Chapter 11 - No WiFi

…

Robin sat, once again, in John's chair, waiting nervously for any news from her two dear friends. She had been waiting for perhaps no more than two hours but if felt like a week. She hated this, she really did. This was just like what happened last time, but she had to console herself with the fact that they were in control this time. She had armed them the best she could.

Although she was waiting, she was not idle. A computer was open on her lap as she multitasked several tasks.

Firstly, she had to manage the police. She had contacted Lestrade immediately but told him to hold off on evacuation attempts. She had given him all the information he needed for both their friends' locations and the terrorists' plans. She had instructed him to wait for evacuation after finding Moran if needed. She had suggested he be ready first with a bomb disposal team, however, and told them to head down as soon as possible.

Locating Moran, gladly, had been one of the easier tasks. She had traced all of Lord Moran's movements and purchases for the past few days, eventually finding out that he had gotten one of his secretaries to book him a room at a hotel in range so that he could detonate the bomb.

Honestly, knowing that Lord Moran was really Moran, Robin found his work to be sloppy. He was no genius. Smart, yes, but he lacked finesse. The ex-army assassin turned politician had become too comfortable in his alias. Although sniper Moran was in the wind, due to the fact that the persona literally did not exist at the moment, Lord Moran was easily observed. She had a live feed of Moran's hotel room on her phone, coming from the modern 'smart' television in the room. She had bugged the same television for audio, and she was now attempting to hack into the rest of the hotel's electronic network.

Robin had coordinated with Mycroft Moran's arrest, assuming the elder Holmes no doubt had plans for the terrorist. She had given him probable locations of the rest of the probable terrorist organization and had cut any communication it had between itself and Moran. She had falsely planted a 'radio silence' warning so that there would be no suspicions as to why Moran was not receiving any info. Still, she wondered how big the organization was. Moran was crafty enough on his own, and with the remains of Moriarty's crumbling network, there weren't many other probable suspects the sniper would call upon.

All in all, she felt that they were in the control of the situation. As long as Sherlock and John made it, and neither of them did anything stupid, they would be fine.

Finally, however, although she had organized everything up top to the best of her ability, she was completely blind to what was going on below. She simply didn't have the time to get something down to where Sherlock and John now were. She had been able to follow them while they were in the main station, whether by social media feed, or by security cameras, but Sumatra Road had nothing.

She had a bad feeling, however. She had gone over the map hundreds of times, but she just couldn't calculate a single scenario where a manageable explosive, which could be smuggled safely in a briefcase, could have enough detonation force to completely destroy the Parliament. It wasn't probable with only a single source of an explosion.

The amount of time Moran had taken to plan this was indicative of something…enormous.

She had her eye on a particular vent, right below the main room in Westminster Palace. She had found it on a second map, not being added to the underground system until later. If…if there were more explosives, that would be where she would put them.

Robin rubbed her temples. She should probably call Lestrade. Maybe meet him at the station.

She had to keep them safe.

…

Down below in the dim underground tunnel, Sherlock and John observed the demolition charges they had just found on the walls of the air vent. The charges were neatly lines row after row up the vent, although they could not clearly see how far they went. Regardless, the amount of explosive force that would come from those charges would no doubt level the streets above, destroying the Westminster Palace and killing anyone in it.

After another moment passed, Sherlock's light quickly disappeared from the vent as he started searching the walls, slowly making his way towards the still waiting train carriage.

"What are you doing?" asked John, noticing his friend's behaviour.

"Searching. There must be a camera or dish, or something that I could use to contact Robin and inform her of the extent of the explosives," explained Sherlock, giving a straight answer for once. He searched a bit more but found nothing.

"There's nothing here!" the detective ground out in frustration.

"Robin will have everything under control."

"But how could she know!"

"She can't, Sherlock, that's why we're here to defu-…defuse the bomb," John answered, somewhat shakily. His mind was finally catching up that they would have to defuse a bomb…or even multiple bombs if the demolition charges were set individually.

"But she's got a quick mind…she'll probably have already thought of this as a variable."

Sherlock's jaw tightened, swallowing his reply. He wanted to shout back that she needed to know. Because he had to keep his word. He had promised that they would be okay.

Sherlock shook his head. He was determined, but if he thought too much about it, that type of thinking would only make him more likely to make a rash mistake. He would revisit his thinking later. John was right, as well. She was able to calculate variable outcomes in a flash, he had little doubt that she had considered the size of the explosive.

But there was still uncertainty.

Slowly, Sherlock approached the carriage, checking one side as John checked the other. Finding nothing, Sherlock quickly pried open the carriage doors and entered.

The two friends shone their torch light everywhere, observing the dingy off-white frame of the inside, the blue felted seats, everything.

"It's empty. There's nothing," muttered John, not seeing a device anywhere he looked. He had missed the red and black wires Sherlock was now following with his torchlight.

"Isn't there?"

Gingerly, Sherlock lifted a seat cushion a crack, having followed the wires down to behind the seat. Shining the light below the seat cover, Sherlock peaked below and once again stiffened, realizing what he was seeing. Carefully, the detective set the seat back, looking around him before pointing, circling around.

"This is the bomb."

"What?"

Somewhat hoping he was wrong, Sherlock lifted the first seat again, now taking the cover off fully. John finally saw the mass of red and black wires that was being concealed by the seat.

Quickly, the two remove one seat cover after another at random, revealing an identical mass of wires all connected to individual explosive charges.

Finally, after searching the whole carriage, they had found the largest bomb, which looked like it was wired to all the others as the control. The two friends stared at it. John had no idea what to do. He knew now that they were way over their head. Again.

"We need bomb disposal."

"There may not be time for that now."

…

Robin hurried down the street, the London night bright and busy so close to the centre of government. The important anti-terrorism debate was in full swing by now. The politicians were all in Westminster Hall, while businesspeople and reporters alike filled the streets around the Parliament. It was no more busy than during any other debate…but there was still too many people.

Lestrade was on his way to arrest Moran, Mycroft's people in tow, but Robin feared it might be too late.

Picking up the pace, she rolled her stiff shoulders and tugged her coat closer to herself. With one mittened hand, she clutched her phone, which had a constant stream of what Moran was doing at all times. Her laptop bag was heavy with her equipment and she had a Bluetooth device in her ear, just in case. For once, the Quartermaster was plugged in and in control.

She had tried to hack into the bomb's control network, but with such a weak signal she was too far away to do any good. She didn't want to risk jumping onto Moran's computer while he was still on it, especially if he had a secondary detonator. And so, she found herself rushing towards Westminster Palace, the House of Commons, and the tube.

Robin glanced down at her phone only to see that Moran had activated the bomb. She could see him preparing to leave now from her live feed. A stream of code popped up on the screen next, showing her the command he had typed in.

Her breath hitched. They had under two minutes. It wasn't enough time. Steeling herself, forcing herself not to begin the shake, she stopped where she was and sent off two texts. First, to Mycroft, telling him Moran was on the move. Secondly, she sent a text to Lestrade, who was no doubt just a few minutes behind John and Sherlock, that the bomb was active. She hoped that the DI hadn't stepped off the main platform, where she could still reach him. In desperation, she hacked into his contacts and messaged any other officer she could find, in hopes they could get the message to Lestrade.

She had a command ready, just in case, that would cut the signal from Moran's detonator to the bomb, just in case. She really hoped that he didn't have a second detonator. She was ready to hack the bomb further, stopping the detonator but making it look like it was still counting down…but that would only buy them some extra time. And she didn't even know if it was possible.

Robin assumed, however, that although the bomb was active Sherlock would have no problem turning it off. It was, after all, just a flip of the switch.

…

"So you can't switch the bomb off. You can't switch the bomb off and you didn't call the police."

"Go, John. Go now."

"There's no point now, is there, because there's not enough time to get away; and if we don't do this, other people will die!"

…

"I-I'm sorry," whispered Sherlock, who had just come out of his Mind Palace.

John, now absolutely furious at his friend, screwed his eyes shut.

"I can't ... I can't do it, John. I don't know how."

Perhaps Sherlock knew that this was not a good idea. Perhaps he knew that this went way beyond a 'bit not good,' but he knew that although almost a year had passed since he had come back, John still hadn't fully forgiven him. His best friend was still too closed off, too cautious. He was too worried as if Sherlock might disappear again if he didn't watch his friend. It wasn't all too visible, but they hadn't taken a major case since Moran's sniper and Sherlock needed to know John forgave him, so he knew where he stood if they were ever in another dangerous situation. He wanted them to be like they had been before.

So he pretended that he couldn't switch the bomb off.

"Forgive me?"

Furious, John replied quickly. "What?!"

"Please, John, forgive me ... for all the hurt that I caused you."

"No, no, no, no, no, no. This is a trick."

"No." Yes. Yes, it might be, but in Sherlock's mind he had to know.

"Another one of your bloody tricks."

…

Breathing in and out, trying to stay as calm as he could, John tried to articulate what he was feeling. He thought he was going to lose his future with Mary. He was going to break his promise to Robin. He was going to lose his best friend…again.

"You know I'm not good at this," he muttered, glaring at his friend.

"It's difficult, this stuff."

"If I hadn't come back, you wouldn't be standing there and…" Sherlock didn't know how to finish that thought. And what? They wouldn't be about to…technically…die? Yes, a lot could go wrong and he knew he had not accounted for all of the variables, but he did trust Robin to have at least some backup on the way.

And if the backup did not arrive in time and were swept up in the explosion as well?

Still, just like John, Sherlock paused and thought about his promise to Robin. He hadn't technically broken it, so why was his gut feeling like it had been stabbed? For once, he was regretting his actions. He knew the worth of Robin's trust and for one reason or another it mattered to him.

John was gathering his wits, not able to look at his friend in fear of crying. He took another calming breath.

In.

Out.

"You were the best and the wisest man...that I have ever known" started John, not being able to stop himself sniffing. Sherlock stiffened, listening intently.

"Yes, of course, I forgive you."

Sherlock's whole being slumped in relief, not being able to hide it. He would later deny it, but tears formed, and perhaps one fell. Now he knew. His home was back to how it should be. Now he could stop the clock. But did he deserve those words?

"But," began John, catching Sherlock attention again. "Before we…go…you need to tell me something. No lying. No tricks."

"What is it?" asked Sherlock, not expecting this and just a bit curious.

"Does the promise we made, to keep safe, mean anything to you?"

Sherlock paused, not understanding. "What?"

"What about Mary…I love her, Sherlock. And what about everyone else?" gulping, John began, thinking things through.

"I mean, well, Rob was in a bad place before and if she loses us…" explained John, not being able to finish the thought. "I mean, what is she going to do?"

Sherlock stared for a moment, his gut plummeting uncomfortably. He didn't understand, however, what John meant. How bad had Robin been? Of course, he had not known Robin like John had at the beginning.

"She will move on," he replied simply.

"Rob's lost too much already."

"She is strong."

"Is that what you think? Actually…what do you think of her?"

Sherlock looked at John oddly. What did he mean?

"She is a friend," began Sherlock, keeping an eye on the clock.

"…No…I mean…" John paused, knowing he wasn't getting anywhere. He paused a second to think, knowing he didn't have much time left.

"Look, would you be on that roof again if she had been in my situation? Do you honestly care for her? Like family, or…bugger if I know…"

Sherlock thought about this, his mind racing. He had to reply. But he didn't know. He thought back to the night he had tried to break into her flat, to tell her to come back. She had not been physically far, but she was trying to break away, her flight instinct stronger than her fight. Sherlock had not dealt particularly well with the situation, but he had come to one conclusion from the night.

"I kissed her."

"…What!" If John had not been so hyped up on adrenaline, literally about to die, he might have needed to lay down.

"It was a mistake."

"What!" John sounded angry now.

"I…would consider her close enough to save her. I do care for her, more than I practically think is necessary, but there it is. She is intelligent, and an asset. It was a mistake to kiss her, I do not feel for her like that."

He sighed. He might as well come clean…perhaps the ugly feeling in his chest would subside.

"When I…did it, it was to get her to come back. I manipulated her, and she did not take it well. That was why we were so distant those few weeks…and she still evades me. It was a mistake and I've been trying to regain her trust. She is dear to me and…I honestly wish I did not have to break that promise. Just as I am sorry now."

He wasn't trying to be grandiose. Sherlock was sincere for once, and it was strange. He hadn't really addressed any of his thoughts on Robin, and now was finding that she was quite important. Looking at all the sacrifices he's made for John and even for Mary, Lestrade, Molly…Robin was a good match.

"That…that's really not good, Sherlock."

…

He saw the switch. With just under a minute and a half, he flicked it off. Grinning, his teary expression morphed into one of triumph and mirth. He grinned wildly as John noticed the clock stop, eyes widening.

Sherlock, laughing now, was far past caring about the consequences. He knew John forgave him now, after a year of nagging worry. He had even admitted he had kissed Robin, getting that off his chest and for once being able to clearly think about it. A bomb really did wonders for the mind.

Noticing John's dumbfounded face, Sherlock couldn't keep it in. He had tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as he tried to withhold his laughter.

Soon, however, John's anger began to rise and boil over.

"You-"

"Your face!"

"utter-"

"I totally had you."

"You cock! I knew it! I knew it! You f…"

"Oh, those things you said – such sweet things! I-I never knew you cared!" exclaimed Sherlock, still laughing happily. John's face screwed up, grimacing.

"I will kill you if you ever breathe a word of this…and tell the world you fancy Robin."

Sherlock calmed down slightly at the threat.

"I don't fancy her. Don't lie," muttered the detective dejectedly.

…

"There's always an off switch," noted Sherlock, pointing it out to John as the doctor bent down to have a look.

"Terrorists can get into all sorts of problems unless there's an off switch."

"So why did you let me go through all that?" asked John, stiff and still blistering.

"I didn't lie altogether…" began Sherlock, looking serious for a moment before giggling again. "I've absolutely no idea how to turn any of these silly little lights off."

"I'm going to punch you…and so is Mary and Robin when I tell them."

"Well, Lestrade is on his way with a squad. And Robin is probably near as well. Of course she wouldn't have left us alone with a bomb," brushed off Sherlock, noticing torch lights approaching.

"I'm definitely gonna kill you," muttered John, noticing the approaching group. Sherlock grinned fanatically, getting up and making his way towards the door.

"Oh, please! Killing me…that's so two years ago."

…

Robin was typing away, brow furrowed, deactivating as much of the bomb as she could herself. Although her tablet's processing was not the best, the system really wasn't that complicated and since it was already off, she just had to cancel the signals between charges. The tunnel didn't have any remote signals since it would have activated from the carriage's explosive force. That she left to the professionals.

It wasn't hard, but she needed to deactivate it. She needed to make sure that everyone was safe. John and Sherlock were still in the carriage off in some god forsaken tunnel, but if she thought too much about it now, she'd go running in. She needed to finish her job first. Oh, and stay as far away from the bombs as possible.

And of course, Mycroft was informing her that Moran was still oblivious and about to be arrested with constant messages on her phone. She was able to listen in on the team's communication on her Bluetooth.

Although a team had gone down to find Sherlock and John and start to disable the bomb, Robin had stayed with Lestrade and his team as they directed people away from the area of the bomb. Although the device itself was inactive it was still live and a major danger, and so the Parliament, along with about a block's worth of space around the building, had been evacuated. At the moment, Robin and Lestrade were anxiously waiting down by the maintenance entrance that Sherlock and John had originally used at Westminster station.

"Lestrade, I need to find a proper computer if you want me to deactivate the whole system," commented the hacker, finally reaching the capacity of what her tablet could do.

"There's a team already on it, Robin, just relax," replied Lestrade, noting the way the woman in front of him was blinking too much and fidgeting. The stress and lack of sleep were finally getting to the recovering woman.

"No, I can do it faster. Just-" she complained, not trusting the competence levels.

"Robin, you've done enough. The rest is busy work. Go and calm down," soothed Lestrade, knowing what to say to a busybody genius.

"It's alright I-"

"Go."

"Merde…alright, fine. I'm going to head topside and see if I can get a hold of Mycroft."

Stuffing her tablet in her bag and bundling her coat around her again, Robin brushed past officers unnoticed until she finally reached the entrance of the underground station. It was probably early morning by now, but it was nonetheless dark. Police car lights and street lamps lit the area, however, and Robin found a nice bench to sit down on and curl up, bringing her knees to her chest. She had gladly taken the precaution to wear her winter coat, a maroon fur lined parka with extra fur around the neck, knowing it would be cold, along with a knit scarf, mittens, and hat. With boots, she was warm enough to start to doze on the bench, the dissipation of adrenaline catching up with her finally.

…

Robin's head lolled and she must have dozed off for a couple of minutes because the next thing she knew Lestrade was nudging her. Before knowing what she was doing, she flinched back, huddling in, before realizing what was going on. She jumped awake and quickly stood, looking around frantically, not knowing what she needed to do. Looking around, she saw Sherlock and John staring at her as they stood under a street lamp just outside the station stairwell.

Sherlock seemed to have been smiling for quite some time, even laughing. His face was flush and even the staring officers couldn't deter his smirk. John, on the other hand, was a bit more pale and his eyes were red, and he didn't look very amused. He rolled his eyes as he saw the way Sherlock's eyes locked onto Robin and how the detective's smile grew more sly and almost boisterous.

Eyes glazing slightly, Robin's breath hitched as she saw her friends, alive and well. Her fatigue almost forgotten, Robin grinned widely and tried to calm her heart. 'They are fine, they are safe. Everything is and was under control. Mes chers sont sains et saufs.' Immediately Robin started to head towards the two, ignoring Lestrade who looked on with amusement.

"Robin!" exclaimed Sherlock, and laughed in triumph. He seemed to almost want to throw his arms up in the air and yell 'look what I did!'

Robin waved back heartily, with both hands, as she approached quickly.

"John, Sherlock, you alright?" she called.

"More or less," replied John, now smiling too.

As Robin reached her friends, however, arms still up and excited, she didn't really expect Sherlock to grab her around the waist, pull her towards him, and twirl her, all the while chuckling madly. She was light but slightly too tall for a good spin, but Sherlock managed to lift her off the ground just the slightest bit. Her arms, previously raised, grabbed onto his shoulders, and she let out a gurgle of surprise before giggling madly. Her eyes went wide, but she understood immediately that there was no danger and she began to laugh and hug him back, relishing the feeling. Sherlock smelt of dirt, sweat, and garbage but as she tucked her face into his scarf and his coat, squeezing her eyes shut, she could smell the normal scents too. It was a comfort. She didn't notice Sherlock doing the same thing but did feel his nose brush her neck lightly. For a moment, the embrace was almost too much for Robin, but she clutched at Sherlock's coat and she told herself that it was all right now.

Laughing, Sherlock and Robin broke their hug a moment later, the momentum from the spin dying out. They were both laughing, for slightly different reasons, but soon enough Robin was caught in another hug from John. This one was almost bone-crushing and briefer, as if to make sure she was okay before anything else and to ground the doctor in reality.

Stepping back from both of her friends, she grinned. They had found and captured Moran. They had stopped a terrorist plot. They had survived a BOMB! She was in control, she knew what was going on, and everyone was fine. She relished the moment, so glad that everything had worked out.

After a moment Robin did, however, notice how disgruntled John looked, versus Sherlock's wild energy.

"What happened?" she asked slowly and cautiously after a moment.

John and Sherlock looked at her and then to each other, silently fighting each other whether to tell her what had been said and what Sherlock had done. Eventually, however, John's dignity won out and he shook his head.

"You know how this idiot can be," began John, pointing beside him. Sherlock huffed in indignation but kept his mouth shut.

"Yeah, but-"

"It's just been a bit stressful, that's all," assured John, to Sherlock's almost visible relief. The detective really did not doubt Robin would make his life a living hell if she found out, and now John had something on him as well.

"No one harmed! Everyone is fine," confirmed Sherlock, grabbing Robin's hand suddenly and dragging her off back towards Lestrade.

"Alright, well, Mycroft's men are probably about to arrest Moran, so we should probably go,"

…

Author's Note:

:D Look at those adorable dorks. Look at what they did!

Robin's okay!

Oh, and I'm about to start Uni so I don't know what my schedule for updating will be like. Who knows...

Please comment, review,…etc. It's much appreciated.

Cheers,

Elleari