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

[SherlockedCAMPer]

After a few minutes of rummaging, Sally found the information she was looking for.  She was somewhat surprised that Sherlock had not directly caused the gun to go off.  "What?! John dropped the gun then it fired?  Mr. Steady Hands dropped the thing and about made his daughter deaf!"  Sally was a little shocked and slightly upset at that revelation.  She had witnessed Lestrade's subsequent vomiting that had happened shortly after their arrival.  She walked back to where Mrs. Hudson had Sheralyn.  "How's she doing now?  She seems a little calmer."

 

"She's calmed down quite a bit.  Think she's just about ready for sleep, aren't you Sheralyn."  Sally brought them back to Lestrade's office where they were being camped out for safety.

 

"I looked over the reports, looks like John dropped the gun and it went off when it his the concrete.  Completely accidental.  Don't think we should tell him about it until after this whole fiasco with Mary & Mycroft is done.  No need to worry him as he's got enough on his mind.  If Sherlock had caused it, then I'd have called the freak and chewed him out."  Sally definitely had more compassion for John than she did Sherlock.  But she did admire Sherlock's determination even if she would never admit it publicly.

 

 

 

 

En route to the Holmes house, Mycroft is doing what he can of the situation which admittedly was not much at the moment and he knew it.  "Anthea, not surprised to see you in on the scheme with Moriarty.  Had that feeling for several weeks now.  So what drew you in?  Was it the money? His looks?  His undeniable sinister charm?"  The last one was Mycroft's way of saying that she was forced much like the way Moriarty had rigged his jury several years before.  He also knew what had happened but wanted to hear her say it as confirmation that he had deduced correctly.

Anthea looked at Moriarty before answering somewhat hesitantly, "Of course it was his looks.  Admired them for several years."  She was obviously nervous as Moriarty nodded his head in agreement.

"We started dating a couple of months back.  Like your brother, I know how to use disguises to my advantage." Moriarty said with a smirk.  Mycroft knew that was a lie from both of them.  He had Anthea trailed continuously and she never had lunch with any male, nor ran into any with what she did.  Even her flat was wired under hidden cctv cameras and microphones.  They were under a different system than the normal ones.  Mycroft and Sherlock had set the system up themselves.  Mycroft sent Sherlock to do the actual installation while Anthea was at work with Mycroft just so she wouldn't know about it.  That system had been in place since shortly after Sherlock came back from his 2 year mission.  Sherlock checked that system regularly for hacking.  He had his homeless network on it when he was on cases.

"Should have known," was Mycroft's reply.  "So how are you 2 love birds?  Seems right now you are both a little tense.  I would have expected a little more snuggling since I can't really move anyhow being handcuffed and all.  Of course, I suspect you 2 prefer to do that more in private."  Mycroft noticed Anthea's subtle shift.  He figured that Moriarty would have noticed too if he had not been actually looking out the window at the moment....

[Inge l-w]

Jim might have seemed distracted for a moment, but the beveled glass with all those coats of arms in Mycroft's dining room was a very good substitute for a mirror, so he lost no time in grasping Anthea around the waist and planting a kiss on her lips, just to show Mycroft

that the bait had not been taken!

Seriously, how could the Holmes brothers think even for a moment that he had become a criminal mastermind through sheer luck? It had taken years of hard work and extreme, unhinged rationalisation to bring him to the top of his self-styled profession of consulting criminal.

In truth, he had reached the point where he had learned patience, quite unlike his favourite toy, the unawakened Cinderella of his dreams, that gangly, curly-haired sentimental shadow of his former self, that endearingly bumbling Sherlock with his ever-widening circle of friends. He knew that he didn't have much time at his disposal, since Mycroft's movements were closely monitored, and the next scheduled check would be in less than fifteen minutes. If Mycroft didn't reply with the correct response by typing the word on his mobile, tablet or laptop, whichever he happened to be using at the moment, then the house would be surrounded by an armed response team in less than ten minutes after that.

He took a deep breath and turned to face Mycroft, fully aware that the smarter of the two brothers was scanning him with laser-like intensity.

"Mr Holmes, nothing of this would have happened if your little brother had not shown sentiment again by refusing to give up my daughter. I mean, really, she is nothing to him, by now he will have found out that she is not even Dr Watson's daughter, he could have let me take her away without all this fuss, and you would never have been incommoded!"

"Mr Moriarty, your whole demeanour and stance belie your words, do not for a minute think you can trick me, I am not sentimental and certainly not the idiot my brother sometimes becomes by letting his heart rule his head, despite his assertion that he has no heart. What do you truly want, and, in light of our current situation, I would urge you to be brief."

Jim moved towards Mycroft and whispered in his ear: "I want my daughter, but above all, I want your dear mother, Mr Holmes! At this moment, she is quite inarguably the queen in our little game of chess."

A sharp intake of breath was all the indication Mycroft gave of his agitation that the most dangerous criminal mastermind in Britain was preparing to use his skills in the pay of ...

[SherlockedCAMPer]

getting the information needed to control a potential WWIII.  Mycroft listened to the sounds outside of the Limo that they were in heading to the Holmes country house his parents lived at.  He hoped his parents were gone.  He figured Sherlock had contacted them, but his parents could be thick sometimes and did not always heed advice regarding danger.  Maybe that's where Sherlock got it from Mycroft thought to himself.

 

 

------------------------------

 

Sherlock made it through the last hole in the fence lines without issues.  He made a sharp left onto the main road again.  He hoped he was still ahead of the limo and gunned the SUV.  His speeds were now closing in on 160 KPH.  The road was quiet as it was closing in on 11pm.  After going over 2 more hills and around a tight S curve, barely keeping the SUV upright, his parents' house came into view.  It was still about 2 miles out, but Sherlock would be there rather quickly.  

Sherlock drove past his parents' house to John's protest until Sherlock made a tight right turn into the trees a few hundred meters behind the house.  He hid the SUV and the guys quickly jumped grabbing the gear Sherlock indicated.  They rapidly descended on the home from the back side.  Sherlock noticed the lights were off except for the 1 his parents had indicated was the all clear light.  Sherlock & Mycroft both knew what to do with that if either had arrived at the house to signify safe or dangerous.  Sherlock let out a quiet, brief sigh of relief knowing that he got their first.  He motioned the guys in and they went about setting up the traps....

[Inge l-w]

Fortunately, Mrs Holmes was not so theoretically-minded when it came to real- life issues, so she pressed Dad to do his best to get them to their safe house up north. She knew the stakes in this game were extremely high, and her affection for her husband did not cloud her reasoning abilities. How she wished that the Vernet genes had not made Mycroft into a Thinking Machine in pure self-defence and had not left so many scars on the heart of her favourite son.

During their drive along the M1 she kept hoping that her darling Sherlock would find a way out of this mess, fully aware that Mycroft may have involved the highest echelons of government in their little game of strategy. For her, it had been a simple working hypothesis, for her wayward boys it seemed a matter of life and death, and she felt a bit guilty over involving that nice Dr Watson, who seemed to have had such a steadying influence on her pet. She had always faced facts, and knew that Sherlock had been pretty much the result of an accident, her being over forty when she discovered she was pregnant again, right after her reconciliation with her husband after the long hiatus that had scared poor Mycroft into building up defensive walls against showing any sentiment the size of the Atlantic Wall, back when she was a child and listening to the wireless. That ten-year difference could not be blamed on her husband alone!

She had shown the teenage Mycroft his baby brother at the hospital and had heard her voice crack a bit when she had looked deep into his eyes and asked him to care for and protect his baby brother.

How could she have foreseen the extent to which her eldest boy had taken that injunction to heart!

She turned to her husband, brushed her hand along his neck and said composedly: "Anytime you want me to take over, dear, just let me know. This time I am entirely focused on the task at hand, we need to reach safety, so I refuse to be distracted by any stray thoughts or random observations of other drivers. Please, let me help"

Mr Holmes heard her very clearly, and after so many years of marriage, he recognised the undercurrent of agitation in his wife's voice, but he couldn't help thinking that she was absolute rubbish at driving, clenched his hands on the wheel and refused to acknowledge the growing cramp in his upper back muscles as he drove, hoping that Mycroft, Sherlock and that funny army doctor left alone with a baby to care for were all safe. Little did he know that...

[SherlockedCAMPer]

There was a major car accident blocking the highway about 2 km up the way. There was little warning and no roads that he could exit the car on to to bypass the mess. They ended up sitting in the mess for close to 3 hours before they could slowly pass by on the left shoulder. Mr. Holmes was glad his wife was on the left side of the car as the accident look like such a major mess and potentially tragic. Once they cleared the scene, he accelerated again trying to get to Edinburgh and their safe house. They were now on the A702 finishing up their last few hour or so of the trip. The delay from the accident had them reaching that highway close to midnight with about 3 hours to go until Edinburgh.

 

Sherlock, John, and Lestrade hurriedly set the traps that Sherlock had planned. Some were inside and several more were outside. They quickly got things done then went into hiding just inside the wooded area near the house. This allowed Sherlock a view for when the limo arrived while also staying protected. He had switched the light to code that he had been there. After a few minutes the men heard a car engine then the actual car approaching the property...

[SherlockedCAMPer]

"You first Mycroft.  Knowing your family, somethings probably up.  If you survive getting to the house, we will follow where you walk.  If you don't then we won't bother following that path and Anthea will be next." Jim turned from his harsh tone to a more lovable slightly sing-song voice.  "Won't you sweetie.  You love to let me be in control of you."  Anthea was beginning to regret her decision.  She was coerced into it in the first place.

 

Mycroft climbed out of the limo as best as he could with his hands still cuffed behind his back.  It had not been the most comfortable ride but he knew it could have been worse.  He had been mere centimeters from the boot and knew he could easily enough have tossed back there.  He noticed the light was not his parents' cue so he figured Sherlock had arrived first, probably going through the fields again just like he did during his Uni days.  He carefully made his way through to the front door knowing where some of the traps were.  He and Sherlock had planned it out months ago.  He had debated setting off 1 or more of the traps but decided to wait until he was indoors.  After a couple of minutes, he reached the front door.  He turned around and tried the knob knowing that it was probably locked.  He waited until Moriarty got up to the door before moving out of the way slightly.  Moriarty wrapped his rm through Mycroft's arm and then went to work on the door.  Once the door opened...

[Inge l-w]

They were greeted by absolute silence and complete darkness, which was a bit puzzling to Mycroft, since he and Sherlock had planned their defensive policy to protect their parents. There was only the dim light coming from the entrance, the signal of danger.

Being bound and still having to walk a straight line without triggering any of the floor sensors was proving stressful for Mycroft, but he also had Anthea to worry about, so he had taken the precaution of stepping on a patch of fresh moss just before entering. In that way, she could follow in his exact footsteps by the almost imperceptible little greenish tinge left by his left foot. He just hoped that by treading carefully due to the dim light, his normally wider pace would not appear suspicious to the looming threat following right behind her.

Despite what he had repeatedly averred to Sherlock, he trusted and liked the young woman who shared some ultra confidential information but always seemed to carry her burden of knowledge in an airy, charming manner.

Meanwhile, out among the carefully groomed bushes, in the thicket behind the kitchen, Sherlock and the others waited for Moriarty to set off one of the sensors, so they could storm into the house and finally get their hands on some concrete information, preferably without firing a shot.

All the same, Sherlock knew that Moriarty would never enter what he considered enemy territory alone and unprepared. This time around, snipers were out of the question and demolition charges rather unlikely. What could the master criminal possibly hold as an ace up his sleeve?

[SherlockedCAMPer]

Moriarty signaled the driver of the limo to start heading around to the back of the house.  He motioned to stay near the outer edge of the property as he figured Sherlock or Mummy & Daddy Holmes probably had the place booby trapped somehow and preferred his driver stayed alive.  Not that Moriarty would ever admit to not knowing how to drive, he figured why bother when he could have someone else do it.  He was busy enough trying to dominate the world despite being taught once how to drive years earlier.  Upon seeing the blue light in the entry way, Moriarty took it out.  It wasn't hard to do when he had Mycroft's brolly in his possession.  Moriarty grabbed Anthea tightly around her upper left arm right after that.  "Mycroft, what was the purpose of that light?  Do tell or I might decide to make Anthea here into a pair of shoes."

 

Mycroft was about to reply when...

[SherlockedCAMPer]

There was a loud cry from the back of the house.  The driver had found one of the traps and was now dangling upside down.  Moriarty barely flinched and shoved Anthea forward into Mycroft.  "Your answer Mycroft.  Now." Moriarty said venomously.  He then cocked a gun.

 

"My parents just happen to like that color light I suppose.  Their odd, nothing like Sherlock or I.  They're rather dull.  I had to suffer through Les Mis with them shortly after Sherlock's return. Just 2 goldfish like other ordinary people."  Mycroft said in his most convincing lie possible.

 

"And the noise out back was the driver finding a trap I suppose, so who set it?  Tell me or she's gone."  Moriarty snarled that last sentence.

 

"I don't know.  Honestly.  I was with you since Baker St.  There's no way my brother could have gotten here first.  He would have passed us on the highway if he had and we would have known about it."  Mycroft was sure of that except for the light had changed to Sherlock's color proving that he was there.  Then Mycroft remembered the field driving that Sherlock used to do when he first got his license.  He hoped his face had not just given him away when...

[SherlockedCAMPer]

The power went out in the house.  Sherlock had made the place seem like it was booby trapped inside and out when in reality there were only about 3 traps total.  The driver found the one outside and was now in Lestrade's custody with a few bruises thanks to Sherlock.

 

Meanwhile back at NSY, Mrs. Hudson was slowly pacing with Sheralyn chatting with Sally Donovan.  "Thank you for helping with Sheralyn.  I can't believe that John would drop the gun. He's usually so sure handed with that sort of thing.  My arms are getting tired.  Do you mind holding her for a bit?"

 

Sally was a little surprised.  Kids were not her area.  "Um, I suppose.  What do I do besides support her head?  I'm not really practiced with this.  The closest thing to a kid I get is Sherlock and he can support himself," she stated as Mrs. Hudson carefully handed Sheralyn over guiding Sally on how to hold the baby properly.

 

"You will be fine dear.  You've got her good.  Now she likes when you walk around.  At least that's what Mary has told me when she and John have come over for a visit.  I wonder what happened to Mary that would cause her to leave?  She loved John and Sheralyn so much.  You don't have any idea do you Ms. Donovan?"  Mrs. Hudson asked.

 

"Well,...

[Inge l-w]

Mrs Hudson wasn't the guileless widow she sometimes seemed to project! Just thinking back on her encounters with DI Lestrade's drugs bust and the chance of their finding her marijuana stash ( herbal so others, forsooth) and casting her mind back over Sherlock's totally unforgivable lapse in asking her to provide some more cocaine for his collapsing system, she did not feel that she could let DS Donovan into all this information, as the young lady might take it totally wrong. She preferred to change the topic of conversation, so she said, in as chipper a tone as she could manage:

"Any news of our boys yet?"

"Mrs Hudson, I may like you a lot, especially since you manage to keep that freak in order, but do not evade the issue! What could have led Mary to leave so suddenly? After all, that overgrown child said that she would be safe!"

"Oh, then you must have insider information, dear, since I never heard Sherlock explain the whys and heretofores of Mary's past, I expect it has caught up with her, somehow, and now we are all involved trying to undo the knots of the consequences her past has wrought"

"Mrs Hudson, please remember that only the freak is allowed to disparage the IQ of the Yard. What exactly is going on?"

"Trust me, dear, if I had the answer to that, I would already have taken the poor baby back to Baker Str. and looked after all her needs and wants, but..."

[SherlockedCAMPer]

"...yeah, I suppose you're right. If the freak wants you here, then I suppose he has a reason that he hasn't mentioned." Donovan continued walking with Sheralyn who was fast asleep in her arms. The pain in her ears had subsided enough for a deep sleep at last.

 

A few minutes later Donovan's phone started beeping with a text message from...

[Inge l-w]

Note: have you noticed, since joanneta1 prompted sfmpco to run with theory of the two raising a child at 221B and our little fantasy here, how many Sherlock-John-Baby (of any gender, name or provenance) stories have started appearing in Archive of Our Own? Did we rekindle a simmering need there? Will try to come up with a worthy riposte to your last post, sadly at the moment I am correcting too many essays for my sanity!

[SherlockedCAMPer]

...Anderson "Where are you?  Thought you were coming over after your shift ended 2 hours ago. Don't tell me freak had something to do with this."

 

Sally quickly texted back, "Moriarty had something to do with this.  Have Mrs. Hudson and Sheralyn under protective custody in Lestrade's office.  Lestrade, Freak, and Dr. Watson went somewhere in a flash to try to get Moriarty and the British Government. Don't know if I'll be able to get there tonight."  She was hoping that the ever inquisitive Mrs. Hudson would not ask.  She was very familiar with older ladies how much they liked to gab.  They never meant to be nosy in a bad way, but they also never seemed to be able to keep their mouths shut if the opportunity arose.  Sally was not sure how much Mrs. Hudson would blab.

 

Sally's phone went off again.  She expected another text from Anderson when she got...

[Inge l-w]

A text with the annoying monogram at the end! Sally was in reality too much of a good copper to let her sentiments about Sherlock cloud her judgement, and she had found out in the course of the last few hours that the scale of the crisis was much larger than she had thought at the beginning.

"DI Lestrade and I plan to raid my parents' home, signal light indicates Mycroft, Moriarty and a third party are in the house already. SWAT team not needed, blood bath otherwise. Need perimeter watch ASAP, must be stealth-trained, night vision goggles necessary, will keep you posted, SH"

How in Heaven's name was she supposed to organise all that with her superior absent and the Superintendent oblivious of the dramatic turn events had taken, probably at home asleep?

Then she had a flash of insight: Sherlock had always found DI Dimmock less annoying than any of his counterparts, so she quickly stepped into her office and dialled his number.

Naturally, the man was cranky, having been awoken from what seemed a sound sleep next to his wife, as Sally could hear indistinct female sounds in the background.

"Sir, DI Lestrade being absent, I need your permission to set up a perimeter team around an estate in Devon." When it came down to basics, Sally could be crisp and very efficient, with no word lost on explanation.

"Oh, Heavens, is Lestrade once again gallivanting around the country with that half-mad eccentric? DS Donovan, you know perfectly well this has got to go through the proper channels, it's standard procedure! Go and wake up the officer on duty of the Devonshire Police force, goodnight to you, and good luck!"

Sally didn't bother with a polite reply, instead she put the phone down and proceeded to call the Devonshire Police Department. Time was of the essence whenever that ectomorphic, crystal-eyed freak actually needed her help!

[SherlockedCAMPer]

"Hello, this is Constable Wilson of the Devonshire Police."

 

"Hello Constable, this is Detective Sergeant Sally Donovan of Scotland Yard.  I need a perimeter around this address in Devon.  Get me whoever is in charge so that can be arranged."  Sally was quick and to the point with the tone of her voice commanding action.  She didn't care if it was reaching midnight, she wanted Moriarty taken care of.

 

"Yes Ma'am, right away.  It'll be a moment to get him Ma'am."  Turning away from the phone and calling loudly so that it still carried to Donovan's ears quite clearly, "Sir, important call for you from The Yard. Better get on it quick."

 

"Hello, this is Chief Inspector Mason.  How may I help The Yard?"

 

"Sir, there is an incident in Devon involving a member of the British Government, his personal assistant, a Scotland Yard Detective Inspector, and 2 civilians.  We need a perimeter watch put around the house.  Night vision goggles, stealth trained, not SWAT team for the people.  We need to avoid a blood bath at all costs.  What can you do?  Any of our people would be 2.5 hours out at least."  Sally was listening to the response as Mrs. Hudson tried to calm Sheralyn who had woken up.  "Thank you sir.  It is much appreciated." 

 

She ended her call and sent a cryptic message to Sherlock hoping his phone was in a safe place.  "DP en route. Specs confirm."  She didn't bother signing it.  There was no point with the time crunch.  Her phone beeped back with a simple "Thanks" which just about made Sally faint.  The Freak was actually being polite.

 

---

 

"OK John, Lestrade, here's our plan for going into the house..."

[Inge l-w]

Sherlock briefly outlined what the plan would entail: with the motion sensors active and a deranged psychopath holding his brother hostage, not to mention his precious goldfish, stealth was paramount.

He then texted Sally to find out how things were progressing.

When he read her answer, all his coldly calculating logic failed him for once: "Devonshire police? What is your Sergeant playing at, Lestrade?"

"Hey, genius, it's standard procedure!" Lestrade whispered back, unwilling to let his closest colleague down, even in the midst of such a crisis.

Sherlock took a deep breath once John placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, his mind going back to all the times the doctor had admonished "Sherlock, please, remember to breathe!"

Sherlock turned to Lestrade, "Tell the local constabulary to come equipped with night vision goggles and tear gas masks and to bring three spares, unless you'd rather experience such an attack first hand"

"Stop behaving like a petulant adolescent, there are lives at stake here, even if I wouldn't mind anything permanent happening to dear old Jim", hissed John on his other side.

They bided their time until at long last (about fifteen minutes by Sherlock's estimate, not a bad reaction time,) there were at least thirty shadowy figures barely visible in the faint moonlight. The window of opportunity was closing fast, since Moonrise would be rather a hindrance in their efforts.

A man detached himself from the shadows and approached them crawling while holding out three tear-gas masks: "Which of you gentlemen is DI Lestrade? I was instructed to hand these to him and await instructions."

Lestrade acknowledged his presence in a whisper, showing the other police officer his badge, and couldn't help a smile at the innumerable times Sherlock had nicked it just to annoy him. Of course, the genius prat conveniently forgot the other side of the coin, which was that every time Lestrade had to report his badge stolen, the requisite amount for a replacement was deducted from his pay. He found his hand itching, as he dreamed of the impossible: catching planet Sherlock unawares and giving him the spanking he so richly deserved for making the Yard look like idiots time and time again, perhaps he might even let Donovan watch!

But harsh reality brought him back to the task at hand.

The baritone whisper brought all of them inside each other's space as Sherlock explained:

"We cannot bypass the front door security system, so we shall go by the back door. The moment we are in, I shall neutralise the motion sensors in the kitchen, by which time I expect all of you to have your tear-gas canisters ready and your masks on. Once we are inside the house, your men should throw all their canisters primed and ready through every window they can aim at! Then, we shall proceed to the front lounge, where Moriarty is currently keeping Mycroft and Anthea. It is at that moment that I shall short-circuit the mains, which can be found in the hallway. Thereafter, your men should come in with both tear-gas masks and night vision goggles on: Moriarty will be easy to pick out, Anthea has a stronger heat signature, as a female, and Mycroft has a slightly higher one to the average male of his height and build because of his girth."

"What about the generator?" protested John.

"Ah, yes, I do love to leave the best for last!" was Sherlock's only comment.

[SherlockedCAMPer]

"You'll see when the time comes." Sherlock continued. Everyone ready? They won't stay where they are for long and the moon will be up soon. It's likely to be full."

 

---

 

Mummy & Daddy Holmes made it to their destination on the north side of Edinburgh. "I'm going to call Sherlock to let him know that we made it."

 

"No, mum. We are not to contact them by phone. At least not directly. You need to use that number for the Yard and the contact there." Daddy Holmes replied calmly. His wife may be a genius, but she was a mother first.

 

"I suppose, but...

[Inge l-w]

While Mummy Holmes was fretting about her wayward but admittedly favourite child, Sherlock was orchestrating the move against Moriarty.

All policemen had been given their orders, DI Lestrade helping to make sure that no one stepped out of line or indulged in personal heroics, and the four of them ( Sherlock had included the DS from Devon PC in the initial assault, after all) crept stealthily through the underbrush to reach the kitchen door. He was fairly certain that the two policemen were up on their training and that the good doctor would reflexively remember his army training, as for himself, the undercover work he had done for Mycroft ( dear elder brother who never acknowledged how bonded to him he was, Sherlock muffled a sigh) had conditioned him for stealth.

Having reached the kitchen door, he motioned them to a complete standstill, pushed on on hands and knees, fumbled in his pocket for the key, carefully raised a hand to the handle and crawled through the crack of the door. Even when he was inside, he kept crawling, until he reached the sink, opened the cupboard hiding the food mashing device and pressed a button to the left of it. The motion sensors were deactivated in this space! He righted himself, and motioned to the others to follow, which they did with alacrity, John finding time to whisper in his ears: "Did you remember to breathe properly, you git? Your face is an unhealthy red colour!"

When would John finally understand that with more important things at hand, breathing WAS boring! But Sherlock could not spare the time even to huff at the comment, as they hastily secured the masks to their faces: with the signal light from the kitchen that all was clear, the attack was imminent!

Right enough, primed tear gas canisters were launched from the outside, even as Sherlock and the others made their way to the front lounge, their own canisters at the ready.

He reached the mains switch and threw it, night vision goggles now on.

As one, all four men launched their primed gas canisters in the direction of the heat sources, but Sherlock had one last thing to dispose of: the generator!

He hurriedly backtracked to where the door to the basement was, opened it and fairly flew down the familiar fifteen steps to reach the object of his last wrecking operation for this seemingly endless day: sure enough, the generator was humming, in preparation mode for starting up to cover the need created by the short-circuited fuses. He worked the cover open and was just about to start on the finicky, precise operation that would cross-wire and render it inoperational, when his mobile buzzed in his pocket! Out of sheer instinct ( he refused to admit to himself that it was a habit), he pulled the offending generic device out of his pocket (his precious iPhone was still somewhere in the flat, since he remembered texting John about the baby's arrival that morning) and saw his mother's caller id. Perfect! It seemed poetic justice to him that his mother would become instrumental in saving Brother Mycroft! He laid the crocodile pliers aside, dismantled the phone and used its battery on the live leads of the generator, which gave a splutter and remained inactive.

Going back upstairs, he was met with a scene which seemed to come out of Dante's inferno or the more lurid sci-fi films John had periodically subjected him to.

Meanwhile, just outside Edinburgh...

[SherlockedCAMPer]

The call went dead. "Daddy, the call dropped. It was ringing then nothing. I hope my boys are all right."

 

"No need to worry mum. They can take care of themselves just fine." He responded calmly.

 

"But I'm their mother. It's my job to worry." Was her somewhat terse reply. He didn't bother arguing with that. She may have been a genius, but sometimes her logic was off and he wasn't about to correct it.

 

Chaos was ensuing in Devon. Sherlock had quickly rejoined his team of 4. He quickly pulled Mycroft down and got a mask on him. Then he went to hunt down Moriarty only to realize that Moriarty had...

[SherlockedCAMPer]

[Haven't figured out what to write yet, but was thinking that this would be a fun story to have on Ao3, which I'm willing to post there if others are agreeable noting my co-authors (with your Ao3 usernames if you have them) and our fun work in progress.  Let me know either here or on a PM.)

[Inge l-w]

Moriarty was in the throes of a severe asphyxiation attack, and although Sherlock toyed with the idea of letting his erstwhile Nemesis die of the effects of the main component of British police tear gas, namely CR gas, also known as dlbenzoxazepine ( it was really weird how he could delete the Solar System and retain all information about a chemical compound!), he quickly ran back to the kitchen, grabbed the first container he could lay his hands on, filled it with water and ran back to kneel by the prostrate, wheezing, pitifully croaking man in the throes of what seemed to be not only asphyxiation (CR was known to be toxic in large quantities) but also a severe allergic reaction. He poured the contents of the pitcher over Moriarty's face, while John was attending to Mycroft and Anthea (not her real name, but unimportant at this juncture in time).

"Sherlock, we need to get them out of here as fast as possible, the air is positively toxic!"

"You don't have to scream, John, I can hear you perfectly well. What are we going to do about this one here?" he pointed to Moriarty.

"Let him die for real this time?"

"Oh, John, where is your sense of adventure! I shall always remember his little reminder that every good story needs a good old-fashioned villain! Besides, there is the issue of Sheralyn's paternity to clarify!"

"Yeah, right, the villain who forced you to commit such an act of betrayal against your nearest and dearest friends! Let's save him, by all means."

At that moment, DI Lestrade cut into the budding argument by hoisting Mycroft onto his shoulder in a fireman's lift and heading for the back garden. John threw an annoyed look at Sherlock, just to let him know that the issue remained unresolved, and picked up Anthea, following in Lestrade's footsteps.

Sighing, Sherlock had to follow suit, half-dragging, half-lifting an ever-more distressed-growing Moriarty. To think that it would come to this: saving his worst enemy's life!

Once outside in the cool night air, both Mycroft and Anthea seemed to recover reasonably well, while Moriarty developed a bluish tint around his lips, and there was a clear skin rash all over the exposed parts of his body.

"John, please, you are a doctor, what is wrong with him?" Sherlock was at his wits' end, and his best friend seemed bent on revenge killing while there was still so much information to be gleaned from the clearly distressed villain.

Dr Watson deigned to take a closer look, and then he became all business: "He is suffering an allergic reaction, possibly to the active reagent of the tear gas!" He raised his voice:"Hey, Lestrade, call your pet DS over here and tell him to bring an Epi-pen out of the first-aid kit"

DI Lestrade was nothing if not efficient: when he barked out his commands, the other police officers around did his bidding double-quick.

So it was that Sherlock Holmes saved the life of James Moriarty through the good offices of his best friends, Dr Watson and DI Lestrade. Now, it only remained for them to lock up the kitchen door securely, transport Mycroft, Anthea and a still very groggy Moriarty (handcuffed to Lesteade for good measure) back to their vehicle and head back to London.

Before leaving, however, he sent a brief text to his mother to thank her for all her help, which left Mrs Holmes a bit puzzled: what had her darling boy been up to again?

[SherlockedCAMPer]

En route to London they made a quick stop at a hospital so that John would have everything he needed to care for Moriarty before he could be taken to the secure government hospital usually reserved for MI6 agents.

 

In the mean time Lestrade contacted Donovan to let her know that they were on their way back with everyone & to keep Mrs. Hudson & Sheralyn there until they arrived.

 

Meanwhile in Edinburgh, "Daddy, what do think Sherl meant?"

[joanneta1]

Mr Holmes had a fair idea what it was all about, his mild upper civil servant appearance hid a multitude of sins as well as comprehensive knowledge of Mycroft's and his wife's plotting and counter-plotting.

"Dearest, I think we should let the boys deal with all the technicalities of the problem while you focus on the strategic implications. After all, you have become quite involved in something of international interest. Once we reach the safe house in Edinburgh, I shall let our children know, and they can take it on from there." His soothing baritone, so much like Sherlock's, had a steadying effect on his wife, and he used this knowledge to the best advantage, having lived with an erratic genius more than half his life-time, and endured the childhood years of two budding geniuses, which in Sherlock's case, he wasn't quite sure was over!

Almost at the same time, Moriarty, or what passed for him, was being delivered to a secure hospital facility, with Dr Watson in full army Medical Corps form giving directions and supervising the arch-villain's safe and secure transfer to an emergency ward for further treatment.

Sherlock started telling his story of the whole evening to DI Dimmock, as DI Lestrade had been an active participant, and there might be a conflict of interest in the chain of evidence later on. He had never particularly liked the younger DI, but needs must, and he was already bone-tired from having driven to Devon and half-way back, dealt with a full-frontal attack on his parents' home and a squealing, squirming baby before that. At the thought, his mind ground to a halt: where were Sheralyn and Mrs Hudson?

Mycroft and Anthea had been taken to the secure medical facility to be checked up against any after effects of the tear-gas attack, so he could not fall back on his brother's help! He almost heaved a sigh of relief when DS Donovan appeared outside DI Dimmock's office with the baby in her arms and his treasured Mrs Hudson in protective tow.

He nearly jumped when Sally smiled at him and said: "Well, Sherlock, it seems you pretend to know nothing about pop culture, but you certainly acted like James-freaking-Bond at your parents' house!"

"Sally, at this moment I am so glad to see that neither your acid tongue nor your sharp wit have deserted you that I would gladly listen to any abusive remarks you care to throw at me."

"Nice to see you back in one piece, Holmes!" she smiled back and handed him the squirming baby, who so plainly wanted to be held by him that she stretched out her chubby hands in his direction.

When he had the baby safely ensconced in his tired arms, he looked up to Mrs Hudson: "Mrs Hudson, once we're done here, I think we should all return home. Thank you for your invaluable help."

DS Donovan couldn't believe what she had just heard-the Freak was actually being polite to another human being outside DI Lestrade and  Dr Watson?

P.S. Dear Jennsince you are determined to continue in Ao3, could you streamline the story to British English, at the moment it has even more split infinitives than the entire Star Trek!

[SherlockedCAMPer]

 

P.S. Dear Jennsince you are determined to continue in Ao3, could you streamline the story to British English, at the moment it has even more split infinitives than the entire Star Trek!