Early the next morning, Sherlock dragged John back up to the ridge overlooking the valley.
After finding a concealed position, Sherlock planted the Holy Lance of Longinus into the ground beside him.
Then he closed his eyes.
And started grinning.
John watched him for a moment.
The grin got worse.
“…What are you doing?”
No answer.
John had assumed Sherlock’s plan involved sneaking into the compound, finding Tony, and extracting him as quickly as possible.
He’d already mentally prepared himself for a nasty fight.
Maybe even a few bullet wounds.
Instead, Sherlock had brought him all the way up the mountain…
and then done absolutely nothing.
An hour passed.
Then another.
Then another.
Several times throughout the morning, John tried to get him moving.
Every time, Sherlock gave the same answer.
“Not yet.”
Eventually, John stopped asking.
Whatever bullshit Sherlock was planning, apparently he wasn’t going to explain it.
So John settled beside him and kept watch.
Sherlock, meanwhile, had discovered yet another completely inappropriate use for alchemy.
Watching movies.
More specifically— live movies.
By using alchemical material analysis through the ground beneath him, Sherlock could perceive what was happening throughout the mountain almost as if he were standing inside the cave himself.
And for the entire morning, he’d been happily watching Tony and Yinsen assemble the Mark I piece by piece.
Forget a theater.
This was better.
No screen.
No bad seats.
No overpriced popcorn.
Sherlock could sense Tony and Yinsen working inside the cave while simultaneously tracking the movements of the terrorists throughout the surrounding tunnels.
It was the ultimate immersive viewing experience.
And the best part?
He had front-row seats to exactly how spectacularly incompetent Tony’s guards were.
Sherlock watched Tony and Yinsen begin assembling the armor.
The terrorist assigned to monitor them?
Busy chatting with someone.
They kept building.
The guard kept talking.
They were nearly finished before the idiot finally remembered there was a surveillance monitor in front of him.
Then he stared at the screen.
Looked around.
Waited almost another full minute.
Only then did it apparently occur to him that something might be wrong.
He hurriedly called over another man, and the pair went to investigate.
Yinsen promptly ambushed them and knocked them both out.
That caused enough commotion to attract attention.
Throughout the valley, armed men began converging on the cave.
Sherlock finally opened his eyes.
Showtime.
After spending the entire morning enjoying the world’s most exclusive live-action screening of Iron Man, Sherlock turned toward John.
“Old Zhao.”
John looked at him.
Sherlock grinned.
“Ready to fight?”
John had officially stopped caring about the nickname.
He gave Sherlock a long look normally reserved for people suffering obvious brain damage.
His mouth had just opened when— the ground vanished beneath him.
John dropped.
His stomach lurched.
“What the—”
Water swallowed him.
Sherlock had seen that look on John’s face and correctly concluded that whatever came out of his mouth next probably wasn’t going to be friendly.
So he’d simply activated the alchemy first.
The earth beneath them transformed into water.
Gravity handled the rest.
The two plunged straight downward.
John experienced the deeply unpleasant combination of free fall and sudden drowning.
Unfortunately, what Sherlock heard was:
“GLUBBLBLBLBL—!”
Much better.
Down in the cave, Tony Stark was having a far worse morning.
Yinsen had already taken up a gun.
Before leaving, he’d said his goodbyes.
Then he’d run out to buy Tony time.
And Tony— was still trapped inside an armor suit that refused to start.
The improvised hardware was struggling.
The processor was slow.
The system wasn’t cooperating.
All Tony could do was shout after Yinsen.
“Yinsen!”
No answer.
“YINSEN!”
Nothing.
Yinsen had already made his decision.
Tony couldn’t move.
Couldn’t follow him.
Couldn’t do a damn thing.
Then— a perfectly circular hole suddenly appeared in the cave wall.
Tony stared.
“…What?”
For half a second, nothing happened.
Then a massive torrent of water blasted through.
“WHAT THE HELL?!”
The pressure slammed into the suspended Mark I and sent Tony swaying violently inside the support frame.
Water flooded across the cave floor.
Tony’s half-functional armor left him almost completely helpless.
He could barely move an arm.
“What is happening?!”
Another surge crashed past him.
“What the fuck is going on?!”
Then, through the rushing water, a furious male voice echoed through the cave.
“SHERLOCK FLAMEL!”
Tony froze.
That name…
John Wick exploded out of the newly created passage completely drenched.
The instant his feet hit solid ground, he wiped water from his face and spun around.
Finding Sherlock and beating the shit out of him had very abruptly become a priority.
Sherlock emerged a moment later.
He looked delighted.
Then he took his first proper breath inside the cave.
His smile vanished.
“Urgh—”
Sherlock gagged.
“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.”
He clamped a hand over his nose.
“What the hell is that smell?!”
Another dry heave.
“Did they build this place over a goddamn sewer?”
John glared murder at him.
Sherlock pointed urgently toward the cave entrance.
“Zhao Wick—go!”
John’s glare intensified.
“There’s a doctor who just ran out there!”
Sherlock gagged again.
“Go back him up!”
That changed things.
John was furious.
He was soaking wet.
And Sherlock was absolutely getting punched later.
But this wasn’t the time.
John pulled a handgun from inside his clothes, gave Sherlock one final murderous stare, and sprinted toward the entrance.
Gunfire was already echoing through the tunnels.
Sherlock, meanwhile, took the Holy Lance in hand and began strolling around the cave.
Casually.
Almost like a tourist.
He inspected the miserable little space Tony had spent nearly a month living in.
Crude tools.
Scrap metal.
Improvised equipment.
The ancient computer.
And finally—
Tony Stark himself.
Sherlock stopped in front of the massive metal suit suspended from its frame.
A playful smile appeared.
“Hello, Tony Stark.”
Tony stared at him from inside the helmet.
He couldn’t see Sherlock particularly well.
Sherlock couldn’t see Tony’s expression at all through the armor.
But Tony had much bigger problems.
The flood Sherlock had just introduced to the cave had completely interrupted the armor’s startup sequence.
His system was dead.
Tony opened his mouth.
Before he could say anything, Sherlock raised the Holy Lance.
The spearhead lightly touched the Mark I.
Tap.
Alchemy spread across the entire suit.
Lines of energy raced through the metal.
Connections formed.
Mechanisms engaged.
Sherlock didn’t explain.
Didn’t wait.
Didn’t even stick around to admire his work.
He turned toward the cave entrance.
“I’ve got other things to deal with.”
Tony blinked.
Sherlock waved over one shoulder.
“Come out when you’re ready.”
Then he disappeared down the tunnel.
Tony remained frozen for several seconds.
“…What?”
Then he noticed something.
The suit was running.
Somehow— the Mark I had started.
Tony’s expression changed instantly.
Questions could wait.
He activated the self-diagnostic system built into the controls of his gauntlet.
The suit began checking itself.
Slowly.
Painfully slowly.
Between the primitive materials, the improvised components, and Sherlock’s sudden flood interrupting the software initialization, the Mark I was hardly operating under ideal conditions.
But it was working.
Tony clenched his fist inside the armor.
Good enough.
Once the diagnostics finished, he’d fight his way out.
And if Sherlock Flamel and that man—Zhao Wick, or whatever his name was—had come here to rescue him…
then Tony would take them out with him.
Assuming this really was the same Sherlock Flamel Tony thought he knew.
Another burst of gunfire erupted somewhere outside.
Tony’s confidence faltered.
“Yinsen…”
He could do nothing but wait inside the steel shell while the diagnostic crawled toward completion.
Gunshots cracked endlessly through the cave system.
Bullets struck stone.
Ricochets screamed through the tunnels.
Tony stared helplessly at the status display.
For once, he didn’t care about himself.
He only hoped the man Sherlock had sent after Yinsen was as capable as he looked.
Because Yinsen was a good man.
And Tony desperately wanted him to survive.
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