Author's note: Thanks to carbonone and an unnamed guest for the reviews. It's great to know I seem to be on the right track. You both asked for quick updates, which is why I've been posting daily so far. It won't last, though, because there is still work to be done on the later chapters. But you should be able to expect about new 4 chapters per week.

A big shoutout also to my proofreader Lizzieanne who helped me get rid of all the pesky Americanisms. There shouldn't be any more from now on.

Chapter 2

"Would you care for anything else, gentlemen?" the air hostess asked as she cleared away their plates.

"No, thank you, not at the moment," John said, leaning back in his seat and wishing she would go away so he could loosen his belt. "I must say, diplomats sure know how to travel," he remarked in Sherlock's direction. They were the only passengers on a plane that looked more like a club than an aircraft with its overstuffed chairs and dining area. "Must be a whopping cover story for flying to Karachi that allows us to travel in such luxury."

"Strategic and highly sensitive papers going missing without a trace from a locked safe at the British High Commission," Sherlock said. He had barely touched any of the long procession of delicacies that had been put before them, and had been extremely taciturn since take-off.

"Oh? And I assume you will have to admit defeat after an appropriately long stay to finish our real business," John assumed.

"On the contrary, as usual I will solve the crime and the culprit will face justice."

"But... it this is just a cover story, how can there be a culprit?" Watson exclaimed.

"The good old carrot approach. One of the local aides has a terminal liver condition. He has agreed to spend the couple of months he has left in the comfort of a British cell, in return for a handsome settlement for his wife and scholarships at prestigious universities for his two daughters."

Watson shook his head. "Mycroft thinks of everything, doesn't he?"

"No, he doesn't. I still have to figure out how this man was able to get a combination that changes every eight hours and is only known to two men at the High Commission. But that will come to me once I have examined the location." Sherlock cast a glance at the pages that were lying on the table next to John's place setting. "Have you familiarized yourself with your new persona?"

"Oh yes, I've had plenty of time to read since the dinner conversation was far from stimulating." Of course John knew that his friend had a lot on his mind dealing with the unexpected reappearance of his sibling he couldn't help this jibe. And as usual for Sherlock it was water off a duck's back, so Watson continued, "It appears your brother was a bit of a prankster back when he supposedly knew me. Some of the stunts we pulled were highly entertaining."

Sherlock smiled fondly. "He sure was mischievous. Loved to play the antagonists in the school plays. Was pretty talented, too. Who could have guessed that he'd use this gift one day to become an undercover operative." He took a sip of water from an exquisitely cut cristal glass. They had both declined the wine that had been offered to them with their meal. "You will have to be very careful what you say when you meet with Sherrinford. We have to assume that his every move and word will be closely monitored."

"I figured as much. So what is this massive coup Mycroft mentioned?" John asked.

"I don't know. It is some kind of attack, but we have not been told the details yet." When he saw John's surprised expression Sherlock elaborated, "Sherrinford said he's not yet privy to all the information, but that he will be able to get it before his extraction."

There was something in Sherlock's voice that had John take notice. "Isn't that a little... unusual to act on so little intel?"

"It is." Sherlock rose from his chair and started to pace up and down the cabin. "I can't help but wonder if I wouldn't be more suspicious if this wasn't my own brother. And whether I'm the best person to oversee this mission. Sherrinford has been undercover with this group for over three years, much longer than most agents would be. We definitely have to take into account the possibility that he has developed sympathies for their cause. Which I would pray to God if I believed in him will not be the case."

He stopped behind Watson's chair, and after a moment's hesitation he put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "You will have to be my eyes and ears during your encounters with him. Everything he says, every expression, any interaction with other people may hold a clue as to his real motives. I need to know them all."

John nodded. "I'll do my best. But I'm sure everything will work out."

"Without a doubt," Sherlock agreed. "Things always do that, one way or the other."

"That's not what I meant, I..."

"I know what you meant, and I thank you for your kindness," Holmes interrupted him. "And now I would suggest that we use the rest of the flight for some much needed sleep. It will be late morning when we arrive in a few hours, and there are busy days ahead."

Their VIP treatment continued with a minimum of fuss at immigration, a limousine that was waiting to drive them to the High Commission in style and comfort, as well as lavish guest quarters that were expecting them there. Most of the day was spent examining the office and the safe and interviewing staff members. Watson had a hard time fighting his impatience. After everything he'd been told about the elusive third Holmes brother he couldn't wait to make his acquaintance.

Around 5 p.m. Sherlock told the ambassador that he would now retire to peruse the data they had collected, and asked for a light supper to be sent to his room. Watson announced that he would rather take a stroll through the surrounding quarter and was furnished with a map, a local mobile phone and a pass that would provide him re-entry into the embassy.

When John stepped outside the sun was just setting, but there was no chill in the air, the winters in Karachi being a lot more temperate than in England. John made a show of studying the map, although he had memorized the route to the rendezvous point. This turned out to be a watering hole that was frequented by both rough-looking individuals and local businessmen. As instructed, he sat down at the bar and ordered a pint.

He noticed Sherrinford the moment he stepped into the place. Although he was dressed in a casual outfit of nondescript khakis there was a presence to him that made you sit up and take notice. John followed his progress through the crowd out of the corner of an eye as he sipped his beer. It wasn't hard to do since Sherrinford was of similar build as his younger brother, tall and lean. Watson saw the agent greet and exchange a few words with some of the customers, flashing his bright smile occasionally, before he finally came to lean next to John at the bar where he ordered something in the local language.

John let his eyes wander in the direction of the new arrival by his side, feigning first nonchalance, then puzzlement and finally recognition.

"By Jove - Sherrinford! Is it really you, old chap?"

The man next to him turned his head, and John almost flinched under the intensity of his gaze. Those clear blue eyes over sharp cheekbones seemed to be staring right at his soul.

"I'm sorry, you must have mistaken me for somebody else," he said in a mellow baritone, his diction clearly showing his upper crust upbringing.

"Oh come on, don't be that way. I would know you everywhere. What are you doing here? Is it some sort of..." John cast a look over his shoulder and lowered his voice to a whisper, "... secret mission? I heard you had disappeared, and now here you are in this godforsaken place."

"No, seriously, my name is Jonathan Willow and I assure you we have never met before. And I really have to go now, if you will excuse me."

He pushed past Watson who pretended to try and hold him back, but let go when he felt the other man's hand slide into his jacket pocket. He looked after the retreating form, shaking his head in pretend puzzlement.

It greatly taxed John's patience to finish his beer in a leisurely manner. Whatever Sherrinford had slipped him seemed to be burning a hole into his pocket. His urge to leave this establishment wasn't helped by the fact that he felt the uncomfortable prickling at the back of his neck that comes from being watched. When Watson finally left he took a detour along the shore on his way back pretending to look at some sights and only pulled the piece of paper from his pocket when he had returned to Sherlock's room.

"Here you go," he said proudly to the detective, "Phase one completed." But when he realized what he was holding in his hand John's face fell. "What on earth?" Although he was unable to decipher the print, the numbers and their sum at the bottom made it quite clear that the paper was a receipt from some shop.

Author's note: I would be ever so grateful if you could take the time to let me know what you think.