A/N: I probably won't update regularly. But I will continue trying my best to do it as soon as I have the time.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Sherlock. If I did, Johnlock would be canon by now.
Chapter 2: The First Incident
"Sherlock, she can't just…stay here." Lestrade reasoned as Sherlock started playing his violin again and Mrs. Hudson gleefully brought Alice into the kitchen with her to give the girl a cup of tea.
"Why? Does she have any other immediate plans that would cause her staying here to become inconvenient?" Sherlock questioned rhetorically, knowing they had nothing on her family's wherebouts, "Besides, Sally doesn't have room in her bed outside of Anderson's clumsy attempts at an affair."
"You and John are two grown men Sherlock. Even you have to admit that it's not very appropriate living conditions for a teenage girl."
"I'm saying that if you want this case to be closed before your culprit is shipped away on the next flight to the Cuban peninsula, you will allow me to question the witness—despite her age—as I would any other." Sherlock protested.
"No Sherlock. For a moment think about it from a normal person's point of view—"
"Oh I'd perish the thought of diluting myself to your level Lestrade."
Gregory Lestrade sighed and slumped against the wall in exhaustion. He hated trying to explain cultural ethics to a man as abnormal as Sherlock Holmes. He considered calling Mycroft—despite how much he despised the elder Holmes as much as he could barely stand the younger. Perhaps John was finished at the A&E—
The DI sat up suddenly, a spark of understanding and genius in his eyes as he physically stood straighter. Sherlock continued to play a series of semiquavers and sixteenths. Lestrade cleared his throat, but the man with the violin didn't acknowledge that the DI had done anything at all.
"Okay then…what would John say?" Lestrade glared pointedly.
Sherlock's composition ended abruptly with a high pitched squeak of the bow ripping against the strings, and Lestrade knew he'd used the key word. The DI continued speaking while he had Sherlock in his grasp.
"He deserves to have a say in this. He's your flat mate after all. Do you really think he would agree to something like this?"
"He knows my methods." Sherlock stated, setting down his violin with an indignant scowl on his face.
"Maybe, but do you know his ethics? Would they coincide with this?" Lestrade pressed on.
"Don't try to play a saint Lestrade. It hardly suits you." Sherlock snorted as he picked up his phone, "Now then, I assume you've already got into contact with the families of the victims. I want to be there when you bring the assumed suspects in for questioning since you didn't think it necessary for me to test their reactions for any signs of suspicion."
"That's police business Sherlock. You can't be there during questioning." Lestrade protested further.
"Lestrade, you've already butchered this case enough as it is. Don't try and embarrass yourself and those idiots you call a staff any further." Sherlock ignored the DI's attempts at reasoning.
"Oh Sherlock, stop that nonsense. It's not decent." Mrs. Hudson huffed as she came back in with Alice at her side.
The young girl who had started the whole commotion simply blinked uncaringly as she munched on a small cookie that Mrs. Hudson had given her. She seemed rather content and innocent in her mannerisms. DI Lestrade looked in her eyes for any signs of discomfort, irritation, or anything that would make her seem more like a child. He got chills up his spine from the feeling of intrusion and simply bizarre from the girl.
"Do shut up Mrs. Hudson."
Suddenly everything went black and all Sherlock could remember were the brown eyes suddenly changing into golden irises of the little girl beside his landlady, looking completely calm as she let her small cookie drop to the floor like a drop of rainwater on a stormy night; unnoticed and among millions.
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"Sherlock? Sherlock can you hear me?"
Sherlock groaned as he heard a voice in the midst of the sea of darkness. He was unconscious, that much was obvious. He had to get up…recognize the voice.
"He was just standing there one second and then out on the floor the next." A scratchier voice sounded.
"Doctor Watson, the clinic called. They were wondering if you had planned on coming in at all today?" This was a newer voice.
"Oh sorry. Tell Hannigan to take over for me. I need to…well, he's a special case."
Doctor Watson…John. That was John; his flat mate and friend. The light in the distance started to get brighter and he heard beeping. How annoying, and what was that tugging sensation on his elbows.
"John…get these needles out of me. I'm fine." Sherlock croaked as he found himself in a hospital room at St. Bartholomew's.
"Sherlock, you passed out. I don't think that qualifies as fine." John sighed in relief, "And what's this about a child staying at the flat?"
Lestrade stood off in the corner and looked away from Sherlock's accusing glare at the end of John's question. The nurse that he'd heard nodded at John and then left to go do whatever it was she was supposed to be doing. Sherlock scoffed and tugged out the IV needles and pulling off the stickers on his chest that kept track of his heart beat. He tried to get off the bed but John pushed him back down.
"You can't seriously think I would let you leave before I know what's going on." John speculated.
"I'm not sick. It was that girl." Sherlock protested and pushed John away to grab the clothes he saw in the corner opposite to Lestrade, "She did something to me."
"What?" Lestrade raised an eyebrow, "Sherlock I was standing right there when it happened. She didn't even touch you."
"Her eyes. I know what I saw. John, do what you must to get us out of this place as quickly as possible. We've wasted enough time as it is." The consulting detective frowned, his face scrunched up, "Lestrade. Is the girl still at the flat?"
"Mrs. Hudson offered to have Alice stay with her for the time being." The DI stated, "You can't seriously be thinking—"
"Sherlock, what did you see?" John asked a bit warily, cutting Lestrade off, as Sherlock moved towards the door in a rush.
The younger Holmes turned his icy grey eyes on John and shook him by the shoulders, "Her eyes John! They changed. That's the last thing I remember, and unless our lovely landlady happened to drug me, that child had something to do with this."
As he tried to leave again John caught his shoulder and looked at him with concern, "Sherlock…that doesn't make sense."
"I know what I saw…" Sherlock scoffed, "And unlike before, this time I am left without any speculation. I don't doubt myself this time. Everything else in the room was exactly the same."
John sighed, "Fine. Then what do you want to do about this?"
"I do believe I need to have a chat with our guest."
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"I see. Seems Baskerville is in need of some…improvements."
Mycroft Holmes was calm as he stared jadedly at the empty room before him. It was a pure white room, empty except for a cot bolted to the floor, the door to the lab, and the glass from the broken observation window that should've set off an alarm. Next to the window was a metal plaque that read: E1235Project Alice: Arrows Laden In Centric Elevations.
Mycroft sighed and turned towards the man in charge of security, Major Barrymore.
"I won't stand for this! I'll bet it was one of you black and white men who planned this. All of you, and that man a few months ago too with that petty excuse for a military man, coming in unannounced…" The Major growled.
"Major, as your superior I humbly suggest that you shut up. You are already facing suspension if not a complete transfer at this point. Now then…care to explain why the government's most valuable weapon has managed to be stolen under your guard?" Mycroft's smile was anything but kind and the air was rancid with rage.
The elder Holmes brother's hands twisted around his umbrella. The eerie silence lasted for a few moments before it was broken by a high chirping of Mycroft's rarely ringing cell phone. He raised his eyebrows and Anthea looked up from her phone with mild surprise as he pulled it out and warily answered it.
"Hello?"
"Hello Mr. Iceman. Missing something?" The voice seemed to grin on the other end.
Mycroft visibly straightened and quickly composed himself, "Moriarty I presume?"
"Introductions are so dull nowadays, wouldn't you agree?" The man on the other end chuckled, "Don't bother with a trace on this phone Mycroft. I'll be long gone by then. You see, I have some catching up to do with a friend of mine…a rather young friend of mine."
"I'd hate to have to break up that engagement. However…is it really a friendship if it is between a man and her captor?" Mycroft sneered.
"It's more of the knight in shining armor coming down to rescue the pretty princess from the evil dragon." Moriarty stated, as if telling a bedtime story, "Though in this case, a princess with a rather…inhuman trait. Your little brother has seen some of her work already. I'm sure you'll be watching. Take care Mycroft Holmes, or rather, good luck."
With those last two defining words, the call ended and Mycroft turned to Anthea, "Prepare the jet for London. It seems my little brother has gotten himself into rather dangerous trouble once again."