Sherlock & the Baby: What's the Worst that Could Happen @ Baker St.

[jadpdr]

A look of annoyance crossed Sherlock's face, which didn't escape the compact blonde: "Mr Holmes, I hope and pray it's good news!"

Inwardly, Sherlock cringed: from long experience, the good doctor knew not to phone him unless in dire situations: this was, obviously, one of them! "Amanda, please excuse me, while I take this call," he said and went out in the corridor, swiping the screen as he strode out of her office: "Hello, John, what's happened?" he asked cautiously, in view of the truly amazing facts he would have to give to his friend regarding Sheralyn in a few hours, if all went well: British train services had become so unreliable after their privatisation that reaching one's destination on time in the same train one started out in was well-nigh a miracle nowadays!

A truly irate Dr Watson could be heard clearly taking deep breaths between words: "You can tell that towering imbecile of a brother of yours that all the Queen's horses and all the Queen's men couldn't prevent an apparently elite force of what sounded like former Spetnatz men from kidnapping Sheralyn."

Sherlock felt light-headed, as if the world was spinning round him. The mobile fell from his grip and the next he knew, both Donovan and Pierce were hovering over him, bringing him to the inescapable conclusion that he was lying in one of the NSY infirmary beds.

He struggled to a semi-recumbent position, but Sally forced him back down: "Amanda has communicated the news to Mr Holmes, our duty doctor says your blood glucose levels are a new low in her experience, I have notified DI Lestrade, and you are to remain here until you can stand unaided! What the flaming nonsense have you been doing to yourself, Holmes, running on fumes?"

He lay back down, but couldn't prevent himself from a last jab at the person who was becoming his favourite sparring partner:

"Wait until I tell John that Sheralyn is both his and ex-colonel James Moriarty's daughter, Sally!"

[SherlockedCAMPer]

"What?! You can't be serious.  How?" Donovan's jaw dropped.

 

"Got the message from my brother on our way up to see Amanda.  She's a chimera.  She would have been a twin otherwise but the twins merged back together creating her.  Hand me my phone please.  I must contact my brother.  There is something up in his network of . Thank you, now if you will excuse me a moment.  It is something under the official secrets act and all."  Sherlock chimed as if it was something completely obvious.

 

"M, compromised.  Little Lamb kidnapped per Three Continents. Will be on it eventually.  Do something about your crew before I do.  We know what happened the last time I took care of something. ~SH"

 

"Do eat something brother mine.  You're no use with crashed blood sugar.  Have an apple at least along with a good piece of Red Leicester.  You used to love that as a kid as I recall.  I would also recommend the goldfish crackers that mum brought over for you from their last trip to the US.  Those should not be compromised unlike the previous batch.  They might be good for those experiments you so like to do. ~M"  That was Mycroft's way of saying he was looking into the situation as a whole and wouldn't mind if Sherlock did something to weed out the mole.

 

Sherlock did eat some food.  He had to settle for a banana and a chunk of cheddar.  Within a few minutes he was able to stand unassisted and began the process of getting to Major Sholto's place.

 

 

 

(Sorry couldn't resist using the emoticon on here.  It will be the actual word in the story.)

[Inge l-w]

(Shouldn't that be MH, as per your Conundrum series in Ao3?)

The first thing Sherlock did was to ask Sally to leave him and DS Pierce alone, because after this latest twist of events, he HAD to get into the Coutts bank vaults, and he extremely disliked having one of his most recent allies forced to take an Official Secrets oath. DS Pierece, on the other hand, needed to be kept informed, because she was absolutely indispensable in his plans. The code to the safety deposit box could be worked on by one of Lady Smallwood's or Mycroft's computer nerds. The one still owed him a favour, the other was his pesky older brother!

Then, he texted Angelo to inform him that, barring any mishaps, their appointment at the pub stood as arranged. Truth be told, above all things currently attracting his attention, Mycroft's nondescript antiquated vault drew him like a magnet!

Feeling weak at the knees, he sat back down on the emergency ward bed, whereupon DS Pierce took matters in her own hands and disappeared for as long as he sorted things out on his mobile phone, only to reappear with a whole chocolate Hobnobs packet and a cup of freshly-pressed orange juice, both of which she deposited at his side.

"My gran swore by fresh orange juice to raise low blood pressure, and Sally says you have a sweet tooth, despite your cadaverous appearance!"

"Thank you, Amanda, you have your priorities and your head screwed on right! I think that we will get along famously, once my brother sorts out the paperwork!"

He gulped down the cool juice and nibbled at a biscuit, while he texted Mycroft to arrange transport and a reliable escort to Major Sholto's rather remote and isolated place. Mary's "he's almost a recluse" came into his mind unbidden, and, curse his eidetic memory, she was wearing that otherworldly, delicate lace wedding gown as she said it!

However, DS Pierce was made of sterner stuff than her appearance suggested: she ripped the biscuit package open, strewing crumbs all over the counter pane, and started handing him biscuit after biscuit until he had finished all twelve of them. "I deliberately bought the small packet...Sherlock..."

"So that you could stuff me like a Christmas goose, I get it, Amanda. Now, you will need to sign some extra paperwork, on top of your Police Force oath of duty, and I have an appointment to keep. Thank you for taking this whole madness in your stride and not making a fuss."

"Mr Holmes...Sherlock, once this, whatever it is, is over, you owe me a carton of your brother's Bond Str. special Latakeia filter tipped cigarettes."

"You are a connoiseur, Amanda! I'm impressed! Just for this, I shall make him cough up, no pun intended, two cartons for you. What do you think?"

"That it's Christmas! Let's get you presentable and on your way, then!" she replied, accompanied him to the gents' room, having palmed an electric razor somewhere, and left him to his cursory ablutions.

After all, Mycroft's escort and 4x4 would be waiting to drive him to Major Sholto's place in ten minutes.

[SherlockedCAMPer]

(It doesn't have to be MH.  Different story different rules.  Besides, Sherlock initiated the M.)

 

While Sherlock was getting ready, he came up with a plan to help weed out the mole.  His first priority was his driver.  His second was Major Sholto's staff.  Sherlock wondered if any of them had been bought off.  He was ready in five minutes and headed down the stairs to the front of NSY.  Sherlock needed the right thing to happen on the trip so that he could vet the driver to check for mole status or otherwise in cohort with the mole.  "M, need beaver en route to destination.  Please provide with location. ~SH"

[Inge l-w]

(OK, it's your story, but M is so evocative of Bond, James Bond! I know Mycroft used it in HOB, but still... )

Having collected all his things, Sherlock prepared to leave by the NSY rear exit, where Mycroft's car would have been parked, when he noted that his mobile was fully charged and that the charger bore the distinctive double loop favoured by DS Donovan. So Sally had looked after this side of the matter while her friend and colleague had looked after his physical needs and acquiesced to his directions!

On top of that, as he started for that exit, the two women flanked him, and when he noticed that the much shorter Amanda had to lengthen her stride to keep up, he slowed his pace deliberately. After all, the woman would prove indispensable in the next part of his plan, he wasn't doing it solely out of consideration for her shorter legs, he rationalised to himself, but Sally threw him a speculative look anyway!

Once outside, in the parking area, he nodded his thanks to both women, strode up to Mark, Mycroft's personal driver, who was lounging on the door of a dark grey Land Rover and asked him if he had been given the proper directions.

"Yes, Mr Holmes, I am to drive you to Settle, near Leeds, and we are to pick up another of Mr Mycroft's men on the way!"

Again, he acknowledged the information with a nod and got into the passenger seat, buckling up, deliberately ignoring the look of of indignation bordering on outrage on Mark's face. A Holmes riding in the front! What was the world coming to! He could almost hear the driver's thoughts, and permitted himself a small smile. He had other, and much bigger fish to fry than to placate his brother's trusted driver's offended sense of propriety!

Taking out his phone, he proceeded to fiddle with it, since his brain was working on the concepts of the moles, plural! He was now convinced that there was a mole in the Serious Crimes division of Scotland Yard, and he was almost sure of his identity: a pale, blond man who had been there as he, John and Lestrade were desperately trying to unravel the ticking human bomb conundrums set up by Jim in their first serious confrontation. He couldn't recall the man's name, so nondescript and innocuous had he appeared that he had slipped past everyone's radar, including Sherlock's; annoying as a contaminated experiment, but not lethal, as the mole in Mycroft's organisation was. He created an addendum in his Mind Palace, calling the man the Wraith, for want of a better description, and focused, instead, on the much more serious matter of the whole Moriarty-Moran-Mary conundrum.

Fact: Jim Moriarty had been an arch-villain who felt that he, Sherlock, was his only worthy foe.

Fact: Jim Moriarty had pulled a gun on him on the roof of the hospital, much as he had pulled John's gun on Moriarty at the pool, both of them fully prepared to use the weapon.

Fact: Jim Moriarty had blown his own brains out, while he, Sherlock, had had to abandon home, friends and family (query: should Mycroft be counted as family, given his propensity to shield Charles Augustus Magnussen? - tentative affirmative), to hunt down all of Jim's main partners in crime.

Fact: John had been left to fend for himself, a known manic depressive who had once almost eaten a bullet, as they said in his circle, bereft of his best friend and colleague. No wonder that when Mary had approached him in her inoffensive nurse persona, he had latched onto her like a drowning man. Oh, why had he driven Sarah away? A good head on her shoulders, a calm demeanour and a fellow clinician to boot!

Fact: All known associates of Jim Moriarty had been taken out, one by one, sometimes with the help of an enchantingly beautiful adventuress.

Fact: Jim Moriarty had a twin, ex-Colonel James Moriarty, whose connection to ex-Colonel Moran John had probably elucidated before the abduction of Sheralyn.

Fact: Mary was Sheralyn's natural mother, whatever her past (query: Mycroft's office safe a main concern on the matter of Mary's past)

Fact: Sheralyn was a rare breed, indeed, whose genetic makeup could even interest Mummy as a statistical aberration!

Fact: The late unlamented Charles Augustus Magnussen had hinted at possible ways to hurt Mary through her unsavoury past. (query: connection of Mary to the snipers at the pool, the Walters' gang and Jim Moriarty. There were supposed to be four Walters gang members, but on the day Sherlock had almost inadvertently caused DI Lestrade to miss a spectacular arrest, there had been only three gang members apprehended!)

Supposition: Mary could have engineered Sheralyn's abduction, aided and abetted by the innocuous-looking Dave Inchcape, not so much out of an overriding maternal instinct, but under orders from the Moriarty network being reformed under the joint control of the two ex-colonels, one of whom was securely held by Mycroft's minions.

Supposition: If there was one mole in Mycroft's organisation, there could be sleeper agents, too, like the ones Jim Moriarty had used to break into the Tower of London, the Bank of England central vault and Pentonville prison.

Conclusion: interrogate Major Sholto's staff using techniques similar to the abduction of the US Ambassador's children and elicit all available information by inspecting the site of the abduction. (query: prior personal involvement with Tessa might weaken his resolve! Special attention to be paid to this weak link. He could hear John's chiding: sentiment is a defect found on the losing side, Sherlock?

Now that he had brought order to his thoughts, Sherlock evoked Sheralyn's smile as he held her up to burp or laid her on his stomach to have a mutual gentle tickle and a soothing time together, and he vowed that his god daughter would be united with one of her fathers, since John had been included in his vow, not Jim's twin!

[joanneta1]

(Thanks for nothing! I'm teaching English language tests, not writing Ian-Fleming sequels,* sigh* !)

The drive up to Settle was duly interrupted once they had reached the M25 to pick up Mycroft's aide who would help them liaise, and had probably been personally vetted by Mycroft himself in order to help ferret out the mole in Major Sholto's establishment: one of the persons responsible for the child's safety who had helped in her abduction.  

Another non-descript pale youngster with a mop of lanky blonde hair, this one wearing an off-the-peg charcoal-grey suit and a pale blue cotton-mix shirt. He reminded Sherlock of the NSY lowly staffer, so much so that he wondered if there was a mould for the younger echelons in the Moriarty web of international crime and infiltration. For the moment, however, and until he held incontrovertible evidence to the contrary, Sherlock had to trust this young aide in unravelling what had happened at Major Sholto's figuratively impenetrable secure retreat.

Sherlock chided himself at the thought, remembering how he, Lestrade, John and the local police force reinforcements had extricated Anthem and Mycroft from ex-Colonel Moriarty's grip.

Thankfully, the young man, after showing his credentials (Richard Sorge, by name), remained silent, allowing Sherlock to continue his mental exercise in extrapolating possibilities and eliminating improbabilities in the case.

The two female DSs' practical help and the enforced relaxation of a long car journey proved of inestimable value, however, once they arrived at the secluded farmhouse-conversion about a mile outside Settle.

No sooner had the driver pulled up outside the main entrance, so that Sherlock could get out of the car, punch in the agreed code to open the front gates, get back in the car and be driven to the main building, than a plainly flustered Dr Watson barrelled out of the door, closely followed by the heavily disfigured host.

"Sherlock, we have got to do something, anything, she has got the baby..."

"Mr Holmes, I hope you didn't save my life at Watson's wedding to see it end ignominiously, after I failed a friend and comrade so abysmally!"

"What is it with you ex-military types that drives you to an all-or-nothing solution? We need concrete answers, not futile heroics!" Sherlock found it almost unbearably poignant to see his best friend in such a state, especially bearing in mind what he had to tell Dr Watson about Sheralyn.

"Says the self-righteous dick who selflessly dropped to his apparent death right in front of my eyes!" retorted John.

"And if I hadn't, you would not have sought solace in Mary's arms, not impregnated her, not married her! Perhaps you would have married me? Mr Three-Continents, Not Gay Watson? Stop being so selfish, John, and let us unravel this case like any other. After all, it is what I do for a living. Mr Sorge has been seconded to me by Mycroft to help in the investigation. Now, can we get inside the house, talk to the personnel and really look for all possible clues, as we should?"

Major Sholto put a steadying hand on Dr Watson's shoulder, (the injured one, Sherlock noticed, using his working arm),  nodded once and gestured for all of them to get in. The driver was duly sent to the servants' quarters, for some refreshment and some well-earned rest. Only Heaven knew when Sherlock might require his services again.

The four men made their way to the library, with its deep, wine-coloured-leather chairs, and Mr Sholto rang for tea. It arrived promptly, served by the rather saucy blonde maid who had admitted to kinky hijinx with the Mayfly Man. It included hot buttered crumpets, freshly-baked scones and a truly imposing pound cake. High tea indeed, but Sherlock, except for loading his tea with sugar, touched nothing. After DS Pierce's ministrations, he doubted he could face solid food for at least twelve hours longer!

"John, before we start on our investigation, there's something you must know: Sheralyn is both yours and ex-Colonel Moriarty's. It seems, after all, that David Inchcape had really ended his affair with Mary before you became romantically involved with her. Her real lover is the person who presented himself as James Moriarty at the flat, and quite rightly, according to his data, tried to reclaim his daughter."

"A child cannot have two biological fathers, you ignorant consulting nuisance of a friend!"

"Yes, John, it can. It's very rare, because the baby should have developed into non-identical twins, one yours, the other Moriarty's, but it didn't, so there you have it: Sheralyn is a chimaera."

"Sherlock, you either stop this nonsense right now, or you will get another punch in the face!" replied an irate Dr Watson, and Sherlock noticed how he balled his fists, the bantam rooster always looking for a fight!

"No, John, listen to me, please!"

[SherlockedCAMPer]

Sherlock handed John his phone after opening the message from Mycroft. John read the words for himself and his jaw dropped.

 

"Now can you tell me what happened with Sheralyn's disappearance?" As much as Sherlock did care for John as a friend, he had to get to the task at hand and find his god-daughter as well as her mother.

[Inge l-w]

(Benedict Arnold AND Richard Sorge? While we're at it why not the entire Cambridge quintet and Dr Fuchs?)

It was at this point that Major Sholto provided the much-needed level-headed approach.

"I should think, Mr Holmes, that you had better start by examining the baby's and John's room, because it was literally through a breaking and entering that the three masked people reached that particular part of the house, took the baby and disappeared."

Three, just like the Walters gang at the bank heist! How deep was Mary's involvement with the late Jim Moriarty, and, more importantly, what role did the ex-colonel Moriarty play in his brother's illicit affairs?

Instead of jumping up and doing what the major suggested, however, Sherlock fidgeted in the overstuffed chair, reclined as far back as he could and turned to face his host.

"For the moment, Major, I would like you to tell me all you and John here could recall about the two ex-colonels, James Moriarty, since he's implicated biologically, and Sebastian Moran, who appears to have become a major player in the late Jim Moriarty's criminal network." He was getting sick and tired of being called 'Mr Holmes', but he had to base his suspicions on some solid data. Above all, he abhorred foundless assumptions!

Lifting his teacup to his mouth, he made himself look even more comfortable, which seemed to unnerve the Major. Interesting!

Major Sholto launched on a tale of professional military life, describing both men as highly competent in their respective fields, (Captain Moriarty had been head of the logistics and supply part of their past operations in places like Kuwait in the 90s, with his last posting oversees being Iraq, which explained why John, much more junior and on his first posting overseas being Afghanistan, had never laid eyes on him), while Colonel Moran was a very hard disciplinarian in the Marines' special operations unit. Apparently, his way of treating prisoners had come to the attention of his superiors several times (dead bodies were not always easy to hide among the carnage of fighting, as seemed to be his modus operandi, so he was eventually brought before an investigative committee whose findings were that he would either have to resign or be court-martialled). His sharpshooting skills were legendary, as were his many conquests and his almost compulsive gambling habit. Once again, John had narrowly missed meeting Moran, as his tour of duty in Afghanistan had started barely a fortnight after the Colonel had handed in his resignation and had been shipped home together with some severe cases that needed treatment at a fully-equipped hospital, not an army field unit.

At the end of the tale, Sherlock flicked his glance over John, thus ensuring through the doctor's sitting posture that whatever Major Sholto had said was what John had been told as well, placed his cup and saucer on the coffee table, got up, and buttoning his jacket, as was his wont, he pivoted on his heels: "That was a most informative tale, Major, now we shall proceed to look over the room, as you first suggested. Are you coming, John?"

"Just try to keep me away, especially now!"

"The mysteries of fatherhood!"

"Don't jibe about it, just do what you always do, and then we may get her back!"

As they were being shown upstairs, Sherlock turned to his friend and erstwhile partner: "One question, why did you characterise the three masked intruders as Spetznatz types?"

"They were talking in Russian or Ukrainian, at least, one of them used a swear-word in one or the other of these languages. We only caught a glimpse of them as they were leaving. Sherlock, we have to get her back, she's so little, so weak after her hospitalisation, so vulnerable, and they put her in a carry-all and she's afraid of the dark, and..."

"John, you're not helping! Calm down, use your not inconsiderable skills and help me locate all possible clues. We're going to get her back alive."

[joanneta1]

(Like it or lump it, Inge, we're along for the ride )

Dr Watson, who had already heard the story of the two ex-colonels from the lips of his former commanding officer ('previous' per Sherlock), climbed the narrow staircase to the first floor, where his and the baby's room was located. He could see the mess left by the three perpetrators and their cavalier way of treating HIS daughter, never mind the improbable genetic mix up. From the moment he had received this staggering news, he had been processing it in his mind: if his genes were involved, Sheralyn was his natural offspring, end of story.

However, Sherlock, as usual, went into full discovery mode the moment they entered the room, flitting from bedside to cot to wardrobe, going down on all fours to examine something that caught his attention under the bed. Sure enough, he came up with a stray goosedown feather and a tiny particle from a bubble plastic sheath.

"So, Mr Holmes, what do these pieces of careless housekeeping tell you?"

"Why, Major Sholto, they're proof that the kidnappers came prepared to use drugs to secure the silence of anyone in the room, and that they were holding weapons they hadn't used before. The logical conclusion is that Sheralyn was very slightly smothered with one of the pillows on the bed to render her woozy without resorting to drugs: this means that the perpetrator isn't aware of her asthmatic tendencies, but is concerned about using medicinal substances on an infant. What did the local Crime Scene officer have to say about the evidence?"

"Nothing of value, their team checked for footprints and fingerprints, their report should be ready tomorrow."

Immediately, Sherlock whipped out his mobile phone and texted Lestrade, querying the local Serious Crimes squad's status, fearing that they would be sub-par for the truly Herculean task of locating his goddaughter.

"Sherlock, if one of the three was Mary, that would make the situation untenable", reminded John.

Sherlock turned to face Major Sholto and asked pointblanc: "What is the exact setup of your CCTV? We shall need all available footage from the perimeter, the grounds and the interior of the house, as we need to ascertain exactly how they breached your security."

"Don't worry, Mr Holmes, I have already asked that the footage from the last twenty-four hours be saved rather than deleted, as per usual, and copied into a hard copy, so it may be examined at your leisure."

"You are certainly a practical man, as well as gifted with common sense, Major. Now, I shall need ALS lighting to figure out their movements. John, could you close the curtains and bring up the special equipment which I left with Mr Sholto's housekeeper? After I have finished examining this room, we shall need a very serious talk with Tessa. After all, she was left in charge of the child, given her nurse's qualifications."

Thereafter, Sherlock banished both Dr Watson and Major Sholto to the corridor and went over every surface with the special UV equipment. His characteristic "Oh" of revelation came in about ten minutes, and Dr Watson felt as if his guts were being tied up in knots.

[SherlockedCAMPer]

John saw what Sherlock was looking at and thought that he was going to lose what little food he had in him.  He quickly excused himself to the loo.  "For being a doctor, you'd think he'd have a stronger stomach." Sherlock muttered to himself, "Especially after hanging out with me all these years."

 

Sherlock carefully looked at what he had found.  There were so many clues in that small area. He grabbed his small magnifier and several other tools out of his case.

 

(I will let someone else figure out what Sherlock's "Oh" was about)

[Inge l-w]

What had caught Sherlock's attention and provoked such a strong reaction in Dr Watson was a tiny rhinestone in a very unusual shape: Mary used to wear a cream headband with just such rhinestones set in it in to form a serpentine pattern. Undoubtedly, it wasn't unique, but all the same lent more credence to John's assertion that she could have been personally involved in the baby's forcible removal.

Sherlock very carefully used a pair of tweezers to pick it up and place it in a small evidence bag. At this very grave juncture, the last thing he wanted or needed was the local police to gang up on him for contaminating the crime scene by carelessly handling the evidence. It was simply too important!

Dr Watson returned to stand by Major Sholto's side, visibly shaken and understandably pale: they were going through this whole nightmarish situation because the woman whom he had entrusted with his future happiness and well-being had decided to add to her list of criminal offences the abandonment of husband and child, and now seemed to have changed her mind. Not unusual in a woman, but highly unusual in a trained, cold-blooded former agent/assassin.

After sweeping the room one more time, picking up a flake of paint on the floor near the window, and some brownish grains on the windowsill, all of which he first photographed with his mobile and then packed into separate evidence bags, Sherlock turned to the two men in the corridor: " Now, Major, could we interview Tessa while the CCTV material is being processed?"

Major Sholto led the way back down to the library, where they sat down in the comfortable overstuffed leather chairs, waiting for the sweetly gauche nurse to make her appearance.

Although Sherlock would have dearly liked to terrorise her into giving him whatever information she held quickly, as he had done to the American ambassador's children's headmistress, it was not an option.

She had first approached him as a client, and had to be treated with a certain level of careful handling. Nevertheless, he was determined to wring the last bit of information from her, one way or the other!

Whatever approach he had been in the process of constructing in his mind, however, was nullified the moment she appeared: Tessa simply threw herself into his arms as he stood up, sobbing out in a strangled little voice: "Mr Holmes, I'm so, so sorry! She's gone and it's all my fault!"

Dr Watson jumped up at this declaration, but it was doubtful that he did so in order to scold or reprimand her in any way; he knew from long experience that Sherlock didn't handle strong emotions well, neither did he like being used as a shoulder to cry on. Assuming his most friendly ex-Army doctor manner, Dr Watson laid his hands on Tessa's trembling shoulders, gently prized her away from Sherlock, who instantly took a step back, almost toppling backwards into the chair in the process, and turned her to face him: "Calm yourself, young lady. I'm the baby's father and I'm not accusing you of anything yet. You really need to keep your wits about you to give us a clear account of what happened."

She dabbed at her tear-stained face with the little handkerchief she kept tucked up her left sleeve, allowed herself to be guided to a fourth overstuffed chair, took several deep breaths and was about to begin her story, when Sherlock burst out with: "It seems that you no longer need to date men online, since you have found a lover in the guise of your employer!"

Tessa blushed very prettily, but the sight was lost on the detective, who turned to face Major Sholto: "It seems, Major, that you have not been entirely forthcoming about the current situation in your household. Withholding any kind of evidence may be considered an obstruction of justice, and the stakes are too high for me to turn a blind eye!"

[joanneta1]

To his credit, the heavily disfigured man sat up straight in his chair and declared "Yes, Mr Holmes, it's true, for the first time after many years, it was the presence of Sheralyn under my roof, and Tessa's care of her charge which re-awakened feelings I had thought lay dormant. Do my personal dealings with my staff have anything to do with your ongoing investigation?"r

"That remains to be seen, Major. Now, young lady, tell us what happened in your own fashion. I know that you have a quite good eye for detail, so be as specific as possible!", thus effectively barring Dr Watson from commenting on the latest revelation.

The young nurse took another deep breath and launched into her account. She had given Sheralyn her bottle for the night, burped her for about five minutes, walking up and down the room to help the baby get accustomed to moving during the process, had then laid her down in her cot, set up the intercom which hung on the left postern of the cot, left the night lamp on and set Sheralyn's Solar System mobile in motion with its soothing Adagio from Holst's Saturn to lull the baby to sleep. Once she had seen with her own eyes the baby drift off to sleep, she had switched off the music, leaving both the intercom and the night light on. She had then gone down to the kitchen to make some tea, and was down to the last sip, when she noticed that the intercom didn't transmit the baby's regular breathing, as it should. She had quickly gone upstairs to find out the reason why, and had been confronted with an empty cot. Thereupon, she had raised the alarm.

"As much as I like you as a person and former client, my friend and colleague here, would say you are hiding something. He was able to see three people escaping through the bedroom window, two of whom were using Russian swear words. So, you see, your story has discrepancies with Dr Watson's version that are simply not congruent. What were you actually doing after you put your charge in her cot?"

Once again, Tessa blushed scarlet and avoided meeting his eye.

[SherlockedCAMPer]

"I...I,I...Sorry Dr. Watson.  I did not take her or directly help, but I could have prevented it.  I had made tea and was in the process of bringing to James.  I left the monitor in the kitchen.  I realized that around the same time that Dr. Watson discovered the break-in.  Also, that stone from the floor may not belong to Sheralyn's mother." Tessa had seen John's face when they had gathered in the library.  "It belongs to a friend of mine possibly.  We went out to the pub a couple of nights ago.  I let slip that I was watching a beautiful infant after we had a little too much to drink.  I excused myself to the loo and as I was coming back, I heard her talking with a couple of guys about the baby.  I did not catch the date but guessed it would be soon.  They had mentioned knowing the mother but did not know where she was at, and that they knew the father and wanted to get the baby back to him.  They mentioned heading to Calais 2 days after the job was done.  I made my presence known after that.  The guys left and my friend talked with me about what they were going to do without telling me the date.  She showed me the stone that was to be left as a clue.  Again, I am sorry."  Tessa burst into tears after that.

 

"Yes, you very well could have prevented it.  This is the second time you have let slip something regarding my dear friend John.  If you remotely loved your boss in anyway at all, you would do well to keep matters of this place in this place.  If Major Sholto will still have you, you would be most fortunate.  How long have you known this friend, what is her name and what does she look like?  And the guys, can you tell me what they looked like?" Sherlock asked angrily.

 

"She has dark hair and a natural tan.  She has an Irish brogue.  We have been friends for about 3 months.  Her name is Janine. We met online through a group meet up page.  We finally met for the first time at the pub."  Sherlock and John both looked at her with shock.  They knew who Janine was.  "The guys were fair skinned, dark hair.  One had a slightly muscular build similar to someone that was in the military.  I did not get their names."

 

"Now I have a very important phone call to make."  Sherlock was still upset.  He got up and stormed off while calling his brother.  "I need to have the port in Calais closed and monitored.  Sheralyn's kidnappers were heading that way.  They are supposed to be arriving in the next 2 days.  Mary may not be involved, but some of the others could be including Janine."

 

 

(yes I went there. No, I do not regret it at all.)

[Inge l-w]

(Hope you enjoyed the leap from the aeroplane before the parachute opened! How am I supposed to get this back on track? There is so much unfinished business in London, including getting into Mycroft's safe! )

"Define 'some of the others', Sherlock! Some of us have rather important work to conduct while you go gallivanting around the globe!"

"Oh, so it's perfectly OK for me to 'go gallivanting' as you so charmingly put it, Mycroft, when it is in the service of the Crown but not when I need to get my goddaughter back from whoever has her at this moment. Except for the rest of her rather rare biological buildup, the baby also suffers from asthma, which we don't know how she developed. In the hands of her abductors, she might simply suffocate and die! Not to mention that it was partly your fault that she was abducted in the first place: the people you sent to guard Major Sholto's property were clearly inadequate for the job. As for Mr Sorge, he is the one I shall be sending over to France in the company of John, since I have to remain here for the time being. Have your assistant prepare adequate documentation for both."

"Actually, that's a relief, Sherlock, Monsieur Bajollet is a personal friend of mine, I wouldn't want you to deduce him to a fit of Gallic anger with your oh-so-tactful remarks!'"

"Oh, Mycroft, the DGSE is your remit, I'm just a lowly consulting detective in search of evidence. And in this case, I'm more likely to head for Ireland than for the land of our mistrusted allies. Anyway, all foreign espionage falls under your control as a minor functionary of the government."

He heard an outraged 'Sherlock...' before he terminated the call.

Turning round, he found Dr Watson at his side: "Why aren't you coming?"

"Because I think it's the proverbial red herring. We must interrogate Tessa again, watch the CCTV footage and ascertain the depth of her involvement in this, not to mention her affair with your previous commanding officer and her encounter with Janine. You know my feelings about the latter, she is as beautiful as she is intelligent, she is perceptive and cunning, an opportunistic pathogen on burned skin, if you like."

"And you suspect everyone and anyone at this stage. Please, don't get manic about it, Sherlock, you know how your mind works better than I do, but it can still betray you. Instinct might work better in this case."

"You know my methods, John, I cannot work without sufficient input, data, hard evidence. Leaps of logic are permissible, leaps of the imagination I shall leave to your good self and any other writer of fiction."

"Oi, did you just call my blog a work of fiction?"

"Look at it from my point of view: what are the probabilities that fair-haired Mary would buy the same cream headband with those clear rhinestones as dark-curled Janine? How can you build on such a quicksand as women's whims? Their most important decisions may depend on the right shade of lipstick or a curling tongs!"

"So, you're are saying that Mary may still be in on the game! My assassin of a wife is trying to reclaim my attention first by leaving and then by abducting our daughter!"

"Injured feelings have no place here, John, let's go back to do what we originally set out to do, which is find out everything about how the abduction succeeded." Sherlock squared his shoulders, took a deep, calming breath and strode into the library again, closely followed by Dr Watson.

They found the Major sitting side by side with Tessa on the large Chesterfield sofa which was in front of the large French windows. They appeared to be holding hands. Tessa self-consciously removed hers and folded them primly on her lap.

"I would like both of you to sit in these two chairs," Sherlock said, pointing, "because I need your faces to be clearly lit and not shaded by the sunlight from outside as you answer my questions."

When they had taken their places as indicated, he turned to the ex-Major first: "When were you first alerted to the abduction of the baby?"

"It was Watson himself who raised the alarm, thereby alerting me, as well. I was in my office, Tessa had just brought in tea, we were kissing when I heard the commotion outside."

"When you so very kindly offered to provide the baby with a temporary home until the situation was resolved, was that your own idea? Or did it come from Tessa, and therefore from her acquaintance at the pub? Now, think, Major, this may be important!"

[joanneta1]

Nope! Not going to ruin the memory of the best holiday of my life exploring France, (Dieppe, Paris, Versailles, Cadillac, Angers, Bordeaux, Lyon, Nice, Marseilles) by getting involved in the French part of the story!

"You know, Mr Holmes, I can't remember. Watson... sorry, John here, had texted that his wife had disappeared, that you had had some problems which he couldn't elaborate on, and that he and you were juggling daily life with a baby not yet six months old and a host of other troubles. I can tell you that I was sitting in here the evening before I decided to visit you in London, enjoying my one glass of malt whisky of the day, as per doctor's orders, reading the latest issue of Jane's, when Tessa brought in my evening pills, which I usually take with a glass of water before retiring for the night. We had certainly discussed the situation, and both deplored the fact that you and John had so much to do while we were practically mired in our daily routines."

Sherlock swept both of them in his very thorough deduction mode, but was prevented from saying anything further by a ping alerting him to a text message on his mobile; he had left it beside him for easy access, so he grabbed it to read Mycroft's latest addition to their tale of woes: "Beaver apprised of next destination, awaits your orders, Three Continents unable to go to France due to a pending warrant for his arrest for sexually molesting a sixteen-year old during a day trip to Boulogne in 1987. Your presence required, shall inform Head of DGSE of your visit, try not to start our first war with France since Napoleon surrendered in 1815."

Sherlock swiped the screen, emitting a noise between a huff of irritation and a strangled laugh. But first things first, he needed to put the events of the abduction in order and watch the CCTV footage. Anyway, he had been to Paris, in his two-year-long  chase of Moriarty's web of activities, and he had helped the local police recover the portrait of Mme Rimsky-Korsakov stolen from the Musee d'Orsay by one of Moriarty's underlings for a wealthy admirer of the Russian composer's work. Still, it was one thing to deal with the Quai des Orfeuvres, a kind of frenchified NSY, and quite another to get involved with the French secret services. Not good at all!

[Inge l-w]

(Oh, all right! The original also worked with the French police.)

Phrase by torturous phrase, Sherlock elicited the story from all three participants. After Tessa had fed and burped the baby, she had put Sheralyn in her cot, left the night light on and taken the intercom with her to the kitchen, where she had proceeded to make tea. With both hands holding the tea tray, she had inadvertently not put the intercom in the pocket of her jacket when she had gone in to Major Sholto. Dr Watson had coincidentally gone upstairs to use the en-suite bathroom and check up on the baby, when he became witness to the three shadowy figures leaving through the bedroom window, carrying a hold-all in a two-handed grip and using the Russian or Ukrainian swear words he had heard. Rushing to the empty cot, he had then proceeded to raise the alarm, as the three figures hared off into the distance. They had used a retractable aerial ladder, which was nowhere to be found, but which explained the chipped paint Sherlock had found earlier, since they had secured it to the windowsill. Also, the grains of loamy earth could be explained by the presence of a flowerbed right underneath, in their path to the baby. So far, so bad, but he also needed to see the CCTV footage.

Fortunately, just as the pathetic little voice of Tessa faded after another "I'm so very sorry, Dr Watson," which raised Sherlock's levels of irked reaction and anger, but before he could work himself up to give her one of his scathing retorts, the female security worker came in and handed Major Sholto a mini DVD "The security footage, as you requested, sir."

In times past, Sherlock would have unceremoniously grabbed it out of his host's hands and ran to the nearest available projecting equipment. Now, especially after the latest news, he simply sat up straight and gestured for the Major to get on with it.

The major got up, went to the library shelves next to the French windows, pushed a button to open a large cabinet that held a state-of-the-art television set, turned on its DVD drive, inserted the mini disc and the screen came to life.

Sherlock found himself sitting at the edge of his chair as he watched the material. Strangely enough, Dr Watson next to him, seemed as if he was trying to melt into the stuffing of h I s chair.

The whole sequence of the abduction ran for about five minutes. The three hooded figures came into view, fumbled with the pillow, the shortest of the three picked up the baby, while the others held the carry-all open, they deposited the baby in it, the shortest one grabbed something off the night-table, and then they were gone.

"She picked up the inhaler for the baby, somehow she knows!"

"Yes, Sherlock, Mary knows, but how can she, unless your brother's service is not leaking like a sieve?" replied a very subdued, very forlorn, very downhearted Dr Watson.

"Occam's Razor, John! He must have got the information to her himself!"

In one way, Sherlock was relieved to find that he wouldn't have to hunt for a whole nest of moles in his brother's organisation, in quite another way he felt (quaint, how a baby in your life produces emotions you didn't know you had!) betrayed. In how many pies did Mycroft have a finger? He suspected he wouldn't like the answer at all when he eventually found out.

Now, more than ever, he knew that he had to break into Mycroft's little vault. The question remained as to when he would be able to do so. In the matter of a much smaller betrayal, he turned to his host, excused himself and dragged Dr Watson up by the hand.

"There's something I must verify in the garden."

With that, he opened the French windows and stepped outside, still keeping a firm hold on Dr Watson's wrist.

"You don't have to drag me around like that, most of the time I come willingly."

'Yes, when you don't take it into your head to head-butt or shoot someone first! What's all this about?" Sherlock showed John the last message from his brother.

"Simone lodged a complaint? But I made sure to check her identity card, because she looked older with all that make-up. And your brother has a nasty sense of humour: Three Continents, indeed!"

"Mycroft has probably deleted his sense of humour as I delete useless data, John. The point is, you cannot go to France, if the need arises. What we both agree on is that that shorter figure was Mary, not Janine. In the first place, Janine is almost a head taller than Mary..." "...and in the second, I would recognise her hand movements anywhere, under any cover. She has very expressive hands, does my assassin wife!"

[SherlockedCAMPer]

"I've seen everything I need to see.  I must get back to London.  Come with if you would like but do hurry." Sherlock said with a flurry with the last bit directed at John.  He got up and gathered his stuff heading towards the front door not bothering to check if John was following.  John followed suit as he usually did forgetting to grab anything he packed.  He just wanted his daughter back.

 

Sherlock jumped into the SUV sliding over to allow room for John to get in.  He asked the driver to get them to London as quickly as possible.  Sherlock was determined to get to his meeting at the pub.  He knew the establishment was one of the many in the city that had a later closing call than most for which he was thankful as the trip back to London would not likely be much shorter than 4 hours.

[Inge l-w]

(Stiff upper lip, keep calm and carry on! After that video, it's r a t h e r difficult, but for the sake of all our effort, dear Jenn!)

The one thing that could still be said in Mycroft's favour was that his underlings were reliable until proven otherwise! With their faithful shadow following them into the SUV, Sherlock set about re-ordering his thoughts in order to prioritise their activities before they reached London! John could not come with him to France because of his *past*, Mary and Mycroft were involved up to a point which he planned to unravel once Angelo's friend had honed his skills in burgling an old-fashioned safe, like the one Mycroft kept in his office, so he sent a text to Angelo, to let him know that the appointment would take place the next day, as it was the two friends' habitual meeting time for darts and a pint. The pub in Islington was appropriately named "Angelic", but the shallowness of the humour of the situation refused to register with him at the moment: Mary and parties unknown; although he suspected, not to Mycroft, had abducted Sheralyn, and the first order of business was to get the baby back!

Fortunately for Sherlock, John was still so upset about the whole paternity issue and the glaringly obvious participation of Mary in Sheralyn's abduction, that the good doctor didn't interrupt Sherlock's train of thought: for this case he had abandoned both deductive and inductive reasoning in favour of, how appropriate, he thought, abductive reasoning!

He was trying to piece together a train of events by selecting a cogent set of preconditions involving Mycroft, Mary and the Moriarty brother to come to the conclusion, although he admitted to himself that it wasn't a unique one, that Mary had felt threatened, abandoned home and hearth without even taking necessary personal items except her Coutts' safe-deposit box key, and once she had discovered what he himself and her husband had done to protect Sheralyn, she had used her underworld connections, without excluding the possibility of contacting Mycroft in one way or another, to find and recover her daughter before fleeing Heaven knew what new danger by going to France! Drat it, he would have to conduct the whole DGSE with only the 'help' of Mycroft's agent!

When they arrived at Baker Str. , Sherlock was once again struck by how quiet it seemed now that the baby was not there.

Once they had divested themselves of their suit jacket and summer Barbour respectively, more out of force of habit than anything else, Sherlock asked: "Shall I put the kettle on?" only to be met by a pair of blue eyes that seemed stormy and dagger-like in their intensity: "No, I'd rather you took down your precious Macallan single malt and two crystal tumblers!"

"John, I have arranged to meet Angelo and his friend tomorrow evening at their usual haunt, and you know that I cannot carry my drink as well as you do!"

"Yeah, the stag night proved pretty conclusively that you are a lightweight in such matters, but right now I need my best friend 'and companion', as you so elegantly phrase it each time during introductions, to join me in some quality whisky-drinking! I only have a Mind Cottage, and now it's being hit by a tsunami of information, so get the bloody tumblers, or we can take turns drinking from the bottle itself. Your choice, genius!"

"All right, all right, I shall get everything, you sit in your chair and relax!"

"Who would have thought Sheralyn would be such an oddity of nature, or that my beloved wife of a year would first dump our child without a word and then abduct her for her own purposes! You think you can manipulate people; well, let me tell you, Mary has out-manipulated both of us!"

"John, your propensity for stating the obvious will never cease to grate on my thoughts! Here's your tumbler, full to the brim, cease and desist, I beg of you!" Sherlock replied, handing Dr Watson what must have been one third of a bottle, or 220 ml of undiluted spirits.

For himself, he had poured two-fingers' worth of the amber liquid, then added some ice cubes to dilute it without ruining the flavour. The last thing he needed at this point was to get drunk alongside John.

With a sense of alarm, he saw his friend down a good portion of the fiery substance, after the perfunctory toast: To success! He himself nursed his drink, replenished John's as requested, but tried to keep as sober as possible under the circumstances.

Eventually, Dr Watson fell asleep in his chair. Sherlock fetched the Afghan (how apposite) throw from the couch, threw it over his snoring friend, and after a short visit to the bathroom, he went to his room, undressed and tried to sleep.

Next morning, a clearly overhung Dr Watson woke to the smell of frying bacon and eggs. Sherlock, who abhorred cooking in all its forms, but rationalised it as just another form of chemical reactions taking place, was cooking breakfast. By his plate, the good doctor found two painkillers and a glass of a milky substance; without a second thought as to possible poisoning attempts by Sherlock, he downed the pills with what appeared to be coconut milk.

"Best hangover relief I have tried. Sorry I couldn't do a full breakfast, but I didn't think your stomach would bear it, just bacon and eggs, toast and marmalade. That Fortnum & Mason Mrs Robinson keeps sending us assorted ones."

"Thanks, Sherlock, in truth I don't know if I can handle even this much!" And with that, Dr Watson picked up his fork.

Sherlock contented himself with several slices of toasted bread spread with a variety of jams, finely, medium-cut and rough-cut marmalade, savouring each bite, as if to catalogue the tastes in his mind.

That afternoon, under a slight drizzle, Sherlock set out to meet Angelo's friend in Islington. Since he abhorred the Tube because it sometimes caused him to suffer a sensory overload, and since it was only about half an hour on foot, he decided to borrow John's rain-proof summer Barbour, although it was short for his arms, buttoned it up and set off. He first turned right into York Street, then into Gloucester Place, he followed the Marylebone Road until it turned into Pentonville Road, took a right turn into Nelson Terrace, at its end he turned right into Colebrook Row and finally turned left into Charlton Place, to find himself outside a traditional English pub. He took a deep, calming breath, and entered, moving around the seated customers until he sidled up to Angelo and his friend, both of whom had rolled up their sleeves and were holding their respective darts in their hands:"Evening, the drinks are on me, naturally!"

"Ah, Mr 'Olmes, you do know 'ow to make friends an' influence people!" chuckled the other man.

[joanneta1]

"Obviously, Mr...Smith," and Sherlock lingered on the word until the other man fingered his collar in discomfort, "I shall need your rather specific expertise on Stanmore safes, but there have been developments beyond my control which will make it impossible for me to receive your illuminating instructions until your next meeting with my good friend Angelo here, at the least. Could we postpone the safe-cracking lessons until I have dealt with the other matter?"

"Well, Mr 'Olmes, it's your own decision, but since you made it to our appointment, why don't we retire to the manager's office, and I shall acquaint you with the basics?"

"I could never resist a bet, Mr Smith..." there was that lingering tone again:" What do you say, I pay for the drinks this evening, but you stand a general round if I crack it in the first three attempts?"

"Done, Mr 'Olmes! No one has cracked a Stanmore in three attempts, as I live and breathe!"

It was pure technical drudgery for Sherlock, but he followed the cracksman to the suspiciously deserted manager's office, leaving Angelo to play shove ha' penny with a plainly bored bartender.

The safe, gleaming dully at them, could have been in the same production line as the one in Mycroft's office! Rubbing his hands together gleefully, Sherlock followed the expert's advice to the letter. His long, graceful fingers seemed made for the job. Twiddling the knobs, listening to the gears whir and settle was fascinating work, so much so, that he got quite carried away and heard them clicking and twisted the handle of the safe, he wasn't even aware of what had just happened, until he opened the safe's door, turned round, and saw Mr Smith looking at him as if he had grown snakes in his hair!

"Well, what do you think, Mr Smith?" "I think, Mr 'Olmes that the Bill should thank their lucky stars you're on their side! And don't worry about our bet, I'm a man of my word!"

"Still, Mr Smith, I wouldn't like to see such a sporting tutor lose out of our acquaintance! Here's a hundred to cover your general round, and not a word to anyone, not even Angelo! Understood?"

"Yeah, no word to anyone, my lips are sealed," smiled the amazed cracksman, and they both returned to the taproot of the pub. With a nod at Angelo, Sherlock took leave of the two friends. He now had to return to Baker Str , check up on his passport, the one he had used in the two years hunting down all of Moriarty's associates, hide it in the double lining of his carry-on, finalise arrangements with his suspect of a brother, and book the trip to Paris, where he had no homeless network, but a much more abundant human resources network in the clochards, if he played his cards right.

First things first, he collected his suits from the dry-cleaner's on Marylebone Rd, remembered to pop into Waitrose for bare necessities, like milk, tea, coffee, sliced bread and some ready-made microwave meals for John, then, once again weighed down with shopping, he made his way to the flat: the knocker had been straightened once again, but this time, he didn't mind, he even welcomed the intrusion.

"Brother dear, how nice of you to drop in just as I was about to text you! I shall need a full debriefing before my flight to Paris tomorrow, and you're just the man for the job!"

[SherlockedCAMPer]

"That's all fine and well Sherlock, but there are more pressing matters to deal with at this point.  I have it on good authority that if you want the contents of the safety deposit box, you will have to do it tomorrow.  The bank has put a temporary moratorium on access to all of them until 16:00 tomorrow afternoon.  I happen to be acquaintances with the bank president and that particular branch manager.  I was able to pull a few strings to make it all happen.  Here are the papers you will need." He stated as he handed over a file.  "Whatever content is in that box was attempted access a few hours ago.  Extra security has been added to make sure nothing happens before you arrive tomorrow.  I recommend a disguise for you and the look-a-like as an added precaution.  Once that task is completed I will be more than willing to debrief you before your flight.  Good evening brother dear."  Mycroft did not wait for a response from Sherlock.  He got up and left the flat.

 

Sherlock sat down in his chair and looked over the contents of the file.  The first sheet appeared to be similar to a court order but different than normal.

 

British Secret Services

Project: Foxtrot Moonglow 105

Priority Crucial

 

RE: Safety Deposit Box Number 2358B

 

Access to above mentioned box is to be given to Ms. A. Ramage and her associate Mr. S. Holmes by order of Rt. Hon. D. Cameron and Her Majesty The Queen.  Any questions can be directed to Mr. M Holmes, British Security Services.

 

Sincerely,

Hon. K. Jones ESQ.

 

He knew the judge from back in his drug binging days.  Mycroft had definitely pulled a few strings.  He looked through a few more sheets of paper.  Most were meant to assist him with tomorrow's task at the bank but one was rather interesting.

 

British Secret Services

Project: Foxtrot Moonglow 105

Priority Crucial

 

RE: Operative Abbigail Grace Ramage Aarons (AKA Abbigail Grace Ramage, Abbigail Grace Renee Anderson, Amanda Gwen Renee Andersdatter, Mary Elizabeth Morstan, Mary Elizabeth Watson)

 

Brolly,

 

Little Lamb seen with abductors near Widnes & Runcon.  All ports in the UK have been secured as a precaution.  All airports have been put on alert status Orange 5.  Extra patrols along the western coast for the next 3 days to be continued as necessary beyond that.  ID of Little Lamb confirmed as abductors disappeared into the crowds.  Awaiting images from local CCTV to see if identities can be confirmed for any of the abductors.  Identification given Priority Ultra.  Will send notice once arrived.

 

~ Church Secretary.

 

She had been spotted.  Sherlock was kind of surprised that Mary would have had Sheralyn exposed like that.  It gave him something to think about as he prepared for tomorrow.  He quickly sent off a text to DS Pierce. "Bank tomorrow morning.  Arrive at NSY by 08:00.  Will have everything you need. ~SH"

[joanneta1]

As Sherlock finished texting DS Pierce, he took a long, hard look at the map blue-tacked (baby in the flat!) on the wall! Something didn't seem right! Why would Mary be bringing her unique genetic specimen of a daughter and his god-daughter to boot, near Liverpool! With one Moriarty brother safely under lock and key, and the other dead, since he couldn't fault the evidence of his own eyes, there remained only Janine, who could provide Mary with a safe haven in Ireland, easy to reach from Liverpool, never mind all the alerts his brother had at once put in place: a speedboat or any kind of small boat, even the shrimping kind, would be enough to get past any observation.

No, it had to be a piece deliberately planted disinformation by the mole in Mycroft's office. After last night's practice, his fingertips fairly itched to have a go at Mycroft's Stanmore safe. By now, he knew he couldn't fully trust his brother's resources, much less his brother's motives. In the first place, it was entirely the wrong direction for fleeing to France, she would have to cross all of England in order to reach the Norfolk or Kentish coast, from thence she could access both France and the Netherlands, again using one of the small craft so beloved of the Norfolk and Kentish smugglers, running anything from contraband cigarettes and spirits to East European teenage girls past the noses of the Revenooers , the local term for both Coast Guard and Customs and Excise officers.

And if Mary had Eastern European connections, given the evidence they had uncovered at Major Sholto's house and John's personal account of the attack, then it made eminently good sense for Mary and her accomplices to run towards the North sea and not the Irish sea.

On his return to the flats, he found, much to his relief (ugh, why did he have to grow sentimental in middle-age? It was a very hard learning curve!) that Dr Watson had recovered enough to be sitting at his laptop and typing something or other on it.

"Good, you're your normal self,"..." more or less." as he saw the good doctor get up from the chair by grabbing onto its back and stumbling a bit.

"What do you want this time, Sherlock?"

"I know for a fact that my brother has a luncheon appointment at the Sheridan with the Home Secretary and the Minister for Foreign Affairs. Can you distract Anthea using your usual charm and wiles from coming into my brother's office for about ten minutes?"

"I can try, but from our very first meeting, the lady has shown her complete lack of interest in my so-called charms, what new strategy can I deploy?"

"The fair sex has always been your specialty, dear doctor! Think up something on the way there!'

"Wait, wait, you mean you are going to break into your brother's office the same way you thought you were breaking into Magnussen's? May I remind you that that attempt failed rather spectacularly?"

"Certainly not! We shall walk in there, after all, he has summoned us often enough! I only need you to distract her so that I may break into his safe!"

"Oh, good Heavens what for?"

"Because I believe he knows much more about Mary than he lets on, and her file must be locked in there, that's why! Now, are you coming?"

"If we get caught this time, there will be no easy way out, like a nice shot! He'll probably send us to Parkhurst or Pentonville, if we're lucky and he does not declare us nutters and sent to Broadmoor for life!"

"Well, we have shared the same flats, we shall share the same prison cell!"

"I do hope you're not a snorer, because that evening, after Irene gave you that drug and I had to lie by you to make sure you were kept in a position precluding your choking on your vomit, which, incidentally you didn't, vomit, I mean, you snored!"

"I was drugged, now, come along, we have very little time to accomplish our task. If I find that Mary has ever been in his employ, I may do something monstrous, like Mummy!"

 

[aphrodite32101]

I'm confused sorry

 

 

Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

[aphrodite32101]

I'm confused sorry

 

 

Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

[Inge l-w]

(Don't worry, so are we, most of the time, especially when I have to invent cases for Sherlock to unravel in the midst of the Baby chaos! Read dear Jenn's introduction first! So much so, that when Sherlock exclaimed: they're never twins! I thought that the jibe was aimed at our story :D )

From Baker Str they cut right through Hyde Park, to reach St. James Park and then, just before reaching the Houses of Parliament, they took a left turn, into Charles Str. where Mycroft had his minor government official offices. Although they could have taken the Tube, they didn't, since Sherlock was fighting his claustrophobia and John needed plenty of fresh air to clear any remaining alcoholic fumes from his head.

Right before turning into Charles Str. , Sherlock pulled John up short.

"You do realise that we have to avoid ever single CCTV on this stretch? We shall walk Indian file, and you will imitate my steps exactly. After we have reached the entrance, it won't matter any more, because you will turn on all your charm, I repeat ALL, and keep Anthe in the outer office. She will naturally show us into Mycroft's office first, we shall make ourselves comfortable, as if waiting for his return, but once she exits to go for tea and biscuits, you will follow her and keep her occupied for at least ten minutes!"

"Shall we synchronise our watches, too?"

"Very droll, John Hamish Watson! I may have to remind you of the remark if we are caught in the act! There's a wall clock behind Anthea, and a world clock on the wall facing the Customs and Excise HQ. Use your eyes."

"And how shall I warn you, if, by bad luck, Mycroft returns early?"

"It's scallops in champagne sauce followed by rack of lamb and chocolate meringue day at the Sheridan, John! Mycroft loves chocolate meringues, he can eat them by the half-dozen. No fears on that score! What we shall have to do upon first entering his office is move the sofa and the visitors' chairs around, so we can confuse the floor sensors a little bit as to the distribution of weight, and, of course, send his CCTV on a loop, so that it seems I am peacefully sitting waiting for him. We shall use my iPhone for that, don't worry!"

"One last question: if he catches you in the act, or even if he realises what you have done after we have left, are we likely to be denied the debriefing and the information needed for the French part of this escapade?"

"Mycroft is not vindictive, he's reliable and can be kind. No, he will not cut off all avenues of information. But if he catches me in the act, and you hear some strange noises coming from the office don't rush to my assistance! He has always believed in Big Brother prerogatives, so I shall be duly ...corrected for daring to bait him in his lair! In that case, don't interfere at all, simply cross your fingers that I shall be able to walk and sit reasonably well! And once we reach Baker Str an ice pack and some Arnica cream wouldn't go amiss! But it shan't happen. He loves those meringues too much to..."

"Spank you like a naughty toddler, you mean?" There was a definite wicked gleam in the good doctor's eyes!

Sherlock moved his hands as if he were swatting an insistent fly:"Right, now you follow me and don't put a foot wrong, it's much easier than dancing!"

But Dr Watson found the prospect too amusing:"You are stronger than him, you proved that during the incident at our flat when he had Anderson snooping around!"

"It's a matter of my having no moral compass, according to Mycroft! I was summoned to the Diogenes after the Baskerville case, you know, for swiping his ultra-high security card, no matter how helpful he proved during the case, and I escaped another '.correction' at home only because I unlocked Irene's phone! Now, shall we proceed before the time IS really over?"

Dr Watson, ever the loyal helpmeet, sighed and stepped behind Sherlock, as the latter began what seemed to be an elaborate game of Hopscotch.

[SherlockedCAMPer]

I'm confused sorry

 

 

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The very first post of this thread explains how this story works.  I have a large chunk of the story up on Ao3 which might be easier to read & am slowly adding more of it.  You are welcome to join in at any point with as little or as many words as you would like to add.