Logan's hand raises towards his mouth, hand trembling a bit now. Closer, closer. The pill ever closer to his mouth. He parts his lips, and the man facing him does the same.

The pill presses to his lips--

And the window explodes. There's a hail of shattering glass, and Logan's knocked backwards off of his stool, dropping the pill amongst the shards. The detective staggers, and barely catches himself on the next lab bench behind him.

The sound of raining glass is deafening, and Logan cries out when a gagged piece slashes his cheek as it flies past him. He spots the cabbie, who's lying on his back, covered in little clear sharp shards of the window. The driver is clutching at his chest, which is spurting blood, and he's choking. His hands are flailing to grab at something, anything, but he's only met with a fistful of glass. The man screams.

He's sputtering, and Logan is trying to will his body to move. He rushes over-- to leap past the driver, who's gasping his terrible last on the floor. Great, ragged whoops of breath. Logan drops to his knees amongst the glass, and pulls up the two pills that are now scattered across the floor. He examines them, frantically. There's no way to tell them apart.

He rounds on the taxi driver, who's spluttering and seizing on the floor. "Was I right? I was, wasn't I? Come on! Did I get it?"

But the driver just looks up at him, and there's the tiniest hint of a smile with a lot of effort. He's never going to tell.

Logan's furious, and he throws the pills to the floor. He kicks the base of one of the lab benches a few times, but then stalls. He gets his anger under control, and then walks to stand over the dying man again, this time cold. "Okay. Then tell me-- your sponsor, who is it?"

The driver, such agony, but he shakes his head all the same.

"Come on, I want a name!"

"...n-no..."

Logan, calmly and coldly, places a foot on the abdomen of the driver, near his wound. "You may be dying, but there's still time to hurt you. Give me a name."

The taxi driver is shaking his head. No, no.

Logan presses down with his shoe, and the man yelps out in pain.

"Give me a name!"

The name is ripped from the man. A terrible, sky-splitting below:

"Moriarty!!"

And the man stills.

Logan stares down at him, the name ringing through his head like the tolls of a bell.

Moriarty,

Moriarty,

Moriarty.

He looks around, now. He knows that the murderer had been shot by a bullet through the window. The detective races to the broken window, looking out, across to the other schoolhouse. But, there's no visible gunman in the darkened building. It doesn't help that Logan notices that one of his lenses in his glasses is now heavily cracked, splitting his vision a bit in one eye.

Moriarty,

Moriarty,

Moriarty.

Who did that? Who shot?

Moriarty,

Moriarty,

Moriarty.

Far across the gap between the two twin buildings, in a blackened classroom with an open window, that Logan can't see, Virgil's gun clatters to the floor.