Chapter Seven
Eight Months Post-Reichenbach
Mycroft scowled darkly as he stared at the screen in front of him.
It had taken him three long, long months to finally find John Watson and Molly Hooper but he'd finally done it. The two were currently trapped in Serbia, having been captured during one of their raids on Moriarty's compounds.
Goldfish.
Sherlock would've been better at this, but he would've killed his baby brother if he'd done what John Watson had.
"Anthea."
His beautiful assistant looked up from her blackberry with a raised eyebrow and he smirked darkly.
"Prepare a plane. We're going to Serbia."
She blinked. "Sir?"
His smirk widened. "I think it's time the goldfish returned to my dear brother."
She smiled, eyes flashing with malicious intent and if he hadn't had similar thoughts, he probably would've pitied John Watson. As it were, the man had hurt his brother and there was no forgiveness for that, regardless the reason.
"Of course, sir."
Sherlock had no idea what he was going to do.
Since the discovery of John's betrayal, he'd found himself drifting from day to day, his black moods becoming more frequent than he'd like to admit. The only lights in his life were his unborn child and his beautiful baby Hamish, who seemed to look more like his father each passing day.
Said child shifted in his arms, babbling softly and he smiled, nuzzling him gently.
"Mama."
He frowned.
Damn Sherrinford for teaching him that. Now, he couldn't get the toddler to stop calling him that and while he had borne both of his children he refused to be called mother. Or at least he had.
Damn Sherri.
"Papa, Little One. Papa." He implored and his son blinked up at him cutely,
"Mama."
He gave a reluctant smile, knowing the child wouldn't change his mind.
"I wish your father could see this." He murmured softly. "I know he's alive but…it still feels like he's dead."
"We didn't mean to hurt you."
Sherlock stiffened at Mrs. Hudson's voice, his heart clenching painfully in his chest.
John's betrayal had hurt, but hers…hers was far worse. She'd always been at his side, even when he's been high off his ass and ready to silence his mind permanently. She'd been there for the lowest points in his life, points that no one else, not John, not Mycroft, no one knew of. He'd met her during college after ensuring her husband's execution on a school trip, and they had remained in contact.
He never expected something like this from her, and it hurt him to know that he probably should have.
A hesitant hand landed on his shoulder, its strength belying the age of it owner, but he refused to turn.
"We wanted to protect you, Lockie. He was after you."
"I know! Damnit, Martha, I know! I've known he was after me for years! Long before John came into the picture, and I would've been fine because that is his game!" He yelled and Hamish whimpered.
He forced himself to calm down, shushing the babe, as he did so.
"You hated me. You were thankful when I ensured Jason's execution, but you loved him even after everything he'd done. You hated that I'd led your husband to his death, but you're asking me to forgive you for allowing my husband to chase his."
She frowned at him. "John isn't stupid."
"No, but neither is Moriarty. To him, John is expendable, he's in the way. Do you honestly think he'd care if John dies or not? He won't."
"And you're a better alternative. Sherlock, you're pregnant!"
"And alone. Because my husband doesn't trust me with my own safety let alone our children's." He gave a self-deprecating smile.
"I'm used to it." He turned to her, and her heart stilled in her chest as she saw his eyes.
They were dull, duller than she'd ever seen them, the barest twinkle lighting them for Hamish.
A sudden gasp left him, one hand flying to his protruding abdomen while the other tightened around his son. She quickly removed the child from his grasp, fretting over her surrogate son.
"Sherlock?"
"She's coming."
"She?"
"Martha!"
She flushed embarrassed. "Right, right. I'll get Sherri. Deep breathes, love."
He snarled wordlessly at her, fighting not to bare his teeth in fear of frightening his son, and she fled the room, Hamish in tow, crying out for Sherrinford all the while.
Sherlock grimaced and focused on calming his breathing, ignoring the steady pain in his heart that wished John was here to see this moment.
He would get his husband back, hopefully alive, and he would make him pay for agony he'd put him through.
He'd make him pay for every moment he spent mourning that their children would never know their father…
He'd make him pay for everything.
Then, after all of the groveling and revenge was done, he would make sure the man never left his sight again.
He was so tired.
He hadn't slept in days, and he could bet that their captives hadn't allowed Molly to sleep either. They had been lucky enough to get capture by a cell of Moriarty's network with an abhorrence against hurting women, something he considered as a god send, even if he hadn't been extended the same courtesy. Still, their dislike for violence against women hadn't spared the pathologist from the sleep deprivation and starvation their captor's forced upon them. She was chained beside him, her arms chained in front of her and her long red hair matted with dirt.
It had been like this for what seemed like years, although realistically it had only been weeks, and he could feel himself teetering on the edge of a breakdown. One of their captives barked out an angry word as his eyes fell shut and he hissed when his head was jerked back, the sharp pain heightening his awareness.
Molly whimpered.
He glanced at her, yearning to comfort her but he had no idea what to say. They had been trained on what to do if captured by the enemy in the RAMC but he'd never actually been kidnapped by anyone other than Mycroft and that night at the pool with Moriarty.
He was as new to this as she was.
A door slamming dragged him from his thoughts and he glanced around, noting in alarm that all of their captors had left, barring one. The remaining man sat at a table not far from them, his cold dark eyes familiar in their scrutiny.
"I believe we need to talk, John." Drawled a familiar voice and John blinked incredulously when his brother-in-law stood and easily unlocked his and Molly's chains. He'd known there was something off about the guard when he'd appeared on the roster only the day before but he'd never expected it to be Mycroft undercover. At the very least, he had expected Sherlock.
"Well," Mycroft snapped irritably. "Let's go, preferably before they come back.
John nodded and the trio took off down the corridor, Mycroft muttering irritably about goldfish the entire time they ran. Distantly, he heard their captors yelling after them but he ignored it, his heart pounding violently in his chest as he tried to focus on the fact that soon he would be back in London and more importantly, he would be reunited with Sherlock.
TBC…
