bakerstreet | picture prompt meme.

To be fair, it's not exactly the best of jobs.

[As he looks at the screens, she turns to rummage through the things on the desk, looking for something that could tell them what was on those screens.]

Here.

[She hands him a binder labeled "Fire Evacuation."]

This should have basic floor plans for the whole building.

It beats retail.

[Sherlock takes the folder from Joan and he turns so he can lean his back against the security desk as he looks through the papers. There's an overhead map of each floor and he focuses on the ground floor against his natural inclination to think of Floor 1 as the level above it.

He taps the page in three different places, then looks up at the display monitors again.]

Can you make out what that sign over the door says?

[She leans in close, squinting at the screen.]

It looks like a list of office hours. Five days, closed Saturday and Sunday.

Office hours...

[He mumbles to himself as he checks the three places he'd mentally checked off. He grins after a moment, then tosses the folder back down on the desk.]

Let's go see what what they're trying to hide.

Good timing, too.

[She nods toward the screen where the security guard has thrown away the chip bag and is headed toward the door.]

Lead the way.

[Sherlock goes over his mental map of the pool and determines a route that would not put them in the path of the guard at all. They'll have to be extra careful when they get to the area with the looping camera feed, since there's no telling what or who they'll find.]

Walk quickly but quietly. [He warns her as he does as she asks and leads the way out of the security room and down a back hallway that they hadn't come in through.]

[She follows, quick and quiet, through the back hallway. She knows enough about the layout to know that this hallway leads to the stairs, that going to the elevator to reach the first floor would both go out of their way and alert anyone watching to their presence. She whispers.]

What are we going to do about the cameras in the stairwells?

[Sherlock snorts when Joan asks about the cameras.]

We've been caught on the security cameras since we got here. If they haven't noticed us yet, it's doubtful that will change.

[The plan isn't exactly full-proof, but with stationary cameras it's incredibly difficult to get through the entire path without showing up in the footage without implementing their own looped clip. Unfortunately they hadn't had time to stop by the video room and it would be too dangerous to go back now.]

[He has a point. As they go into the stairwell and head down, Joan glances nervously up at the cameras as they pass them by. Hopefully the guard was really into that Fifty Shades of Gray.]

[If they're caught for some reason, Sherlock plans to act like they're a couple looking for something to light a spark in their relationship. It would be fairly believable and he always enjoys making Joan a little uncomfortable when the time feels right.

They turn the corner and Sherlock reaches over to open the door to the stairwell, letting Joan take point.]

[He might be surprised. Joan has used the "pretend to make out" ruse more than once when she was in college and in places she wasn't supposed to be.

When they reach the ground floor, Joan again glances up at the cameras, and raises her eyebrows to see the wires have been cut. She nods toward them.]

Probably backup, in case the loop fails.

They must be quite concerned about letting outsiders see.

[This paranoia is more than enough to shine suspicion on the people involved in this surveillance dark spot. Maybe Mrs. Carter had stumbled into something through one of those three doors that eventually led to her murder.

He opens the door to the stairwell cautiously, just a crack at first. There's no sounds and nothing within the small line of visibility to make him worry. Just passed the stairwell door and a few turns forward is the hallway caught in temporal stasis in the security footage upstairs. On first glance, the hallway itself seems entirely unremarkable.]

Now, which door hides the lion?

[He steps to the centre of the triangle made from camera positions and angles. He observes each of the doors in turn, but no amount of perception can pick up on clues that aren't present.]

[She looks over the doors as well, and likewise can't differentiate one from the other. She reaches into her coat and withdraws a set of lock picks.]

You take the right, I'll take the left?

[Sherlock smiles just slightly when he sees that she's thought ahead.]

Careful. It's most likely not booby trapped, but we can't rule out the possibility after all of the precautions taken to keep this hidden.

[He slips his own set of lock picks out of his Belstaff. The case is older and more worn than Joan's, but that's simply because he's been had it a lot longer. It rarely got used back in London, but Americans don't seem to trust him as openly at the crime scenes for some reason.]

At very least there's probably an alarm or something. Not that we'll be able to do anything about it...

[She crouches at the first door, slides in the bottom pick, then begins manipulating the tumblers with the top one. She's still relatively new at this, so it takes her longer than it would take Sherlock. Eventually, though, the lock clicks, and she carefully turns it until the door opens.]

Well, you know what to do if we're caught.

[Sherlock speaks over his shoulder once he gets the lock opened. He pays special attention to the sound of it to see if there's anything about it that's been tampered with. It sounds like any other mass-produced lock, so he eyes the door Joan's chosen suspiciously as he waits so they can open both doors at the same time.]

Pretend we're lost. And picking locks for fun.

[The answer is wry as she eases the door open. She pulls a small flashlight from her coat, clicks it on and looks around. It looks like this is an advertising agency. There's a large sign on the wall over the receptionist desk, Anderson Advertising, that gleams in the light. It's absolutely quiet. She goes to the desk and looks over the counter. Phone. Computer. Stationery with the logo. She doubts this is what they're looking for, unless it's a good cover.

Or break a few noses, both work for me.

[Sherlock soundlessly twists the door handle and he presses it inward by small increments. There's no resistance against the door so it lessens the possibility of a mechanical booby trap. After several seconds, he has the door open wide enough to fit through it. He reaches for his flashlight once he's inside and clicks it on, taking a look at what's around him.

Refrigeration units. Storage.]

Joan.

[He's calling out but his voice is barely louder than a whisper. He walks to one of the refrigerators and skims over a yellow slip of paper attached to it.]

Oh God...

[Bioterrorism? In New York?

Little does he know that the second he unlocked the door leading into this room, a silent alarm would have alerted the gang in charge of this operation to their presence.]

[She's on her way back to the hall when he says those words, and she quickens her step to join him. She stops when she sees the paper as well.]

Oh my god...

[This is worse than she expected. Mob activity, sure. Counterfeit operation, maybe. But this?]

Should we open them? See what they have?

I don't know about you, but I don't want to take my chances with Ebola. Ebola, Joan. Isn't that one of those haemorrhagic fevers?

[He steps back from the fridge and freezes in place. There's a distinctive click of the stairwell door opening.]

Bleeding out your eyes, ears, nose...

[The sound silences her. She looks toward the door then back at Sherlock, eyes wide. There's definitely somebody coming. She glances around, trying to find something to defend herself with.]

[Yeah, Joan, doesn't make him want to open the refrigerator any more.

Sherlock turns off his flashlight and looks around the room. If they left, they would be caught. If they stayed in here, they would be caught. It seems like there's no escaping it at this point... and since they're already in this room, it's very likely their lives will be in danger if they are identified.

Fighting is their only option. He moves to the wall near the door and flips his flashlight in his hand to test the weight of it and to ease his nerves. A flashlight may not be the most effective blunt force instrument, but it's the best he has on his person.]

[She sees bottles lined up on the shelf next to the refrigerator. She scans them, and sees one labeled HCl. Hydrochloric acid.

She grabs the bottle. She doesn't have time to protect herself. She can only hope to damage their pursuer more than herself.

She presses herself to the other side of the door, turning her head to look at Sherlock as the footsteps arrive at the door, and the doorknob turns.]

Don't spill that on yourself. Itches like hell before it burns. [Sherlock mouths to her, but he doesn't know if her night vision is good enough to read lips. He almost wishes she'd picked up the bleach also, since they could literally smoke the culprits back. Then again, if they were to be caught inside the room for very long, chlorine gas would make for a very unpleasant and choking death.

His fingers loosen and grip the torch in a wave-like manner as he waits until the young man enters headfirst. He swings his weapon downward, wincing slightly as it collides with a nasty thunk against the back of the man's scalp.]

Idiot.

[She waits, breath held, bottle raised, for someone else to enter.

She exhales as she realizes the man was alone. He's carrying a walkie-talkie, though, so more people will certainly be coming.

She sets the bottle down and grabs Sherlock's arm.]

More people will be on their way. We should hide in the offices across the hall.

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You know... I probably should have more of a plan for this, but I don't XD /makes it up as they go

Seat of the pants RPing is the best kind!

Keeps things exciting XD

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