~Thank you to those who have continued reading. Here is my attempt at writing deductions and proof of why I cannot be a consulting detective.~

~DISCLAIMER: I THINK BY NOW YOU UNDERSTAND WE DON'T OWN THESE CHARACTERS AND PLACES, ETC. THAT WE WRITE ABOUT YEAH HERE'S THE CHAPTER~

Sherlock Holmes was deep inside his mind, relying on his memory to find some clue about today's events. The first step going backwards in time. Starting from when he lost consciousness.

Darkness. His eyes opened, as slowly as they had closed. Light. Too much to see anything. But then the light was began to shrink away. Smaller. Smaller. It was retracting into... "What was it?" Sherlock hissed, squeezing his already shut eyes even tighter. Then he tried to relax. Perhaps a calmer mind would work better.

The light. It goes back in. Back in where? What was it? All of the white light was gone now, all back into the object, and in that split second of his memory, Sherlock could see that the weapon was made out of wood. Just short of a foot. Eleven, no ten, inches. He'd successfully frozen the scene in his mind and now carefully looked at it. Draco Malfoy was gripping the object at the end, holding the point out at Sherlock and John. Right-handed. Sherlock moved through his memory, backwards by only a second. In that time, Draco's hand moved from outstretched, to his pocket. It came from his right pocket, too. He drew it smoothly. Keeps this weapon on his person all the time, Sherlock thought. Therefore he uses it regularly. Daily.

"The light. It came out of a..." Sherlock waved one hand. "Stick of some sort. Some weapon." Why would he carry a weapon around? If he was invited, he hardly needed to worry about safety. Why would security let him by? He's a visitor carrying a weapon. High enough class to be able to carry weapons? No such thing.

John leaned forward. "So... something electrical. I mean, it must of shot some form of, I don't know... electricity out."

"No..." Sherlock murmured. "That would require it to be a taser. I did not feel any shocks, nor would a taser be able to cast so much light." Perhaps I saw wrong. No - it was correct. Light. Coming from a... stick? Wood. A piece of wood could pass security. But how would it produce light? Some fire inside? Too thin...

"I don't know. Maybe he had a flashlight attached."

The detective's face turned into something of a grimace. "Ah yes, a flashlight. Perfect killing machine." No, no, no, it's all wrong. How could light make us unconscious? It can't. Make two men go unconscious? Impossible.

"But he wasn't aiming to kill us."

Sherlock blinked, considering it. "No, he wasn't. Only... stun. He and Mycroft knew each other, and I still have some faith in my brother not to kill me on sight. They seem to have some form of agreement, some understanding between them. They even have something of a code system." I must have seen it wrong then. Drug? Didn't eat at Baskerville today though. Through the air? Aerosol. The truck perhaps. John would also be affected. Not Mycroft though. Interesting form of hallucinations though. Yet, Mr. Malfoy didn't seem intent on attacking until after -

"The 'helping'."

"Yes. There was much more that was implied aside from those two syllables. Helping with what? Highly confidential, no doubt. Mycroft has obviously been very busy recently. Perhaps the identity of this Draco Malfoy could help us." Sherlock was talking very fast now. "Mr. Malfoy was well dressed. His staff had the head of a snake - pure silver. Emeralds for the eyes and along the shaft. He's not old, though - doesn't need the staff. Enjoys luxury, then. Can afford it, too. Businessman? Perhaps. Showy enough. But he's working with the British Government, Mycroft specifically. They, no Mycroft, wouldn't do something with any businessman, no matter how powerful. Who would Mycroft be talking with? Has to be a government job then. Foreign country? Probably not - accent was British, he likely lives in or close to London. But why would a member of the British Government be meeting with his co-worker in a place like Baskerville? We're in Wales, not England. Strange to be conducting intragovernmental meetings in a place so far from home, isn't it?"

"Something could have happened here. Baskerville. Secret government project gone awry. Why not have a meeting here then?"

Sherlock breathed in heavily. "Yes, definitely something big happening here. Why else would Mycroft be here? It's... that man. He's not part of the British government," Sherlock stated, and closed his eyes again. "Mycroft was frightened of this whole project, he was frightened of Draco Malfoy. If he is a specialist or some sort, which is the safest assumption here, why should Mycroft fear him? He's one of the highest rankings in the government. No, Mr. Malfoy isn't in the same line of work as Mycroft."

"He said... 'a large firm, you could say', didn't he?" John asked with a frown.

Sherlock jerked forward from his armchair, staring intently at the fire. John wrinkled his nose a bit, but he was more or less used to this behavior now. "'You could say'. He is definitely not a businessman. 'A large firm' he says, though. Terrorist group?"

"It -"

"No. Unlikely." Sherlock put his hands together like he always did when he was thinking particularly hard. "Whatever weapon he used - too powerful for any terrorist group. If there were any with that much power, an effort would've already been made to stop them."

"So - not a businessman, not part of the government, not a terrorist. That narrows it down."

"He's from some organization, though. 'Head' of something. Always implies leadership. From where though? He carries around what appears to be a weapon in a form of a stick. It shoots out white light." There was a slightly sarcastic edge to Sherlock's voice now that mixed in with the excitement. "And, he may or may not have drugged us today." Sherlock opened his eyes to see John raise his eyebrows. With a smile, he stood suddenly, grabbing his coat. "So, John, what do you say we do a little check-up on Mr. Malfoy?"

"Truck first." Sherlock paused long enough in his long strides to pull on a glove. "Oh, right. Earlier I searched his name. No matches. There is no Draco Malfoy in England."

"Pseudonym?"

"No. There is no Draco Malfoy at all. This man never existed, according to official records."

"And you just... forgot to mention this."

"Yes. There were much more pressing matters at hand. Here it is." Sherlock stopped at the truck they'd use to drive in and pulled out his magnifying glass. He opened the back door first, peering at the seats.

"Mycroft or someone could've helped cover him up? You know, if he really is some big part of a project."

Sherlock finished looking at one seat and straightened. "Very good. Still unlikely though. There was never a Draco Malfoy. No news articles, no stored caches. If Mycroft was the one that helped him 'disappear', he would not be associating himself with this Mr. Malfoy again. We sat in the back, by the way. Or slept, I suppose." Sherlock moved to the front. "Mr. Malfoy drove. Mycroft sat next to him."

"I suppose you're just waiting for me to ask, but how do you know?"

"Mr. Malfoy is shorter. Not too much, just noticeable enough - 2 inches, to be exact. Right seat is moved further forward than left seat. Mr. Malfoy drove. However..." Sherlock bent down to look at the pedals furrowed his brow. My footprint is there. No sign of Mr. Malfoy's. Strange. He peered at the steering wheel through his magnifying glass. Only one hand. Left hand. Unusual, as he holds his weapon with his right hand. Unless he was carrying his weapon while driving. Threatening Mycroft? No. Doesn't fit with any of it. No reason to threaten him. They were on a name basis already. Unlikely. He stared at the pedal just to be sure. Definitely only unique bootprint. There weren't any other marks. How...?

Dammit. Too many things. Too many loose ends. "Finding out the identity of Mr. Malfoy would help us find out about this weapon, correct?" he asked John sharply.

"Yes." It came out as if it were a question.

"No identity though. Don't even know where they're staying. The car - last place we knew they were. But -" Sherlock pointed at the seat accusingly. "He didn't drive. No marks to show he actually moved the car. In fact, nobody seems to have driven it after me."

John moved around the truck to look at it too. "How could anyone...?"

"Exactly! We don't know! We - oh." A smile began to form. "Mycroft does though, doesn't he?" The confidence started coming back into his tone. "Answer isn't to spy on Mr. Malfoy - Mycroft has already given us enough details. We need any more, we just ask him."

"And he'll spill out his secrets to us why?"

"No reason at all. But I can make him."

John looked shocked and opened his mouth but Sherlock snorted.

"Oh, please. I meant the emails. Exchanged between a certain Kingsley Shacklebolt."

"Let me guess - no records of this man either."

"Incorrect. Has been seen with the Prime Minister before." Sherlock opened his phone, pressed a few buttons, and held out the picture of a black man to John.

He appeared normal. The picture only showed him from waist up, standing behind the Prime Minister, but he was wearing a black suit and tie, seeming to blend into the background. "Guard?"

"So it appears. No longer working their though. Part of whatever 'firm' Draco Malfoy is the head of. But he is his boss. Mr. Malfoy's and his wife's."

"Wife? What?"

"A Hermione Malfoy. Partners, in every sense of the term. But Kingsley is their boss, and so is this firm part of a larger organization?"

"Wait, Hermione Malfoy? Why didn't you mention her before?"

"Same situation as her husband - no records. But... she wasn't with Mr. Malfoy at the time. Not included in the job? Of course she is. Paperwork. Definitely smart. There is more than just spoken information here. Documentation. Now, if we can get ahold of it..." Sherlock began pacing.

"How is anyone able to keep a giant organization secret?"

"Not unheard of before."

"But there must be... hundreds of employees. Maybe even a thousand. And not even the leader is known to us?"

"Shacklebolt is known," Sherlock stated simply.

"Not as the founder, or whatever he is."

Sherlock stopped. "Laptop."

"What?"

"I need your laptop. Now."

"Jesus Christ, Sherlock, it's still in our -"

"Go get it."

"Sh -"

"Please." He stresses it just enough to make him sound frustrated but not quite begging.

John returned a few minutes later, grumpier, but laden with a laptop.

"Thank you." Sherlock pulled it onto the hood of the truck and began typing with his long fingers. "Hermione... Uncommon name," he murmured.

"Are you thinking she has records under a different name?" John asked, watching from a few inches away. He thought for a moment. "Maiden name."

"Excellent thinking. Only, oh, a few hundred miles behind." Sherlock finished searching. "Hermione Jean Granger. Would be twenty-five years old now. About right. Went to school in London until eleven years of age. No records of education after that. Yet, she is now an accomplished scientist."

"Scientist?"

"Baskerville. She's doing a project with a genetic research research. So, scientist. Both the Malfoys, to some extent."

"And you said she had no education."

"No records of it. Strange case, different from her husband's and from her boss's. Lack of records are probably all because of the same reason. And now we have multiple ways to find it. Starting with Mycroft. And maybe those files he gave out..." Sherlock jumped excitedly and sat down in the driver's seat.

"So we're back to tracking down the Malfoys?"

"No!" Sherlock said incredulously, turning around to face John. "Scientist! Baskerville! Labs! Aren't you coming?"

~ I think I'm going to end it there. Bit of a long chapter. Hopefully it wasn't too boring :) Leave a review? Tell us what you liked, didn't like, suggestions? Thank you for reading! ~

~Apocalypse and Castielitea

~(Why do we sign off with those squiggles when I use those squiggles that's confusing)~