Chapter 1- Criminal Name: Olinair, Act: Kidnap

"It doesn't seem natural, Mycroft."

"When has anything we have been consulted with been normal?" Mycroft glanced over his paper at his little brother, who was conducting a chemistry experiment on the coffee table, much to John's annoyance. Sherlock frowned, holding up the test tube and swirling its smoking contents.

"Yes, yes, yes, I know that, but still..." Sherlock lowered the mixture and began to measure out more hydrochloric acid. "Three murders with no connection other than they all suffered explosion wounds and were committed under bridges going in a clockwise direction around the city."

"And they were all the member of public who happened to be there at time." Mycroft added, returning to the article he was reading.

"You're sure of that?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows, never looking away from the pipette of what looked suspiciously like blood which he was dipping into another test tube.

"Positive." His older brother returned snappily. "Tonight she should be at the Cherreld Bridge, only she won't find anyone she can murder."

"How can you make sure no-one will be there?" John asked, having finally looked up from his blog.

"You're asking Mycroft Holmes if he can make sure no-one is under a bridge?" Sherlock remarked before Mycroft could reply. "He'd start a war if he just needed me out of the country."

"No, I'd just trick you into buying your own plane ticket, Sherlock." Mycroft rolled his eyes as he glanced at his watch. "It's nearly time. If I call you, you know where to meet me."

"Fine." Sherlock grunted, still unwilling to admit he was helping his brother.

"Good luck." John had returned to his blog and didn't bother looking up as Mycroft left 221b, shrugging on his coat and taking his trusty umbrella as he left.

A single electric light shone feebly in the otherwise deserted tunnel that was littered with rubbish and cigarette stubs. Looking at these, Mycroft thought about the policemen he had on hold at crucial points around the city, places he expected the murderer to flee to. At that point, Mycroft heard firm, high-heeled booted footsteps and he shrunk into the shadows as around the corner and into the tunnel came a tall, middle-aged woman, dressed in black and with her hands in her pockets.

Expensive tastes, down on luck with money in the last three years though. Washes her hair every night, suffered from a weak immune system in childhood. Mother dead, father cleared off in a matter of weeks. Expecting someone. Mycroft deduced this all in a matter of seconds and more, but didn't move or say anything until she passed him.

"Good evening, Miss Olinair." He stepped into the open and she whipped around, her fleeting expression of surprise quickly hidden.

"Hello Mr. Holmes." She bared her teeth in a cat-like grin. "You seem to know who I am."

"Elaine Olinair, 44, originally from Luton, your mother died when you were ten, this is after her remarriage. You moved to London about five years ago after the disappearance of your half-sister, to shorten all that I know." Mycroft returned, satisfied by her suddenly shocked expression.

"I was told I might find you here." Elaine Olinair regained herself quickly.

"Oh really." Although it was addressed as a question, Mycroft spoke in a monotone-like voice and didn't bat an eyelid when the murderer strolled up so she was standing in front of him.

"Yup." Elaine Olinair smirked "He told me that he'd organised things so you would get this case, not your little brother, and you'd be here tonight."

"He."

"Please, I don't do this for fun, well, not often. You knew there was someone behind me, didn't you?"

In a flash, the last pieces of the puzzle fell into place, and Mycroft's mind whizzed through the various people who could be behind this. Then he narrowed his eyes.

"Moriarty." Was all he said. Elaine Olinair practically cackled.

"There it is!" she said "But there is something else about these...events, shall we call them, that you will know, or should know."

"Personally I call a spade a spade, so we shall call them murders. That's all they were." Mycroft replied.

"You're wrong!" Olinair seemed delighted "Great Mycroft Holmes is wrong about something!" then she paused "Well, they were obviously murders, but they weren't just murders! There was a target, Mr. Holmes, someone we wanted and killed to get them."
It felt to Mycroft as if an icicle was sliding down his chest, but he didn't say a word. Elaine Olinair's crazed smile widened, and she said,
"You. The real target, Mr. Holmes, was you, and I could just shoot you now, but you already know I like the...explosive touch."

With those words, the woman threw something small on the ground. Something which was making a tick, tick, ticking noise and had a little flashing red light. But as Mycroft suddenly looked down at what looked like a bomb, he received a heavy blow to the side of his head, so powerful it knocked him to the ground. His head hit the pavement as he fell, and he was knocked out cold, everything fading into sudden blackness...

A/: DUN DUN DUUUUUUN! haha sorry about that :P also sorry for the short chapter; you guys know me...
more to come soon!