A/N: This is a snippet of behind-the-scene: 201. Hope you enjoy reading the story. Your reviews are very much appreciated. Thanks. This is loosely related to "An Idea". All the characters are fictional.
"What happened?"
"There was a shooting accident at Irene Addler's residence. One American died, and two Americans were wounded. Ms. Addler's whereabouts is unknown. Her assistant is being investigated, yet she doesn't know anything but a prick on her neck."
Mycroft's brows furrowed.
"What happened to my brother?"
"He's been drugged and moved to his flat by John Watson and DI Lestrade. John Watson apparently called the DI for help."
"What drug?"
Mycroft's voice rose in the panic that Sherlock was exposed to recreational drugs. It had been only three or four years that his brother stayed off the drugs. Sherlock was still a recovering addict.
"The lab is processing the syringe now, yet it is safe to assume that it was Ketamine. John Watson agreed."
Ketamine might cause difficulty speaking, wobbly movements and confusion, but Sherlock would recover all right. With all the cases from DI Lestrade would keep his brother from using the drugs again. That was the only reason that Mycroft had approved Sherlock's being a consulting detective. Mycroft asked in a calm and low voice, which made Anthea flinch. She knew Mycroft's anger was on the rise.
"Who are the Americans? Thugs? Crime organization members?"
"They are...CIA agents."
Mycroft raised his eyes, comprehending this new information.
"CIA... "
"According to John Watson, they pointed a gun at his head and threatened Sherlock to open the safe. The safe was booby-trapped, and killed an agent when Sherlock opened its door."
"Get me Mr. Johnson of CIA. Right now. And stop the ongoing investigation of shooting right now."
Mycroft pressed his temples with his thumbs, inhaled deeply to control his temper, and waited for the call.
Lestrade sent a video footage of Sherlock in the police car to Mycroft's mobile. The video was short, less than 2 minute-long. Sherlock seemed to be fine, though he kept babbling about the woman, the dominatrix, and Moriarty. His face was bruised, bleedy, and swollen. It didn't help Mycroft to calm himself down although he could assume it was John who did it. Possibly an excuse to enter Addler home.
Mycroft felt his anger escalate again. At the center of London… three Britons…and American agents threaten to kill them? This could develop into a diplomatic nightmare. And what if something had gone wrong and either John or Sherlock had been killed? Just to imagine the scene was a spine-chiller.
Mycroft made a few calls to Mr. Johnson, and his bosses. Meanwhile, he sent a text to Lestrade and requested the video clip to be deleted immediately.
Mycroft Holmes was standing outside the door of 221B at 7:15 next morning. He tossed and turned overnight, blaming himself for sending his little brother to a danger.
Irene Addler's camera phone. It had looked like a simple and obvious matter when Miss Addler had informed the existence of photos. Although she did declare she had no intention of using the photos to demand money or favor, there was an ample possibility that the photos could be used for a black mailing or fallen into a wrong hand. Sherlock was trustable, much more reliable than his own secret service agents. As far as he could deduce, his brother succeeded to locate the phone and take it away from the woman for a few minutes before he was drugged. Mycroft hadn't foreseen that there would be other intelligence agencies that were after the Addler's phone. And Miss. Addler, the bold, clever, and dangerous woman! Sherlock couldn't have known about the recreational drugs and kinky things that sex workers often do.
Mr. Johnson briefed him about some "other" information of significance that Miss. Addler had: all of them were political time bombs. The two men had a stormy meeting last night. Mr. Johnson showed up late in the night and had promised Sherlock's safety(and John's) in return for Mycroft's cooperation in the retrieval of the camera phone- a mutual interest to both countries, the CIA bloke had said. Mycroft ordered a thorough inspection of the secret service and MOD staff just in case. He hoped that there would be no secrecy breach, hoping that there would be no secret service agent or MOD official who used the woman's service.
There was an ample possibility that terrorists might try another September 11 tragedy, using airplanes. The Coventry project had to succeed; the British and American secret services had to coordinate fully; and Mrs. Johnson and Mycroft agreed to put aside the grudges.
"Good morning, Mrs. Hudson. How have you been?"
Mrs. Hudson glared at the older Holmes when she opened the door and let him in. She pretended not to hear his greeting and disappeared into her flat. Sherlock had just woken up and was still in the toilet. John was making tea when he walked upstairs.
"Tea?"
John asked and poured tea into two cups. Mycroft asked tentatively about Sherlock's condition while taking a sip of the tea.
"Well, a lot of babbling, disorientation and confusion... He kept asking about the woman. But he was asleep when I checked on him. So he'll be fine."
Sherlock walked out of the toilet after spending unusually longer time. His face shined except the bruise on his left cheek.
"Going somewhere? You shine like a..."
"Mycroft."
Sherlock cut in John's words. Sherlock seemed to be rather in good mood: he nodded and sat on his chair. A normal Sherlock would already look very defiant after the fiasco at Miss. Addler's. Mycroft wondered why while John's nervous eyes fleeted between the brothers.
A nice distraction. Mrs. Hudson brought up a tray of boiled eggs, salad, and bread. While she poured coffee and set the dishes on the table, she didn't ask if Mycroft would like to join. Mycroft noticed she was rather hostile to him this morning: her foul mood was obvious in the clattering of the dishes.
The previous night, 221B
"What happened?, John? He's unconscious."
"Nothing, Mrs. Hudson. Don't worry. Just one of his cases."
John and Greg Lestrade supported the detective to his bedroom. Mrs. Hudson followed and stared at Sherlock's face in alarm. Even in the dim light, Sherlock's face was obviously swollen.
"Why is his face bleeding and swelling?"
Her harsh tone made John flinch. The doctor turned red and stuttered,
"You know it's Sherlock..."
"John, he was taken to somewhere this morning and a few hours later. Now he's here, unconscious and hurt. What the hell did happen?"
"Uh, Mycroft assigned Sherlock with a task...and...there were armed..."
Mrs. Hudson's eyes flashed in anger. John swallowed hard, and mumbled out a good night when the landlady declared that she would bring up breakfast for her boys the following morning. They walked downstairs to see Lestrade off. The door closed, and John appreciated her offer and ran upstairs.
Mycroft wasn't sure what he had to ask first. About the phone, the woman, or the CIA agents. Well, it seemed that Sherlock was able to read what was on his mind. The detective said rather brusquely that the woman had no intention of scandalize the royal family.
"The photos are perfectly safe."
Mycroft appreciated the gesture secretly, but still was disappointed that they didn't get the camera phone. Sherlock could have done it better. If only his brother hadn't been such a show-off at the palace... Mycroft blurted out,
"In the hands of a fugitive sex worker."
The clattering in the kitchen stopped abruptly, and the landlady marched to the table with a coffee pot in her hand. Pouring more coffee to John's mug, she chided,
"Family is all we have in the end Mycroft Holmes!"
For one tenth of a second, Mycroft felt so ashamed. She had just hit the nail's head. What kind of brother he was. He had sent Sherlock to a mortal danger. He felt Sherlock eyes on his face. Before he could stop himself, words already came out of his mouth.
"Oh shut up Mrs. Hudson!"
Instantly Mycroft was horrified at himself. Where did his manner go? Up to now he had barely exposed his emotions to others except his brother. He was the social propriety itself. Even without the glares from Sherlock and John, he was utterly speechless, regretting what he had just said. He looked down at the floor, not knowing what to say.
"Mycroft!"
He knew he had to apologize. "Apologies."
Embarrassed, Mycroft was thinking about leaving the place when Sherlock hastily told his landlady.
"Though in fact, do shut up."
Mycroft relaxed a bit. Sherlock wasn't blaming him for anything that had happened at Miss. Addler's. The detective knew Mycroft would be the last person to send him to a mortal danger. It was true that the brotherly relationship had been rather prickly; Christmas dinners often ended up with childish feuds; but they cared for each other. Sherlock might not always appreciate his constant concerns but at least acknowledged Mycroft was well-intended.
Mrs. Hudson might have said a few words more, but Sherlock's mobile moaned to everybody's surprise. A good distraction it was! He could see Sherlock trying to put on a nonchalant face. It was so Addler-like. Mycroft knew it was the dominatrix. Was she marking her victory the previous night by personalizing the text alert noise of his brother's mobile? She still had the camera phone.
Mycroft answered the incoming call outside the sitting room. An MOD staff was a regular of Irene Addler. Chris Stuart had just admitted that the dominatrix had taken a picture of an e-mail on the allocation of the Bond Air seats. The message was just one line, and there would be no one to crack it unless it was either of the Holmes brothers.
Miss. Addler's camera phone had much more secrets than Mycroft had expected. Actually the embarrassing photos were the least of his concerns. Secret agents from a few countries like the U.S., Russia, Germany...were after the camera phone. Sherlock shouldn't be involved anymore. Most of all the Coventry project was at stake.
Mycroft walked back and told his brother to get his hands off the case. A normal Sherlock wouldn't listen, but his voice tone made the younger brother realize the significance of the matter. Sherlock shrugged it off in compliance, and started to play the violin behind Mycroft's back when the older brother left the flat.