Disclaimer: So not mine.

"Parker?"

"I'm kind of busy right now." The thief said while working open the safe.

"We need those papers."

"I'm working on it." And she was, but the electronic lock was sticking. Stupid antiquated software- what she wouldn't give to work with an old tumbler and dial system, those were always the best.

"Well, work harder. We're one man down and on a time crunch here. We can't let Bates get away."

"We know Nat, please calm down. We're all worried about Eliot, but you need to let us do our jobs." Sophie finally chimed in, giving Parker the time she needed.

Eliot had been out of contact for over a day and they were all feeling the stress from not knowing if he was fine or not.

"Yeah Nat, chill. We'll get 'im." Hardison tossed his two cents worth in as he broke through the final firewall.

The mark had been on edge ever since the shoot-out that had injured their hitter, and they had to get the evidence before he spooked completely and fled the country.

"Got it!" Parker cheered as the safe swung open.

"I'm in!" Hardison said at the same time.

"And we got a problem." He continued as he stared at blank files.

"Same here. The safe's empty except for a pile of ashes. Who locks up ashes in a safe?"

"Someone who's tying up loose ends. Hardison, shut it down. Parker, run."

Parker fled and Hardison burned his access, they were back to square one.

"Guys, meet me at the hotel. Sophie, get out of there as soon as possible."

"Alright." And she turned back to the party full of diplomats and business men with a bright smile and a french accent.

Rendevouzing in Nat's suite, the team- minus one member- went over what went wrong. Hardison summed it up:

"Bates is moving out. He's whitewashed his files, shredded his paper trail and liquidated his assets into a Swiss account. We've got nothing." Pouring himself a drink Nat waved at the screen displaying their current mark.

"What about his black book?" Everyone looked confused.

"His what?" Hardison voiced for everyone.

"His black book- it's a journal. He would have filled it with all the important information and dates of his business transactions, as well as the money trails he's left so he knows where he needs to throw the dirt to cover himself." Stepping around to the computer he pulled up a picture of the mark holding a book of some kind.

"Bates is too organized to not keep some sort of record of his transactions. It'll all be in his black book."

"But how do we get it?" Sophie asked, intrigued.

"Yeah, he's always surrounded by his goons." Parker chipped in.

"Highly trained, ex-Russian Naval Infantry. Eliot said it'd be suicide to try to get through them. Their motto is: 'There, where we go, there is victory'. Frighteningly efficient and dangerous." Hardison supplied.

"Then we just need to find a way around them. Any ideas?" Everyone shifted uncomfortably, again Hardison answered for them all.

"We need to find Eliot."

LEVERAGESHERLOCKLEVERAGESHERLOCK

John was busy: his patient had yet to wake up and his flatmate kept prying for answers.

"Sherlock! For the last time! You are not taking a sample of his blood! I already gave you the bullet to play with, if you're bored then go hit corpses at Barts. But you are not coming near my patient!"

"But Jooohhhn! He's just laying there! At least make him do something interesting!"

"No! Stay. Away. From my. Patient!" He bit out, and the tall brunette stalked off.

John had told him that the man was a friend of his from his army days and had refused to say anything more about him, it was really irritating the curious detective.

Returning to his patient John was pleased to see the man had finally awoken.

"Spat with the Misses?" The man joked. John answered with a grin- he at least knew Eliot was only joking, unlike most everyone else that insinuated such things.

"The worst. How are you feeling?" He began taking the man's vitals as he waited for a response.

"No worse than the last time you patched me up. How's the shoulder? Does it still bug you? Sorry I didn't visit you afterwards..."

"My shoulder's fine- thank you for saving my life by the way- and I understand why you never visited, I never actually expected you to. You had to get out before you were caught smuggling those people across the border. They did make it, didn't they?"

"Yeah, all safe and sound and living new lives." Stretching, he winced as his stitches pulled and his joints cracked from disuse.

"How long was I out?"

"A day, I set your phone and earpiece on the nightstand if you need to contact anyone."

"Thanks man." Patting his friend on the shoulder John stood up to give him privacy to make his calls.

"I'll be downstairs, call if you need anything; and I'll bring up some tea and biscuits in a few. We need to build your strength back up." Heading to the door he turned around once more.

"And don't go making plans to leave yet. You're staying until I deem you fit enough to take care of yourself." Giving a final smile to his patient John left.

Picking up his phone Eliot scrolled through the contacts list until he found the number he wanted. The phone barely rang before it was picked up.

"Eliot! Where are you man? Are you okay? Your GPS is blocked, and I can't get your comms to come up. Wherever you're at must have some tight security surrounding it."

"Hardison! Shut it man, I'm fine. I got patched up by a friend and am staying with him until he says I can go. Now... where are you on the mark?"

"No where, man. The guy's about to bug-out and has already destroyed almost everything. We got nothing. What we need is this journal thing he keeps with him, but we also need you so we can get close enough to grab it."

"Get close to him?! Didn't I tell you about how suicidal that would be?!"

"Yeah, but..."

"No buts- they are the Russian Marines! I'm too injured to fight, and only a few other men in the world can go toe-to-toe with them!"

"So lets find one of those guys. Do you know any? Are there any in London?" Just then a short, blonde doctor in a horrible jumper- what a stupid name for a sweater, he thought- walked in with a tray of tea and finger foods.

"Oh, sorry. I'll just..." John apologized as he began to leave again, he stopped as Eliot called to him.

"Wait. Hardison, I'll call you back." Hanging up on stuttering questions from a confused and excited hacker, he turned to face the man who had just walked in.

"John? I hate to ask man, but could you do me a big- BIG- favor?"