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

[SherlockedCAMPer]

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)

Date: 23 July, 2014

Ms. Aarons is likely to be on the move soon. Date as yet to be determined. Keep eye on previous contacts. May be in contact with Moriarty twin. Checking into actual paternity of daughter code name: Little Lamb. Keep Red Beard & Three Continents out of loop until approved by Brolly.

~ M. Holmes

John read the first sheet Sherlock handed to him and grimaced. Seeing all of Mary's aliases just about put him into an information overload. Each sheet that Sherlock handed him gave more of the same information on keeping tabs on her. He found out that she had lived in Scandinavia and northern Canada previously but had originated from the US. She was actually 5 years younger than her looks suggested making her 35 instead of 40. Most of that did not surprise either man.

Sherlock perused 2 more sheets before laying a sleeping Sheralyn in her crib. He went back to the kitchen and grabbed the final sheet from the file. He quickly scanned it than stopped with his tea cup mid way to his mouth. He had found some very interesting information.

[Inge l-w]

"Sherlock, Sherlock, what's come over you!" cried a plainly concerned Dr Watson.

"Apart from the fact that my esteemed brother didn't want us to have all this information in the first place, apart from the ridiculously offensive operative aliases he has given us, he has also handed me a "break into Coutts" central vault card in this last document! I shall probably shut down from sensory overload in a few moments! Mind Palace or not, this is huge!"

"Well, you have always said that your mind is your hard drive! Can't you do a de frag or some such cleaning up operation before you get all unresponsive and well-nigh catatonic on me? When there were just the two of us, I could have dealt with such a state more efficiently, now, with Sheralyn to take care of, I would probably need Mycroft, who gave you the file in the first place, to invoke serious mental disability on your part and have you evaluated by two psychiatrists to put you away for treatment!"

With a bound, Sherlock moved from his horizontal place on the couch to loom over the plainly alarmed Dr Watson at his place in front of the computer.

"Nobody gets to section me, ever! Anyway, I have developed a whole sub-routine to fool psychiatrists because they have been a part of my life from fifteen onwards. Don't use empty threats, John, we should work all together on this, not fight each other. Mary's baby is a very innocent pawn that must be preserved until checkmate is reached, or even better, until final victory. But I do need some time to process the data."

"All right, how do you propose to get hold of Mary's safe deposit box information, because I am telling you right now, I shan't turn bank robber."

Sherlock actually smiled at that, and John was glad to see that the smile actually reached his friend's eyes, a very rare occurrence in the aftermath of his having been shot by Mary.

"The central vaults at Coutts are located underground, John. We would need to dig like moles, bypass their electronic alarm system and then negotiate their complicated laser security beams before we even reached Mary's deposit box. No, Mycroft, as usual, has come up with a much more elegant plan, bless his devious mind! We borrow one of his operatives that bears a close resemblance to Mary, use a 3D printer to recreate Mary's fingerprint data, which she had to provide for the Registered Nurses' Union, and then print them out on cling-skin to cover the operative's actual fingerprints, school her to imitate Mary's signature on the electronic pad they are using, and then, once we're downstairs in the vault, the only obstacle will be to figure out Mary's pass code. THAT is why I need some time to regroup my thoughts. Will you be able to cope with Sheralyn during my downtime, or should we take her to my parents'?"

"Couldn't we just ask Mrs Hudson and her friend Mrs Turner next door to look after Sheralyn? She seems to have recovered fully."

"*mumble mumble mumble* Of course not, John, the two little old ladies are there for some light babysitting, not some industrial-strength baby care."

"I take it, you were telling me what an idiot I am, there. OK, I shall look after her myself, and ask for Mrs Hudson's help only when I go to work. How much time do you plan on defragmenting that ridiculously vast mental construct anyway?"

"Approximately thirty-six hours, why?"

"Because I shall need to keep you hydrated, and that will mean regular breaks in your routine, with regular visits to the loo, however inconvenient you may find them. Or would you prefer a Foley catheter?"

"Regular breaks are acceptable. Every two or three hours, in your opinion, doctor?" the imperious tone was back again.

"Sherlock, your sarcasm has stopped working on me ever since your return from the dead. Three hours it is. Tea and isotonic drinks it is then!"

"What! The ones which look like window-cleaning liquid and taste like cat-piss?"

"How would you know what cat-piss tastes like?"

"I tried it as an experiment once, while I was holed up in Molly's flat, with her cat's excretion, right after..." and his voice trailed off.

"I have forgiven you for pulling that stunt and keeping me in the dark, Sherlock, it's all water under the bridge. Isotonic drinks, or the deal is off."

With an exaggerated shrug of the shoulders, Sherlock disappeared into his bedroom.

[joanneta1]

Dr Watson sighed, got up to check on the napping baby and was startled to hear a knock at the door. When he opened it, he found Mrs Hudson hovering in a decidedly unhappy manner outside, almost like the time she had had to usher in the late, unlamented Magnussen.

"Oh, John, a gentleman has come to see you. Has Sherlock put the bell in the fridge again? It kept ringing and I thought it best ..." She handed him the visitor's card, and Dr Watson immediately tensed. This was an unforeseen complication, not only because he had no idea what this visitor could want, but also because he could imagine Sherlock's response to him: it could get ugly!

"Thank you very much, Mrs Hudson, please show the gentleman in. If I need you to take care of Sheralyn for about two hours, will you be at home?"

"Oh, the poor motherless bairn, of course, John, just leave her with me and whatever she will need for the duration. I don't have anything planned for today, except watch telly, so she may provide some welcome distraction."

With these words, she went downstairs, to show their visitor in.

"Major, always a pleasure to see you! What brings you to Baker Str. ?"

"Hello, Watson, I mean, John... Heard about your present difficulty and thought you could use a helping hand. May I?"

"Yes, of course, please excuse my temporary lapse in manners, do sit down, Major Sholto."

No one could accuse Sherlock of lacking acuity in all five senses, while Lestrade and the poor long-suffering Dr Watson could swear to his having a sixth sense as well. Hardly had John's old commanding officer sat down in John's overstuffed chair (Sherlock's technically, but who was quibbling at a moment like this), when the bedroom door opened to reveal Sherlock , dressed once again in his customary dark trousers and a pale almond-green shirt.

Like a Jack-in-the-box, thought Dr Watson, but prudently kept his thoughts to himself. He didn't want to start a brush fire this early on!

"To what do we owe the pleasure, Major?" every single word enunciated clearly and the last two heavily dipped in sarcasm.

"Oh, Mr Holmes, beware the green-eyed monster! I was reliably informed that you two have got way over your heads in this affair concerning Moriarty's re-appearance, plus Mrs Watson's disappearance, and a titbit of news has come my way through the old grapevine, so I came to share it with you and offer my help."

"Naturally, we would be glad of any news, as well as any help you would be willing to offer, sir."

"Stop it, Watson... John, we are in civvy street now. I came to offer my help in looking after the baby, while you two go about finding her mother's whereabouts and negating the Moriarty threat once and for all. As for the information, it seems that that Special Forces Colonel who was dishonourably discharged for torturing captives to elicit information, is involved in the Moriarty conundrum. So, what do you say, Mr Holmes, you know that I live absolutely secluded, with adequate security to keep me alive at home, to the point that one of my enemies had to engineer a whole plot to try to kill me at John's wedding, I have both a trained nurse and a very good cook to be able to look after John's daughter, while you two go ahead with your puzzle-solving."

"That is extremely generous of you, sir, but are you trying to say that Colonel Sebastian Moran forms part of Moriarty's network, the one Sherlock took two years to dismantle?"

"Well, John, apparently the colonel has started to build it up again. Baron Maupertuis, that renegade Frenchman running all those operations out of Serbia, was one of Moran's most trusted operatives."

"Very well, Major, with John's approval, I think you're the best possible guardian of my god daughter until such time as we deem it necessary to bring her back to Baker Str. I expect you came in an unmarked car with your usual bodyguard. We shall have the baby ready for you shortly. In the meantime, would you care for some tea? John has recommended a hydration schedule for me, which I mean to keep, so why not enjoy some fine Darjeeling in the meantime?"

"Thank you, Mr Holmes, I would like some."

"John, will you see to it?" an angelic blue-green look straight into Dr Watson's eyes, and the latter jumped to obey with alacrity. Now he could understand what Sherlock had let slip about his 'previous commander' being Major Sholto! 

 

 

 

[SherlockedCAMPer]

Within the hour everything was packed for Sheralyn to stay with Major Sholto for several weeks if necessary.  She was secured in her car seat and everyone headed down to Major Sholto's car.  They opened the front door and were surprised by what appeared to be elite military personnel.  Sherlock reacted instinctively and swung the portable crib he was carrying around taking out a couple of the men.  

 

Major Sholto stepped out the front door and immediately all of the military personnel stopped and stood at attention.  Sherlock stopped as well and quickly did a scan of Major Sholto.  He could tell that the men had heard of Sholto but were not there at his request.  He then scanned the area and noticed a black brolly at a table outside Speedy's and a lady sitting there that was obviously Anthea's fill in.  "Hello Mr. Holmes.  Your brother will be out in a minute.  He's having a word with Mr. Chatterjee."

 

As if on cue, Mycroft stepped out of the cafe.  "Sorry for the surprise brother mine, but needs must.  Of course I know about Major Sholto's offer.  And naturally I agree whole-heartedly.  Christopher and Michael are likely to have nasty headaches it looks like.  Judging by the state of the crib, I'm assuming you did it.  Not surprised after the last incident a few days ago.  Here, don't open until you've cleared London.  Too many prying eyes.  Now don't cross my men, brother mine.  It could be a bit dangerous."  Mycroft had a certain look that Sherlock knew was for anyone that could be overhearing and not directed at Sherlock in any way.

 

"I wouldn't dream of it brother dear.  I wouldn't want to interfere with mum's and dad's line dancing.  We know what a fiasco that was the last time."  Sherlock said with a huff while his eyes twinkled slightly in understanding.  "Do give my apologies to the 2 men.  Off we must be for safety's sake.  Good day."  Sherlock replied quietly before turning around with a flourish.

 

"We're good to go.  They are the good guys at least today."  Sherlock hurried to the car to get it loaded.  John quickly followed suit.  Soon they were heading out of London for their hopefully not much longer than 4 hour trip to Sholto's place just outside of Settle.  It was fairly remote by some natural park and natural beauty areas, easily enough hidden among the trees.

 

The trip was uneventful.  About an hour after they clear London's traffic, Sherlock opened the envelope Mycroft handed him.  He looked over each sheet and passed it on to John.  After a few minutes, John let out a slow, low whistle.  "Major Sholto, I need to ask you a favor of your grapevine.  However, the information I need is of such a sensitive nature, that they cannot be asked of it directly.  First, how did you find out about Colonel Moran in your grapevine?  Second would you be able to keep tabs on him via the grapevine and would you have a way of finding any information on an Abbigail Aarons without them knowing you were seeking the information?"

[SherlockedCAMPer]

(I found Settle on a map near the point where Forest of Bowland AONB and Yorkshire Dales National Park meet off A65 Northwest of Leeds.  It looked pretty remote and had several areas with trees that we could put a fictional house.)

[jadpdr]

Sherlock was getting quite concerned by the sheer volume of information and paperwork. He made a mental note to himself that once they had installed Sheralyn properly in Major Sholto's eyerie, he would return home and burn all this highly sensitive material in their grate. Mrs Hudson might be a bit surprised to notice a fire going in the middle of the summer, but their flat had never served as an adjunct to his brother's nefarious activities, nor as a branch of MI6. Above all, he wanted to keep his god daughter as safe as possible and then deal with the problems arising from the disappearance of Mary ( she would always be Mary to him, no matter what her real name turned out to be. He also desperately needed to de-clutter his brain, which, he now estimated, was running about 70 per cent of its capacity, surely an all-time low, even including his dabbling in drugs!

Next to him, Major Sholto fidgeted as he straightened the crease in his trousers.

"Watson...John, my sources are available to you, too, if you cared to bother. Ex-colonel Moran was seen in the company of she who calls herself your wife, and as to how he became involved with Colonel Moriarty's gang, surely, that is no stretch of the imagination. Two ex-army never'do'wells becoming best buddies...it's been known to happen."

Sherlock jerked out of his reverie, since all trips where he wasn't himself the driver tended to overload his sensory input with too much information, simply by gazing out of the vehicle's windows:

"Major, could you explain your last remark? John may know all about Army old boys' networks, but I need more data, if you would be so kind."

Dr Watson, seated in the co-driver's seat, nearly caused himself a whiplash injury, so quickly did he turn his head in order not to miss anything of this exchange, surprised to hear Sherlock use such language to his former commanding officer.

"Mr Holmes, I owe you and that woman my life, so I should tell you that not all of us are privileged to have had private means, like myself, so, like John, cannot afford to survive on their Army pension and thus seek alternative employment."

"You mean mercenaries, Major, guns for hire. Is that what Sebastian Moran had become? Why? His cousin was a life peer, the late Lord Moran, who died in prison a few days before his preliminary hearing. He comes from a good and even rich family, considering all the riches his cousin must have amassed working for North Korea for almost twenty years?"

"I cannot give you a satisfactory answer, Mr Holmes. Whoever has seen battle, can never really settle down to what people are pleased to call 'normal life'. Even John here..."

"Yes, thank you, Major, I know most of John's issues emanating from his stint in Afghanistan. My point is, how exactly did you find out about the Colonel and his dubious activities."

By the time Major Sholto had finished explaining his connections to old Army buddies and even the pubs and clubs they preferred, the journey was over, and they had arrived at their destination. Time to get Sheralyn settled and then return to London, where the problems of the safe deposit box and of Mary's current location remained as acute as the first day Dr Watson had stepped onto the pavement outside 221b with Sheralyn in her car seat.

[SherlockedCAMPer]

"Tessa, John has some medical stuff to explain to you while Sheralyn is in our care.  You will be her primary caregiver apart from me while she's here."  Major Sholto stated.  He then turned to Sherlock so they could go over the security detail with Robyn.

 

About 30 minutes later Sherlock and John were in the private car heading back to London.  Sherlock closed his eyes and steepled his hands under his chin beginning to sort through all of the information he had been gathering on Mary.  3 hours into the trip, Sherlock's eye popped open and his face looked liked he had just gasped even though no sound was made.  He quickly went back to a sheet that was in the envelope Mycroft gave him today.

 

 

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)

 

Date: 31 July, 2014

 

Ms. Aarons was seen with Lizard* and Scorpion* at approximately 18:00 on 30 July, 2014 heading towards Xixerella, Andorra from Tor, España in the Pyrenees.  She had contact with the Eagles' Nest about 12 hours before meeting Lizard and Scorpion.  Paternity test has been requested and results should be coming back by 3 August, 2014 after results have been double and triple checked for accuracy.  We have samples from Chameleon, Lizard, Scorpion and Three Continents.  Chameleon and Lizard are being tested to see how identical they are before the rest of the testing is completed.

 

Lizard and Scorpion are known ex-military.  Trained in special-ops, sniper, and explosives. Ties to the New Provo Front, Liberte de Quebec, the Asian Dawn movement, and Barry "Bezza" Berwick.

 

All wires go to Brolly, Code English Breakfast.

 

~M. Holmes

 

Sherlock realized he recognized Bezza.  He was the potential client in Belarus, the open and shut domestic shortly before he met James Moriarty the first time.  He was a butcher's son.  He was from the same part of England as Moran.  They must have known each other growing up even if it was only business instead of close friends.  Mycroft would not have included Bezza unless it was important.  He also had questions about the Moriarty twin as he knew that code name Lizard was supposed to be in a secure facility.

 

(*Moriarty twin & Sebastian Moran respectively) 

 

 

[Inge l-w]

(You have gone all Bond in this one, haven't you, dear SherlockedCamper? Remember, Moriarty's twin is in a secure facility in the UK, pending further interrogation, please amend as necessary, unless Lizard IS Moriarty and you have another plot twist up your sleeve!)

As far as Sherlock could see, his dear brother had already gone behind everyone's back to collate information pertaining to Mary, hence Mycroft's warning that they should expect the baby to stay longer than expected at Baker Str. If the report was accurate, and that was a very big 'if' , knowing as he did that Mycroft's sources and foreign networks were rife with double or even triple agents, which was how he, himself, had ended up being caught in Serbia in the first place, he knew that the whole matter needed extremely in-depth analysis.

Not having the distraction of the baby at home was both a blessing and a curse; he could concentrate on analysing the intel included in Mycroft's file, but he also had an open appointment with Angelo's safe-cracking friend which had to be met, he needed to set up the whole Coutts bank infiltration ploy so that he could get a look into Mary's safe deposit box, and he desperately, absolutely needed to sequester himself and do a serious re-arrangement of his Mind Palace before it imploded under the sheer volume of new information!

Suddenly, he was jolted out of his reverie by Dr Watson placing a hand on his thigh and squeezing: "What is it, John?"

"I trust Major Sholto to do his best for Sheralyn, but do you?"

"It is hardly a matter on which you could expect an unqualified affirmative. He has his past to haunt him, he has his more than dubious ex-military associations, and above all, he's surrounded by female staff. To be perfectly frank, Mycroft should set up a perimeter guard before anything untoward happens."

"I told you that he receives more death threats than you, but what could possibly go wrong?"

"Really, John, you are putting me in an untenable position, much like my dear brother. I do not play guessing games, and at the moment I have insufficient data. Once we reach home, I intend to soak in a bath and then retire to my room to do some serious thinking."

"You mean, spring-clean your Mind Palace! It's all fine, we have discussed that, but if Mary and Colonel Moran were seen in Andorra, she is still within the British government's grasp."

"And you base all your hopes and fears on one unconfirmed sighting. We don't know the identity of the agent, his level of experience, his age, or even where his loyalties really lie."

"So you think that it may be completely worthless."

"Don't put words in my mouth, John, I simply observed that the same person has compiled both reports, so I shall need to ask Mycroft to give me more details on both the agent doing the field work and the office analyst, although I could possibly see the latter person for myself and observe them, given my clearance."

"So why do you suddenly look as if you have bitten on a sour lemon?"

"Because, John, if Mycroft doesn't want something revealed, then it is not revealed. In my present state of mind, he could tie me up in knots with clear, incisive, pure logic."

"All right, then, we need to make sure that your re-booting of your hard drive is accomplished successfully, then go to quiz Mycroft, and if all else fails, we shall appeal to your mother. She rather took to Sheralyn from the moment my daughter was born."

"How can Mummy help, especially since Mycroft has not recalled my parents from the Edinburgh safe house?" Sherlock was more than a little bit intrigued by that personal pronoun in Dr Watson's last sentence, but they were already in London, the attraction of home loomed large on his mind, and he let the matter alone.

"First things first, we get home, you relax and 'think things through', then we tackle Mycroft, and if all else fails, we take the train to Edinburgh."

"We could take the car..."

"No, we really couldn't! It's at least a half day's drive to reach Edinburgh, and as you seem to have deleted the fourth and fifth gears from your hard drive, so that the engine revs appallingly on the motorway, and I'm new at this, so I can't spell you, I shall start looking up train times for about three days from now."

It was a measure of Sherlock's muddled thoughts that he allowed Dr Watson to have the last word on the subject.

[SherlockedCAMPer]

(I totally spaced on Moriarty twin being in a secure facility.  Will come up with something in a bit.  Which I did. Also, Sherlock wasn't driving as he was mind palacing most of the way back to London.  The private driver drove the car back to London.)

[jadpdr]

( I rather think Inge means driving to Edinburgh, so I shall continue after their arrival in London)

After the chauffeur-driven car had deposited the two friends outside the flat, Sherlock opened the outer door with his keys, set the knocker askew and went upstairs. John was the one to have to deal with Mrs Hudson, who came out of her flat with a plateful of ginger buiscuits, patted him affectionately on the shoulder and handed the plate to him.

"Thanks for your thoughtfulness Mrs Hudson, but I don't think Sherlick will be doing much eating in the foreseeable future. He has set his whole will towards re-arranging his Mind Palace, you see."

"If he intends to spring-clean his brain. I wouldn't mind being given a chance to do some real cleaning upstairs. That young man has absolutely no sense of order outside that great brain of his."

"Yes, Mrs Hudson, I apologise for the state of the living room!" came that particularly sharp-eared man's voice from above them.

John gave her an apologetic grin, as well, balanced the plate on one hand and started climbing the stairs to the flat. Blessedly, Sherlock had left the door unlocked. John could just see him as he disappeared into his bedroom. With most of Sheralyn's things gone, the place seemed unbearably empty to John, despite containing the usual Sherlockian clutter minus the experimental stuff, which had all been removed in the interests of the baby's safety. John noticed that Sherlock had turned both the hot water boiler and the bathroom heater on despite its being summer. He practically ran to the toilet, afterwards washed his hands, splashed some water on his face and managed to get out just before Sherlock appeared from his bedroom practically naked except for a pair of boxer shorts, carrying one of his gowns, what appeared a set of pyjamas and a loofa sponge. It was going to be an hour-long soak at least, since in his other hand he carried his headphones and his iPod.

"So, what's it tonight? Paganini, Mozart, Rossini?"

"Wagner, Tristan und Isolde, I need to re-focus my thoughts."

"Right, then I shall put the kettle on in about three-quarters of an hour, and if your fingertips have not pruned by then, you can have some of Mrs Hudson's Ginger buiscuits to go with yours."

"Perfectly acceptable, thank you, John. If you could find the organic honey to go with them, that would be a good start to my meditation sequences," and he closed the bathroom door behind him.

Dr Watson fiddled around in his blog, tweaking a phrase here, adding an interesting detail there, until it was time to put on the kettle. No tea bags this time: buiscuits steeped in honey meant loose-leaf Darjeling tea, so he took the tin from the shelf, found a strainer and set to boil the water to make a perfectly aromatic infusion.

Just as the kettle stopped whistling, Sherlock came out of the bathroom in a set of pale blue Egyptian cotton Derek Rose pyjamas and his favourite blue silk dressing gown, the pocket of which he had shot through that time so long ago when he had shot at the wall. He reached John's side just as the tea had steeped for five minutes. He helped himself to a mugful, adding his customary two lumps of sugar, then carried the honey jar and the buiscuits over to the coffee table. He plumped up a cushion, set it against one of the sofa armrests, sighed contentedly and sprawled down on it.

Dr Watson swiped a handful of biscuits before Sherlock set the whole plate on his stomach and opened the honey jar, then went to sit at his laptop with his own mug of tea, his favourite, the one he had had since his Army days.

"So, what now?" he asked.

Between munching on biscuits and sipping at his tea, Sherlock explained that he would use meditation techniques to access his inner self and therefore defragment his Mind Palace, especially some intricate Tibetan practices he had picked up during his two-year absence.

"And apart from the fact that I shall need to bring you out of them without you harming me or me harming you, for basic necessities, like hydrating and using the loo, how am I to know that you have not actually gone catatonic on me?"

"Well, really, John, we shall set up a time schedule. Create an excel page, set up the times you want for all the basic necessities and then show it to me: eidetic memory, remember?"

So Dr Watson set up specific times for taking liquids, approximated their discharge to the best of his ability, then brought the laptop to the reclining detective.

Sherlock held up his sticky hands, so John removed and capped the honey jar and placed the computer on the consulting detective's lap. Sherlock took a good look, even squinted at the screen a little, then nodded his thanks and his agreement. After Dr Watson saved the page, Sherlock got up to wash his hands in the sink, then returned to the sofa and seemed to fall into a trance, eyes open.

[joanneta1]

The next three days passed in a lull.

Dr Watson went back to the surgery every morning, after having taken Sherlock out of his meditation techniques, made breakfast for both and made sure that Mrs Hudson would look in on Sherlock at midday. He came back in the evening, checked that the schedule was being followed, cooked a light dinner for himself and Sherlock, then retired to thecoverstuffed chair with the evening paper and the latest StiegLarsson novel. He quite liked the methodical Danish police officer, so different from his madly intuitive flat mate, and this was a rare opportunity to indulge in some peace and quiet, a luxury he had missed for longer than he could remember, probably before being posted overseas.

What with Hurricane/Tornado Sherlock tearing up everything in his path, his two-year long grieving, Mary's ultimately duplicitous nature and her latest escapade, leaving him literally holding the baby, he had not had many quiet moments to savour.

On the evening of the third day, Sherlock seemingly came out of his self-imposed isolation without help, announced his intention of taking a bath and told Dr Watson to order Japanese takeaway.

An hour later, the two mates were enjoying freshly-made sushi and teriyaki sauce, and the ordinarily abstemious detective even proposed a toast in the complimentary sake :"Confusion to our enemies!" Dr Watson gaped a moment and then clinked his cup to that of his friend's: "And here was Mycroft trying to convince me that you wanted to be a pirate: you wanted to be the Lord High Admiral, or First Lord, or something like that! It's such a Royal Navy toast!"

"John, I'm really not responsible for my brother's misconceptions. Now, I have managed to delete several hundred of our most mundane cases, reconfigured my archive of criminals and their connections with the outside world, updated the whole Moriarty file so that it lies at my fingertips, I stumbled on a bit of evidence concerning ex-Colonel Moran so that I can coherently examine your precious Major Sholto, I've created a whole new subroutine of Mary as a fugitive from justice, deleted whole chunks of Mycroftian nonsense, and am therefore at your service and that of my god-daughter."

"Well, I don't have anything significant to report, except that we may not have to go to Edinburgh, after all, because Mycroft has re-evaluated the situation and thinks that your parents can be brought safely back."

"That's really good news, especially when you consider how he must have his hands full with the present Middle Eastern crisis. At any rate, taking the train to Edinburgh reminds me of that old black and white film you made me watch once"

"Speaking of which, the new Game of Thrones series is starting tonight, as it so happens. Care to join me in watching it?"

"Sometimes, John, you make me think that I may have been the dragon Fafnir in another life. All right, you put up with my quirks for three days, I can grant you an hour's puerile enjoyment. Let's watch it, by all means."

Heaving a sigh, Dr Watson moved the dirty dishes and cutlery to the sink, when, to his great amazement, Sherlock followed him: "It's only logical, you wash, I dry, we get to watch from the beginning."

Dr Watson would not look a gift horse in the mouth.

An hour later, as the end credits started rolling, his mobile went off.

 

[SherlockedCAMPer]

"Packages en route.  ETA 6.5 hrs. Do be gracious. -MH"

 

"John, expect company early in the morning. Somewhere around 04:30.  The 'ordinaries' are arriving and will be with us a couple of days before they are sent on their way again." With that limited explanation, Sherlock went to his room, grabbed his favorite pillow, and returned back to the sofa.  Then he went to the linen closet and grabbed what he needed for his parents' arrival.  John watched his flatmate at work initially confused until he saw Sherlock with the 2nd pillow.  Then he made the connection on who Sherlock was referring to remembering back nearly 2 years ago when he first saw Mummy & Daddy Holmes and referred to them as ordinary.

 

"Sherlock is there anything you want me to do to help?"

 

"Tea, white, sugar. I need to collect the papers that need to be destroyed yet and hide them from prying eyes."

[Inge l-w]

"Papers and secrets be darned," thought Dr Watson. If Sherlock's parents were coming back from the safe house in Edinburgh, they should stay at Mycroft's town house, not even ten minutes away as the crow flies. Sherlock would have to give up his bedroom to them, the text from Mycroft made that crystal clear. So, the two flat mates would have to become room mates, both sleeping in John's upstairs bedroom, since 221C was unfit for human habitation, barely adequate as a makeshift laboratory for his eccentric genius of a pest! The last time they had shared a bedroom was during the Baskerville case, and the hotel room had two proper beds.

"Sod it," thought the thoroughly upset surgeon. "It will be a repetition of my stag night. Sherlock will commandeer the bed, as is his wont, and I shall end up sleeping on the floor in a sleeping bag. Why can't two geniuses get down to brass tack and understand mere humans' needs and wants?"

Then, the idea struck him: he sent a short message to Major Sholto and kept fiddling with his mobile until the ping of an answer made him swipe the screen: "John, both your daughter and I would be pleased to have you visit."

That was that, then. He would go to Setle to visit Sheralyn, catch up on anything Major Sholto could reveal about Sebastian Moran, and would leave the entire Holmes family to sort things out among themselves. Making sure that one of them was properly fed and cared for seemed to have become a lifetime occupation, but looking after a brace of Holmses, especially the formidable Mrs Holmes, was asking too much of a simple surgeon, who had faced Afghani rebels but not elemental forces of nature in the form of a comfortable-looking, even maternal disguise for a razor-sharp wit and an ability to drive the fear of God into both her sons!

Although he wasn't exactly sure why, the thought of seeing Sheralyn again brought a smile to Dr Watson's lips, which, of course, was a fatal mistake, when he knew that he was sharing a flat with the most observant man in Britain, possibly in the entire world!

"Pray tell, which aspect of Mummy's visit has you smiling like the cat which got the cream?"

"The fact that I texted James, and he replied that I could go visit my daughter for the duration of your parents' stay in the flat." Honesty was the best policy, if he didn't want to submit to a lengthy and painful interrogation.

"I see! Do all you Army types feel that there's strength in numbers or are you afraid I might molest you in your sleep?" Sherlock's acerbic tone couldn't hide his puzzlement at the way John kept referring to the baby as 'his' daughter before the final results were produced.

"As it happens, this is a very good chance for me to find out exactly what James knows about this Sebastian Moran!" cried Dr Watson, starting to get seriously miffed.

"Anyway, you may have a valid excuse! Going through all this intel with Mycroft's and Mummy's input might prove too much for your brain capacity, John! So, how many bottles of whisky, or any other spirit, will loosen the major's tongue, do you think? Apparently, you need to get some shopping done before you disappear into the countryside. If you feel under threat or undue observation at any time, our contact will be dear old Tessa! She is really reliable, despite her original lack of judgement in thinking she was dating a ghost!"

With this Parthian shot, Sherlock turned his complete attention to the file on Mary. He still had to meet the safe-cracker and set up the whole Coutts bank charade, admittedly with Mycroft's help, to get a bit closer to her motives and whereabouts.

[SherlockedCAMPer]

"Not sure how many bottles as he's all but given up on the hard stuff and I haven't had a pint with him since Kandahar."  John replied before disappearing to his room."

 

Several minutes later as John was in the kitchen packing a few things in a rucksack, Sherlock randomly comments, "Besides, as you may have noticed, I put the pillow on the sofa.  I was not planning on sharing your room as I likely would have been pacing the night away anyhow.  But you've made plans so now I can take over your room for 2 days."  Sherlock then proceeded to start the fireplace putting in each sheet of paper slowly reviewing it 1 last time.

 

"Should have known that we would not have had a repeat of Baskerville.  Either way it will still be a good time.  Also, I'm hopping the train to Manchester then getting a lift from there.  It would be a little faster and safer.  And I should not cross paths with our forthcoming guests this way."  John grabbed his rucksack off the table.  It was sufficiently packed for his journey.  "Have fun with your task, I'm off to Euston station."

 

Sherlock looked up from his task for a moment as he heard John head down the stairs.  He returned to his work when...

[joanneta1]

Sherlock's mobile started ringing. He put a match to the papers to get a fire going and then picked it up.

"Brother dear, you just texted me! Quite a feat, knowing that for an intelligent person you're a Luddite when it comes to technology!"

"Sherlock, I have neither the time nor the patience to deal with your infantile side at this juncture. Apprise me of your progress."

"Since you had the kindness to leave us alone for three days, I grabbed the chance to re-order my Mind Palace, which had started to resemble a jumble sale. Your text has sent John flying into the arms of Major Sholto, so I expect you will increase security there, I shall expect our parents to arrive and shall start on making things comfortable for them as you requested. Why didn't you put them up at your place? God knows you are living alone in a detached four-bedroom house. They may find the flats cramped."

"Because, you unconscionable egotist, I have your flats secured both back and front, not to mention the internal camera system. No such measures have ever been taken in regards to my home. Mummy and Daddy will be safer there."

"Still, I shall need your help going into the central Coutts bank in Piccadilly. One of your operators -not 'Anthea'-will have to impersonate Mary. I have had a look through things and found some specimens of her signature from the time before the marriage, when she was practicising her Mary Watson signature. From them we can extrapolate the rest of her Agnes Rampage signature. I presume you have enough photographic material on file to come up with an operative who looks like her. Also, I shall need to meet the operative who called in the sighting in Andorra. Are his credentials as foolproof as they seem? It's not the first time your minions have turned out to have dual allegiances. The last occurrence cost me a very unpleasant time in Serbia."

"Very well, I shall have Harry Winston debriefed, and if anything seems off-kilter, then we can both observe his debriefing, think of it as another deduction game."

"Really, Mycroft, do you expect me to answer with something like "Righto, old boy!" Not even Daddy would use such antediluvian expressions now! Anyway, now that John has unexpectedly but conveniently made himself scarce -I do hope he buys enough six-packs on his way to Settle to reminisce in appropriately liquid form with his Army buddy and learn as much as possible about Sebastian Moran, I have some urgent business to see to."
 "Right, I shouldn't keep you from meeting your less salubrious contacts. My regards to Angelo, and tell him, next time we dine there, I would like real ricotta in my tiramisu, not the local facsimile."

It was almost a knee-jerk reaction with Sherlock: although his brother had terminated the call, he couldn't resist snarling "Piss off, Mycroft!" into the speaker.

 

[Inge l-w]

It was a fact of life that Mrs Violet Holmes was a vibrant, energetic lady, past her prime but still with an arrestingly interesting face and such intelligent eyes that those who met her once never again doubted that both Mycroft and Sherlock were her children. Besides, Siger Holmes had the quite extraordinarily chiselled facial bone structure that screamed he was Sherlock's father from afar. He had been the one to start the Civil Service tradition which Mycroft had elevated to high art.

When both of them showed up in what was clearly one of Mycroft's armoured limousines, Sherlock was still of two minds as to whether to trust them with the particulars of Mary's disappearance or not.

First things first, with the help of the chauffeur/ bodyguard, he transferred his parents' luggage to his own bedroom, since the bed was large enough to accommodate both of them.

Once inside, Mrs Holmes's eyes were drawn to the periodic table and the Japanese drawing of the art of bartitsu. "Oh, Sherlock, you have had those old things ever since school. I really should do something about redecorating the flat with the help of Mrs Hudson. After all, a renovation should increase its value."

"And thereby my rent! No, thank you, Mummy! Now, you and Daddy make yourselves comfortable, and I shall make us all a nice cup of tea." he sighed and made for the kitchen. How on Earth would he be able to contact Angelo's acquaintance and set up the Coutt's vault heist, albeit with Mycroft's help, while his parents were foisted on him? Good old John: probably sharing a lager or three or five with Major Sholto and reminiscing about the good old times! Well, as long as John returned with information on Colonel Moran, it would have been worth it!

Suddenly, the decision about sharing the information on Mary was taken out of his hands. Having set up the tea tray properly ( shades of Jim Moriarty) and an assortment of biscuits, he carried everything to the coffee table, since he knew from past experience how his parents liked to share the dingy sofa. The file had been left there, as well, in John's hasty departure.

After his mother had poured the tea for all three of them and added two lumps of sugar to his cup, she glanced at the file and asked: "So, how long do you expect Mary to be gone?"

Sherlock nearly choked on his first sip of tea! To have Mycroft lording it over him as the smarter one was one thing, to have Mummy glancing at a file with a name and file number on it and correctly coming up with the right, unanswerable question made him feel stupid. If he were more inclined to sentiment, Sherlock would have apologised to Anderson at that moment: that was how his mother made him feel!

He quickly recapitulated the main events and facts for their edification, only to hear his mother exclaim:"And I suppose, none of you idiots has taken the step to verify her mobile traffic, or her Internet usage: the young lady seems to have several accounts."

"That was supposed to be Mycroft's job, I don't have the facilities of tracking either of these activities." was his spluttered excuse.

"I see, and why has Mickie not done so up to now?"

Sherlock had never been much of a drinking person, but at that moment he fervently wished he could add two fingers of brandy to his tea as a handy alternative to fleeing to his hidden stash upstairs and indulging in some drug or other, although he was lucid enough to know that injected substances were out of bounds! He wondered briefly if, when John had cleared out the refrigerator to put the food away he had discovered the innocuous aniseed-smelling bag of his cocaine suppositories. Then, he firmly put all such notions to one side, knowing how much his friend and his goddaughter needed him at the peak of his powers to bring this conundrum to a successful close.

"I have no valid answer to your question, Mummy, the next time Mycroft drops by, you can ask him. But, she seems to be using prepaid throwaway mobiles."

"All the same, it has been a week since she left. She must be getting desperate for news of her daughter. Did you try the personal columns of the major newspapers, or a message on Dr Watson's blog that seemed a bit out of place? What about your own Science of Deduction site?" asked his father matter-of-factly.

Not having deleted World War II naval warfare from his "hard drive" because he found all sea-going adventures interesting, Sherlock felt what the people on HMS Hood must have felt that instant before the Bismarck trained her guns on Hood, fired her salvo and sank the light cruiser in three minutes, appositely leaving three survivors!

Logical conclusion: never let Mummy or Daddy near any of the suspects he helped Lestrade catch during interrogation, or the poor sods would be reduced to quivering jelly in a matter of minutes, interesting conclusion to be filed away for later.

He explained all about the safe deposit box key, and his plan to have Mary's double help him take a look inside, when his mother replied impatiently: "But Sherlock, the key and the impersonation and the fake signature aren't enough! Once the box is brought to you and your female companion, you will still need Mary's code to open the safety lock. We keep a similar safe deposit box, and the lock is a combination lock!"

With parents like his, no wonder he had taken to drugs in his misspent youth! Taking a deep, calming breath, he excused himself and got up to escape their presence for a quick smoke on the roof.

"And don't think you can fool us, you'll reek of tobacco on your return!" was Mrs Holmes's pointed comment as he fairly ran out of the flat!

[SherlockedCAMPer]

Sherlock reached the roof and took several deep breaths.  He needed to clear his head.  He reached into the pocket of his Belstaff and found what he was looking for.  His parents thought that he would be smoking, but he was not.  He had grabbed several nicotine patches earlier and put them next to the hidden pack of cigarettes.  He was determined to be smoke free for his goddaughter any which way he could.  He put 4 patches on his arm.  This was even worse than the 3 patch problem he had when trying to find the serial killing cabbie.

 

Sherlock paced back and forth thinking through what his mother had told him about the combination lock.  He quickly sent a coded message to Mycroft confirming certain details of the safety deposit box.  A few minutes later he got the reply he was hoping for.  Not all of the boxes had been upgraded to the new combination system and Mary's was one of the old ones that was likely to be upgraded in the next month or so.  He continued pacing trying to understand where Mary would have gone and the route to get there.  He mentally sorted through all of the papers he had burned while waiting for his parents to arrive.  He was trying to find clues, anything that would help him find her and to keep his vow he made.  

 

Several minutes later he was interrupted by his father.  "Hey son...

[Inge l-w]

(Lose the coat, we're at the end of July!)

Mr Holmes had kept his agility by assidouusly following Mrs Homes's lead to participate in all available dance competitions. His appearance on the roof was by no means a feat for the fit old gentleman.

Sherlock turned at his father's voice, finding it in no way inappropriate that his father would manage to embarrass him again.

"Any thoughts on the pressing issues, Daddy?"

"William, I know how you loathe any kind of conventions, but this is the perfect time to work through channels. Your mother is right: we don't have to ask Mickie, get his very capable PA to do all the routine surveillance. On the other hand, get her to co-operate on Mary's look-alike, so that you can get to the safety deposit box as soon as conveniently possible! Mind you, I think that your friend DS Donovan has a friend who could stand in for Mary, I seem to remember her face from all the Waters' gang publicity."

"Daddy, if I approach "Anthea" the goldfish behind Mycroft's back, he's quite capable of rescinding any pardon and sending me off to face Heaven knows what horrors without the possibility of a reprieve! It's simply not an option! As for Sally, why would she help me when I have insulted or embarrassed her so many times? It's true that she helped with the baby, but she has no incentive to help me personally. In addition, I have another little matter to attend to, and John's absence makes it infinitely easier."

"No doubt one of your less salubrious acquaintances, then. But I still think that DS Donovan is your best bet when considering the Coutts safe deposit vault. Why don't you contact her and find out?"

"Ah, yes, that would also mean going behind Gavin's back, since he's her DI..."

"Sherlock, enough of your games! Call Greg, if you must, go through proper channels, do things by the book for a change!"

"Seriously, Daddy, when did impersonation for the procurement of private documents become a 'by the book' procedure?"

"Just do it!"

"Yes, sir, I shall," old habits dying hard, Sherlock replied, ripped the patches off his arm,since he didn't plan on getting nicotine poisoning, pulled out the cigarettes he had stashed in his pocket, offered one to his father, then lit both before pulling out his mobile phone:

"Hello, brother dear, just wanted to let you know Mummy and Daddy are settling down quite nicely, and I shall need "Anthea's" help in some fairly routine work, which, you will be interested to know, had escaped both our observational skills but fortunately occurred to Mummy."

The splutter at the other end of the line was enough to put a smile on Sherlock's face!

[joanneta1]

However, his gleeful expression at catching Mycroft out was quickly wiped off his face, when his mother put her head out of the skylight in Dr Watson's bedroom (Sherlock's for the duration of his parents' stay) and asked her stereotypical: "Are you two smoking?"

Both men looked a bit sheepish, but his father replied smoothly: "They are my herbal ones, Violet, dear. Nothing to worry about."

One is never too old to learn, considered Sherlock: both he and Mycroft had got their unusual minds from their mother, but the ability to keep calm and lie glibly and convincingly, which was so useful to Mycroft in government, seemed to come from his father, who immediately rose in his estimation of character.

Swiping his mobile to terminate the call so as not to make Mycroft an unwitting eavesdropper, he turned to face his mother.

"It's your landlady, dear! Something about a delivery of papers into your own hands."

Mindful not to prove his father a liar and cause "a little domestic", Sherlock stubbed out the cigarette on his heel and then threw it over the parapet, in the general direction of Mrs Hudson's back garden. He didn't think his mother would go down three flight of stairs, rummage around the sunlight-starved plants and retrieve a cigarette butt just to check up on her husband. On the other hand, given her analysis of the situation, he wouldn't put anything past her ever again!

He followed her down into the second-floor bedroom, then went downstairs, where another of Mycroft's men was standing in the hallway, with a large document envelope in his hands.

"I accept delivery of these documents and shall handle them according to instructions."

Without a word, the man made a slight bow and left.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock could see that Mrs Hudson's door was ajar, so she would have observed the whole scene.

He took the thing upstairs, plonked it on the office table and was reaching for a paper-knife, when his mother's anguished :"William!" stopped him in mid-action.

"Please, don't touch the flap, nor the securing clip. If I were you, I would put on biohazard gloves and then proceed with caution."

"But, Mummy, the person who delivered it is one of Mycroft's regular drivers!"

"Then his service has acquired some double agents; or why has a perfectly ordinary securing clip acquired such a peculiar blue cast?" Cataract surgery obviously had its uses! Sherlock had not observed the faint bluish tinge on the offending item. More importantly, although he had briefly entertained the idea of Mycroft's service having been successfully infiltrated ever since that nationwide broadcast, he had accepted yet another sheaf of Mycroft's "top secret" paperwork with such an innate sense of bored aversion that he had been careless!

He put on a pair of biohazard gloves,  took a pair of scissors, opened the file from the other end, extracted the papers, which seemed to be a report on the safely incarcerated Moriarty (twin), then used one of his own bubble-coated envelopes to stuff everything in it, wrote a short note about the incident, which he enclosed, drew a skull and crossbones sign in indelible marker on it, eliciting a delighted smile from his father, addressed it to Mycroft as Personal, Private and Confidential, so that only "Anthea" would have the authority to open it, went downstairs once more, walked to the end of Baker Street, handed it to the homeless girl on "duty" together with a twenty-pound note, and on his way back he popped into Waitrose's to get fresh milk, eggs and bacon, not forgetting a packet of herbal cigarettes from the chemist's, just in case Mummy decided to go through his father's pockets, as she was known to do when she prepared the laundry. He opened it and extracted two cigarettes, which he threw in the shop's bin.

On the way back to the flat Sherlock noticed  a not very tall, thin, middle-aged man, who  stopped leaning against the wall of the next house and walked up to him: "Mr 'Olmes, Angelo sent message you were looking for me."

 

 

 

[Inge l-w]

Finally, he could put his secondary plan into action! Definitely above a six, if he wanted to bypass Mycroft's omnipresent beak of a nose poking in all corners of this business.

He looked the man up and down, registered the few details missing from what he had known of him as Angelo's long-time friend and prison mate. Inveterate gambler, as evidenced by the betting slips bunched up in left trouser pocket, chain-smoker as evidenced by the yellowing fingers, occasional drinker, as evidenced by the stain on the left shirt sleeve which bore the pattern of a spill on a pub's little round table, freshly but not carefully shaven with an electric razor, unattached at the moment, but probably frequenting the local in his area of Islington in the hope of a liaison, however brief.

"Ah, yes! Very considerate of Angelo's. I have been meaning to use your skills for quite some time now. Let us go back to my flat, since I'm not free to accompany you elsewhere at the moment."

"Ye're doing yer own shopping now, just like the rest of us."

"Yes, needs must and all that, Mr..."

"Smith, George Smith at your service, Mr 'Olmes."

"Call me Sherlock. Every time you call me Mr Holmes I expect to see either Daddy or Mycroft behind me!"

Having reached the flat, Sherlock plonked the shopping bags onto the kitchen table, whither Mrs Holmes was immediately attracted, then palmed the herbal cigarette packet off to his father, who was standing at the left-hand window, apparently staring at nothing in particular, and then led the visitor to the roof: their transaction could not be carried out either in the presence of his parents or within Mycroft's sphere of constant monitoring.

To make matters doubly safe, he led the increasingly puzzled man across the adjacent roof onto the little rooftop garden of the block of flats two doors down.

Once there, he offered his visitor a cigarette and took one himself, this time more for the companionable feeling it would produce, rather than his need for one.

"So, Mr...Smith," he hesitated long enough to make the other realise that he could tell an alias "I need you to show me how to open a late 1960s office Stanmore safe with a six digit rotating wheel and definitely connected to the best current alarm system."

"Mr 'Olmes...Sherlock, if the alarm system is powered by lasers or any other invisible weight change mechanism, it will make the task doubly difficult."

"Forget about the alarm system, for the moment, let us say the owner can be induced to forget to set it. Focus on the safe."

"Well, yer need a stethoscope to catch the faint click when the rotating wheels click to the correct setting, yer can't wear gloves, because Stanmores're pretty fiddly, yer need to carry baby wipes to wipe down the whole surface after ye're done with it. In fact, there's such an old model back at the pub I go to with Angelo, bet ye could practice yer technique there!"

"Very well, Mr Smith, I am grateful for your instructions. We could meet up with Angelo, get the owner's permission to play with his toy, and you could show me the fastest routines. In the meantime, here's fifty pounds to bet at Goodwood tomorrow, and I shall text Angelo to let you know further details."

"That's mighty han'some of yer, Mr 'Olmes. Let me know when we need to start." With this, he went to the fire escape, slithered down it and disappeared from view.

Sherlock couldn't let anyone know that said safe stood at the left corner of Mycroft's office at the Diogenes club, to one side of the Queen's portrait! But, he had formed a very concrete idea about Mycroft's knowledge of Mary's past "indiscretions" and wanted to find out what proof could be hidden in that safe.

He made his way back to the flat, gingerly avoiding pipes, loose lead roof proofing and such. Once inside, his mobile beeped with an incoming text message: "Why did Mummy take exception to Anthea's doing her nails during office hours and dropping some finishing varnish onto the securing pin and the flap? MH"

If Sherlock were a swearing kind of man, this would have been the perfect opportunity to swear a blue streak! Instead, he went to the living room and handed his mobile to his mother.

"Oh, dear! But better safe than sorry, my boy!" was her only comment, while his father smiled wryly and made a hands-up gesture behind her back, at which Sherlock couldn't help but smile.

There was always something, after all.

[SherlockedCAMPer]

(I have not forgotten this story.  Just had some writer's block and being busy with life.  Also NaNoWriMo just started & my MMC is running through South Africa en route to Cairo not knowing when/if he'll be found out by the protagonists who currently think he's dead.  Now to see what I can eek out here.)

 

Sherlock managed to survive a relatively uneventful second day with his parents.  He was thankful for that as the night before had been rather warm when he grabbed his coat during the moment of being flustered by his mother.  She knew how to mess with his mind even if she was not doing it on purpose.  He was more than happy when Mycroft arrived to escort them away until he saw something that was purposely left behind.

 

 

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)

 

Date: 8 August, 2014

 

Brolly,

 

A traditional 1812 English Breakfast is being served at the Eagle's Nest compliments of 5.  Benedict Arnold* should no longer be an issue.  Lizard was involved and redirected back to a different secure facility.  Ms. Aarons had indeed met him and Scorpion as previously mentioned.  Neither Scorpion nor Ms. Aarons was with Lizard at time of recapture. Previous memo on secure Lizard was indeed fabricated by B. A. Also nail varnish will no longer be reapplied at work so as not to alarm the Queen Bee*.

 

~Church Secretary*

 

Sherlock seemed satisfied that the double agent had been taken care of.  Sentiment aside, he was kind of sad to see the Eagle's Nest disappearing as it was a decent bolt hole while he was taking down Moriarty's network.  However, he did enjoy reading the reference to the movie Mary insisted he watch as well as knowing 1 ingredient involved in the building's demise.  

 

Sherlock sent off a quick message to Angelo asking for a time to meet with Mr. Smith and figure out the safe.  "Now to wait for John to get back and get any new information he may have."

 

*Not Harry Winston, but someone else that we can name later; Mummy Holmes; & Anthea respectively.

[Inge l-w]

(Benedict Arnold, seriously? Who is that American traitor in Mycroft's organisation?)

Sherlock knew that Angelo led a very full life, what with running his Italian restaurant like an autocrat, practically never delegating tasks, and his other activities Sherlock would go out of his way NOT to investigate for Lestrade. Still, he was quite pleased when Angelo texted that a meeting of all three was set up for their next round of darts at the pub in Islington. It meant that Angelo had either got permission from the owner to leave Sherlock and Mr 'Smith' alone in his office for whatever tenure necessitated Sherlock's learning how to open the safe as fast and as silently as possible, or was prepared to distract the owner's attention while the safe-cracking lesson was underway. One way or another, he had to become proficient at it, since he was almost certain that Mycroft's safe contained the full particulars on Mary Watson's past life, which would help him predict her actions and possibly help him locate her.

Also, he was reasonably certain that Mummy would have appraised Mycroft of her ideas on the way home, so that his big brother would be aware of the multiple dangers still lurking in the shadows of their various pasts!

Heaving a sigh, he then put on his jacket and prepared to go out. After less than a week of the baby's constant presence in the flat, her absence lay heavier on him than the absence of his long-time flatmate! Sentiment, he chided himself, called out to Mrs Hudson on his way past her door, then hailed a cab and told the driver to take him to NSY.

Although he and Sally had patched things up a bit over the baby, he needed her to help him liaise with the petite blonde DS Amanda Pierce, who was so much a look-alike for Mary that with the proper makeup she could pass as Mary Wason. Heaving another sigh, he realised that for his ploy to succeed, he might even have to grovel in front of Sally: but that was all right, since it was for the baby's benefit!

Briefly revisiting Mycroft's cryptic message in his mind, he found it strangely reassuring that neither Mary nor ex-Colonel Moran had attempted to contact THIS Moriarty! Of course, he knew that DNA tests to establish parenthood took longer than those used in matching blood and other bodily fluids, but they should have an answer as to Sheralyn's parentage later in the day, or next morning at the very latest!

Sherlock had to admit to himself that deep down he didn't want her to be John's daughter. Was it the green-eyed monster curled around the heart he had so airily claimed not to possess in a bravado gesture against Moriarty, or another sentiment involving Mary not being part of John's life any longer?

[joanneta1]

(We are back in business, I see!)

While Sherlock pondered on the vagaries of life and his many miscalculations involving John Watson and the good doctor's reaction to Sherlock's approach to things, he realised that finding Mary or her current whereabouts would need loads of co-operation, something that did not come naturally to a loner such as himself.

Once outside NSY, he paid off the cab and reached for a soothing cigarette before having himself announced to DS Donovan. All things being equal, asking a favour of her would always rankle, because his eidetic memory would never let him forget how her suspicions had led to the whole deception on the rooftop of St. Bartholomew's Hospital. No matter how many times he had tried to rationalise her behaviour as being another building block in (hopefully) the late Moriarty's overall plan, her antipathy and low opinion of himself could not be erased, try as he might!

Still, there were things to be done and appointments to keep, so he took a last drag on his cigarette, disposed of the fang in the nearest cast-iron bin, squared his shoulders and proceeded to go through the process that would lead him to Donovan's office. It was an occasion when Lestrade's absence was fervently to be hoped!

Sure enough, Sherlock found Donovan buried in paperwork when he knocked at her office door. She looked up in wonder:" If it's the DI you want, he has just stepped over to the Commisioner's office..."

Sherlock briefly wondered how Mycroft could gauge his younger brother's every action and choreograph the expected result so accurately, but thrust the thought firmly aside when Mind Palace Mycroft taunted:" I am the smarter one!"

Instead, he plastered on his most insincere smile and approached Sally behind her desk. It was once more a case of honesty being the best policy. He had successfully manipulated Sally in the past, this was neither the time nor the place; "Sally, you and I have had our differences in the past, but you showed a more humane side of yourself when you helped in the case of Sheralyn. We are investigating the disappearance of her mother, and I need you to put me into personal contact with your friend and colleague Amanda Pierce."

"What has the poor dear done to deserve your attentions, Sherlock?" The absence of "freak" was duly noted, but ignored in the interest of expediency.

"It's for a confidential mission, Sally, strictly on a 'need to know' basis!"

"Very well, if you promise to return my friend in one piece at the end of your hush-hush operation, I shall perform the introductions."

"Thank you, Sally, that would be acceptable. Anything you would like my help with in all that paperwork?"

"How come you're so accommodating all of a sudden, f..., Sherlock?"

"You helped that first day with Sheralyn, one good turn deserves another, or so people say."

"You aren't 'people', you're unique! Come on, I shall make the introductions, Amanda works in the financial crime division. Let's take the lift."

As they were exciting Sally's office, Sherlock's mobile pinged with an incoming message: the DNA results! What an inopportune moment to receive such momentous news!

[SherlockedCAMPer]

(Yes, really on the Benedict Arnold.  He was the one double agent/traitor I knew the name of.  It doesn't mean that our double agent has to be an American in any way, shape, or form.)

 

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)

 

9 August, 2014

 

Red Beard,

 

DNA match: Chameleon and Lizard are brothers and twins.  However, not identical twins.  Their DNA has a couple of slight variances on Chromosome 25.  Three Continents is a distant relation of Chameleon and Lizard. They are 1st Cousins 4 times removed. We are not sure yet between the twins and Three Continents which ones are the grandson(s) or the great-great-great-great-grandson(s) of the common ancestor.

 

Paternity: Scorpion and you are obviously out.  Your DNA was grabbed for security purposes only to make sure the test was done correctly although you were not mentioned in any of the communiques about the testing.  Chameleon was ruled out do to the aforementioned variances leaving Lizard & Three Continents.  We triple checked the results and they both are the father.  It's a rare condition where an egg was fertilized by 2 sperm resulting in twins, but the twins merged creating a chimera.*  I will let you tell Three Continents that Little Lamb is part his.

 

~Brolly

 

 

Of course, she would be part John's and part Moriarty's twin brother.  He was thankful that John was not back at Baker Street yet.  His train was do to arrive that evening giving Sherlock sometime to figure out how to break the news.  "Sorry Sally, I just received a most bizarre message from my brother."  He responded knowing what her look meant.  "Don't worry everything is fine regarding Sheralyn and John."

 

"Well we're here."  Sally replied back as the lift door opened not surprised that Sherlock deduced her question before she could even ask it.  "Follow me and please don't deduce anyone out loud here.  If there is something up, you can tell me later in my office and I will pass it on to Lestrade."

 

"Duly noted. Wouldn't dream of messing up my chance of finding Mary." Sherlock stated as they left the lift.  He followed Sally through the maze of cubicles until they were outside DS Amanda Pierce's office.

 

"Amanda, Sherlock needs to talk with you about an important case he's working on.  It is a matter of national security or something like that.  Sherlock, this is Amanda, please be nice to her."  With that, Sally left to get back to her paperwork.

 

*Yes the condition does actually exist as I googled it and actual numbers are unknown as most eggs fertilized in this manner don't result in pregnancy and twin merging (resulting child called a chimera) is largely untested even when normal egg fertilization happens that would result in twins.

[Inge l-w]

(The last Chimaera I watched came in an indifferent Tom Cruise Mission Impossible film. Double agents are three a penny, but Benedict Arnold will have to do, despite my visceral reaction to seeing the name connected with a modern traitor! On we go! )

Sherlock found himself looking down at a petite, compact, short-haired, blue-eyed woman in plainclothes, whose resemblance to Mary went further than skin-deep. However, with the time-bomb message on his phone, he found that he couldn't care less if DS Pierece and Mary were distant cousins four times removed or some such combination.

Still, being who he was, or rather what his mind was, he saw from the slight stains on her sleeve that she had had a rather sugary breakfast of donuts and a latte, that, like Donovan, she was not in a firm relationship from the absence of any tell-tale jewellery, that, like Molly, she had a tabby cat judged by the stray hairs on her beige tailored slacks, and that her nicotine-stained left middle-finger made her left-handed, like John, and a smoker like himself. From the way she had been peering from her computer screen to the documents in front of her, he deduced an ocular distortion, which might necessitate her wearing contact lenses for their visit to the bank, since Mary only wore reading glasses, and that clandestinely.

"Well, Mr Holmes, what can I do for you? Financial crime very rarely yields up a body, unless it be the body of a poor pensioner who committed suicide after losing his life savings in a scam or another."

"Sherlock, please, Ms. Pierce. Every time someone calls me 'Mr Holmes', I expect to see Daddy or my brother Mycroft standing behind me. In point of fact, my brother will have to invoke the Official Secrets Act at one point of our operation, but I would like you to accompany me to a visit to Coutt's main branch, where the vaults are kept, and whilst there help me obtain access to the contents of a specific strongbox, the owner of which you do not need to know."

"Why should I blindly follow your instructions, Mr...pardon, Sherlock, and why should it be me?"

"Fair questions, Ms...Amanda. The contents of that strongbox may prove vital in a manhunt, or should that be 'woman'? Anyway, the search for a person of great importance to laying the ghost of Jim Moriarty to sleep once and for all and to re-uniting a little family, whose most important member has gone missing..."

"And who I happen to bear a more than passing resemblance to, or you wouldn't have needed to go through Sally to get on my good graces, Mr Holmes!" She stood up from her office and came right up to him. In his customary fashion, he instinctively crossed his hands behind his back and straightened himself even more.

"Oh, don't bother, Mr Holmes, stature and posture haven't intimidated me since my teens. I barely scraped through the height regulation for WPC and celebrated my success by vowing that I would never consider myself short again! What are my guarantees that I shan't be pursued legally for impersonating the missing lady?"

"If you are amenable to the task, the requisite waivers will be drawn up, providing you with full legal protection, as far as the current laws of the land can cover the incident. For instance, you shouldn't do any talking, letting me handle all the verbal communication, because then you can swear you were not an active participant. You will be provided with a set of clothes belonging to the missing woman, and I would suggest that you come by the flat, change there and then accompany me to the bank. Ms...Amanda, it is of the most vital importance, I give you my word!"

"Well, the word of a gentleman has lost much of its currency in this day and age, but on the other hand, dealing with numbers, spreadsheets and cooked books all day long can get a bit repetitive, despite its intrinsic allure of the perfection to be found in mathematics. You are on. I shall be glad to help out in this little charade of yours. A little adventure at your side, Mr...Sherlock, would last me quite a while in the cafeteria and beside the water cooler, not to mention that I could look Sally in the eye. She has quite monopolised your attention over the last few years. How she preens over her collaboration with you and DI Lestrade, you have no idea!"

That Sherlock's mouth didn't drop open in complete and utter astonishment at this last declaration was entirely due to another vibrating sense on his mobile: John was calling!