THE APPLEDORE INSTALLATION

In the bowels of a secret laboratory, an experiment is taking shape.

James Moriarty and Sebastian Moran are very close to completing what they hope will be the perfect solution to combat the volatile and unpredictable problem that the Second Generation Cyborg has become.

They do not do this out of any sense of duty towards the Earth's population. Their primary concern as always has been about looking after number one and two.

They barely escaped with their lives when their main factory was stormed by the cyborgs. They had become the prime target of their fury once they'd discovered their sterility.

But Moriarty and Moran were survivors. And the main reason why they had been able to amass fortune on top of fortune was because they always had an exit strategy in case anything went wrong.

They also had a spider's web of networks that kept a close ear for any type of information, large or small that they could use to their advantage.

This was how they learnt that Charles Augustus Magnussen, the master blackmailer had escaped the Earth. He'd fled off world on the first available spacecraft, taking with him only the information he had gathered on certain individuals (including Moriarty and Moran) that he hoped to use as leverage when he felt it was safe to return to Earth.

But by far the most important piece of information they had acquired on Magnussen was the location of his secret installation known as Appledore.

With their own factories in ruins, it was the perfect place to continue their work, while keeping themselves completely hidden from unfriendly forces.

"Who would have thought revenge could be so sweet," Moran said, barely containing his glee.

"Indeed," Moriarty agreed as he gave their latest creation the once over with a critical eye. "The dragon slayer, enslaved in his own personal hell."

"Couldn't have happened to a more deserving candidate." Moran noted with satisfaction.

Both men were standing in front of a glass box 10x2000x875mm.

Inside the box was Sherlock Holmes, or what used to be the man that was known by that name.

Now he just stood completely silent, staring unseeingly straight ahead. No expression at all on his face.

Moriarty stepped right up to the box, pressing his face against the glass. "If you still had free will Sherlock, I'm certain you would appreciate the irony of your current situation. A man who lived only for pure logic now gets that opportunity in the fullest sense of the word," he paused and turned to his companion. "But then again he was always more machine-like when he was just an ordinary alpha. Being a cybernetic being probably doesn't feel any different."

Both men burst into fits of unrestrained laughter.

Moran finally got himself under control wiping tears out of his eyes he took Moriarty's place, looking the Sherlock cyborg in the eye. "But that's why we added the extra enhancements was it not?" he said as he turned back to his partner-in-crime.

"Very specific enhancements Sherlock," Moriarty chortled happily. "The type that are set to annoy and frustrate you on so many levels."

"Of course this is all done for the betterment of humankind," Moran insisted, turning back to the motionless Sherlock. "Since your predecessors have turned out to be more trouble then they're worth, we needed a volunteer that we could test our new enhancements on."

"You were the perfect subject Sherlock," Moriarty added. "A man who refused to acknowledge or act upon his more baser urges, has now as a Third Generation Cyborg been given the ability to connect with those very raw emotions."

"A cyborg that can inseminate omegas, who as a human was never interested in the act." Moran laughed softly. "You're in for a bumpy ride."

"Just so," Moriarty agreed.

The stench of rotting bodies was everywhere. The main battle may have been over, but skirmishes continued.

It was dark and cold, and raining heavily. Molly Hooper had no idea where she was, other than somewhere in the country and near the sea.

She pulled her cardigan closer around her and checked that her shoulder bag was securely closed. The last thing she needed was for its contents to get wet.

Molly was an omega, but she used a secretly made suppressant that made her register as beta.

She had seen what had happened to other omegas at the hands of the brutish cyborgs. Many were left psychologically or physically damaged, if they were lucky.

Those that didn't survive suffered terrible injuries, usually internal, and their deaths were very slow and very painful.

The Underground Network was a rebel group that had organised itself as soon as The Moriarty Moran Corporation introduced the second-generation cyborgs. They hadn't trusted that the company would take all reasonable precautions. They feared the company was more concerned with how much money it could make.

And they had been proved right.

It was they who had created the suppressant Molly used. And they were the one's who continued to attack the cyborgs. They kept moving their bases of operations, somehow managing to keep one step ahead of the cyborgs. They were proving to be a nuisance to them, but knew they needed to do a lot more if they were going to win in the end.

Molly had managed to escape the latest outbreaks of violence, managing to slip away making her way on foot.

It certainly wasn't a safe option. A small female on her own and it didn't matter whether she was an omega or a beta; she was on her own, completely unprotected. But it was her only option, and she had become very adept at keeping off the radar, so far managing to remain undetected.

When lightening suddenly flashed in the sky she jumped in fright, losing her footing and falling backwards through a door hidden in the undergrowth.

She made her way down a series of tunnels. Progress was slow because she was in complete darkness.

After awhile Molly felt certain that she must be wandering around in circles. But as she turned a corner saw a light in the distance.

Drawn to the light like a moth to the flame, she was for once thankful of her skittish omega nature that still seeped through the suppressants effects, though muted they urged her to go cautiously.

As Molly reached what was now clearly an open door she became aware of male voices from within.

Slipping inside the room she made her way with silent steps over to where the men were talking. Making sure to always stay in the shadows.

Moriarty opened the door to the glass box and entered. He walked around Sherlock until he stood directly behind him. "Now," he all but purred. "Time to put the final touches on our little toy."

Molly couldn't see what he did, as from where he stood he blocked her view completely.

So with great daring she crept closer. When as close as she dared she crouched down behind an array of empty boxes that had been emptied of all sorts of equipment.

"A flick of the switch and hey presto, he's alive."

Molly heard the faintest 'click', as though something was being closed. Then the man, who she suddenly recognised as James Moriarty exited the box. She had to stifle a gasp when she realised that Moriarty and his partner Moran were holding a man captive in that little glass cell.

Moriarty and Moran could barely contain their glee as the cyborg blinked its eyes and turned its head slowly to take in its surroundings.

Moriarty let out an overly dramatic yawn. "Well I don't know about you," he said to the cyborg. "But I've had a very busy day and I need to get some shut eye."

Moran added with a self-satisfied smirk as both men prepared to leave. "You better get your beauty sleep Sherlock. Tomorrow the real fun and games begin."

Only when Molly was absolutely certain that the men were far away and not likely to return did she emerge from her hiding place.

Glancing down into one of the empty boxes she spotted some clothes, trousers, jacket, purple shirt, socks, shoes and a long, heavy coat.

Quickly she collected them up and made her way over to the man in the cell.

As she made her way to the front of the glass box a number of things became clear.

She knew he was naked, she'd already seen him from the back where she'd noted how slender, yet strong he appeared.

But seeing him from the front, and up close took her breath away.

He was beautiful to behold, there was simply no other way to describe him. Alabaster skin, black curly hair, cupids bow lips and eyes that changed from blue to green depending on the light.

Though slender he was nonetheless powerfully built, a nice chest with a scattering of hair, long legs built for running, beautifully formed hands and feet. As her eyes moved back up his body, she felt her cheeks flush as she noted how well endowed he was.

He was all alpha.

And then something clicked in her brain as she reviewed what Moriarty and Moran had said about their prisoner, and she let out an audible gasp.

'Of course!' The man in front of her was the world famous consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes.

Her gasp alerted him to her presence. He turned his head, his eyes locked on her, observing her intently. His gaze took in every detail of her petite form.

She felt like a rabbit, hypnotised by the bright headlights of an oncoming car.

After he had completed his all too thorough inspection, he tiled his head to the side inquiringly.

Molly worried her lower lip as she wondered if he was aware of what had been done to him.

The vulnerability in his gaze was what finally gave her the courage to unlock the door to his prison.

He immediately stepped out and Molly handed him his clothes. He looked down at them, then back at Molly. "Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome," she replied automatically.

When he didn't immediately begin to put them on, Molly said. "You need to get dressed," and she indicated the clothes he held.

"Why?'

Molly was a little taken aback by his response, but quickly realised he was probably still adapting to being cyborg.

"Because we need to get out of here," she replied.

To her immense relief he put up no further argument and proceeded to dress.

Now fully clothed Sherlock spent a moment assessing and cataloguing their surroundings.

Without warning his whole focus was fully on Molly. His pupils were enlarged as he took a deep breath. "You're an Omega."

Molly shook her head violently, clutching her bag of suppressants to her like a shield. "No. I'm a Beta."

Sherlock took another deep breath. "Definitely omega." He then leant down so that they were eye-to-eye. Molly could see the blue/green of his iris's were barely visible, and his breathing pattern was increasing. He glanced down at her bag, before returning his intense gaze to her face. "Your suppressants don't work on me little omega."

Abruptly he stepped away from her and headed towards the door she'd come through.

Molly whimpered, uncertain if it was in disappointment, or relief.

"This way my little omega." Sherlock called over his shoulder.

It was not a request.

Meekly Molly followed.