Thank you Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan on livejournal for the transcripts. They help so much.
Here is the next part of the Empty Hearse
I own nothing, except Calliah and my ideas.
I had left to go home, when Sherlock and John called me back to the flat. We walk briskly along the road near the Houses of Parliament and head to the stairs leading down into Westminster station. We walk across the concourse, through the ticket barriers and along the corridors. “So it’s a bomb, then? A Tube carriage is carrying a bomb.”
“Must be.” Sherlock says.
“Right.” John says, and takes off his gloves and takes out his phone.
“What are you doing?” I ask John.
“Calling the police.” John says.
“What? No!” Sherlock says.
“Sherlock, this isn’t a game. They need to evacuate Parliament.” John says.
“They’ll get in the way. They always do. This is cleaner, more efficient.” Sherlock says. We stop at a locked maintenance entrance, he reaches into his coat, takes out a crowbar and starts to force the gate open.
“And illegal.” John says.
“A bit.” Sherlock says.
The gate opens and we go inside, Sherlock pulls the gate closed behind us and the boys take out flashlights and we start walking down into the maintenance tunnels. John and I walk behind Sherlock and John checks his phone. “No service.” He whispers softly to me.
Sherlock raises his head. “What are you two doing?” He asks, not looking back at us.
“Coming.” John says and sighs. He puts his phone away. We continue onwards for a long time, walking along narrow tunnels and walkways and climbing down steep metal ladders. I was happy that I wore flats today. We finally get onto the platform of Sumatra Road station. Sherlock shines his torch along the length of the track but there is no sigh of a train.
“I don’t understand.” Sherlock says.
“Well, that’s a first.” John say and looks at me. I chuckle.
“There’s nowhere else it could be.” Sherlock says, ignoring us. He turns to face the track and brings his hands up to either side of his head, screwing his eyes shut and concentrating. After a couple seconds Sherlock’s eyes snap open. “Oh!” Turning to the left, he runs towards the end of the platform.
“What?” John asks as we follow. Sherlock jumps carefully off the end of the platform onto the tracks. “Hang on. Sherlock?”
Sherlock turns back. “What?”
“That’s… Isn’t it live?” John asks.
Sherlock starts walking along the tracks. “Perfectly safe as long as we avoid touching the rails.”
“’Course, yeah. Avoid the rails. Great.” John says sarcastically. He jumps down and helps me down.
“This way.” Sherlock says.
“You sure?” I ask.
We don’t have to walk that far till we see the missing carriage. “Ah. Look at that.” John says.
We continue on, then Sherlock looks up. I look up and see vents. Sherlock shines his flashlight into it and see small explosive attached to the sides of the vent. “John.” Sherlock calls to John.
“Hmm?” John asks and shines his flashlight and see the explosives. “Demolition charges.” We continue to the carriage, John ducks down and shines his light underneath and around it as we approach. He blows out a long breath as we get close and again he squats down to check the underside while Sherlock looks along the side. Sherlock opens the door to the driver’s cab and we climb in and then go carefully through the opposite door into the carriage itself. Slowly we work our way along it, looking at every seat, every corner, the boy shining their torches along the ceiling and the floor. At the second set of side doors, Sherlock slows down, paying particular attention to something. John progresses on to the very end. “It’s empty. There’s nothing.”
“Isn’t there?” Sherlock asks. John turns back and points his torch where Sherlock is gently lifting the cushion, bending low to shine his light underneath. Sherlock lifts his head and looks round at us. “This is the bomb.”
“What?” I ask.
Sherlock stands up and lift the cushion all the way up. The cavity underneath is full of wired-up explosives. “It’s not carrying explosives. The whole compartment is the bomb.” We work our along the carriage, lifting other cushions at random. Each one has an identical explosive device under it. While John and I continue lifting seat cushions, Sherlock looks around the carriage and then takes a few steps along the aisle before realizing that a floor panel is loose. As John looks down at the latest batch of explosives, Sherlock takes his gloves off and bends to the panel, forcing his fingers into the gap and lifting it. Underneath is what can only be described as the ‘mother bomb’ – a device massively larger than the ones under the cushions. While John takes several deep nervous breaths and I grip John’s hand, Sherlock props the panel up against the wall of the train. We all look down at the massive device, then John and I look up at Sherlock.
“We need bomb disposal.” John says.
“There may not be time for that now.” Sherlock says.
“So what do we do?” I ask.
Sherlock pauses. “I have no idea.”
“Well, think of something.” John says sternly.
“Why d’you think I know what to do?” Sherlock asks.
“Because you’re Sherlock Holmes.” John says.
“You’re as clever as it gets.” I say.
“Doesn’t mean I know how to defuse a giant bomb. What about one of you?” Sherlock asks.
“I’m only a lousy doctor!” I yell.
“I wasn’t in bomb disposal. I’m a bloody doctor.” John says.
Sherlock angrily points his torch at John. “And a soldier, as you keep reminding us all.”
John looks down at the countdown. “Can’t-can’t we rip the timer off, or something?” He asks.
“That would set it off.” Sherlock says.
“You see? You know things.” John says. Sherlock turns away, sighing.
All the light come on and the countdown clock on the mother bomb begins to tick down. We look around in shock and John groans. “Er…”
John was breathing fast. “My God!” John says.
Sherlock paces away from us. “Er…”
“Why didn’t you call the police?” John asks.
“Please just...” Sherlock says.
“Why do you never call the police?” John asks furiously.
“Well, it’s no use now.” I say softly. I sit down and bring my knees to my chest.
“So you can’t switch the bomb off? You can’t switch the bomb off and you didn’t call the police.” John says angrily. He turns away for a moment and then turns back again.
Sherlock looks at us. “Go, John. Take Calliah and leave.” He points towards the driver’s cab. “Go now.”
“There’s no point now, is there, because there’s not enough time to get away; and of we don’t do this…” John says and points down to the mother bomb. “…other people will die!” He looks down at the clock for a moment, then points at Sherlock. “Mind Palace.”
“Hmmm?” Sherlock asks.
“Use your Mind Palace.” I say.
“How will that help?” Sherlock asks.
“You’ve salted away every fact under the sun!” John says.
“Oh, and you think I’ve just got ‘How To Defuse A Bomb’ tucked away in there somewhere?” Sherlock asks.
“Yes!” John and I yell.
Sherlock thinks about it for a second. “Maybe.” He brings his fingers up to the sides of his face and screws his eyes shut.
“Think.” John says intensely. Sherlock lifts his head a little, still concentrating. “Think. Please think.” Sherlock groans. “Think!” Sherlock’s hands come away from his face and flail, while his eyes remain closed and he continues to make groaning noises. John closes his eyes, shaking his head as the noises get louder and finally Sherlock lets out a cry and opens his eyes. He breathes heavily for a moment, then he lowers his hands and looks at us with a blank but apologetic look on his face. John stares at him in disbelief. I start crying softly and place my head into my knees. “Oh my God.” I look up and see John turning away. Sherlock tears his scarf from around his neck and doubles over, burying his head in his hands, still making incoherent groaning noises. He drops to his knees next to the bomb while John wanders a little way down the carriage. I get up and move over to John. I grip his hand and he wraps an arm around me.
“Um, er…” I hear Sherlock say.
John stares into space. “Oh my God.” John says softly.
“Turn that off. Oh God! Er, um, er…” Sherlock mumbles softly.
John and I turn back towards Sherlock and Sherlock raises his head. “I’m sorry.”
John screws his eyes closed for a moment, then looks at Sherlock again. “What?”
Sherlock’s eyes start to fill with tears. I rush over and hug him. “I can’t… I can’t do it, John and Calliah. I don’t know how.” Sherlock says softly. He straightens up on his knees and holds me to him. “Forgive me?”
“What?” John asks tightly, furiously.
“Please, John, forgive me… for all the hurt that I cause you. You too Calliah.” Sherlock says softly. I nod.
John waves a finger at him. “No, no, no, no, no. This is a trick.”
“No.” Sherlock says.
“You’re just trying to make me say something nice.” John says.
Sherlock chuckles briefly. “Not this time.”
“It’s just to make you look good even though you behaved like…” John starts to say and grimaces, fighting back tears, and turns away as he tries to steady his breathing. Sherlock moves away from the bomb, bringing me with, and sits on the edge of one the nearby seats. John grips one of the handrails, looking down at the floor, then stamps his foot furiously. His voice is low but savage when he speaks. “I wanted you not to be dead.”
“Yeah, well, be careful what you wish for.” Sherlock says. John sighs. “If I hadn’t come back, you two wouldn’t be here and…” Baring his teeth, John turns away, shaking his head. “…you’d still have a future… with Mary and Calliah with Mycroft.”
John turns and points at Sherlock. “Yeah. I know.” He grimaces and turns away again. Sherlock clenches his fist against his mouth, then wipes his nose, his face full despair. Finally, John turns back. His voice is low and tight. “Look, I find it difficult.” Sherlock nods, his head lowered. “I find it difficult, this sort of stuff.”
Sherlock looks up at him. “I know.”
John blows out a breath, lowering his head, then he straightens up and looks at us. “You were the best and the wisest man…” He says in a whisper and sniff. “…that I have ever known.” Sherlock looks at him, his eyes wide and tear-filled. I knew that that meant a lot to Sherlock, who didn’t have many people think he was great. John sighs, lowering his head again before raising it once it once more. “Yes, of course I forgive you.” Sherlock gazes at him. John meets his eyes for a moment. He looks at me. “Calliah, you are the most amazing woman I have ever gotten the pleasure of meeting and getting to call my friend.” I start sobbing.
“You are the bravest man I now John.” I say. John grips the handrail and lowers his head, blowing out a long breath. Nearby it sounds as if Sherlock is crying. His head is lowered and the back of his hand is across his mouth while his body shakes with what seem to be sobs. I bring my knees to the chest and close my eyes. John screws his eyes even more tightly closed. Sherlock lowers his hand and turns his head away, then turns back, hooting with laughter. John opens his eyes and looks across to him as Sherlock giggles in high-pitched hilarity. I look over at him and glare at him. “What the Hell?” Staring at him, John steps forward and looks down at the countdown clock on the mother bomb. I get up and go over to the bomb. It is repeatedly flicking back and forth between 1:28 and 1:29. John turns away as if he can’t believe it. I turn to Sherlock and stare at him.
“You..” John says.
Sherlock stands up, tears of mirth streaming down his cheeks. He was laughing hysterically. “Oh, your face. Both of your faces.”
“…utter…” John continues.
“Both of your faces!” Sherlock keeps laughing.
“You…” John says.
Sherlock grins. “I totally had you two.”
“You cock! I knew it! I knew it! You f…” John says.
Sherlock says simultaneously. “Oh, those things you said – such sweet things! I-I never knew you cared.”
“I will kill you if you ever breathe a word of this…” John says glaring at him.
Sherlock grins while holding up two fingers in a Boy Scout’s salute. “Scout’s honour.”
“…to anyone. You KNEW!” John yells.
“Ahh.” Sherlock says and squats down to the bomb.
“You knew how to turn it off!” John says.
“There’s an Off switch.” Sherlock explains. John bends down to look. Sherlock stands up. “Terrorists can get into all sorts of problems unless there’s an Off switch.”
“So why did you let me go through all that?” John asks tightly.
“I didn’t lie altogether. I’ve absolutely no idea how to turn any of these silly little lights off.” Sherlock explains. He chuckles and wipes the tears off his cheeks. “Oh!” Through the open door of the driver’s cab, a voice over a walkie-talkie radio can be heard, and flashlight beams are approaching along the tunnel. John stares, then points towards them.
“And you did call the police.” John says.
“’Course I called the police.” Sherlock says.
Three armed officers are approaching, flashlights shining from their raised rifles. “I’m definitely gonna kill you.”
“Oh, please. Killing me – that’s so two years ago.” Sherlock say and quirks a smile at John. He looks at me and smiles. “That was funny, wasn’t it Calliah?” I lift my hand and slap him.
“I hate you.” I say and storm out.
“Mycroft Holmes is waiting for you at the station.” One of the men tell me as I pass. I nod and go to the station. I climb out and see Mycroft. I go over.
“Your brother is an ass hat and I hate him.” I say.
“Okay love.” He says to me.
“I want to go home. We have Les Miserable in the morning. And what did I hear that you tried to get out of it?” I ask.
“Um… yeah…” Mycroft says. I roll my eyes as we leave.