Authors Notes: I was surprised, were you surprised, I was surprised! I actually was surprised when the story veered itself in this manner. However, for me, it seems to fit, and there is more where that came from. We are nearing the end, though not there yet, and even at the end of this tale, there will be one or two unresolved issues. I look forward to writing the sequel!

Wanted: Criminal Dynasty

"Look there; did you see that?"

Holmes followed Watson's line of sight from his pointing finger and squinted slightly. There, in the distance, the two could just make out the flashing of a small beam of light. For a few moments, the light continued to flick on and off at variable rates. When Holmes looked away, he had a smirk on his face as he punched a few buttons on his wrist watch and rose from his position.

"Holmes?" Watson looked at him, confused.

"An old form of signaling called Morse Code, my good man. No doubt I've told you about it before, and now you've just seen it in action." The blonde man began to make his way towards the manor at a steady pace. Watson scrambled up after him.

The suits that had been provided for both men were certainly doing the trick of hiding them. At one point, Watson was finding it difficult to tell if Holmes was truly standing next to him in the darkening forest, or if it was simply a human shaped bush. Even though his sensors registered a human body in front of him, the droid had no problems believing that if he were human himself, he may have mistaken the man for a plant.

"Holmes, what was said to you?"

"The C.A.T. commander communicated to me that he and his team are set to storm the manor in a matter of five minutes. When such time arises, I prefer to be as close to my quarry as possible, rather than spend all my time and energy running this lose half mile towards the house." As he spoke, Holmes dodged vines, limbs, bushes, and sticks on the ground, creating an easy path for Watson behind him to follow.

In nearly no time at all, they had reached a rather comfortable and concealed spot, a perch that was very near the front entrance and was at the beginning of a clear path towards the doors. Holmes glanced at his watch; 90 seconds. He nodded at Watson and took a few deep breaths, steadying his lungs and his heart for the small amount of time he had before he, Watson, and about 20 of New Scotland Yard's elite officers would forcibly infiltrate Moriarty's stronghold.

He stole a glance at Watson. Good old Watson, who never failed or deserted him, a man who, both in his past life, and in this one, would follow him into a burning house or onto a sinking ship if asked to do so.

"My friend, if I may ask a favor?" Watson waited, nodding his head for the man to continue. "Elizabeth would remove my head from my neck if she thought I was putting her acquirement above the capture of Moriarty, and, logically speaking, she'd be right to do so. However, I cannot promise that if I find her before I find Moriarty that I will be inclined to leave her side. Therefore-"

Watson held up a hand and smiled. "Do not worry, old friend. I will keep all eyes, ears, and sensors on look out for our friendly felon. I will be most happy to apprehend him…for both your sakes." He squeezed Holmes' shoulder and the latter grasped it tightly with his own gloved hand. "Thank you, Watson." He glanced at his watch.

30 seconds.

Wanted: Criminal Dynasty

Moriarty chuckled at the still shocked look on the young woman's face. It seemed she truly had no earlier idea of her condition. Well, what a way to find out!

"I suppose it was only natural; fate, destiny, if you will that you and his paths should cross in such a manner. Why, in some ways, you follow him as though you were a lost puppy, consistently seeking his approval and praise. I suppose you found it any way that you could."

"And Holmes!" James barked out a laugh at the name of his nemesis, "The thought of Sherlock Holmes actually being a father should make any woman's stomach churn and their head spin with questions. Do you imagine for even the slightest moment that he, the greatest detective this world has ever known can be bothered with something so trivial as a bouncing baby boy or girl that he must clean up after every day and night?" He was so enjoying the look of sickness on Lestrade's face, he almost took pity on her. He did stop his antagonistic rhetoric for the moment however.

"You may just be better off staying under my care for the duration of your pregnancy. I can hardly imagine you stopping in the middle of a high speed air chase to run home for a feeding…ah yes, what an interesting pair of parents the both of you will make-"

The flash of light came through the window so quickly and with such brightness that Lestrade dropped to the ground out of instinct, habit, and training. As soon as she hit the floor, Beth knew what it was, and she immediately pinched her nose shut and closed her eyes. She had only a few seconds to get to the door, a few precious seconds that she knew Moriarty would be incapacitated. Placing her forearm in front of her face and cracking the lids of her eyes open just slightly to protect from the searing pain that she knew would cause stinging tears in a few moments, she charged to where she knew the door would be and flung it open.

The men outside (she couldn't really tell if there were two or three) luckily jumped back as the smoke and gas began to filter out into the hallway. Not smelling any of the substance out there but knowing that within moments, a familiar C.A.T. team would be storming the mansion, she barreled through the one man on her left who fell to the floor, too surprised to try to defend himself. She heard one of them yell at her to stop, but stop she absolutely did not and would not.

"You idiot! Don't come in here! Go after her, stop her!"

And there was Moriarty, obviously recovered after the gas had faded from his eyes and the flash of light had made him stop seeing stars and sparkles. She picked up the pace, hearing glass crashing in and doors banging open with every other step she hurriedly took. Just ahead, she could see the stair case and she put on a burst of speed, streaking around the corner and running into the foyer just as the main doors burst open and a flock of specially trained New Scotland Yard officers poured in, ionizer's raised. Beth immediately held her hands up, standing straight and still as at least five ionizers pointed her way, the members of the team ordering her to cease her movements, which Beth, petrified as she was by being possibly shot with multiple blasts of the weapons being held, had no problem doing. The uniform that was in front and center walked up to her and nodded. "You can put your arms down now, Inspector Lestrade." He brought his wrist to his mouth as he spoke.

"Commander, the principle has been obtained. Lestrade is in our custody."

Beth watched as the squad continued to run by her, and she shouted to the small group that passed by Moriarty's location. When she turned back to the C.A.T. officer in front of her, she finally allowed herself a small smile. "You really don't have a clue how happy I am to see you guys."

Wanted: Criminal Dynasty

"He's down that hall guys, the open door on your right!"

Holmes heard Beth's instructions and willed himself to keep running with the other three men that were in the group he and Watson had conspicuously joined. As much as he wanted to go to her and escort her to the units waiting himself, he knew he needed to assist in Moriarty's capture.

Much to his displeasure, Moriarty was nowhere in the room Lestrade had indicated, but Holmes had not had much hope of finding the man there in the first place. There was a poor old chap lying on the floor, apparently still confused as to his whereabouts, the gas wreaking havoc on his eyes, and the men that entered the room quickly took him into custody, but not before Holmes marched up to him and, grabbing him by the shirt collar, pulled him close to his face.

"Where is he?"

Granted, the felon was quaking in fear, but Holmes had not a care for that. He wanted his answer, he wanted it presently, and this was someone who could give it to him. He shook the man rather violently. "Answer me; where has Moriarty gone?"

Apparently his voice, and the fact that he was surrounded by four other men, all armed, all dressed in black, and all looking particularly uncaring about his future health prospects was enough to make the man spit out the answer.

"A-air hang-g-ger….t-top floor."

Holmes furrowed his brow. "How did he manage to get there?"

"There's a…a passage way…behind the ma-main st-st-staircase…"

Dropping the man on the ground, Holmes pell melled out the door, the large and bulky robotic sounds of Watson's echoing after him as they both made their way back down the hallway and to the grand stair case which, upon closer inspection (and honestly, it wasn't hard to discover), found the slightly lighter colored panel which sloped up ward, following the staircase.

He looked quickly to ensure Beth was not still standing in the foyer, and when he saw that she was being led outside by the C.A.T. officer, saw that she was undoubtedly safe now, he forged ahead through the passage, which, once it reached the point where the solid hallway above would be, crossed it, and continued straight upwards, apparently between would be the paneling of two rooms.

Wanted: Criminal Dynasty

"James, what's going on?"

"No time to explain, my dear; please, come aboard." James lifted the hatch and Annabelle climbed in quickly, settling herself on the passenger side. "Were you able to obtain what I needed?"

Annabelle held out a closed fist and opened her fingers delicately, revealing a small test tube filled with a red substance. "The passage out of my room was quite easy to follow, as was the one from the basement leading here. But I don't understand…what do you want this for?"

"I will explain all in due time, Anne. Suffice to say that you must wait a little while longer to become pregnant, and that when you do, I shall deliver a double blow to Sherlock Holmes, the likes of which he could never have deduced." As he began to fire the thrusters on his hover ship, Anne glanced up and out of the front windshield. "Speak of the devil, and he shall appear."

Moriarty looked up and, much to his surprise, and not at all to his care, found Holmes running towards the small air ship, and though the criminal knew as he began to lift off that there was no hope for Holmes of catching him, he also couldn't fail to notice the maddening look of pure murder in the man's eyes. None the less, he sent a charming smile his 'old friends' way and mockingly made the gesture of tipping his hat. With the roofs ceiling peeled back fully to allow safe passage, Moriarty piloted the ship up and out of the mansion and took off into the skies, the white smoke of an ion trail the only evidence he'd been there at all.

Wanted: Criminal Dynasty

Holmes could only stand and watch as the cruiser lifted up and out of sight. Moriarty had escaped again, and once more, Holmes was left to watch him ride away. Except that this time, there was not the feeling of certainty that he would apprehend the man the next time. Instead, Sherlock felt an anger swirling within him that he'd never felt before, a frustration with his failure to catch Moriarty yet again. What would it take for him to be able to bring that man to justice?

Silently, he glanced at Watson who, like him, had taken his hood off while they'd been trampling through the passageways. The droid could only look back at him with an expression of sympathy, a look that told Holmes he understood what the detective was feeling. There used to be a time, years ago, when Holmes had first met the compudroid when the man would laugh out loud at the ridiculous assertion that a machine could understand, let alone take part in human emotion. But all things considered, Sherlock had no doubts now that Watson could very well empathize with him. Pursing his lips together, he brought his wrist up to his mouth.

"Moriarty has escaped, Commander. Watson and I shall be arriving outside presently."

Wanted: Criminal Dynasty

When he finally walked through the wide open doors of the mansion to the outside world, Holmes surveyed the controlled chaos that was taking place on the grounds. The men that had been under Moriarty's employment who had not managed to escape were all standing together, metal cuffs binding their wrists behind their backs. Just in case one of them was clever enough to pick the lock, there were plenty of officers standing guard to ensure that unlucky soul would be wrapped in the beams of an ionizer shot.

His eyes continued to roam over the crowd, watching the hustling and bustling of bodies and droids until he found what he was looking for. Almost immediately, one foot was put in front of the other, but he was hardly down the steps when Holmes made himself slow down and regain control.

He could not rush up to her as he wanted. He could not show any more than was expected and appropriate at how happy he was to see her alive, unharmed, and what seemed to be no worse for the wear. He couldn't gather her in his arms, or whisper to her how much her absence had pained him. He couldn't even kiss her in greeting.

Holmes decided he did not care to keep their relationship a secret any longer, and while he would have gladly made up Lestrade's mind for her on that issue, he knew it would be simply wrong to do so, especially considering what she'd just been through.

Forcing his stride to one of quick pace, but not an outright run, he made his way through the crowd impatiently until he arrived at Beth's side. She was dressed as she was three days ago; simple civilian clothes, very Lestrade-like, nothing frilly or flowery about them. They were wrinkled well, probably from having been slept in, and there were what appeared to be a few spots of a dark substance which Holmes assumed to be blood on the lower part of her blouse. As he could see no visible open wounds however, he didn't believe the blood belonged to her. His eyes did however catch the area on her chin where a nasty bruise had formed. Holmes's blood boiled and chilled all at once. It didn't matter to him that Beth was, in some ways, a better melee fighter than he; Moriarty or one of his goons had put their hands on her.

"Holmes?"

"Lestrade," the detective came back to his senses, greeting the woman with a smile and nod, "I trust you are all together?" His response was a nod, a wan smile, but her body language betrayed her feelings. She stood rigid, arms crossed tightly over her chest protecting herself, back against the squad hover car, and even though she was surrounded by a swarm of C.A.T. commando's and NSY constables, her eyes were darting this way and that.

Damn the secrecy…

"Inspector Lestrade, it is very good to have you back!" Watson's enthusiasm was somewhat contagious, as it at least made her smile widen and brighter, and it even caused Holmes to throw a grin her way. But then he remembered her expression only moments before, the uncertainty still taking up residence in her eyes, and he turned abruptly to the constable she'd been speaking with.

"Constable, do you have everything you need for now? I'm sure the inspector could do with a hot meal and plenty of rest…"

"Well, Mr. Holmes, we still need to-"

"Excellent; Watson, if you would be so kind as to bring the hovercoach around? I would hate to have our dear Beth walk half a mile to her transportation after the Hell she has had to endure."

Without so much as a beat, Watson, ready and willing, happily departed with all due speed towards the tree line and soon disappeared behind it. Meanwhile, the constable continued his sputtering, and Lestrade continued her silent streak, which was causing Holmes more worry by the minute.

"Sir, we have not fully debriefed Inspector Lestrade…the…the Chief Constable and Chief Inspector will want full reports detailing her capture, her time here.."

"And they will have all that and more, my good man, but as you can see, the Inspector is hardly up for a chat about her recent forced vacation, and you may find that when she has had time to rest and gather her thoughts, she will be able to provide you a much more complete report than she could now. I shall take the responsibility, as I normally do, of putting the proverbial pain in Chief Inspector Grayson's' arse." The tone of Sherlock Holmes' voice made it clear that this was the end of the conversation. Placing a gentle hand on Lestrade's elbow, he slowly steered her away from the constable and the commotion and hullabaloo that surrounded them and walked her towards the more open spaces of the perimeter.

"Do you know why he did it?" Beth finally asked when they stopped half way between the tree line and the full, main grounds of the ancestral home. "Did you figure out what he wanted me for?"

"I did." Holmes didn't know how to ask her without being seemingly offensive and insensitive if he had gotten what he'd wanted. May the good Lord help him if he succeeded. He breathed a sigh of relief when she shook her head. "He didn't do it. He couldn't."

Holmes arched an eyebrow at that. Moriarty becoming sentimental and sympathetic at the last minute? Hardly possible or feasible. Holmes turned towards Beth, standing in front of her and took in her stance. Her arms were still folded tightly over each other, her body remained tense, and even though he didn't have eyes in the back of his head, the detective was fairly certain that Beth hadn't even really looked at him since they'd been reunited. "What stopped him?" he finally asked, and he was shocked when she shook her head and actually turned away from him. His stomach lurched. What had he done? What had he said? "Beth?"

"Holmes, please…please, I can't right now, okay?"

He didn't have to look at her to know that she was doing something that she rarely ever did, even in front of him. Wisely, he ceased his questioning immediately and instead rested his hands on her shoulders, eventually pulling her against him and holding her tightly. Damn whomever was watching, they were going to find out sooner or later, and at this point, he couldn't care less if Moriarty found out either. He was never more grateful to Watson than he was at that moment when his friend flew over the tree tops and settled the hovercoach down a few yards away from the couple. Without a word, Holmes ushered Lestrade forward and opened the back door for her, sliding in and pulling it closed as soon as they were both settled.

The ride home was a quietest any of the three had ever experienced.

Wanted: Criminal Dynasty

Climbing the steps up to 221b was the last strenuous task Lestrade planned on performing for at least the next few days…it was almost the last strenuous task she planned on performing. As Holmes opened the door and both he and Watson ushered her in, her mind swirled around the little one that was growing, slowly but surely in her belly. She heard Watson say something about fetching some blankets, pillows, and tea and she was pretty sure she thanked him. She also saw Holmes drawing the curtains of the windows closed and plunging the room into artificial dusk. He walked around the room, turning the lights onto low settings, and immediately after lit the fire in the hearth. When he was finished, he walked back over to her and offered her his hand. She hesitated only a moment, and then slowly placed hers in his.

Watson walked back into the living room then, a bundle of soft, secure blankets and plush pillows in his arms. "Make yourself comfortable, Inspector, I shall be out with the tea shortly, and then, you will rest."

"Watson-"

"Beth." Holmes looked at her, knowing she was getting ready to argue, and she relented. She had no real fight in her at the moment anyway. It had all been used up the past few days. And she wasn't sure where it was coming from, but she was beginning to feel slightly nauseas. She chuckled bitterly as she lay on the settee. I wonder why that is?

She'd thought about it the entire flight back to Baker Street. How could this have happened? They'd been so careful, so very careful. The small amount of time that they had together alone was infrequent enough, and the moments they were actually able to copulate were even fewer. She'd watched her cycle so meticulously…but then, she'd always been irregular. Nothing, not even contraception pills, had ever made it an even, monthly cycle. Even when she'd been prescribed the highest dosage of contraception, it had only raised her progesterone levels slightly. It never mimicked pregnancy…they just didn't work. She snorted at the irony of it all.

She was aware Holmes was watching her, worry written all over his face, and she shook her head, shifting her body to see him better. At the same time, his hand snaked to cup her chin and she grasped at him gently. "Did Moriarty do this?" Holmes nodded at her jaw, and Beth remembered the bruise there. She shook her head. "One of his guys. Don't worry…I took care of him…at least, I think I punched him in the mouth at one point…" she smirked again and cocked her head. "Sherlock-"

"I have tea," Watson announced, walking into the living room and around the settee. Lestrade closed her eyes, pursing her lips together as she heard the clang of the tray on the table. "Thanks, Watson." Sitting up, she reached for the tea pot, but Holmes beat her to it. "Lay back down," he commanded gently. Lestrade furrowed her brow. "And how am I supposed to drink it if I'm lying flat on my back?"

Well. The detective couldn't exactly fight that logic, so Beth remained sitting as she was while Watson began looking at her injuries, which only amounted to the bruise on her jaw, and two recent hydro-spray marks, one on each arm. Watson asked about them.

"One was from a sedative he gave me to sleep the first night I was captured; the second one is from tonight…the doctor he contracted to give me a physical took some blood from me…" her tongue flicked out nervously to wet her lips, "he uh…he wanted to make sure I was completely healthy before…"

It really was physically impossible for her to say the rest, her stomach actually lurched to even think about it anymore, and so much so that she refused the tea Holmes offered to her. "Watson, I hate to ask you this but…"

"Say no more, my dear. You do need your rest after all, and I can only do so much to facilitate your recovery and comfort. I shall be recharging in my room if you need me."

"Thanks, Watson." Lestrade smiled after him as the droid retreated to his room. She heard the soft thud of his door hitting the frame and leaned back against the settee, closing her eyes momentarily.

"Beth?"

"Hmmm."

"You said Moriarty was unable to perform the procedure?" Beth nodded, shifting her head and opening her eyes once more to look at him. The fire danced over his shoulder in the fireplace and the light from the hearth cast a rather handsome shadow over his face.

"And he didn't…." Holmes swallowed. Beth waited. "He did not attempt any…unseemly kind of relation with you, did he?" Again, Lestrade shook her head and murmured "no" quietly. Absent mindedly, her hand moved to her stomach and she rested it there while her other hand reached for Holmes. Thankfully, he took it and kissed the tips of her fingers gently. She sighed shakily, both from her nerves and from the feeling of being near him again after three days of being shut away from the world. Presently, he was examining her hand as though it were the Holy Grail, and she didn't want to break this wonderful, lovely, amazingly peaceful moment with him, not even for the news she was, quite literally, bearing.

"What made him stop?"

Lestrade frowned, not quiet understanding. "What do you mean?"

"Moriarty...what was it that made him unable to complete his plan?"

"Funny you should ask that, really," Beth tried to grin, but it didn't come off anywhere in the realm of being believable, and Holmes glowered at her. "Why do I have the feeling that the use of the word 'funny' has an entirely different meaning other than how it is typically used?" He watched as worried her bottom lip, and that worried him. "Beth, what is it?"

Taking as slow and calming a breath as she possibly could, Lestrade leaned forward, placing the hand that had been resting comfortably on her stomach and moving it over Holmes' hand which was gripping hers ever tighter. God, how was she supposed to tell him? How in the world was she supposed to tell him that after all their caution and careful planning, that fate had handed them the ultimate gift?

But sitting here, shaking like a leaf, despite the now roaring fire in the fire place and staring at their joined hands was not going to help or solve matters in any way, shape, or form. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.

"Sherlock; I'm pregnant."

~Fini~

Authors Ending Notes: I hadn't planned on leaving it here, but as I was writing it, the story's natural conclusion simply ended here. I'm working on the sequel starting tomorrow, and I really hope that you guys have enjoyed what I've put up so far. The first chapter of the second part of this series (I suppose that's what you'd call it…I'd like to do a trilogy) will be up by this Sunday. Until then, feel free to PM me and review telling me what you like or want to see developed, so on and so forth!