"The Genius Job"
Summary: Col. Mike Vance approaches Leverage Inc. to help fulfill a favor from the British Government: retrieve Sherlock Holmes from his MI-6 suicide mission before it kills him. AU from the end of "His Last Vow" without the overdose and four-minute exile. To keep it in one universe, please pretend "The Ten Little Grifters Job" doesn't exist./p
Author's Notes: This took me A LOT longer than anything has any right to, but I wanted to make sure it was consistent with everything. I thought, "What if the Moriarty video never broadcast?" "Could Mycroft get to Sherlock without direct intervention?" And, most importantly, "Who would be the best person/team to get Sherlock out alive?" My answers were the following story—enjoy!
Chapter 1: The Job Offer and the Briefing
Portland, Oregon, late April 2014
Colonel Mike Vance walked into the Bridgeport Brewpub, looking around at the tail end of their lunch rush. He quickly claimed a small, freshly-bussed table.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Vance looked up at the snarled question, a smile tugging at his mouth. "Hello, Parker. I don't have backup with me this time. I came with a job for you."
The blond thief looked at him with narrowed eyes and a thunderous expression. Vance was someone she never expected or wanted to see ever again. Not after foiling a terrorist plot on his behalf and nearly getting her, Eliot Spencer, and Alec Hardison killed. "After the last time we worked with you, give me a good reason why I shouldn't have Eliot beat you down before throwing you out."
"Because I'm not asking for the US government. Someone in the UK's intel community tapped me for a favor. He's pretty high up, and I want to do my damnedest to accommodate him. I'm just asking that you three hear me out.
She scrutinized him for a moment, before asking, "Have you eaten?"
Vance blinked in surprise. "No," he admitted.
"Order something while I tell them you're here."
"Anything good?"
Her gaze turned disdainful. "Eliot put the menu together. Everything's good." She turned away, quickly nabbing Amy Palavi en route to the back room, asking her to look after Vance, as an "old friend" of Eliot's. Knowing a little about what that meant, Amy followed through, making recommendations and beer suggestions.
-L-
After the meal (and he hated to admit, Parker had been right), Vance found himself in Leverage Inc.'s main briefing room. He found himself impressed with the layout, from the high-definition screens dominating one wall to the lit table and chairs, ready for note taking.
Parker, Hardison, and Eliot stood together, ready to face him down if they had to. "Okay, Vance," Eliot began, "you went through the trouble of tracking us down. What do you want?"
Vance pulled a flash drive from his pocket to hand to Hardison. "I brought visual aids."
Hardison fired up the computer system and inserted the drive, running a quick, discreet scan for viruses. Despite getting to play with the government's highest-tech toys a few years ago, he still didn't like the heavy-handed way Vance had enlisted them to stop Everett Udall from releasing weaponized Spanish flu. And he certainly didn't put it past the man to have his own e-minions put something nasty on the drive just to mess with the Leverage crew.
He threw the pictures he found on the big screen for all to see.
Vance pointed to several photos, wordlessly asking that they be enlarged. The first pic was of a tall, slender man swathed in a long black coat and blue scarf. He was pale-skinned, his hair a riot of black curls, and his eyes a strange mix of pale-blue and gray. "This is Sherlock Holmes," Vance began. "Up until last Christmas, he was toting himself as a 'consulting' detective to both Scotland Yard and private clients."
"What happened at Christmas?" Hardison asked. Something about this niggled at the back of his mind.
"He committed murder." Vance pointed at another photo: an older man, even skinnier with sharper features, but his eyes reminded Parker of a snake, and not the harmless kind—the poisonous kind that would bite and enjoy its victim's suffering. "This was Charles Augustus Magnussen, head of one of the largest media empires in the UK."
"Wait, you're sayin' Holmes killed Magnussen?" Eliot asked. "Thought it was a break-in gone wrong." CAM Media was a powerhouse across the pond; it had yet to reach their wheelhouse.
"That's the official story," Vance replied. "Turns out CAM Media was just another way for Magnussen to continue blackmailing multiple victims.
"The really insidious thing is, he never came at anyone straight on. He always went after those closest to his targets, the weaknesses of their personalities. No matter how long the chain of people between him and his target, he found their pressure points and used them, made them do what he wanted. He made the mistake of thinking Holmes wouldn't harm him, let alone kill him."
"Why come to us?" Eliot asked. "We've never allowed a murder to go unsolved, and Magnussen looked like our kind of mark once. What can you need?"
"Right now, Sherlock's in Eastern Europe. He was 'volunteered' for an MI-6 mission that will kill him in six months or less." Vance turned to them all. "His brother Mycroft's actually betting on 'less'. Despite all this, he's the higher-up asking for the favor, to make sure his brother not only lives, but is exfiltrated once the mission's over."
"It's almost May," Parker pointed out. "How do we know he's even still alive?"
"His last communique with his handlers was in the last twenty-four hours, so we know he was alive then. The problem is, he's gotten even closer to his goal and the end of the mission. I want you to make sure it's also not the end of his life."
The thief, the hacker, and the hitter exchanged glances. "Go sit at the bar," Eliot said, his tone closer to order than suggestion. "We need to talk about this, do a bit more research."
Vance nodded sharply. "Don't take too long. Sherlock will probably need that exfil sooner rather than later." He strode out to the bar, looking for something different in the beer selection.
Meanwhile, Hardison pulled up everything he could find, on Sherlock and everyone close to him, and the location of his last contact. He found himself surprised at the fan base the man had through Dr. John Watson, his best friend and blogger.
Parker and Eliot, in their own ways, looked at the map and the security in the area, formulating logistics and escape routes. They all watched the information that Hardison had gathered about Sherlock's investigation: a section of the Russian mob, or Bratva, operating in Varna, Bulgaria.
After their respective thought processes, they gathered in the center of the room for the vote. "So, do we take this job?" Eliot asked.
"It would be a damn shame if the world lost a mind like his," Hardison replied. "I say yes."
Eliot nodded, silently casting his own vote. In his mind, Magnussen had been worse than any of the marks they had taken down, with and without Nate Ford and Sophie Devereaux, and Sherlock shouldn't have to pay with his life. "Parker?"
She was of a similar mind to Eliot. Magnussen had been the ultimate bad guy, taken down the only way possible. "I say yes, and we bring Sherlock here."
Hardison blinked at his girlfriend. "Say what?"
"Even if we get all of us out alive, he can't go home. But he can have a home here, help us take down marks." She gave them both a significant look. "Nate brought us together. We changed together, and we're still together. This is home. We can give him that."
"Parker, you're getting ahead of yourself," Eliot pointed out. "We get him out first, then talk about after."
Parker nodded, knowing he was right.
"We have lists of what we'll need?" Hardison asked.
Nods all around. Eliot called Vance back in. "We'll do it, but we need a few things if this is gonna happen." Eliot handed his former CO the pages from each member of Leverage Inc.
It would probably be the most dangerous job they had ever undertaken.
They wanted to make sure it would not be their last.
Author's note: I have NO idea if the Russian mob has anyone in Bulgaria; I'm just using the country for dramatic purposes.