'Finally' what?" Molly asked.

"Good news?" Bill asked.

"Oh, excellent news – the best." Sherlock said, turning and heading for the door, working on his phone. "There's every chance that my drug habit might hit the newspapers. The game is on." Raising his phone to his ear as he reaches the door, he turns and looks round the room briefly. "Excuse me for a second."

Sherlock leaves the room.

Taxi...

Sherlock, John, and I are alone in the back of a taxi. Sherlock is still in his scruffy clothes, so it appears we have gone directly from Bart's.

"You both have heard of Charles Augustus Magnussen, of course." Sherlock said.

"Yeah. Owns some newspapers – ones I don't read." John said.

"Not a big fan of newspapers." I said, sadly. "More of a fan of VTuber livestreams."

Sherlock frowns and looks round the cab and then out of the back window, "Hang on – weren't there other people?"

"Mary's taking the boys home; I'm taking you and Jared. We did discuss it." John said.

Sherlock raises his eyes upwards as if trying to remember, "People were talking, none of them...me. I must have filtered."

"I noticed." John said.

"I have to filter out a lot of witless babble. I've got Mrs Hudson on semi-permanent mute." Sherlock said.

The journey continues and the taxi eventually pulls up outside 221B Baker Street.

Baker Street...

As soon as he sees the closed front door, Sherlock lets out an exasperated sigh.

"What is my brother doing here? " Sherlock asked, getting out and heads for the front door.

John calls after Sherlock.

"So I'll just pay, then, shall I?" John asked, tetchily.

"Yup." I said, getting out of the cab and running after Sherlock to catch up with him. "You pay."

Sherlock goes up onto the doorstep and glares at the door knocker.

"He's straightened the knocker." Sherlock said, while he turns to John and I as the army doctor gets out of the cab. "He always corrects it. He's OCD. Doesn't even know he's doing it."

Sherlock deliberately pushes the door knocker to one side, then lets himself in and dragging me inside.

"Why'd you do that?" John asked.

"Do what?" Sherlock asked.

"Nothing."

We go inside, John shutting the door behind him, and Sherlock opens and goes through the inner door, with the consulting detective dragging me around like a rag doll, then stops and rolls his eyes at the sight of Mycroft sitting on the stairs.

221B Baker Street...

"Well, then, Sherlock. Back on the sauce?" Mycroft asked.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked.

"I called him while eating breakfast." I said, happily.

"The siren call of old habits. How very like Uncle Rudy – though, in many ways, cross-dressing would have been a wiser path for you." Mycroft said, annoyed.

"You phoned him." Sherlock said, folding his arms and directing his comment to me without looking at me.

"Of course I called Mikey! You were hanging around with the homeless addicted to drugs." I said, smiling.

"'Course he bloody did. He was afraid of you getting a relapse as much as John was. Now, save me a little time. Where should we be looking?" Mycroft asked.

"'We'?" Sherlock asked.

"Mr Holmes?" Anderson asked, his voice coming from upstairs.

In the kitchen, Anderson closes the door to one of the cupboards in the kitchen.

"For God's sake!" Sherlock said, furiously storming up the stairs, Mycroft sliding sideways on his step to get out of his way.

Mycroft, John, and I exchange a look and John blows out a breath as Mycroft leans on his umbrella to push himself to his feet.

Sherlock goes into the kitchen and glares at Anderson who is with a female colleague called Benji.

"Anderson." Sherlock said, angrily.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. It's for your own good." Anderson said, raising his gloved hands apologetically.

Looking annoyed, Sherlock drops his keys onto the kitchen table.

Benji stares at Sherlock, "Oh, that's him, isn't it?"

Sherlock turns and storms towards his armchair, where another member of the 'search team' is sitting and reading a book. The man scrambles out of the chair, putting the book onto the table beside it, and hurries away. Sherlock flips up his hood and climbs into the chair.

"You said he'd be taller." Benji said.

"Some members of your little fan-club. Do be polite." Mycroft said, coming into the kitchen and looking towards Sherlock. "They're entirely trustworthy, and even willing to search through the toxic waste dump that you are pleased to call a flat." Sherlock has curled up sideways in his chair and now lays his head on one of the arms, closing his eyes. "You're a celebrity these days, Sherlock. You can't afford a drug habit."

"I do not have a drug habit." Sherlock said, opening his eyes and looking at Mycroft irritatedly.

John's attention is focussed on a large space between Sherlock's chair and the kitchen.

John points to where his chair used to be, "Hey, what happened to my chair?"

"And where's the TV with one of my Nintendo Switch docks?" I asked, pointing to the table where the TV was that also had one of my Nintendo Switch docks hooked up. "Don't tell me you got rid of them."

"I did." Sherlock said, scoffing. "They were blocking my view to the kitchen."

"Well, it's good to be missed!" John said, turning to Mycroft.

"Well, you and Jared were gone. I saw an opportunity."

"No, you saw the kitchen."

Mycroft turns to Anderson, "What have you found so far? Clearly nothing."

"There's nothing to find." Sherlock said.

"Your bedroom door is shut." Mycroft said, turning toward the hallway behind the kitchen and Sherlock sighs, as he is slowly walking along the hallway. "You haven't been home all night. So, why would a man who has never knowingly closed the door without the direct orders of his mother bother to do so on this occasion?"

Sherlock has raised his head and flipped back his hood while Mycroft progressed. Now Mycroft reaches the door and puts his hand on the door knob. Sherlock hurls himself up into a sitting position.

"Okay, stop! Just stop." Sherlock said, as Mycroft turns the knob but doesn't open the door. "Point made."

"Jesus, Sherlock." John said.

Mycroft releases the door knob and comes slowly back along the hall.

"Have to phone our parents, of course, in Oklahoma." Mycroft said, and Sherlock looks down and closes his eyes. "Won't be the first time that your substance abuse has wreaked havoc with their line-dancing."

Sighing, Sherlock stands up and walks closer to his brother.

"This is not what you think. This is for a case." Sherlock said.

"What case could possibly justify this?" Mycroft asked.

"Magnussen." Sherlock said, while Mycroft's slight smile drops. "Charles Augustus Magnussen."

Mycroft draws in a breath and turns to Anderson and Benji, "That name you think you may have just heard – you were mistaken. If you ever mention hearing that name in this room, in this context, I guarantee you – on behalf of the British security services – that materials will be found on your computer hard drives resulting in your immediate incarceration. Don't reply – just look frightened and scuttle."

Anderson immediately ushers Benji out of the kitchen and follows her onto the landing, closing the door behind him.

Mycroft turns back to where John and I are standing beside Sherlock, "I hope I won't have to threaten you both as well."

"Well, I think the three of us would find that embarrassing." John said.

"We really would." I said, laughing a lot.

Sherlock snorts laughter, turning his head away.

"Magnussen is not your business." Mycroft said, sternly to Sherlock.

"Oh, you mean he's yours." Sherlock said, turning back and pointing at his brother.

"You may consider him under my protection."

"I consider you under his thumb."

"If you go against Magnussen, then you will find yourself going against me." Mycroft said, quietly, ominously.

"Okay." Sherlock said, nonchalantly. "I'll let you know if I notice." He strolls towards the kitchen door. "Er, what was I going to say? Oh, yeah." Sherlock opens the door. "Bye-bye."

Sherlock points the way out. Mycroft walks round Sherlock, then turns to face him.

"Unwise, brother mine." Mycroft said.

Immediately Sherlock seizes Mycroft's left arm just below the elbow. Twisting his arm up behind his back, he slams his brother face-first against the wall beside the kitchen door. Mycroft cries out in pain. Sherlock breathes rapidly, his voice venomous.

"Brother mine, don't appal me when I'm high." Sherlock said.

John and I hurried over to Mycroft's side.

"Mycroft, don't say another word. Just go. He could snap you in two, and right now we are slightly worried that he might." John said, softly but very firmly, watching Sherlock's face all the time with me.

"He really would." I said, while Mycroft pushes himself free of his brother's grip and holds his left arm in pain. Sherlock turns and walks away. Mycroft turns towards Sherlock as I looked at Mycroft. "Mycroft, don't talk. Just leave."

Mycroft lowers his right arm. John looks down towards the floor.

"Oh." John said, bending down and picks up Mycroft's umbrella which he had dropped.

Straightening up again, John offers the umbrella to Mycroft, clearing his throat. Mycroft snatches it from John's hand and leaves.

Living room...

Sherlock is stretching and rubbing the back of his neck. John and I turn and walk towards him.

"Er, Magnussen?" John asked.

"What time is it?" Sherlock asked.

"About eight." John said, checking his watch.

Sherlock sniffs deeply and sighs out a disgusted breath.

"I'm meeting him in three hours. I need a bath." Sherlock said, walking through the kitchen towards the hallway.

"It's for a case, you said?" John asked.

"Yep."

"What sort of case?"

"Too big and dangerous for any sane individual to get involved in."

"You trying to put us off?"

"God, no." Sherlock said, with his hand on the knob of the bathroom door, he looked back at John and I. "Trying to recruit the both of you." He gives John and I a small smile and goes into the bathroom. "And stay out of my bedroom."

"So, what is Sherlock hiding in the bedroom?" John asked, as the bathroom door closed. "Can you tell me?"

"Um..." I said, and John immediately started to walk across the kitchen towards the bedroom. "Don't need to."

John has just reached the hallway when the bedroom door opens and a familiar face peers out.

"Oh, John, Jared,, hi." Janine said, opening the door wider, she laughs in an embarrassed way, pulling down the bottom of the shirt she's wearing. She's not wearing anything on her legs. "How are you?"

"Doing good. TV in the bedroom?" I asked, taking out chocolate chip cookies to snack on them. "Along with one of my Nintendo Switches."

"Yeah. Mario Kart 8 Deluxe with those 96 tracks. Blimey. 96 tracks. You also have Super Smash Bros Ultimate. Good games. Won't be released for a few years. Thanks for leaving them for us."

"Don't mention it." I said, as I ran into Sherlock's bedroom and got everything Nintendo Switch related out of there that is mine, placed them inside my sling bag, and closed the bedroom door. "Hope you and Sherlock had fun."

"We did."

"Janine?" John asked, staring at Janine in disbelief.

"Sorry. Not dressed." Janine said, heading towards the kitchen, John standing aside to let her pass. "Has everybody gone? I heard shouting."

"Yup. They're gone." I said, walking back towards John and Janine, knowing my Nintendo Switch stuff is safe inside my sling bag.

"God, look at the time. I'll be late." Janine said, looking at her watch before going over to the worktop and picks up a cafetiere. "Sounded like an argument." She turns to John and I. "Was it Mike?"

"Mike?" John asked.

"Mike, yeah. His brother, Mike. They're always fighting."

"Mycroft."

"Do people actually call him that?!"

"Yeah."

"Huh! Oh, John, could you be a love and put some coffee on?"

"... Sure, right, yeah."

"Thanks." Janine said, heading back towards the hallway, stopping, and putting a hand briefly on John's shoulder. "Ooh, how's Mary? How's married life?"

"She's fine. We're both fine, yeah." John said, turning and walking towards a cupboard while Janine pointed in another direction.

"Oh, it's over there now." Janine said, looking around. "Where's Sherl?"

"Sherl!" John said, breathing out the name with a bemused look on his face before grinning and clearing his throat, he turned back to Janine. "He's just having a bath. I'm sure he'll be out in a minute."

"Oh, like he ever is!" Janine said, angrily.

"Yeah!" John said, frowning as if still unable to believe what's happening, then wanders vaguely towards the cupboard that Janine had indicated.

"Shirley and Mikey." I said, and Janine went along the hallway and knocked on the bathroom door, immediately opening it. "Those are my nicknames for them."

"They work. But mine are better." Janine said, looking at me, before going inside the bathroom. "Morning! Room for a little one?!"

Sherlock laughs nearby and Janine giggles while there is much sound of splashing water. John turns and looks along the hallway.

"Morning." Sherlock said, while the bathroom door closes.

Sherlock can be heard chuckling and Janine lets out a high-pitched 'Ooh!'. John turns away as if wondering what bizarro-world he has fallen into.

(Open POV)

LATER....

John is sitting on the edge of the coffee table as Jared is playing Splatoon 3 on his Nintendo Switch while Sherlock – wearing black trousers and a white shirt and putting on his jacket – walks across the living room. John has a bemused smile on his face.

"So – it's just a guess but you've probably got some questions." Sherlock said.

"Yyyyeah, one or two, pretty much." John said, happily.

"Naturally." Sherlock said, turning and looking towards the kitchen.

John follows his gaze as Janine – also fully dressed – walks into the bedroom. Smiling, Sherlock sits down.

"You have a girlfriend?" John asked.

"Yes, I have." Sherlock said, glancing towards John.

"Sherlock and Janine, sitting in a tree." Jared said, while John grins. "K...I...S...S...I...N...G!"

"Shut up." Sherlock said, looking towards the bedroom again, then turns to John and Jared, looking more serious. "Now, Magnussen. Magnussen is like a shark – it's the only way I can describe him. Have either of you ever been to the shark tank at the London Aquarium, John, Jared – stood up close to the glass? Those floating flat faces, those dead eyes ... That's what he is. I've dealt with murderers, psychopaths, terrorists, serial killers. None of them can turn my stomach like Charles Augustus Magnussen."

"Yes, you have." John said.

"Sorry, what?" Sherlock asked.

"You have a girlfriend."

"What? Yes! Yes, I'm going out with Janine. I thought that was fairly obvious."

"Yes. Well ... yes." John said, clearing his throat loudly. "But I mean you, you, you ... are in a relationship?"

Sherlock blinks at John, "Yes, I am."

"You and Janine?"

"Mmm, yes. Me and Janine."

"Care to elaborate?"

Sherlock draws in a long breath and looks up thoughtfully, then puffs out his cheeks as he breathes out again.

"Well, we're in a good place. It's, um ..." Sherlock said, looking down thoughtfully, then turns to John and Jared. "... very affirming."

Sherlock smiles at John and Jared.

John points back at Sherlock, "You got that from a book."

"Everyone got that from a book." Sherlock said.

"Books are good." Jared said, as John looks round and smiles as Janine comes into the room.

"Okay, you three bad boys, behave yourselves." Janine said, and Sherlock smiles happily at her as she sits down on the arm of his chair and the consulting detective puts his arm around her as she turns and leans close to his face. "And you, Sherl, you're gonna have to tell me where you were last night."

"Working." Sherlock said, happily.

John and Jared stare at Sherlock and Janine.

"'Working'. Of course. I'm the only one who really knows what you're like, remember?" Janine asked.

"Don't you go letting on." Sherlock said, softly, gently running his finger down the tip of Janine's nose, then lays his hand on her arm.

Sherlock and Janine stare deeply into each other's eyes. John grins, apparently still unable to believe what he's seeing.

"I might just, actually." Janine said, softly, tearing her eyes away from Sherlock and looks across to John, as did Sherlock and Jared. "I haven't told Mary about this. I kind of wanted to surprise her."

"Yeah, you probably will." John said, smiling.

"But we should have you three over for dinner really soon!" Janine said, excitedly.

"Yeah!" Sherlock said, happily.

"My place, though – not the scuzz-dump!" Janine said, punching Sherlock affectionately on the shoulder and they both laugh.

"Great, yeah! Dinner! Yeah." John said.

"Dinner sounds great, Janine!" Jared said, his Nintendo Switch in his hand.

"Oh, I'd better dash. It was brilliant to see you two!" Janine said, standing up.

"You too." John said, also standing.

He turns and watches with Jared while Sherlock escorts Janine to the living room door and opens it for her.

"Have a lovely day. Call me later." Sherlock said.

Janine turns back to Sherlock and fiddles with the edge of his jacket.

"I might do. I might call you – unless I meet someone prettier!" Janine said, teasingly.

Sherlock and Janine kiss, while John quickly turns away with his mouth in a startled 'Ohhh!' shape. As the other two continue to kiss noisily, he stares pointedly towards the window, but then gives an approving nod. Janine pulls back a little and whispers softly to Sherlock, their noses still touching.

"Solve me a crime, Sherlock Holmes." Janine said, grinning, she turns and leaves the room.

Sherlock smiles as he watches Janine go ... and then his smile abruptly drops and he closes the door. He walks back across the room.

"You know Magnussen as a newspaper owner, but he's so much more than that." Sherlock said, while John and Jared frowned at him. "He uses his power and wealth to gain information. The more he acquires, the greater his wealth and power." He sits down at the dining table and opens his laptop. "I'm not exaggerating when I say that he knows the critical pressure point on every person of note or influence in the whole of the Western world and probably beyond. He is the Napoleon of blackmail ..." Sherlock pulls up a photograph of Magnussen's home, together with a blueprint of the building. "... and he has created an unassailable architecture of forbidden knowledge. Its name ..." He turns the laptop to show the screen to John and Jared. "... is Appledore."

"Dinner." John said.

"Sorry, what, dinner?" Sherlock asked.

"Me, Mary, and Jared coming for dinner ... with ... wine and ... sitting."

"That doesn't sound too bad. Dinner." Jared said, as Sherlock turns and stares at John and Jared for a moment. "I like dinner."

"Seriously? I've just told you two that the Western world is run from this house ..." Sherlock said, pointing at the screen. "... and the both of you want to talk about dinner?"

"Fine, talk about the house." John said, annoyed.

Sherlock throws John a look, then turns back to his laptop while the army doctor looks towards the door as if he still can't believe what he just witnessed, but eventually he turns back.

"It is the greatest repository of sensitive and dangerous information anywhere in the world ..." Sherlock said, looking over his shoulder at John and Jared. "... the Alexandrian Library of secrets and scandals – and none of it is on a computer. He's smart – computers can be hacked. It's all on hard copy in vaults ..." He points at the rotating blueprint on the screen. "... underneath that house; and as long as it is, the personal freedom of anyone you've ever met is a fantasy."

There's a knock on the living room door, followed by Mrs Hudson's familiar, 'Ooh-ooh!' The door opens and she comes in.

"Oh, that was the doorbell. Couldn't you hear it?" Mrs Hudson asked, pointing back down the stairs.

"It's in the fridge. It kept ringing." Sherlock said.

"Oh, that's not a fault, Sherlock!"

"Who is it?" John asked.

Mrs Hudson draws in an anxious breath and shortly afterwards, she goes down the stairs to the bottom, "Mr Holmes said you can go right up."

Mrs Hudson looks nervously at whoever is waiting in the hall. She's clearly frightened by the person because she flattens herself against the wall and almost cringes as three men in dark suits walk up the stairs.

As a fourth person walks towards the stairs, we are looking through his eyes. He can see not only Mrs H but information about her, which reads:

MARTHA LOUISE HUDSON

(née SISSONS)

LANDLADY

WIDOW (SEE FILE)

SEMI-REFORMED ALCOHOLIC

FORMER "EXOTIC DANCER" 

(SEE FILE)

FINANCES: 21% DEBT 

(SEE FILE)

STATUS: UNIMPORTANT

and underneath, flashing in red:

PRESSURE POINT: >

MARIJUANA

Upstairs, the three men – clearly security men, all wearing earpieces – walk into the living room. Sherlock, now standing by the fireside with John and Jared, sighs and unfolds his arms.

"Oh, go ahead." Sherlock said, mock-wearily, and he spread his arms and allows one of the goons to frisk him.

Another one walks over to John and Jared while the third generally looks round the room.

"Gentlemen?" A security man asked, looking at John and Jared.

"Um..." Jared asked, and he and John glanced over to Sherlock, then looked back to the man.

"Can we have a moment?" John asked.

Sherlock lowers his arms from his frisking and looks across to the man.

"Oh, they're fine." Sherlock said.

The man glances at Sherlock, then kneels down in front of Jared and starts frisking him.

"Um, I kinda have..." Jared said, while the man reaches into Jared's hoodie pocket and takes out Bill's flick-knife. "Okay, I ..." He points to the knife. "... That."

The man pulls Jared's hoodie open.

"And ..." John said, sadly.

The man then stands up and frisks John, holding the tyre lever he has just taken from John's jeans and looking at him sternly. Sherlock looks startled.

John steps closer to the man and speaks confidentially, "Doesn't mean we're not pleased to see you."

The man does not look amused.

"I can vouch for these men. One is a doctor and the other is the President of the World. If you know who I am, then you know who they are ..." Sherlock said, turning his head towards the door as Magnussen walks in and stops just inside the doorway. "... don't you, Mr Magnussen?"

John and Jared's security man steps to their side and faces his boss while the other one stands at Sherlock's side and the third waits in the kitchen.

"I understood we were meeting at your office." Sherlock said, looking at Magnussen.

Magnussen looked around the room for a moment, "This is my office."

He walks slowly towards the sofa, then stops and turns to look at John. Information appears in front of his eyes:

JOHN HAMISH WATSON

AFGHANISTAN VETERAN (SEE FILE)

G.P. (SEE FILE)

PORN PREFERENCE: NORMAL

FINANCES: 10% DEBT (SEE FILE)

STATUS UNIMPORTANT

then, in flashing red underneath:

PRESSURE POINT: > HARRY WATSON (SISTER) ALCOHOLIC

MARY MORSTAN (WIFE)

"Well, it is now." Magnussen said, continuing on to the dining table, picks up a newspaper from it and then goes back and sits down on the sofa.

Magnussen then looks at Jared. Information appears in front of his eyes:

JARED SHAY

PRESIDENT OF EARTH (SEE FILE)

G.P. (SEE FILE)

PORN PREFERENCES: NORMAL

FINANCES: PAID THROUGH PAYROLL OF UNIT AND TORCHWOOD 

OFFICIALLY DECEASED 2011-2013

And underneath in red:

PRESSURE POINT: 

TEAM RWBY (SEE FILE)

TEAM JNPR (SEE FILE)

PENNY POLENDINA (SEE FILE)

DONNA TEMPLE-NOBLE (SEE FILE)

AMELIA POND (SEE FILE)

RORY WILLIAMS (SEE FILE)

THE MASTER (SEE FILE)

SYMPHOGEAR

THE DOCTOR

CLARA OSWALD

The list of red pressure points cycles round several times.

"Mr Magnussen, I have been asked to intercede with you by Lady Elizabeth Smallwood on the matter of her husband's letters." Sherlock said.

Magnussen appears to have been ignoring him, paying more attention to what seems to be the uncomfortableness of the sofa. Now he looks at the newspaper in his hand.

"Some time ago you ... put pressure on her concerning those letters." Sherlock said, as Magnussen looks up at him, leaning back on the sofa. "She would like those letters back."

Magnussen looks at him silently as he continues speaking, and information appears in front of his eyes:

SHERLOCK HOLMES

CONSULTING DETECTIVE

PORN PREFERENCE: NORMAL

FINANCES: UNKNOWN

BROTHER: MYCROFT HOLMES

M.I.6 (SEE FILE)

OFFICIALLY DECEASED 2011-2013

and underneath in red:

PRESSURE POINT:

IRENE ADLER (SEE FILE)

JIM MORIARTY (SEE FILE)

REDBEARD (SEE FILE)

HOUNDS OF THE BASKERVILLE

OPIUM

JOHN WATSON

JARED SHAY

The list of pressure points cycles round several times.

"Obviously the letters no longer have any practical use to you, so with that in mind ..." Sherlock said, breaking off, perhaps noticing something about Magnussen's expression and the Napoleon of blackmail gives a quiet snort, which caused the consulting detective to let out an exasperated huff of air. "Something I said?"

"No, no. I-I was reading." Magnussen said, adjusting his glasses, the red list of pressure points cycling more quickly. "There's rather a lot."

Sherlock frowns. In front of Magnussen's eyes, the white list of information vanishes and the red list cycles rapidly.

"'Redbeard'." Magnussen said, while Sherlock blinks and his mouth opens slightly. "'Donna'." Jared blinks and his mouth opens slightly. "Sorry." Magnussen shakes his head. "S-sorry. You were probably talking?"

"I ..." Sherlock said, pausing for a long moment, then clears his throat. "I was trying to explain that I've been asked to act on behalf of ..."

Magnussen turns his head to the security man beside John, "Bathroom?"

"Along from the kitchen, sir." A security man said, nodding to his right.

"Okay." Magnussen said.

"I've been asked to negotiate the return of those letters." Sherlock said, more firmly, as Magnussen took off his glasses and looked towards the window. "I'm aware you do not make copies of sensitive documents ..."

"Is it like the rest of the flat?" Magnussen asked, gesturing around the living room and looking at the security man.

"Sir?" The security man asked.

"The bathroom?"

"Er, yes, sir."

"Maybe not, then."

"Am I acceptable to you as an intermediary?" Sherlock asked.

Magnussen meets his eyes for a moment, then looks towards the window again, "Lady Elizabeth Smallwood. I like her."

Magnussen turns his eyes towards Sherlock and pops his lips a couple of times.

"Mr Magnussen, am I acceptable to you as an intermediary?" Sherlock asked.

"She's English, with a spine." Magnussen said, lifting his right foot and puts it against the side of the coffee table, then pushing the table away from him.

Sherlock frowns slightly. Magnussen stands up and, beside Sherlock, the second security man turns and steps forward to the fireplace, taking the fire guard away from the front of the unlit fire. Sherlock glances over his shoulder.

"Best thing about the English and the Americans ..." Magnussen said, walking over to Sherlock, John, and Jared and looks at them one after the other. "... you're so domesticated. All standing around, apologising ..." He nods to Sherlock and then walks in between him, Jared and John towards the fireplace. "... keeping your little heads down." Magnussen stands in front of the fireplace, facing it and the sound of him unzipping his trousers can be heard. "You can do what you like here. No-one's ever going to stop you."

Magnussen looks down and the sound of him urinating into the fireplace can be heard. John blinks as if appalled and half-turns his head towards him. Sherlock keeps his head facing forward, his eyes fixed on the opposite wall.

"A nation of herbivores." Magnussen said, continuing to urinate as he half-glances over his shoulder. "I've interests all over the world but, er, everything starts in England." He looks down again as the last of his urine splashes on the grate in front of the fire. "If it works here ..." Magnussen jiggles up and down as he 'shakes off' and then zips up his trousers. "... I'll try it in a real country."

Looking at himself in the mirror for a moment, he turns and strolls back in between the boys. The security guard beside John and Jared holds out a packet of wet wipes and Magnussen takes one and turns to face the others.

"The United Kingdom, huh?" Magnussen asked, starting to wipe his fingers. "Petri dish to the Western world, more so than the United States of America." He looks at Sherlock briefly. "Tell Lady Elizabeth I might need those letters, so I'm keeping them." Finishing wiping his fingers, Magnussen drops the wet wipe to the floor. "Goodbye." He turns as if to leave, then turns back and put his hand into his jacket's inside breast pocket. "Anyway ..." Magnussen chuckles and pulls out the edge of a packet of documents to show Sherlock. "... they're funny."

Smirking, Magnussen tucks the packet back into his jacket and leaves the room. The security men follow him. As the sound of their feet can be heard clattering down the stairs, John takes a step forward.

"Jesus!" John said, furiously.

"Did you notice the one extraordinary thing he did?" Sherlock asked.

"Wh... There was a moment that kind of stuck in the mind, yeah." John said, gesturing towards the fireplace but Sherlock is smiling, having not noticed him.

"Exactly – when he showed us the letters." Sherlock said, walking across the room, still smiling, while John closes his eyes in disbelief.

"... Okay." John said, at a loss for words.

"So he's brought the letters to London – so no matter what he says, he's ready to make a deal. Now, Magnussen only makes a deal once he's established a person's weaknesses – the 'pressure point,' he calls it." Sherlock said, picking up his coat from a dining chair and putting it on. "So, clearly he believes I'm a drug addict and Jared's a journalist and no serious threat." He looks out of the window to where one of the security guards is closing the rear door of a car parked outside before turning back and gesturing enthusiastically. "And, of course, because he's in town tonight, the letters will be in his safe in his London office while he's out to dinner with the Marketing Group of Great Britain from seven 'til ten."

"How-how do you know his schedule?" John asked.

"Because he does." Jared said, happily placing his Nintendo Switch inside his sling bag.

"Right – I'll see you both tonight. I've got some shopping to do." Sherlock said, heading out the door and down the stairs.

"What's tonight?" John asked, calling after Sherlock.

"I'll text instructions." Sherlock said, calling up the stairs.

"Yeah, I'll text you if I'm available." John said, loudly.

"Same." Jared said, loudly.

"The two of you are! I checked!" Sherlock yelled.

Looking exasperated, John and Jared head for the door.

Downstairs, Sherlock goes out of the front door followed by John and Jared.