As soon as John finished work, he was already out the door and hailing a taxi to Mycroft's office. Sherlock had texted him a twenty minutes previous, as soon as he and Mycroft had come up with something good on Molly's disappearance. Sherlock had told John to meet him at the Diogenes club so that he and Sherlock could head out to get Molly.
John arrived at the all-too-familiar white building and hurried inside, straight to Mycroft's office, avoiding the diplomats' room and staying as quiet as possible to avoid another point against him. Standing at the door, he held his hand up to knock, but decided against it and simply walked inside.
Sherlock and Mycroft looked up as soon as John came inside and Mycroft acknowledged his presence, but Sherlock was the only one to rise, grabbing his long black coat from the rack by the door and herding John back outside of the room and out of the building. It wasn't until they were completely outside that Sherlock said, "I'll explain everything on the way." He hailed another taxi, muttering an address at the driver, and held the door open for John before climbing in himself.
The taxi started off and Sherlock began talking immediately. "Molly is being held captive by two American agents. I thought it was Moriarty's men…somehow…but I was wrong. She is –" He trailed off at the end of the sentence and tried to move on, but John cleared his throat.
"What was that?"
Sherlock shot a glare in John's direction. "Please, John, don't be childish. Like I was saying, she is, I suspect, being interrogated for some reason, I haven't quite worked out all of the details yet, but she performed an autopsy on a Marcus Foster, who went missing some time ago. The autopsy report was never filed and it is password-protected on her computer. My theory is that this autopsy was odd and these American agents found out that she knew what had happened and they kidnapped her to stop her from telling officials."
He looked over at John, who had on his usual expression of 'Fantastic!'
John nodded, obviously impressed. "So we are on our way to where she is?"
Sherlock nodded. "Yes, my homeless network has been out looking and they spotted two American men alternatingly entering and exiting an apartment building on the east side of town."
John didn't say another word until the taxi had pulled in front of a run-down apartment building. Sherlock got out and handed some folded bills to the driver and asked him to wait. John doubted the man would wait for much longer, but he said nothing.
He and Sherlock headed into the apartment building and up the stairs to the third floor. Here, Sherlock took the lead and walked slowly down the hallway until he came to the number 309. He softly tested the rusted door handle, looking a bit surprised when it twisted easily and the door opened. John observed Sherlock's survey of the room before he took a step inside.
Table directly ahead, small table to the right, television on the other side of the small table, two chairs facing the television, green, stained, disgusting chairs, magazines scattered all over the floor. Kitchen in the back to the right; counters are probably covered in trash and rotted food, hence some unpleasant stench coming from the kitchen area. Obvious evidence of the presence of two different men, two sizes of footprints in the dust, two different categories of magazines; one was sex-driven (images of scantily-clad women and 'sex secrets' plastered on the front), the other is more intelligent, more business driven (business magazines, new and profiting companies, etc.). Two bedrooms in the back and to the left.
John was looking through the magazines and DVDs and other items littering the sitting area. He then moved to the kitchen, covering his nose and mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. Sherlock listened and observed the living conditions, cursing Mycroft for not telling him the truth in the first place. If Mycroft hadn't tried to cover up his government's problems, Sherlock could have found Molly by now and she would have been safe at home, instead of here, in this Hell-hole.
Sherlock made his way to the back, but went to the left instead of the right, observing the two doors. One was obviously more used, the door handle was more dulled and the dust layer on the floor in front of the door was almost gone, where as the other door looked newer (well, as new as it could look in an ancient place like this) and the floor in front was not as frequently travelled. Sherlock opted to wait on trying the door handles and turned to join John, but John had already finished inspecting the kitchen and was right behind Sherlock.
Sherlock whispered, "My brother is waiting on stand-by in case things don't go according to plan."
"What does 'according to plan' entail?" John whispered back. There was a squeaking sound.
"Well, not getting caught is at the top of the list –" Sherlock was interrupted by a voice that was very much not John's.
"Too late."
The detective turned around to find the muzzle of a gun pointed directly at his forehead.
A/N: DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUN! Hahaha! And there you go. This is chapter 6 part two, but it will still be called chapter 7...because I said so. Anyways, thank you so much for all of the lovely reviews! Please feel free to leave them at any time!
All credit to Moftiss, Benedict, Martin, and Nyah86Productions
See you all next week!
