The Abominable Bride (Part 3)

(Jared's POV)

Airfield...

... and as Sherlock and I sit in two of the seats with our eyes closed, our executive jet plane is landing at the airfield. Nearby, John and a heavily-pregnant Mary stand in front of the car and watch as the plane rolls to a halt.

Cabin...

The male flight attendant walks along the aisle, bends down and puts a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and gently shakes it. He then did the same to me.

"We've landed, gentlemen. We've landed." Diamond said.

"No, no, no, not now, not now." Sherlock said, slowly opening his eyes.

"Damn it." I said, pulling the Sleep patch from New Earth off my neck. "The Sleep patch was working too."

"It was, Jared. Good idea." Sherlock said, staring wide-eyed and shocked.

Outside, Mycroft, John and Mary are approaching the steps.

"But still, Jared. It worked. No, no, no, not now, not now." Sherlock said, looking at me, still confused and bewildered. "Why did the landing stop it?"

Diamond steps back and the plane's captain walks along the aisle. She smiles down at Sherlock and I.

"I trust you had a pleasant flight, gentlemen." The captain said, while Sherlock and I stared up at her.

The airline captain is the spitting image of Lady Carmichael, although obviously wearing a modern airline captain's uniform. She smiles and nods to him before turning away as the others come on board.

"Well, a somewhat shorter exile than we'd imagined, brother mine, Jared, although adequate given your respective levels of OCD." Mycroft said, sadly.

Breathing heavily, Sherlock stares up at him glassy-eyed.

"We have to go back!" Sherlock said, angrily.

"What?" Mycroft asked.

"We do. We were so close!" I said, crossing my arms.

"We were ... we were nearly there! We nearly had it!" Sherlock yelled.

"What on earth are you and Jared talking about?" Mycroft asked.

"Go back where? Sherlock, Jared, you didn't get very far." John said.

"Ricoletti and his abominable wife! Don't you understand?" Sherlock asked.

"It was a case Madame Vastra was doing with Jenny Flint and Strax." I said, rolling my eyes. "Ugh. I left Victorian London before they could tell me more after the Doctor went all Scottish with the 'attack eyebrows'."

"No, of course we don't. You're not making any sense, Sherlock, Jared." Mary said, looking between Sherlock and I.

"It was a case, a famous one from a hundred years ago, lodged in my hard drive. As Jared said, he told me about it. The case his friends were working on but couldn't solve. She seemed to be dead but then she came back." Sherlock said.

"What, like Moriarty?" John asked.

"Yeah. Emilia Ricoletti shot herself in the head! It was exactly like Moriarty." I said, scoffing.

"But you and Sherlock have only just been told. We've only just found out. He's on every TV screen in the country." Mary said, sitting down in the seat facing me.

"So? I've known for nine hundred years that this would happen." I said, going into my bag to take out the box containing the New Earth Sleep patches. "I've known for a long time."

"He has. Hence why we need to get back to what we were doing." Sherlock said, unclipping his seat belt. "Yes? So? It's been five minutes since Mycroft called." He looks up at his brother. "What progress have you made? What have you been doing?"

"More to the point, what have you and Jared been doing?" John asked, laughing briefly.

"I've been in my Mind Palace, and Jared wanted to come along, so we used these Sleep patches from the future to link our dreams together, of course ..."

"Of course!" John yelled.

"... running an experiment: how would I have solved the crime if I'd been there in 1895?" Sherlock asked.

"And 1895 happened to be the time of Madame Vastra, Jenny Flint, and Strax. The Paternoster Gang. The cases we have been solving, they would have already solved." I said, happily. "All we were doing was replacing them with us."

"Oh, Sherlock, Jared." Mycroft said, looking angry and disappointed, he turns away.

Mary takes Sherlock's phone from the shelf beside his seat and starts to look at it.

"Exactly. I had all the details perfect. And Jared helped solidify the perfection." Sherlock said.

Mycroft sinks into a rear-facing seat on the other side of the aisle. He puts both hands on the handle of his umbrella and lowers his chin to rest it on them.

"We were there, all of it, everything! We were immersed." Sherlock said, flailing his hands.

"Of course you and Jared were." Mycroft said, lifting his head slightly, gazing at nothing.

"The two of you have been reading John's blog – the story of how you met." Mary said, looking down at Sherlock's phone, lifting her eyes and smiling at us.

"Helps me if I see myself through his eyes sometimes. I'm so much cleverer." Sherlock said, nodding. "And Jared has forgotten some things due to time."

"You really think anyone's believing you?" Mycroft asked, looking across to Sherlock.

"No, he can do this. I've seen it – the Mind Palace. It's like a whole world in his head." John said. "And Jared said he started to do it too, after he thought he lost Team RWBY, his family, in Atlas."

"Yes, and I need to get back there with Jared." Sherlock said, frustrated.

"We do have to go back there. I was acting all British. I had a Cockney accent." I said, smiling. "Even though I'm American."

"The Mind Palace is a memory technique. I know what it can do; and I know what it most certainly cannot." Mycroft said.

"Maybe there are one or two things that we know that you don't." Sherlock said, looking across to Mycroft, who returned his gaze.

"Oh, there are." Mycroft said, pointedly, pausing for a moment. "Did the two of you make your respective list?"

Sherlock has looked away again and is chewing on a thumbnail.

Sherlock turns to look at his brother again, "You've put on weight. That waistcoat's clearly newer than the jacket ..."

"Mary, you'd have liked seeing me go all British!" I said, excitedly. "Cockney is a fun accent to do, Mary."

"Stop this. Just stop it. Both of you!" Mycroft said, angrily. "Did the two of you make a list?"

"Of what?" Sherlock asked.

"Everything, Sherlock. Everything you've taken." Mycroft said, and Sherlock rolls his eyes and turns his head away.

"No, it's not that. They go into a sort of trance. I've seen them do it." John said. "And Jared started doing it when Mary and I got engaged."

Sherlock takes a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket, holds it out and drops it onto the floor.

"Here you go." I said, taking a piece of paper from my hoodie pocket, I held it out, and dropped it onto the floor. "What my latest plan was. I've gotten desperate! Okay?"

Mycroft lifts his eyes to John, who bends down and picks them up. Mycroft looks away as John unfolds the piece of papers and looks at what's written there, and his face fills with shock. He stares at Sherlock.

"We have an agreement, my brother and I, ever since that day." Mycroft said, his face turned away.

Sherlock bites his lip and I look down at the floor.

(Open POV)

Amuch younger Sherlock is lying on a mattress on a floor. Nearby, candles are burning in bottles. Sherlock is writhing and grimacing under the influence of the drugs he's taken. Mycroft, apparently in his early/mid-twenties, is sitting on the mattress near his brother's feet and now reaches down to a piece of paper lying next to Sherlock's legs.

"Wherever I find him ..." Mycroft said, as a voiceover.

(Jared's POV)

Cabin...

Sherlock closes his eyes, and I squeezed the strap of my sling bag.

(Open POV)

In the past, Mycroft picks up the piece of paper and unfolds it to read it while his young brother continues to writhe in agony.

"... whatever back alley or doss house ..." Mycroft said, as a voice over.

(Jared's POV)

Cabin...

Mycroft sinks back in his seat, "... there will always be a list. And since the day Jared thought he lost Team RWBY at Atlas, he started coming up with plans. Some good, some bad, and some plans where he is unstable. He wrote them as a list, as guidelines and markers to help remember what is going on for that certain adventure he is currently on."

John has sat down in the seat facing Mycroft, and raised the pieces of paper, "Sherlock couldn't have taken all of that and Jared couldn't have come up with a ridiculous plan like that in the last five minutes."

Mycroft huffs out a breath and looks across to Sherlock and I, "Sherlock was high before he got on the plane. And Jared had those Sleep patches on him to hop into another dangerous situation without consulting me."

Mary has put Sherlock's phone back on the shelf and has now got out her own phone.

"Sherlock didn't seem high and Jared didn't seem like he had a plan." Mary said, typing rapidly on the phone.

"Nobody deceives like an addict." Mycroft said, his eyes fixed on Sherlock and I. "And nobody deceives like a fanboy."

"I'm not an addict. I'm a user. I alleviate boredom and occasionally heighten my thought processes." Sherlock said, scoffing.

"For God's sake! This could kill you! Sherlock! You could die!" John yelled.

"And I am a fanboy, yes. I have plans in case something goes wrong." I said, smiling. "I want things to stay as they were and see if I can save people along the way."

"And Jared! What you are trying to do is dangerous! Hopping into Sherlock's Mind Palace like that! Into a time period you haven't been to in a couple years! This could kill you while Sherlock is high! You could die in there with no way out!"

"Jared tells me if the timeline has changed due to his influence. So far, it hasn't. According to him, it has mostly stayed the same." Sherlock said, looking at John. "Controlled usage is not usually fatal, and abstinence is not immortality."

Mycroft has noticed that Mary is typing on the phone, "What are you doing?"

"Emelia Ricoletti – I'm looking her up." Mary said, as I tossed Sherlock another Sleep patch and I am holding another one.

"Ah, I suppose we should." Mycroft said, and Sherlock rolls his eyes in exasperation. "I have access to the top level of the MI5 archive ..."

"Yep, that's where I'm looking." Mary said, smiling without looking up. "Jared locked me out of the Torchwood servers. I could see why. That organization has been defunct for a while."

Mycroft looks slightly awkward, "Fair point, Mary. Torchwood came back only for Miracle Day. What do you think of MI5's security?"

"I think it would be a good idea." Mary said, raising her eyebrows and looking across to Mycroft partway through her next sentence, smiling at him, then looked back down to the phone. "Emelia Ricoletti. Unsolved ..."

Sherlock has bowed his head and now lowers it into his hands as I am lying back in my seat.

Mary nods towards Sherlock and I, "... like they say."

"Could you all just shut up for five minutes?" Sherlock asked, raising his head, with his eyes closed and he placed the Sleep patch on his neck.

"Yeah. Seriously. I snuck this batch off the TARDIS." I said, placing a Sleep patch on my neck. "I got enough for this adventure."

"He got them without the Doctor knowing." Sherlock said, opening his eyes. "We have to go back. We were nearly there before you stepped on and starting yapping away."

"'Yapping'?" John asked, sarcastically. "Sorry – did we interrupt your session with Jared?"

"Sherlock, Jared, listen to me." Mycroft said, leaning forward.

"No. It only encourages you." Sherlock said, closing his eyes.

"I'm not angry with you and Jared ..."

"Oh, that's a relief. I was really worried." Sherlock said, opening his eyes.

"Honestly, same." I said, letting go of the strap of my sling back.

"No, hold on." Sherlock said, looking at Mycroft. "I really wasn't."

Sherlock, Mycroft, and I lock eyes for a moment.

"Sherlock, I was there for you before. I'll be there for you again." Mycroft said, softly. "And Jared, I have been there for you since the Ever After."

"I know." I said, while Sherlock, Mycroft, and I continue to look at each other. "Thank you, Mycroft."

"You only call me Mycroft when you're scared and worried." Mycroft said, softly. "I'll always be there for the both of you." He looks down. "This was my fault."

"It was nothing to do with you." Sherlock said, shaking his head slightly.

"A week in a prison cell. I should have realised." Mycroft said, gazing down reflectively.

"Realised what?"

"That in your case, solitary confinement is locking you both up with your worst enemies." Mycroft said, looking between Sherlock and I. "And for you, Jared, that would be Oriru. Your darker self."

"Yeah. But I haven't seen him in years." I said, sadly.

Sherlock sighs and rolls his head back.

"Oh, for God's sake." Sherlock said, burying his head in one hand.

"Morphine or cocaine?" Watson asked, in my head. "Gin and tonic or Coca-Cola?"

Sherlock raises his head and turns to frown at John, "What did you say?"

I opened my eyes and turned my head to look at John.

"I didn't say anything." John said.

"No, you did. You said ..." Sherlock said, as he says the next sentence, it's Sherlock's lips moving but I hear John's voice.

"Which is it today – morphine or cocaine?" Sherlock and Watson asked, at the same time. "Gin and tonic or Coca-Cola?"

Sherlock and I stare at John, who looks confused.

"Oh, great. Here we go again..." I said, letting out a sigh.

Mary sits up in her chair, looking alert, and Mycroft frowns across to his brother and I.

"Holmes?" Sherlock and Watson asked, at the same time. "Shay?"

(Open POV)

Sitting room of Victorian 221B...

Holmes and Shay are lying on their sides on the floor.

"Morphine or cocaine? Gin and tonic or Coca-Cola? Which is it today?" Watson asked, while Holmes' fingers twitch as the sitting room door slams. "Answer me, damn it!"

Holmes jolts awake. His head is resting on a cushion, and the syringe and its case are lying near his hand. Shay opened his eyes and he lifted himself off the ground to look at Watson.

"Moriarty was here." Holmes said.

"'e were. And it were shockin', Watson." Shay said, as Watson is taking off his gloves at the door.

"Moriarty's dead." Watson said.

Holmes waves his hand vaguely and rolls a little more onto his back, "Shay and I were on a jet."

"A what?" Watson asked.

"You were there, and Mycroft." Holmes said, raising his head and propping himself up onto his elbow, while Watson walks across towards the fireplace.

"You haven't left these rooms, Holmes, Shay. You two ... haven't ... moved. Now, tell me, Holmes, morphine or cocaine?" Watson asked.

"Cocaine." Holmes said, running his hand over his hair.

"And what about you, Shay? Gin and tonic or a bottle of Coca-Cola?"

"Coca-Cola." Shay said, and Holmes drags himself onto his knees. "Got a whole crate o' them."

"Of course you do. Where did you put it?"

"Of course you're interested in Shay's drink. I have a seven percent solution." Holmes said, picking up the syringe, he puts it into the case, then stands up and offers the case to Watson. "Would you care to try it?"

"No, but I would quite like to find every ounce of the stuff in your possession and pour it out of the window." Watson said, tightly. "No cocaine and Coca-Cola. And Coca-Cola contains cocaine in it."

"We should be inclined to stop you." Holmes said, smirking.

"Then you both would be reminded ... quite forcibly ... which of us is a soldier and which two of us are drug addicts."

"You're not a soldier. You are a doctor."

"No, an Army doctor, which means I could break every bone in your body, while naming them." Watson said, stepping closer to Holmes.

"My dear Watson, you are allowing emotion to cloud your judgement."

"And Coca-Cola only contains 3 point 5 grams o' cocaine, i'n it? It's not that big o' a deal, Watson. It's not a bit." Shay said, happily.

"That's still too much cocaine for a sugary drink, Shay." Watson said, pointing to the syringe. "Never on a case." He breathes in harshly. "You two promised me. Never on a case."

"No, I just said that in one of your stories." Holmes said, smiling.

"Listen." Watson said, pointing at Holmes, breathing rapidly. "I'm happy to play the fool for you, Holmes. I will run along behind you like some halfwit, making you look clever, if that's what you need, but dear God above ..." His voice rises angrily. "... you and Shay will hold yourself to a higher standard."

"Why?"

"Because people need the two of you to."

"What people? Why? Because of your idiot stories?"

"Yes, because of my idiot stories."

"Mr Holmes!" Billy yelled, while the sitting room door opens and the houseboy runs in. "Mr Holmes! Telegram, Mr Holmes!"

Billy hands the telegram to Holmes and runs out again. Holmes opens the telegram and reads it. He looks shocked and raises his eyes to Watson, who reacts as if he's not interested in the contents but feels obliged to ask the question.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Watson asked.

"It's Mary." Holmes said, walking to the open door of the sitting room.

"Mary? What about her?" Watson asked.

"Mary's in danger. I know it. I'll make us all a nice cup a' tea. I can feel it, 'olmes, Watson." Shay said, while Holmes takes off his dressing gown.

"Danger?" Watson asked.

"There's not a moment to lose." Holmes said, hanging up the dressing gown.

"Is this the cocaine talking?" Watson asked, as Holmes takes down his dress coat and puts it on. "What danger could Mary be in? I'm sure she's just visiting with friends."

"Come on!" Holmes said, sternly hurrying down the stairs with Shay, Watson following.

Near the bottom, Holmes has to grab onto the bannister rail to support himself as he stumbles. Grimacing, he continues into the hall, buttoning his coat.

"What is happening?" Watson asked, and Holmes takes his outer coat from the peg and starts to put it on. "Are either of you even in a fit state?"

"For Mary, of course. Never doubt that, Watson. Never that." Holmes said, breathing heavily and doubles over, groaning.

"Holmes!" Watson said, while he and Shay helped Holmes to straighten up.

"I'm fine!" Holmes said, shaking Watson and Shay off.

Still breathing heavily, Holmes reaches out and picks up his top hat.

"Not that one, right, 'olmes. That one is mine." Shay said, snatching the top hat from Holmes to put it on his head.

Watson picks up the deerstalker, "This one."

"Why?" Holmes asked.

"You're Sherlock Holmes. Wear the damn hat." Watson said, shoving the deerstalker at Holmes, who glowers at him but puts it on.

Baker Street...

They hurry out into the street, which is busy with pedestrians, and Watson calls out loudly as Holmes and Shay run to the kerb and look up and down the road urgently.

"Cab? Cab!" Watson yelled.

Cab...

The cab is racing through the countryside, the horse going at a fast canter. The sun is very low in the sky; it is almost night time.

"So, tell me. Where is she?" Watson asked, as Holmes buries his head in one hand and Shay is looking down at the floor. "One of you must tell me. What's going on?"

"Oh, good old Watson! How would we fill the time if you didn't ask questions?" Holmes asked, raising his head angrily but not looking at Watson.

"Sherlock, tell me where my bloody wife is, you pompous prick, or I'll punch your lights out! And Jared, tell me where my bloody wife is, you arse, or I'll smack you so hard, you'll end up in Remnant!" John yelled, the modern-day John, in modern-day clothes, sitting where Watson had been a moment before.

"I don't..." Shay said, frowning.

Startled, Holmes and Shay look round but it's Victorian Watson who is sitting there and looking sternly at them.

"Holmes! Shay! Where is she?" Watson asked.

"A desanctified church. She thinks she's found the solution, and for no better reason than that, she's put herself in the path of considerable danger." Holmes said, looking away. "What an excellent choice of wife."

The carriage continues on towards the church, set in the middle of nowhere.

Church...

On arrival, the three men run through the cloisters, where Mary is waiting hidden behind a pillar. She steps out as they reach her.

Watson jumps when he sees his wife, "What the devil?!"

"I've found them." Mrs Watson said, pointing further into the building.

They pause as distant chanting can be heard. Mary leads the others towards the sound. They descend some steps, where two small metal braziers on tripods are burning.

"What is all this, Mary?" Watson asked, whispering.

Mrs Watson turns back and whispers to her husband, "This is the heart of it all, John, the heart of the conspiracy."

They continue on into the vaults. The chanting, which sounds like Latin, gets louder, the voices sounding female. There are more burning braziers along the route. Mary turns and beckons the men to continue following her. They reach a pair of arched stone windows. Mary and Holmes go to one window and Watson and Shay to the other and they watch as, in another corridor across a gap, many figures process past. All of them are wearing dark blue robes and have pointed conical hats, reminiscent of the Ku Klux Klan, over their heads obscuring their faces.

"Great God, what is this place?" Watson asked, quietly, turning to look at Mary. "And what the devil are you doing here?"

"I've been making enquiries. Mr Holmes asked me." Mrs Watson said.

"Holmes, how could you?!" Watson exclaimed.

"No, not him. The clever one."

Holmes seems surprisingly unmoved by that statement.

"Watson, yor ole lady means Mycroft. I'll get out me spoons." Shay said, happily.

"Jared's right, I do mean Mycroft. It seemed obvious to me that this business could not be managed alone. My theory is that Mrs Ricoletti had help – help from her friends." Mrs Watson said.

"Bravo, Mary." Holmes said, looking at Mary, finally catching up with what she just said. "'The clever one'?"

"Oh."

"I thought I was losing you." Watson said, watching the procession, as Holmes and Shay frowned and glanced across to him. "I thought perhaps we were neglecting each other."

"Well, you're the one who moved out." Holmes said.

"I was talking to Mary." Watson said, closing his eyes, turning to look at his wife. "You're working for Mycroft?"

"He likes to keep an eye on his mad sibling." Mrs Watson said.

"'e right does, Watson. That's w 'e 'ired me and yor ole lady ter 'ave a look after 'olmes." Shay said, laughing a lot.

"And he had spies to hand." Holmes said, glancing towards Watson. "Has it never occurred to you that your wife is excessively skilled for a nurse? And Shay is excessively skilled for a journalist?"

"Of course it hasn't." Mrs Watson said, smirking. "Because he knows what a nurse and a journalist are capable of." Watson smiles briefly, and she looked at Holmes. "When did it occur to you?"

"Only now, I'm afraid." Holmes said, sadly.

Must be difficult being the slow little brother." Mrs Watson said, turning to look at Holmes, smiling.

"Time I sped up. Enough chatter. Let's concentrate."

"'olmes, right, yor've been makin' this case 'ave forever. Cor blimey guv, would I lie to you. It would 'ave gone quicker if we went on ter Mycroft. I'll get out me spoons." Shay said, frowning.

They turn to watch the procession.

"Yes, all right. What's all this about? What do they want to accomplish?" Mrs Watson asked.

"Why don't we go and find out?" Holmes asked, turning and hurries away, the Watsons and Shay following.

They run through the vaults, passing large fires burning around various columns which support the roof, and eventually reach a small chapel where the robed figures have gathered, still chanting. Holmes enters through the doorway behind them and sees a suspended gong to one side. Picking up its mallet, he strikes the gong loudly. The figures stop chanting and turn to face him.

"Sorry. I could never resist a gong." Holmes said, hanging up the mallet and turns to the gathering. "Or a touch of the dramatic."

"Never have guessed!" Mrs Watson said, excitedly.

"Same. 'olmes, right, yor as dramatic as the Doctor. Me Doctor. I'll get out me spoons." Shay said, looking at Holmes.

"Though it seems you share my enthusiasm in that regard." Holmes said, walking forward through the middle of the crowd and the figures stand silently in even rows either side of him. "Excellent."

Mary throws a nervous glance at her husband and Shay, who is staring around the chapel in awe.

"Superlative theatre. I applaud the spectacle." Holmes said, smiling, turns back and walks slowly towards the doorway. "Emelia Ricoletti shot herself, then apparently returned from the grave and killed her husband. So, how was it done? Let's take the events in order."

Flashback...

Emelia is standing on the balcony, firing into the street below while people run away and duck for cover.

"Mrs Ricoletti gets everyone's attention in very efficient fashion." Holmes said, as a voice over.

"You!" The bride said, continuing to fire. "You?!" She spoke softly. "Or me?"

Lowering the left-hand pistol, she turns the gun in her right hand towards herself and opens her mouth wide.

"She places one of the revolvers in her mouth while actually firing the other into the ground." Holmes said, as a voice over.

Emelia fires the lowered left-hand pistol.

"An accomplice sprays the curtains with blood ..." Holmes said, as a voice over.

The room...

A figure – out of focus so we can't see him or her clearly – sprays blood onto the net curtains behind Emelia's head.

"... and thus her apparent suicide is witnessed by the frightened crowd below." Holmes said, as a voice over.

Emelia falls backwards and crashes to the carpet inside the room. Lying on her back next to her is another woman, her eyes closed. She is dressed in an identical wedding dress to Emelia's and her face has been given the same make-up. Emelia stands up.

"A substitute corpse bearing a strong resemblance to Mrs Ricoletti takes her place and is later transported to the morgue. A grubby little suicide of little interest to Scotland Yard." Holmes said, as a voice over.

As Emelia walks away, several people pick up the body and carry it a few feet to the right, placing it in the position where Emelia landed.

"Meanwhile the real Mrs Ricoletti slips away." Holmes said, as a voice over.

London...

Emelia, now wearing everyday clothes – though she has not fixed her lurid and smeared lipstick – pulls the net veil on her hat over her face and leaves the house, walking off down the street.

"Now comes the really clever part. Mrs Ricoletti persuaded a cab driver – someone who knew her – to intercept her husband outside his favourite opium den. The perfect stage for a perfect drama." Holmes said, as a voiceover for the first sentence.

Emelia – back in the wedding dress with the veil over her face – points the shotgun at her husband.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Ricoletti asked, and Emelia lifts her veil with one hand and smiles at her husband and he stares in disbelief. "Emelia?!"

Emelia fires, then lowers the veil and turns away.

"Help!" A man yelled, nearby.

"A perfect positive identification." Holmes said, as a voice over.

PC Rance turns and stares at the Bride.

"Murder! Murder!" A man said, nearby.

"The late Mrs Ricoletti has returned from the grave ..." Holmes said, as a voice over.

The bloodstained back of her head can be clearly seen by the police officer.

"... and with a little skilled make-up and you have nothing less than the wrath of a vengeful ghost." Holmes said, as a voice over.

Emelia walks away into the fog and disappears from view. Further down the street, she stops on top of a manhole cover and stomps the heel of her boot against it twice. In the drain underneath, an accomplice pushes the manhole cover up and across onto the road, where Emelia has taken a step back and is waiting. Shortly afterwards, PC Rance runs towards where he last saw her and stops ... on top of the now-closed cover.

"There was only one thing left to do." Holmes said, as a voice over.

Emelia, still in the wedding dress, is lying on a bed while someone points a pistol at her mouth, "Swiftly now. No tears."

Emelia settles her head on the pillow and opens her mouth. The gun is fired.

Chapel...

"All that remained was to substitute the real Mrs Ricoletti for the corpse in the morgue." Holmes said, pacing along the chapel.

Morgue...

Emelia's covered body is chained to the table in the morgue.

"This time, should anyone attempt to identify her ..." Holmes said, as a voiceover.

The sheet is pulled back from Emelia's face.

Crypt...

"... it would be positively, absolutely her." Holmes said.

"But why would she do that – die to prove a point?" Mrs Watson asked.

"Every great cause has martyrs; every war has suicide missions – and make no mistake, this is war. One half of the human race at war with the other." Holmes said, walking back along the crypt, looking at the robed figures on either side. "The invisible army hovering at our elbow, attending to our homes, raising our children, ignored, patronised, disregarded, not allowed so much as a vote."

"Basically, right, this is the bloody Roarin' Twenties 'appenin' a few decades early. Wen it were made possible for cows ter do anyfink they wanted. It's an army full o' bints." Shay said, letting out a sigh.

Almost as one, the robed figures reach up and begin to remove their conical hats. As they pull them off their heads, each one is revealed to be a woman.

"... but an army nonetheless, ready to rise up in the best of causes, to put right an injustice as old as humanity itself. So, you see, Watson, Shay, Mycroft was right. This is a war we must lose." Holmes said, turning away from Watson and Shay but turns back again as he speaks.

"She was dying." Watson said, frowning.

"Who were dyin'?" Shay asked.

"Emelia Ricoletti. There were clear signs of consumption. I doubt she was long for this world."

"So she decided to make her death count. She was already familiar with the secret societies of America and was able to draw on their methods of fear and intimidation to publicly – very publicly – confront Sir Eustace Carmichael with the sins of his past." Holmes said.

"He knew her out in the States." Hooper said, while Holmes turns towards the sound. "Promised her everything ..." She comes into view, now with no moustache and with her hair in a more 'normal' style for a woman. She is dressed in the same blue robe as the other women and is carrying her hood. "... marriage, position – and then he had his way with her and threw her over, left her abandoned and penniless."

"Hooper!" Holmes yelled.

"Molly! Struth!" Shay said, happily.

Bart's...

Molly Hooper slaps Sherlock's face in the lab after she had tested him for drug abuse in 'His Last Vow'. She slaps him again, and again.

Crypt...

Doctor Hooper – in her male guise – standing at the side of the morgue table on which Emelia lies.

"Holmes." Hooper said, softly.

"For the record, Holmes, Shay, she didn't have me fooled." Watson said.

Holmes and Shay turn and stare at Watson. Watson smiles in a rather satisfied way. Then his gaze shifts and he stares in surprise as one of the women leans into view and waves cheekily at him. It is his maid.

Watsons' dining room...

"Why do you never mention me, sir?" Jane asked.

Crypt...

Jane finishes her wave and steps back. Watson looks a little awkward, Holmes smirks, and Shay smiles. Another woman steps forward.

"Emelia thought that she'd found happiness with Ricoletti, but he was a brute too." Janine said, and Holmes has turned to look at her as she spoke and his eyes have widened.

"Oh. I'll make us all a nice cup a' tea. Janine..." Shay said, thinking about Sherlock's time with Janine at the wedding, and in 221B later, ending with them kissing and then Sherlock's smile dropping once she has walked away. "I'm sorry, I'm bloody well so sorry. Cor blimey guv, would I lie to you."

"Emelia Ricoletti was our friend. You have no idea how that bastard treated her." Janine said.

Holmes is still staring at Janine as if confused.

"But ... the Bride, Holmes, Shay. We saw her." Watson said.

"Yes, Watson, we did. But the sound of breaking glass? Not a window." Holmes said, turning to Watson, and the army doctor frowns enquiringly. "Just an old theatrical trick."

Outside the Carmichael house...

Holmes, Watson, and Shay outside the Carmichael house. Watson seizes Holmes' arm and Shay's arm.

"It cannot be true, Holmes! It cannot!" Watson yelled.

"No, it can't." Holmes said, sadly.

"It's called Pepper's Ghost." Holmes said, as a voice over.

Holmes, Watson, and Shay turn at the sound of a man's scream from inside the house, the Bride is floating backwards, and this time we can see that there's a large pane of glass between the Bride and the men.

"A simple reflection, in glass, of a living breathing person." Holmes said, as a voice over.

The Bride is actually several feet away, out of sight from the men, and as she now runs off, two women dressed in black hurry forward ready to carry away the pane of glass, propped up on a stand.

"Their only mistake was breaking the glass when they removed it." Holmes said, as a voice over.

The women go to either side of the pane and take hold of its sides. As they lift it, it shatters and they flinch away from the flying shards.

Crypt...

"Look around you. This room is full of Brides. Once she had risen, anyone could be her." Holmes said, slowly pacing along the crypt.

The various headlines about murders by 'the Bride' float across the screen.

"The avenging ghost – a legend to strike terror into the heart of any man with malicious intent; a spectre to stalk those unpunished brutes whose reckoning is long overdue." Holmes said.

Carmichael maze...

Lady Carmichael and Sir Eustace stare in horror as the Bride floats closer to them. Sir Eustace's eyes roll up into his head and he faints.

"A league of furies awakened." Holmes said, as a voiceover.

Elsewhere in the maze, after she has made her escape, the Bride lifts her veil to reveal Janine, her face white and her lips red and smeared. She smiles with satisfaction.

"The women I ... we have lied to, betrayed ..." Holmes said, as a voiceover.

Carmichael house...

Watson and Shay turn wide-eyed to see the Bride standing behind them.

"... the women we have ignored ..." Holmes said, as a voiceover.

The Bride raises her hands like claws and hiss-shrieks, and Watson and Shay turns and runs.

"... and disparaged." Holmes said, as a voiceover.

Watson and Shay run into the hall. Behind them, Hooper, dressed in the Bride's outfit, climbs out of the broken window.

Crypt...

"Once the idea exists, it cannot be killed." Holmes said.

"It's like a meme. An idea. I 'aven't seen sumfink like this since the chuffin' 'End o' the chuffin' World', i'n it?" Shay asked, walking close to Holmes as the consulting detective's gaze sharpens a little. "The bloomin' first date between the bloomin' Doctor and Rose. God, that right takes me back. I were there for it, right, y'know. Yer can't 'ave a knees-up wivout a joanna. And some o' Team RWBY."

"Shay's right, it is an idea. This is the work of a single-minded person, someone who knew first-hand about Sir Eustace's mental cruelty. A dark secret, kept from all but her closest friends ..." Holmes said, and behind him and Shay, someone wearing the Bride's wedding dress and with the veil over their face walks into view. "... including Emelia Ricoletti ..." The Bride slowly walks closer to him and Shay, footsteps sounding on the floor. "... the woman her husband wronged all those years before. If one disregards the ghost, there is only one suspect."

Holmes turns towards the person he has heard approaching with Shay, unsurprised by the sight of the veiled figure.

"Isn't that right, Lady Carmichael?" Holmes asked, while the Bride stopped close to him and Shay. "One small detail doesn't quite make sense to me, however. Why engage me and Jared to prevent a murder you intended to commit?"

"Um, Sherlock..." Shay said, when the Bride doesn't respond. "Something's wrong."

"Hmm? What is it, Shay?" Holmes asked, looking at Shay.

The Bride huffs out a laugh but it's not coming from any woman's mouth.

"It doesn't quite make sense; this doesn't quite make sense." Moriarty said, from underneath the veil, in a deliberately poor impersonation of Holmes, before speaking in his own voice. "Of course it doesn't make sense." Holmes and Shay blinked a couple of times. "It's not real." He snores as if bored. "Oh, Sherlock, Jared."

Moriarty takes hold of the veil and flips it back onto his head, holding it there so as to reveal his face. There is dried blood in the middle of his upper and lower lips from where he shot himself in the mouth. Holmes and Shay gasp.

"Peekaboo." Moriarty said, rolling his jaw as if it hurts.

Holmes and Shay stare in shock.

"No. No, not you. It can't be you." Holmes said, at a loss for words.

"But that's impossible. Right. W ain't buggers changin' wile I'm bloody well 'ere, i'n it? It changed in aunuvver fan fiction I read. Yer can't 'ave a knees-up wivout a joanna. W not 'ere, then, eh, luv?" Shay asked.

"I mean, come on, be serious. Costumes, the gong. Speaking as a criminal mastermind, we don't really have gongs, or special outfits. Only the Master has special outfits. Isn't that part of the reason why you're scared of him, Jared?" Moriarty asked, looking between Holmes and Shay.

Holmes and Shay, looking faint, close their eyes.

(Jared's POV)

Hospital...

I opened my eyes and looked over at Sherlock to see that I am back in the modern day.

"Ugh..." I said, while behind Holmes' closed eyes, it's as if a faint image of Watson is shining a penlight onto Sherlock's face. "This sucks. Like, this really sucks."

The voice which speaks in my head, however, sounds a little more like modern John than Victorian Watson.

"Jared, you're finally awake. What the hell is going on?" John and Watson asked, at the same time.

Holmes opens his eyes again and peers at Moriarty in continuing disbelief.

"Is this silly enough for you two yet? Gothic enough? Mad enough, even for you both? It doesn't make sense, Sherlock, Jared, because it's not real." Moriarty said, in a whisper. "None of it."

Behind his eyes, Holmes can again see Watson looking closely at him, and again he hears the voice.

"What're they talking about?" John and Watson asked, at the same time.

"This is all in your mind." Moriarty said, in a whisper.

Holmes clamps his eyes shut again.

"Sherlock. Jared." John said, as I looked over at him.

"What did I miss?" I asked.

"Not much." Mary said, sadly.

The penlight shines into Sherlock's closed eyes.

"Holmes! Shay!" Watson yelled, his voice in my head.

"You're dreaming." Moriarty said, in a whisper.

Sherlock, his eyes wide again, opens his mouth and gasps out a long breath.

"We know Jared woke up first. But Sherlock. Is he dreaming?" Mary asked.

Sherlock's vision clears. Mary is sitting a short distance away and peering at him, and John is leaning over him and shining a penlight into his right eye. Mycroft and I are sitting at Sherlock's bedside. We're no longer in the plane and Sherlock is lying fully clothed on a bed, presumably in a hospital.

"And there he is. Thought we'd lost you and Jared for a moment. May I just check: is this what you mean by 'controlled usage'?" Mycroft asked, somewhat sarcastically.

"For Sherlock. Yeah." I said, and in the background, a woman in a white hospital uniform walks past. "We were busy."

"We were." Sherlock said, a little blearily. "Mrs Emelia Ricoletti. Jared and I need to know where she was buried."

"What, a hundred and twenty years ago?!" Mycroft exclaimed.

"Yes." Sherlock said, struggling to sit up, while John and I tried to push him back down.

"Sherlock, you're more drunk than me." I said, sadly.

"Jared. No, I'm not. You drink a lot of spiked iced tea and spiked seltzer."

"Sherlock, Jared, let's get back to the situation at hand. That would take weeks to find, if those records even exist. Even with my resources ..." Mycroft said, rolling his eyes.

"Got it." Mary said, looking down at her phone.

Cemetery....

Some time later, John, Mary, and I get out of a police car and follow Sherlock, who has just taken a spade from the boot of another police car. Sherlock is now wearing his Coat and scarf and he leads us into a cemetery. Mycroft and Greg Lestrade follow us and there are several uniformed police officers in attendance.

"I don't get it. How is this relevant?" John asked.

"It is relevant. It's better than skipping this altogether. Like in that fan fiction I read." I said, happily.

"Jared's right. That version of me skipped over this due to interference." Sherlock said, holding the spade. "We need to know we were right, then we'll be sure."

"You mean how Moriarty did it?" Mary asked, looking between Sherlock and I.

"Yup. How Moriarty did it. It was two years ago." I said, smiling.

"But none of that really happened. It was in your head, Sherlock. And Jared, you hopped into Sherlock's head." John said.

"Our investigation was the fantasy. The crime happened exactly as we explained." Sherlock said.

"The stone was erected by a group of her friends." Mary said.

"Brother dear, Jared, I don't know what you think you'll find here." Mycroft said, looking between Sherlock and I.

"We need to try!" Sherlock said, angrily.

"I found it!" I said, running towards the rear of the gravestone we're looking for. "Thank goodness I watched this adventure hundreds of times back home."

On the front is carved:

EMELIA RICOLETTI

BELOVED SISTER

FAITHFUL BEYOND DEATH

DIED DECEMBER 18 1894

AGED 26

Shortly afterwards, Sherlock and I are standing beside Emelia's grave holding the spade. The others are standing on the path at the foot of the grave and some of the police officers are nearby, one of them also holding a spade.

"Mrs Ricoletti was buried here, but what happened to the other one, the corpse they substituted for her after the so-called suicide?" Sherlock asked.

"They'd move it. Of course they would." John said, scoffing.

"But where would they move it? It doesn't make any sense!" I said, angrily. "They never told me back home."

"Well, not here!" John yelled.

"But that ... that's exactly what they must have done. The conspirators had someone on the inside. They found a body, just like Molly Hooper and Martha Jones found bodies for me and Jared when we..." Sherlock said, while John throws him a dark look and Mary raises her eyes to the heavens.

"Sherlock, time and the place." I said, as Sherlock stops abruptly. "Not now to dwell in the past."

"Right." Sherlock said, looking down. "Yeah, well, we don't need to go into all that again, do we?"

Sherlock shifts his grip on the spade, ready to start digging.

"You're not seriously gonna do this?" John asked.

"It's why we came here! Jared and I need to know." Sherlock said, bending forward to the grave.

"Spoken like an addict." John said, turning away.

"This is important to me!" Sherlock said, straightening up to look at John.

"No – this is you needing a fix." John said, turning back.

"John. Sherlock needs to know." I said, sadly. "I need to know. I was left in the dark about this for years."

"Jared, you don't need to know." John said, rolling his eyes.

"John ..." Sherlock said, frowning.

"Moriarty's back. We have a case! We have a real-life problem right now." John said, looking between Sherlock and I.

"Getting to that! It's next on the list! Just let us do this." Sherlock said, again, he bends to the grave.

"No, everyone always lets you do whatever you want. That's how you got in this state, Sherlock." John said, loudly. "And you bloody had to drag Jared into it. Not solving it the first time around from what he remembers. And now he has to know too."

"John, please ..." Sherlock said, straightening up again.

"I'm not playing this time, Sherlock, not any more. Let Jared play with you, Sherlock." John said, angrily stepping back, flexing his left hand, then speaks more calmly. "When you and Jared are ready to go to work, give me a call." He takes Mary's arm. "I'm taking Mary home."

"You're what?" Mary asked, instantly.

"It sounds better the other way around!" I said, excitedly.

"It really does, Jared."

"You're right, Jared." John said, letting out a sigh. "Mary's taking me home."

"Better." Mary said, smirking.

They walk away. Mycroft walks over to where the Watsons were standing, "He's right, you know."

"So what if he's right? He's always right. It's boring." Sherlock said, loudly, pausing, looking down, for a moment, before speaking more quietly. "Will you help me?"

Sherlock looks across to Greg, then to me, and finally to Mycroft. The three of us exchange a look and then Mycroft shrugs and gestures down to the grave.

"Cherchez la femme." Mycroft said.

Sherlock raises the spade and plunges it into the earth.

HOURS LATER...

It's night time and portable lights have been set up to illuminate the area. Sherlock, down to just shirt and trousers, is almost neck deep in the grave as he shovels out the latest spadeful of earth. Next to him, me, also in shirtsleeves, is also digging.

"Sherlock, this is gonna take forever." I said, looking over at Sherlock.

Both of us are wearing thick gloves. Mycroft and Greg stand next to the grave, shining a flashlight down into the hole.

"Jared. If you don't want to do it. Let Lestrade do it." Sherlock said, rolling his eyes.

Sherlock and I shovel out a few more loads and then, when Sherlock plunges the spade down again, it's met with a hollow thump. He slowly straightens up, realising that they have reached the coffin.

Some time later, I groaned in pain as Sherlock and I, now out of the grave, bend down to lower the coffin to the ground at its foot.

"This is going to take all night." I said, taking a crowbar out of my sling bag and I used it to lever up one end of the coffin lid and then handed it to Sherlock to lever up the other end. "Never thought I'd be Link."

We then lift off the lid and set it down beside the coffin, inside which – illuminated by Mycroft's and Greg's flashlights – is a very rotted almost skeletal corpse with worms wriggling in the eye sockets of the skull. Surrounding the corpse are the rotted remains of a wedding dress.

"That's disgusting." I said, staying back.

Sherlock, leaning over the coffin, puts the back of his hand to his nose and mouth, presumably appalled by the smell, "Urgh! Now I see why you got out of there, Jared."

Mycroft and Lestrade direct the light from his torch into the coffin. Kneeling down beside the coffin and breathing heavily, Sherlock starts to rummage around and under the corpse, searching for a second body. I jumped onto the hole where the coffin was to try and help find the second body. There clearly isn't one.

"Oh dear. The cupboard is bare." Mycroft said.

"It isn't." I said, while Sherlock rises up on his knees and stares into the grave. "There has to be something."

"You're right, Jared. They must have buried it underneath. They must have buried it underneath the coffin." Sherlock said, standing up and leaping over the coffin, he jumps down into the grave and starts grabbing handfuls of earth, tossing them over the side of the hole.

Mycroft and Lestrade walk to the edge of the grave and look down at Sherlock and I, then straighten up and exchange another look. Greg sighs and we look down into the grave again as Sherlock pants heavily while he continues throwing out handfuls of earth.

"Bad luck, Sherlock, Jared." Lestrade said, as Sherlock continues frantically scrabbling in the grave. "Maybe they got rid of the body in another way."

"More than likely. At any rate, it was a very long time ago. We do have slightly more pressing matters to hand, little brother. Moriarty, back from the dead?" Mycroft asked.

"Moriarty can wait." I said, frantically pawing handfuls of earth together, but stopped when a harsh female voice began to whisper. "This is more important, Mycroft."

"Do not forget me." A voice said, rhythmically, as if reciting lyrics to a song.

Sherlock raises his head and turns, with me grabbing his hand as a result. Up above, both Greg and Mycroft turn and look towards the coffin, clearly hearing the voice as well.

"Do not forget me." A voice said, harshly whispering.

Mycroft shines his torchlight into the coffin. Greg's jaw drops and Mycroft stares in disbelief as the corpse's skeletal right hand begins to lift from where it was resting on the body's chest. The arm slowly straightens out. As Sherlock and I frown at the sound of creaking bones, the coffin seems to shake and the corpse's head begins to lift up.

"Son of a bitch!" I yelled, when a woman's furious scream can be heard, and Sherlock's eyes and my eyes widen as the skeleton plunges into the grave on top of us. "This isn't good!"

The skeleton flattens Sherlock and I to the floor.

(Open POV)

Holmes and Shay start violently and wake up to find themselves lying on their sides on a narrow rocky ledge. Water is pouring over them as if it is raining heavily.

"Oh, I see. Still not awake, are we?" Holmes asked, sounding exasperated as he props himself up onto one elbow.

"Unfortunately not. O' course we're near the bloomin' Reichenbach Falls." Shay said, while he and Holmes shifted position and turned to look along the ledge.

Behind them, beyond the end of the ledge a few feet away, a massive waterfall plunges over the side of the mountain. A few yards in the other direction, Professor Moriarty stands looking at Holmes and Shay. In the distance, a full moon lights up the night sky. Holmes grimaces and pulls down the visor of his deerstalker hat, trying to keep the water out of his eyes.

"Too deep, Sherlock, Jared. Way too deep." Moriarty said, as Holmes stumbles to his feet. "Congratulations. Sherlock, you'll be the first man in history to be buried in his own Mind Palace with Jared as collateral damage."

Holmes has been looking towards the waterfall but now turns to face Moriarty.

"The setting's a shade melodramatic, don't you think?" Holmes asked, gesturing behind him.

"For the three of us?" Moriarty asked, looking up at the spray splashing over him. "Not at all."

"What are you?" Holmes asked.

"You know what I am. I'm Moriarty." Moriarty said, in a slightly sarcastic voice. "The Napoleon of crime."

"Moriarty's dead." Holmes said, firmly.

"'e right is dead. I'll get out me spoons. 'e shot 'is own michael Caines out. I'll make us all a nice cup a' tea." Shay said, sadly.

"Not in your mind, Sherlock, or in Jared's mind." Moriarty said, shaking his head. "I'll never be dead there. Sherlock, you once called your brain a hard drive." He starts to walk forward. "Well, say hello to the virus. This is how we end, you, Jared and I. Always here, always together."

"Jared, stay close." Holmes said, grabbing Shay's hand and starts to walk slowly towards his nemesis, who has now stopped. "You have a magnificent brain, Moriarty. I admire it." Moriarty smiles a little. "I concede, it may be even be the equal of my own. And Jared here is the other person to hold that honor."

Moriarty's smile widens, "I'm touched. I'm honoured."

"But when it comes to the matter of unarmed combat on the edge of a precipice ..." Holmes said, and Moriarty's smile has dropped. "... you're going in the water ..." He pauses for a moment and Shay lets go of his hand and stood back. "... short-arse."

Moriarty hisses and lashes out, jabbing his fingers into Holmes' throat, who chokes and stumbles back, his deerstalker falling off as he clutches at his throat. Moriarty surges forward and grabs Holmes' ears, shoving him against the rock wall. Holmes roughly pushes him away, then as Moriarty straightens up, Holmes punches him in the face. As he breathes heavily, Moriarty turns back to face him.

"Oh, you think you're so big and strong, Sherlock! Enough to have Jared follow you instead of me! Not with me!" Moriarty said, loudly, punching Holmes in the face.

The impact spins Holmes around and sends him falling to the ground. Getting up again, Holmes turns back and swings another punch but Moriarty blocks it and seizes his arm and shoves him hard, sending him falling to the ground on his front, his head almost over the drop at the end of the ledge. Breathing heavily, Holmes struggles to turn over onto his back. As he finally makes it, Moriarty walks forward to stand over him.

"I am your WEAKNESS!" Moriarty said, yelling, crying out with rage, he kicks Holmes in the head, flattening him to the rock floor. "I keep you DOWN!" He kicks Holmes in the side, making him grunt with pain. Moriarty drops to his knees and leans forward, yelling into his enemy's face. "Every time you STUMBLE, every time you FAIL, when you're WEAK ..."

Holmes is grimacing under the verbal onslaught. Moriarty punches him in the chest as he stands up.

"I ... AM ..." Moriarty said, bending and punches Holmes' chest again. "... THERE!"

Moriarty drops to his knees as Holmes tries to sit up. He seizes Holmes' coat while the detective flails uselessly at him.

"No. Don't try to fight it. LIE BACK AND LOSE!" Moriarty said, straightening up, hauling Holmes to his feet.

They struggle for a moment but Moriarty has the upper hand and shoves Holmes sideways, clinging to his arm with one hand and grasping the side of his head with the other and bending him over the side of the ledge. Shay ran over to Holmes, in front of him to protect him.

"Shall we go over together?" Moriarty asked, harshly, loudly. "It has to be together, doesn't it? At the end, it's always just you and Jared ..." He screams the next words manically into Holmes' face. "... AND ME!"

"Nah, do wot Guvnor! Yer forgot one detail. I 'ave Team RWBY, sure. But I also 'ave one o' me favorite doctors." Shay said, happily.

Behind them, a very familiar male voice clears its throat. Moriarty looks round and a few feet away Watson, smiling slightly, lifts his revolver with the muzzle pointed skywards and cocks it before pointing it forward.

"Professor, if you wouldn't mind stepping away from my friends. I do believe he finds your attention a shade annoying." Watson said.

Holmes and Shay, slight smiles on their faces, with the consulting detective letting his fanboy lift his hands away from Moriarty, who releases the consulting detective with a frustrated look.

"That's not fair. There's three of you!" Moriarty yelled.

"There's always three of us. Don't you read The Strand?" Watson asked, tossing Holmes' deerstalker towards his friend, who catches it and sniffs nonchalantly as he puts it on.

"You took your time, John." Shay said, happily.

"I would have been here sooner if you hadn't waited." Watson said, gesturing with his revolver. "On your knees, Professor." Looking both bewildered and exasperated, Moriarty drops to his knees at the side of the ledge, facing the drop. "Hands behind your head."

Looking up briefly at Holmes and Shay, Moriarty does as instructed.

"Thank you, John." Holmes said.

"Seriously. Thank you, John!" Shay said, excitedly.

"Since when do either of you call me John?" Watson asked, looking between Holmes and Shay. "And Jared, since when did you have an American accent and not speak Cockney?"

"You'd be surprised." Holmes said, smiling.

"You really would." Shay said, smiling.

"No I wouldn't." Watson said, smiling back briefly, then looks down towards Moriarty. "Time you woke up, Sherlock, Jared." He raises his gaze to Holmes and Shay again, who had been looking away but now turns to look at him. "I'm a storyteller. I know when I'm in one."

"Of course. Of course you do, John." Holmes said, smiling again.

"You're a storyteller like me, John. I am the main character of this fanfiction series. It does revolve me after all." Shay said, smiling again. "I'll always have adventures. I could not include you, John."

"So what's he like? The other me, in the other place?" Watson asked.

"Smarter than he looks." Holmes said.

"Pretty damned smart, then."

"Pretty damned smart." Holmes said, smiling.

As the three of them smile at each other, Moriarty makes a disgusted noise.

"Urgh. Why don't you three just elope, for God's sake?" Moriarty asked.

"Impertinent!" Watson yelled.

"Offensive." Holmes said.

"Yeah. I am not Morgan Spencer or Danielle Fielding. I would not do it like them." Shay said, rolling his eyes. "I'm done. I'm absolutely done."

"Actually ..." Watson said, lowering his revolver. "... would either of you mind?"

"Not at all." Holmes said.

"Kick his ass, John." Shay said, while Watson walks forward to stand behind Moriarty, then lifts his right foot and firmly kicks him in the back, sending him forward over the edge. "Thank you."

"You are very welcome." Watson said, as Moriarty screams as he falls. "So, Spencer and Fielding. Are they admirable?"

Watson steps forward and he, Shay, and Holmes look down into the abyss below them.

"They are. In their own ways." Shay said, smirking.

As Moriarty's scream ends, Watson straightens up and looks at his friends.

"It was my turn." Watson said.

"Quite so." Holmes said.

"So, how do you both plan to wake up?" Watson asked.

"Ohhh, I should think like this." Holmes said, looking around the area for a moment.

"Yeah. I don't have the TARDIS to catch my fall. But this will do nicely." Shay said, stepping onto the rim of the ledge with Holmes.

"Are you sure?" Watson asked.

Holmes turns to look at Watson, "Between the three of us, John, Jared and I always survive a fall."

"But how?"

"Elementary, my dear Watson." Holmes said, facing forward again, taking off his deerstalker, he tossed it into the abyss.

Holmes and Shay are bending their knees slightly, they leap forward, both of them spreading their arms wide, and plunges into the void. Falling horizontally and facing downwards with their arms still outspread, Holmes and Shay start to smile. They fly ever downwards, both of their smiles widening and becoming a happy grin as they fall.

(Jared's POV)

Sitting in the plane parked on the airfield's tarmac, I opened my eyes and looked over at John, Mary, and Mycroft. Sherlock jerks awake and opens his eyes. They are a little glassy and the pupils are rather dilated. Someone's hand is leaning on the headrest beside his head. He looks around in confusion for a moment, then his eyes settle on something specific. He smiles.

"Miss us?" Sherlock asked, and it's John who is leaning over him and to whom he addressed the question.

Mary is in front of Sherlock's seat and my seat, bending forward and looking worriedly at us. Mycroft is in the middle of the aisle a few paces behind her.

"Sherlock? Jared? You all right?" John asked, looking between Sherlock and I.

"Yes, of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" Sherlock asked.

"I'm okay." I said, smiling. "It wasn't that big of a deal."

"You're right, Jared. It really wasn't that big."

'Cause you and Jared probably just OD'd. The two of you should be in hospital." Mary said.

"No time." Sherlock said, starting to get up. "We have to go to Baker Street now. Moriarty's back."

Sherlock stumbles as he steps into the aisle with me supporting him from falling, and slowly shakes his head, trying to get his balance as I wrapped my arm around his.

"I almost hope he is, if it'll save the both of you from these." Mycroft said, holding up one of the pieces of paper containing Sherlock's 'list' and the other piece of paper containing the plan of mine.

Looking exasperated, Sherlock snatches his paper from Mycroft's hand and tears it in half and then half again.

"No need for that now." Sherlock said, dropping the pieces to the floor.

"And all this is spoilers anyway. It's in a language only I understand." I said, snatching my paper from Mycroft's hand and tearing it in half and then half again. "You wouldn't get it anyway."

"Exactly. Best no one can read it, Jared. Got the real thing. We have work to do." Sherlock said, beginning to step forward with me but stops when Mycroft speaks.

"Sherlock." Mycroft said, softly, while Sherlock raises his eyes to his brother's. "Promise me?"

Sherlock looks around the cabin for a moment, then looks back to Mycroft, "What are you still doing here? Shouldn't you be off getting me and Jared a pardon or something, like a proper big brother?"

"Oh, I need a pardon for this and for the Sokovia Accords. And that is after Phoenix Wright will prove me not guilty for that someday." I said, moving forward with Sherlock, shoving Mycroft out of the way with our shoulders, and heads for the door. "Those Accords aren't my fault. And it will be appealed someday. I know it will."

Mycroft closes his eyes with resignation. Mary and John walk past him towards the door.

"Doctor Watson?" Mycroft asked, as John stops and turns back to him. "Look after them ..." He gives John a small but genuine smile. "... please?"

John nods, then turns and leaves the plane. Mycroft turns, goes down on one knee and takes a notebook from his breast pocket. Opening it to a bookmarked page, he picks up the two separate torn pieces of paper and puts them into the notebook where, written at the top of the left-hand page with a rectangular box drawn around it, is the word

REDBEARD

Underneath on the left-hand side is:

611174

Vernet?

To the right of those is a diagonal matrix and underneath, double underlined, the words

Scarlet Roll M

Below that is some mathematical notation, apparently Maxwell's equations of electromagnetism.

Mycroft closes the notebook.

Outside...

Sherlock is putting on his coat as he walks across the tarmac with me towards the car parked nearby.

"Sherlock, Jared, hang on. Explain. Moriarty's alive, then?" John asked.

"We never said he was alive. We said he was back." Sherlock said, stopping near the car and taking his gloves from his pocket.

"So he's dead." Mary said.

"Of course he's dead. Moriarty blew his own brains out." I said, happily. "I'm afraid of Moriarty as I am the Master. That's why I went forward in time a lot from A Study in Pink to the Reichenbach Fall."

"Jared's right. Moriarty is terrifying despite him being dead now. No-one survives that. Jared and I just went to the trouble of an overdose to prove it." Sherlock said, throwing a quick guilty look at John before looking down. "Moriarty is dead, no question. But more importantly ..."

"Going on Twitter?" I asked, when Sherlock raises his head and looks to one side. "And well, tweeting a lot."

"That, and..." Sherlock said, smiling at our friends, he turns and continues on towards the car with me, leaving John to look in confusion at Mary. "... I know exactly what he's going to do next."

Shortly afterwards, the car pulls away and drives off along the tarmac.

(Open POV)

221B...

"Flying machines; a blue box that disappears and reappears across all of time and space, these, er, telephone contraptions ..." Watson said.

Holmes and Watson sitting in their armchairs in the sitting room. Each of them is smoking a pipe. Shay is also in the sitting room, drinking a cup of tea on the couch.

"What sort of lunatic fantasy is that?" Watson asked.

"It was simply my conjecture and Jared's conjecture cture of what a future world might look like, and how the three of us might fit inside it." Holmes said, and Watson nods. "From a drop of water, a logician should be able to infer the possibility of an Atlantic or a Niagara."

"Or a Reichenbach."

"John, did yer write yor version o' events for this case, isit?" Shay asked.

"Yes." Watson said, happily.

"Hmm. Modified to put it down as one of my rare failures, of course?" Holmes asked.

"Of course."

Holmes looks thoughtful for a moment, "'The Adventure of ... the Invisible Army'."

"That one ain't bad, Sherlock." Shay said, while Watson looks upwards, considering it.

"'The League of Furies'?" Holmes asked, leans forward, smiling. "'The Monstrous Regiment'."

"Oh, right, hell fire no. I'll get out me spoons. Them two titles are terrible, right? 'mm... I were thinkin' 'The Abominable Bride'." Shay said, happily.

"That is a good title, Jared." Watson said, smiling.

"A trifle lurid." Holmes said, sitting back.

"It'll sell. It's got proper murders in it, too."

"John, you and Jared are the experts." Holmes said, pointing his pipe at Watson and Shay.

"As for your own tale, are you sure it's still just a seven percent solution that you take? And are you sure Jared places 3.5 grams of cocaine into his fizzy drink? I think you may have increased the dosage for your drink and his."

"Perhaps I was being a little fanciful ..." Holmes said, looking down thoughtfully. "... but perhaps such things could come to pass." He stands up. "In any case, I know I would be very much at home in such a world."

"Straight up. Same, i'n it? I could imagine myself seein' all o' time and space." Shay said, looking down thoughtfully. "And well, right, uvver worlds. 'oppin' in and out o' me favorite stories. Wivout any time passin'."

Watson chuckles as Holmes and Shay walk across the room towards the right-hand window.

"Don't think I would be." Watson said.

"I beg to differ." Holmes said, while he and Shay looked out of the window. "But then Jared and I have always known we were men out of their time."

Holmes puts his pipe in his mouth while Shay is holding a cup of tea and the two continue to look out of the window. The 'Pursuit' theme starts again, this time with a Victorian twist to it, as the camera slowly pulls back. Down in the street below, customers are going into SPEEDY'S Sandwich Bar & Cafe while more people – all dressed in modern-day clothing – walk past, and the road is busy with cars. A black cab passes a number 11 bus – destination Baker Street – as they drive past 221B ...

... where it is always 1895.