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fandomweekly2024-02-26 04:42 pm
topaz_eyes) wrote in fandomweekly2024-02-26 04:42 pm
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[156] In Plain Sight (Elementary)
Theme Prompt: 156--Leap of Faith
Title: In Plain Sight
Fandom: Elementary
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 (brief canon-typical violence)
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1000
Summary: If she couldn’t crack whatever code lurked in these pages, Sherlock and the other four captives would be dead by sunrise.
Time was running out and tempers were fraying.
“Less than two hours until the kidnapper’s gonna kill those hostages,” Marcus said heavily just after four AM. “Including Sherlock.”
Joan looked up from the book in her lap and glared over her glasses. “I’m aware of that, Detective,” she snapped, then sighed.
“Marcus, I’m sorry,” she added, contrite. “I know the answer’s in this book, I just can’t figure it out.” She took her glasses off and rubbed her temple.
“You’ve been studying that book for more than twenty-four hours,” Marcus pointed out. “You should take a break.”
“I can’t,” she replied. “We don’t know where the hostages are and this is our only clue.”
“I know I’m not Sherlock, but maybe I can…?” Marcus offered, trailing off at Joan’s helpless gaze. “Let me get you some coffee,” he said instead, and stood up from the table. He patted her shoulder as he left the office.
Less than two hours til sunrise, Joan thought. If she couldn’t crack whatever code lurked in these pages, Sherlock and the other four captives would be dead by then.
She set the book on the table. “The answer’s in the book,” she whispered.
She and Sherlock had covered the art of steganography early in their partnership. She’d learned it after discovering hidden stashes of heroin in a few volumes on his bookshelf.
This book had arrived at the 11th Precinct shortly after the news reported five random people, including Sherlock, had been abducted off the streets of Brooklyn at sunset the day before yesterday.
“The answer’s in the book.” That was all Sherlock could blurt out in a recorded message accompanying the otherwise anonymous package, before the kidnapper had knocked him unconscious.
It was a novel from the 1950s, long out of print; bound in a handsome, blue hardbound cloth cover from the New York Metropolitan Library. A library card envelope was still attached to the inside cover. The last check-out date was from the 1970s; only ten readers had borrowed it. (They’d checked the dates and backgrounds; the readers had long since passed away.)
Over the last thirty-two hours she’d read it thoroughly, had examined every page for any alteration. But there were no hidden codes for secret messages. No arrangements of words or letters on any pages that spelled out possible leads. No ripples to indicate invisible ink, no dog ears or out-of-place creases. They were in good shape for such an old volume.
“The answer’s in the book—”
She blinked. No. No way.
Could it be that simple?
Marcus arrived with two coffees. “Here you go,” he said, setting one down in front of her. “Extra soy milk and sugar.”
“Marcus, can I borrow your pocket knife?” Joan asked.
“Yeah, sure,” Marcus said, dug into his pocket and pulled out a Swiss Army knife. He proffered it to her; she grabbed it, pulled out the blade, then laid it against the book’s cover.
“Hey, wait a minute!” Marcus protested. “You’ll destroy our only evidence!” He reached out to stop her.
She whirled around to face him. “The answer’s in the book,” she said. “That’s our clue.”
“Joan, we’ve examined every page—”
“The answer’s not in the pages. It’s inside the book,” Joan said. “We have to take the book apart.”
“You’re kidding.”
“We’ll find out soon enough.” Joan opened the front cover and carefully sliced the cloth to remove it from the spine and back.
It was a leap of faith, but it was the only answer that made sense now. Whatever they were looking for was hidden somewhere in the book’s construction. She peeled back the cloth to reveal the cardboard beneath: one piece, sturdy, but looked like it dated from the 1950s.
She did the same to the back cover. “Marcus, look at this,” she said when she’d pulled the cloth away. “This is brand-new board.”
Marcus peered over her shoulder. “Yeah, and it’s in two pieces, not one,” he added when she turned it on edge.
Joan pried the pieces apart to find a single sheet of paper sandwiched between. Her heart leapt into her throat as she picked it up and turned it over.
“It’s a map,” she breathed. She sagged in relief.
Marcus was already on his cell phone. “I need a TAC team, three patrol units, three paramedic units, and three ambulances sent to Flatbush Park,” he said. “Yeah, the old amusement area.” He disconnected, and held his hand out to her. “Let’s go get Sherlock,” he added.
Twenty minutes later, just as the sky began to lighten with the impending sunrise, they arrived at an abandoned ride shaft in the park. The police teams had already entered to rescue the hostages. Joan waited outside, shivering even though the July night air was a sultry 87 degrees.
“We found them,” Marcus’ walkie-talkie crackled. “We’re bringing them out now.”
Joan exhaled a long, shaky sigh. “Acknowledged,” Marcus said, and glanced over at Joan. “Won’t be long now.”
The hostages walked out one by one, escorted by the tactical team. Joan’s heart pounded as she waited for Sherlock to appear.
He exited last, stiff and haggard with a blooming contusion to his right cheek. She gathered all her strength to stride over to him and quickly assess his injuries.
“Well done, Watson,” he mumbled, wincing at the movement.
“Let’s get you to hospital,” Joan said, her voice husky.
She hugged him gently on his uninjured side. He didn’t return it, but he sighed, relaxed and closed his eyes.
Marcus approached them and grinned. “Hey, good to see you, man,” he said.
“And you, Detective Bell,” Sherlock said.
“Did you know about the map in the book?”
“I did not. But I knew Watson would find whatever it was our captor had secreted.”
They watched the TAC team lead their captor out to the prisoner van, then led Sherlock to a waiting stretcher. Joan rode with him to the hospital, Sherlock holding her hand all the way.
Title: In Plain Sight
Fandom: Elementary
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 (brief canon-typical violence)
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1000
Summary: If she couldn’t crack whatever code lurked in these pages, Sherlock and the other four captives would be dead by sunrise.
Time was running out and tempers were fraying.
“Less than two hours until the kidnapper’s gonna kill those hostages,” Marcus said heavily just after four AM. “Including Sherlock.”
Joan looked up from the book in her lap and glared over her glasses. “I’m aware of that, Detective,” she snapped, then sighed.
“Marcus, I’m sorry,” she added, contrite. “I know the answer’s in this book, I just can’t figure it out.” She took her glasses off and rubbed her temple.
“You’ve been studying that book for more than twenty-four hours,” Marcus pointed out. “You should take a break.”
“I can’t,” she replied. “We don’t know where the hostages are and this is our only clue.”
“I know I’m not Sherlock, but maybe I can…?” Marcus offered, trailing off at Joan’s helpless gaze. “Let me get you some coffee,” he said instead, and stood up from the table. He patted her shoulder as he left the office.
Less than two hours til sunrise, Joan thought. If she couldn’t crack whatever code lurked in these pages, Sherlock and the other four captives would be dead by then.
She set the book on the table. “The answer’s in the book,” she whispered.
She and Sherlock had covered the art of steganography early in their partnership. She’d learned it after discovering hidden stashes of heroin in a few volumes on his bookshelf.
This book had arrived at the 11th Precinct shortly after the news reported five random people, including Sherlock, had been abducted off the streets of Brooklyn at sunset the day before yesterday.
“The answer’s in the book.” That was all Sherlock could blurt out in a recorded message accompanying the otherwise anonymous package, before the kidnapper had knocked him unconscious.
It was a novel from the 1950s, long out of print; bound in a handsome, blue hardbound cloth cover from the New York Metropolitan Library. A library card envelope was still attached to the inside cover. The last check-out date was from the 1970s; only ten readers had borrowed it. (They’d checked the dates and backgrounds; the readers had long since passed away.)
Over the last thirty-two hours she’d read it thoroughly, had examined every page for any alteration. But there were no hidden codes for secret messages. No arrangements of words or letters on any pages that spelled out possible leads. No ripples to indicate invisible ink, no dog ears or out-of-place creases. They were in good shape for such an old volume.
“The answer’s in the book—”
She blinked. No. No way.
Could it be that simple?
Marcus arrived with two coffees. “Here you go,” he said, setting one down in front of her. “Extra soy milk and sugar.”
“Marcus, can I borrow your pocket knife?” Joan asked.
“Yeah, sure,” Marcus said, dug into his pocket and pulled out a Swiss Army knife. He proffered it to her; she grabbed it, pulled out the blade, then laid it against the book’s cover.
“Hey, wait a minute!” Marcus protested. “You’ll destroy our only evidence!” He reached out to stop her.
She whirled around to face him. “The answer’s in the book,” she said. “That’s our clue.”
“Joan, we’ve examined every page—”
“The answer’s not in the pages. It’s inside the book,” Joan said. “We have to take the book apart.”
“You’re kidding.”
“We’ll find out soon enough.” Joan opened the front cover and carefully sliced the cloth to remove it from the spine and back.
It was a leap of faith, but it was the only answer that made sense now. Whatever they were looking for was hidden somewhere in the book’s construction. She peeled back the cloth to reveal the cardboard beneath: one piece, sturdy, but looked like it dated from the 1950s.
She did the same to the back cover. “Marcus, look at this,” she said when she’d pulled the cloth away. “This is brand-new board.”
Marcus peered over her shoulder. “Yeah, and it’s in two pieces, not one,” he added when she turned it on edge.
Joan pried the pieces apart to find a single sheet of paper sandwiched between. Her heart leapt into her throat as she picked it up and turned it over.
“It’s a map,” she breathed. She sagged in relief.
Marcus was already on his cell phone. “I need a TAC team, three patrol units, three paramedic units, and three ambulances sent to Flatbush Park,” he said. “Yeah, the old amusement area.” He disconnected, and held his hand out to her. “Let’s go get Sherlock,” he added.
Twenty minutes later, just as the sky began to lighten with the impending sunrise, they arrived at an abandoned ride shaft in the park. The police teams had already entered to rescue the hostages. Joan waited outside, shivering even though the July night air was a sultry 87 degrees.
“We found them,” Marcus’ walkie-talkie crackled. “We’re bringing them out now.”
Joan exhaled a long, shaky sigh. “Acknowledged,” Marcus said, and glanced over at Joan. “Won’t be long now.”
The hostages walked out one by one, escorted by the tactical team. Joan’s heart pounded as she waited for Sherlock to appear.
He exited last, stiff and haggard with a blooming contusion to his right cheek. She gathered all her strength to stride over to him and quickly assess his injuries.
“Well done, Watson,” he mumbled, wincing at the movement.
“Let’s get you to hospital,” Joan said, her voice husky.
She hugged him gently on his uninjured side. He didn’t return it, but he sighed, relaxed and closed his eyes.
Marcus approached them and grinned. “Hey, good to see you, man,” he said.
“And you, Detective Bell,” Sherlock said.
“Did you know about the map in the book?”
“I did not. But I knew Watson would find whatever it was our captor had secreted.”
They watched the TAC team lead their captor out to the prisoner van, then led Sherlock to a waiting stretcher. Joan rode with him to the hospital, Sherlock holding her hand all the way.