London Bridge is Down by William King

A dramatic world event plays out in the early hours of one cold grey morning in London.

Buckingham Palace, London — 03:15

Sir Christopher paced back and forth in front of the solid mahogany desk that occupied a prominent place in his rather splendid office. Then he stopped and walked over to stare out through the tall window, framed by heavy embroidered drapes. It was raining, ‘when wasn’t it.’ Looked like it was turning to sleet. There was a knock at the door. He turned back to look. Anthony, the young man who had recently joined his staff, walked in. The expression on Anthony’s face told Sir Christopher everything.

“Get the Prime Minister on the phone,” he instructed, before he even spoke a word.

Anthony picked up the phone on Sir Christopher’s desk. Twenty seconds later he passed the phone to Sir Christopher.

10 Downing Street, London — 03:15

After three years in office, the Prime Minister was accustomed to short nights and little sleep. Even being a light sleeper, she was asleep when James, her personal aide, entered the bedroom. A gentle touch on her shoulder was sufficient to wake her. Shaking her head, emerging rapidly from sleep, she looked up.

“Just a minute.” She needed a few seconds to feel fully aware.

James placed the China cup and saucer carefully on the bedside table. He noticed the small bottle of pills. 

“Thank you James.” 

She knew that this was a national crisis. She would only be woken in the middle of the night if something serious had happened.

“I have the Queen’s private secretary for you ma’am.”

She took the phone, at the same time sitting up in bed.


“Prime Minister.” 

There was a slight pause.

“London Bridge is down!”

“Thank you, Christopher.”

Immediately she put down the receiver, she was out of bed. Taking a sip of coffee, she moved barefoot across the thick carpet to get dressed. It’s a cliché that British people only drink tea!

Capital FM, Leicester Square,  London — 03:53

Bernie was well used to the night shift, 2AM to 5AM. He’d been doing it for the best part of a year now. It was, he hoped, the break he needed. A stepping stone to bigger and better things. Nothing was a mystery anymore, he knew how it all worked.

It was still a shock when the blue obit lights started flashing. Alec was mouthing something through the glass window. He took his headphones off. There was exactly two minutes left on the current track. He stood up from the console and walked across to open the studio door.

“What’s going on? Is this for real?” Bernie nodded back towards the flashing blue lights.

“Mood Two list!” 

Bernie went to sit back down. The track had thirty seconds left. He picked up the headphones, flicked the microphone switch.

“This is Capital FM on 95.8,” he announced, not wanting to play any inappropriate jingle. “We are going straight over to our news channel.” He raised his head to look through the window. Alec was giving the thumbs up. Bernie faded the studio sound and hit the off-air switch. The engineers did the rest.

All Bernie knew was tonight his slot had been cut short by some kind of national catastrophe.

Flat 3, Carlton Road, London N11 — 03:56

“You’ve got the key!” John wasn’t too sure that Adam did have the keys, he just hoped so. Feeling in both his pockets; he didn’t have them.

“Come on guys, it’s freezing.”

“Hold on a minute.” Adam looked from Kiran to John, then back to Kiran.

He smiled, putting his arm around Kiran’s shoulders and extracting the keys from his coat pocket. Once inside, up the stairs, and through the front door, it was nice and warm.

“Coffee anyone?” John called out as he crossed the lounge towards the kitchen.

Kiran and Adam flopped down together on the sofa. For some reason they were both giggling.

“Please!” Adam exclaimed loudly.

That was both a yes to the coffee, and an attempt to get Kiran to keep his hands off him. Although, actually he was quite enjoying being fondled.

“Real or decaf?” John looked back into the lounge.

“Decaf, I need some sleep tonight.”

Kiran’s hand was now resting on Adam’s thigh. “You think so?” He whispered sexily, his tongue licking Adam’s earlobe.

To cool things down, Adam picked up the TV remote and switched on the large screen television.

 “There’s nothing on!” John was carrying the coffees on a tray which he put down in front of them.

 Adam sat back and flicked over to the radio. Kiran picked up his coffee, popped a sweetener in.

“This is the BBC from London. It is with the greatest sorrow that we make the following announcement. In the early hours of this morning, Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II, died peacefully in her sleep.”

“Oh my god!” Kiran exclaimed.

The End

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This story and the included image are Copyright © 2018 by William King; they cannot be reproduced without express written consent. Codey’s World web site has written permission to publish this story. No other rights are granted.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.