The Final Problem (Sherlock x Female!Reader)

"And now the shipping forecast, issued by the Met Office on behalf of the Maritime Coastguard Agency at 05:05. Thames, Dover..." said a radio broadcast as the small fishing boat sails across the ocean.

A young man, Ben, wearing a yellow oilskin coat a and matching hat, opens the door to the wheelhouse and stumbles inside wiping his mouth and breathing heavily. An older man, Vince, looks round at him and said. "Go on, son, get it up. Better out than in."

He smiles cheerfully at him as Ben asked. "Is it always like this?"  

"Nah." Vince replied.

"Thank God." said Ben.

"Usually it's much worse!" said Vince.

"Might go and work in a bank!" Ben said. Plaintively, as he looks up and hears the sound of rotors.

"Is that an 'elicopter?" He asked.

"Nah, not in this weather." Vince replied as the broadcast continues.

".....Lundy, Fastnet, Irish Sea, Shannon, Malin, Sherrinford. Sherrinford. Sherrinford."  

"You hear that? I've never 'eard that one before." Ben asked Vince. Vince turns to face Ben and said. "Forget you ever 'eard it."

"What?" Ben asked puzzled.

"Sometimes, when we're out in these waters, we get that message. Just forget about it." Vince said.

"Yeah, but we've never...." Ben started to say until Vince puts a warning finger to him. "Just..." Then he raises his hand and mimes zipping his lips shut, then points warningly at the young man.

He starts to turn around back to the wheel when there's a loud thump on the roof of the wheelhouse, followed by three less loud thumps. The men look up, then Vince goes to the door and heads outside, steeping a few paces away from the wheelhouse and then turned to look up.

Standing on the roof holding onto the ship's antenna with one hand was Sherlock, his coat whipping dramatically around him. "Who the 'ell are you?" Vince asked him. "My name's Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock replied.

"The detective!" Ben said.

"The pirate." Sherlock replied as you and John step into view at the other side of the antenna, pointing your guns at the men below.

SHERRINFORD ISLAND 

​​​​​​"Golf Whiskey X-ray, this is a restricted area, repeat, restricted area. You are off course." A technician said into the raid on. He doesn't receive as response so he says, again. "Are you receiving? Golf Whiskey, you are off course. Are you receiving?" Then he gets a response.

"Yeah, receiving you. This is a distress call, repeat, distress call. We're in trouble here." said a man's voice, John's, over the radio.

"Golf Whiskey X-ray, what is your situation?" The tech asked him but there was no response.

"Golf Whiskey X-ray, where are you now?" He asked again.

"We're headed for the rocks. We're going to hit." John said over the radio and the tech sits back in his chair, then types rapidly on a keypad on his desk.

"Lockdown in progress. Lockdown in progress. Please proceed to designated Red stations." The automated voice said as external guards run along the corridors. Two of them run around a headland and see Vince and Ben sitting on television sand back to back, rope lashed around them and their wrists bound together. Vince looks over at the approaching men and rolls his eyes and sinks his head back.