Sorry it took some time for me to upload Chapter two to the FanFiction network. I had to alter the whole story as I entered a new character, which wasn't going to cast in the original plot until now. Not only that, I no longer have Microsoft Word and so have found it difficult to be able to use a .wps file on the website and had to convert it via other sites to add it to my on-going story. But before I get all technical (almost like a certain character in the story…), here is the chapter that you have waited for.

Gracie Emz

Chapter 2 - Grab your Gear

The scarlet sun was slowly rising across the rough terrain of DC, with no unbearable grey clouds in the rose tinted sky or a single drop of rain plummeting to the city ground. Opposite weather to what Sherlock, John and Mycroft were experiencing in the busy capital of England. It was like the two similarly cultured cities were worlds apart from each other, instead of the single, vast ocean that laid between them. However, occupied in a hidden federal building around the Washington area of Virginia State, unknowingly from the functionless family in Baker Street, a silver-haired Special Agent Team Leader was sat at his desk; his crooked glasses perched on the end of his nose, as he signed an immense amount of stacked papers, related to his last completed case. It wasn't very exciting. A Petty Officer died, because his brother thought he should have his rich uncle's inheritance instead, after the Petty Officer in question married his ex fiancé. "Why was money and revenge always the usual motive for a murder?" thought Gibbs, as he continued to scribble down his report of the events.

This was the part the agent detested most about his job. His rough hands twinged in pain, whilst he believed he could no longer write another single letter or word to contribute to this useless piece of document. Gibbs had arrived at the NCIS headquarters early to catch up with his work like he always did every day before Vance, the Director of the agency and his only boss, had a chance to complain. Jethro never really liked Vance after he took the Jenny Sheppard's former job, right after her death. Mainly because Vance's first task was breaking Gibb's trust and splitting his team up, giving them positions situated across the world, whilst he was given a bunch of useless probationary agents with no experience. The work was not exciting or helpful to him at all as they searched petty little crimes. In spite of this, after he found out who was the mole of the Agency, he finally got his whole team back together. And he wasn't going to change it any time soon.

He lightly flicked off his lamp, after he noticed the sun had risen, then went on writing. But after ten minutes, he completed his work, dropped his ball point pen, then gazed out the window intently, thinking what the crazy world would bring to him today, as he relaxed his hands. He glanced over at the clock on his old military watch. 0530 hours. It was still too early to expect any of his four man team to arrive at the open planned bullpen for work. It was also too soon to visit the eccentric Doctor and his talkative assistant in autopsy or to call upon the optimistic Goth Forensic Scientist that he sees as his "adopted daughter" in the lab, as all three were still at home. Once he filed the paperwork he recently finished, he reluctantly decided, as he had no other choice, to dive into the depths of complicated and modern technology, by logging on to his desktop computer, to check for any emergency emails or paperwork mail from his colleagues, before he got his morning coffee from Starbucks.

However, just as he scanned the page on the monitor screen and realised he was sent nothing of any importance, the elevator pinged open, which revealed a tall, thin, short-haired man, carrying a lot of folders in his arms. He walked agitatedly over to his desk opposite Gibbs as he contemplated over his dilemma in his head. He slightly panted under the weight of the thick, filled stationery whilst he tried to balance them on his desk. The moment the files slipped onto the floor, his irritation showed when he hurriedly collected them back up and nearly slammed his work onto the tabletop. Gibbs looked up from the his computer screen.

"Why didn't you use a box, McGee?"

Tim was startled by the sudden sound, which caused him to jump and almost knocked over the folders again. He quickly turned around to see who spoke, only to see Gibbs annoyingly smirking at him from behind his desk. He relaxed a little, though he was still stiff with weariness.

"Sorry, boss. Didn't see you there." He ambled to his computer and started to log on. Gibbs still looked at his youngest agent, questioningly.

"What have I said about apologising, McGee? It's a sign of weakness," said Gibbs, his voice deep and sincere. Silence. McGee still observed his monitor, as he half-heartedly replied a moment later.

"Yes, Boss." Gibbs stood up from his desk and gradually marched over to him to get his attention. However, Tim didn't move his view from the screen. He remained to busy himself as he gathered his thoughts, by searching various articles and reports amongst the recent news relating to previous cases.

"Tim.." His agent still watched his work. "..What is bothering you?"

McGee sighed exasperatingly, whilst he gently rubbed his forehead. He slowly pulled away from the monitor, straightened his stance and met Gibb's glaring gaze.

"Nothing, Boss. Just tired. Didn't get much sleep last night."

"I'm not stupid, McGee. There's something on your mind." Tim closed his eyes, whilst he considered an answer. "I need the advice," he thought, "even though he wouldn't know what to do". He opened his eyes and sighed.

"It's my publisher. My new publisher. He wants another book to meet my fan's demands. The thing is, he also wants something new. Something different to happen. But I haven't got any ideas that are significant or impressing to include in the narrative-," babbled Tim. Gibbs shook his head exasperatedly and stomped back to his desk, cutting off McGee in mid-pled. Gibbs sat in his chair and began going through his computer files, finding the documents to send to Vance. He no longer wanted to be involved in Deep Six or whatever it was called. He already had enough trouble from that book, more than it's worth, after a psychopath charged after Abby, to "protect" Timothy and killed two others.

"Just write about us, like you always do."

McGee knew he wasn't getting anywhere with him. He dropped back into his office chair and continued with his work.

"What's up, McGee? Another crazy girlfriend or did a different dog attack you?"

Tony was in an extremely happy mood later that morning which became obvious as he faintly swaggered into the bullpen from the elevator, late as usual. Fortunately, Gibbs had gone down for his coffee ten minutes previous, which enlarged the Senior Agent's cheerful disposition from the thought of no excessive morning lecture and the daily head slap from his boss. McGee ignored DiNozzo's remark as he sat miserably at his desk, still surging thoughts and ideas across his mind to come to a solution to his seemingly impossible Writer's block. Ziva, who always arrived on time, instead gazed up from her case files and smirked at her work partner.

"Someone got lucky last night," she chuckled softly, "Who's the unlucky lady?" DiNozzo glared back at Ziva from behind his PC, then quickly gave a short, forceful laugh.

"I think you'll find it's none of your business, David," said Tony, dully. The ex Mossad Agent simpered jeeringly at the man smiling opposite her and gracefully sauntered towards him.

"This isn't the Anthony DiNozzo I know. He would usually boast about how many girls he can get in an evening." Tony's eyes wavered from his screen to Ziva as he tried to keep a smile on his face for a moment before he replied with a murmur.

"Yes. Well that was the old Tony. I am much more mature now." Ziva laughed loudly at her partner's words.

"Really? I rather doubt that."

"I don't want to be a "player" anymore. Now that I am… older, I want to focus on a serious relationship. No more mucking around." Ziva looked up from the floor, breathless from her laughter to see DiNozzo's stern face. She nodded at the seriousness in the circumstances and stood firmly in front of his desk.

"Well, good for you Tony," she slowly said, struggling to put the words into English, whilst DiNozzo inspected and sifted through his work, "Was the girl last night…right for you?"

"She seemed nice. Though it was only the first date. I don't want to rush into things yet."

"I'm glad for you," responded David, who was still surprised at the latest news, "That you are taking things into course."

"I'm glad too."

He gently gazed up at Ziva, who was leant lightly on the tabletop with a small smile, and tried to work out what she meant. It caught McGee's agitated awareness, who then looked suspiciously between the two agents. After a moment, DiNozzo shifted his gaze back to his cluttered files and fake coughed into clenched fist awkwardly, whilst David pondered as she marched back to her work. Tony suddenly noticed that Tim was still gazing at him. He turned and smiled to him, which caused McGee to swiftly look back to his keyboard, as DiNozzo expressed his speech mockingly towards his male agent friend, "Enough about me. I'm much more interested in why our little McGeek Elf Lord is ignoring us."

"No time," Gibbs boomed across the room, his coffee in hand as he strode to the edge of the bullpen, "We have a dead Marine waiting for us in Portsmouth."

"Gearing up, boss." All the agents snapped into action. They abandoned their tiresome paperwork, quickly picked up their needed bags and equipment then ran to the bored and awaiting Gibbs before the metal doors of the elevator closed upon them. As the doors closed and the agents panted with the loss of their breath, Gibbs took a swig of coffee and smirked.

"Just another day at work," he thought.

"How did they die, Duck?"

Gibbs was leaning over Doctor Mallard and the two bodies that was laid in the middle of the parking lot. The rest of the team were occupied. McGee took photographic shots of the crime scene, the blinding bright light that emitted from the digital camera flashed constantly. DiNozzo, who wore his white latex gloves, searched the grounds through rubbish and parked cars for any clues or evidence as to what happened to the two late gentlemen. Ziva spoke to a business woman and her husband, the witnesses of the bodies' unearthing, and wrote notes of any vital information that might help with the case. Palmer stumbled over to Ducky and Jethro with the equipment and the gurney, then knelt down beside the Medical Examiner. He panted inaudibly from the effort of carrying the heavy load, as to not disturb his boss for his work and got on with his own, as he sought out for the liver probe. Ducky gently moved the bodies around as he showed Gibbs his discoveries.

"The Marine's death is obviously caused by blunt force trauma. Deep gash and skull fracture to the back of the head. It was a heavy, large object. No other markings to say otherwise. I am still unsure of the cause for this young fellow over here though. He has stab wounds in his abdomen, however they seem to have missed the vital organs. And he didn't bleed to death as there is the lack of blood or body fluid. I will have to take them back to the lab for a full inquiry."

"Anything else?"

"They both have bruises and cuts to the chest and face, whilst their knuckles are red raw with no signs of scab formation. Possible bone fracture here and there. I would say they both put up quite a struggle."

"Do you think there was an extra person involved?"

"Perhaps. It would explain the abrasions on the wrists and hands, plus the stab wounds. The knife seems to be handled by a left-handed person. The Marine is right-handed, judging by deterioration of the right sided pocket of his jeans."

"Time of death?" Palmer turned up to reluctantly face Gibbs, after he checked the liver probe's temperature reading.

"I would say a few hours ago, Agent Gibbs. Around 0400 hours for the Marine, though the John Doe died half an hour earlier."

"Thanks, Duck." acknowledged Jethro, hesitantly. "Palmer."

Gibbs walked over to Ziva, who had finished jotting notes on her pad.

"What did they see?"

"They were walking past the long stay car park early this morning at 0530 hours after spending the night in local hotel. They had to leave early to capture a flight to Miami, which they have now missed. They got suspicious after they saw the gates weren't locked and went to look inside and came across the bodies. Rung Metro PD at 0545 after trying to resuscitate them."

"Okay. You and McGee can go fetch the CCTV footage."

Ziva left and headed towards Tim, whilst she adjusted her hat from the sun's glare. DiNozzo strolled over to Gibbs, carrying a couple of labeled evidence bags.

"I found these stowed under a car a couple of rows back," He spoke gravely as he held up a clear, cylindrical box containing a clean, pristine knife, "It will probably match the wound, but I doubt we will be able to lift any prints from the handle. However, I found this key near the Marine."

He handed Gibbs the small, delicate key into his white gloved hands.

"It's too tiny to be for any door or window. However, from my experience at Baltimore, though you probably know that already," Gibbs stared at DiNozzo, "…Not that I'm implying anything..." DiNozzo coughed bashfully and bumblingly. "The keys open a set of handcuffs. Though not the type we use."

Gibbs sighed and thrusted the keys hostilely back to Tony.

"They were kidnapped."