Author's note: I am glad people like this story. I couldn't be happier about the reviews. I'm especially happy about the reactions I got for Tobias – I am afraid I have grown quite fond of him.
I don't anything, please review.
Tobias listened as the screeching noises subsided and Sherlock commenced pacing. He seemed to be doing that a lot. He preferred the pacing to the noises – if the consulting detective had done this when he'd asked for information, he would have caved in a lot more quickly.
Since neither of Sherlock's friends decided to check on him, Tobias decided he would eventually come out of the room. John Watson had grabbed a book and did his best to pretend to be reading it, although he could tell he hadn't turned a page in at least ten minutes; the DI was busy with his phone.
Greg was surprisingly accepting, but maybe he could have foreseen that particular development. It was easy to guess that a police officer who let someone who had nothing to do with the force on crime scenes didn't care much for the rules. Also, since he was here instead of working, he definitely chose protecting Sherlock's life over everything.
Not that Tobias could say anything against it. He could be at the bar right now, trying to build up a life that didn't involve killing people for money.
Be that as it may, he and DI – he and Greg got along. He wasn't sure about the doctor. He had learnt how to read body language quite early, and it was clear that John Watson wasn't comfortable having him at the flat. As if the whispered fight in Sherlock's bedroom (apparently they did have separate bedrooms, since he'd gone upstairs to fetch his book) hadn't been enough indication.
Tobias could understand where he was coming from, of course. Several hit men were after his best friend, and one showed up at their flat and declared himself to be at their side. He wouldn't trust him either.
But at the same time –
He wasn't sure if "mistrust" was the right word for what John Watson was feeling.
He hadn't treated him with contempt or even suspicion; he had just seemed... worried.
The man had been a soldier. Tobias knew that much. And therefore, he probably didn't appreciate people who killed for a living without a higher goal in mind. Which meant he wouldn't like having a hit man in his flat.
But Sherlock had called him by his first name, and he wasn't scared of him in the least. Despite the offer on his head. Therefore, John Watson had decided to trust him, because Sherlock did.
Somehow, no matter how he thought about the first few hours he had spent in the other men's company, this thought stayed: Sherlock had called him by his first name. And then Greg had followed. For the first time in God knew how long, not only did someone know his first name, but decide to use it.
With Greg, he could understand where he was coming from.
Sherlock –
Tobias didn't know what to think of it. There were moments in which he swore he understood the consulting detective, the way his mind worked, and then there would be minutes where he couldn't even understand what Sherlock was trying to say.
He didn't regret that he'd come, however. He couldn't.
Because without him Timothy Carew might have got into the house. And he definitely preferred a dead hit man to a dead consulting detective.
A consulting detective who had kidnapped him and brought him Christmas dinner.
He wondered when his life had become so complicated. Killing people was easy. Protecting them was not.
Sherlock's brother was the British Government, but even he had not been able to prevent Carew from getting close. And Tobias knew how things worked. Every job could be done. The question wasn't if, the question was when. When to get into the flat or the work place of the target, when to find him on the streets, when he would be alone –
There were countless possibilities to end a life. And many, if not all, hit men he knew were more than capable to take every single one.
The only way to stop Sherlock being murdered was to find the employer, the one who had offered millions to get rid of one man. The consulting detective was right; he must plan something else, something big. If this was about revenge – revenge wasn't like this. Tobias should know. Revenge was quick, in the spur of the moment, revenge was calling one hit man, and only one, to kill someone, and if it didn't work out, either give up or call another hit man. This was planned. This didn't feel like the burning need of revenge – it felt cold. Cold and calculated.
There couldn't be many who dared to put an open hit on Sherlock Holmes. Not if they knew who he was – which was more than likely, otherwise they wouldn't have made the offer to begin with.
Sherlock would figure it out. Sherlock had managed to make him something resembling a human being again, even if he hadn't said anything, hadn't argued with him.
And he still couldn't say why.
He would do what he had always done. Focus on the job at hand. He could deal with what it meant later, because for the first time, it did mean something to him.
The pacing stopped and moments afterwards, the consulting detective's was heard. He spoke to softly to figure out who he was talking to, but it was probably that strange brother of his, Sherlock wanting to know if he'd made any progress.
As soon as he had come to the conclusion that Mycroft's life was in danger, Sherlock took out his phone.
He answered after the first ring.
"I would have told you if we had made any form of progress – "
"I am reasonably sure that the person behind this is going to try to murder you".
A brief silence followed as Mycroft processed the information and went through all possible scenarios.
"It is possible."
"At the moment, it is the best theory we have".
"I will make sure that certain individuals are – "
Sherlock had known Mycroft kept files on "certain individuals", as he put it, in his house. The only reason he did so when he could easily have memorized them was the fact that these people knew about them. It was a sort of insurance policy.
"We are on our way".
He expected Mycroft to refuse; there was still the offer on his head, and the British Government didn't tolerate visits of strangers. He knew John and Greg, but wouldn't normally allow them into his house, and Tobias was a hit man he had no reason to trust.
He wouldn't let his brother deal with this himself, however, and he wouldn't be able to slip away unnoticed, so Mycroft would have to deal with it.
Apparently the British Government realized that he couldn't dissuade him and sighed.
"You will take care that your friends behave themselves".
At least he hadn't said anything against them coming to his house. Sherlock counted it as the victory it was and hung up without another word. He knew that Mycroft would send a limousine – he had accepted what Sherlock was going to do and therefore wouldn't allow him to walk out in the open for longer than necessary, especially after the situation with Carew – and that it would take about ten minutes to get to Baker Street, long enough to fill the others in.
Sherlock stopped talking abruptly. Tobias heard him move before the DI and the doctor noticed and therefore was the least surprised when the consulting detective barged through his bedroom door.
John looked up, startled – normally Sherlock stayed in this mood for longer than an hour – and it only took him a second to realize something was wrong.
Sherlock was worried, even more so than before.
He stood up, not caring that his book fell on the carpet, and was at his friend's side within seconds. Greg followed him immediately, Marshall stayed on the sofa.
"Sherlock?"
"Mycroft".
"What about – "
"Your brother is in danger".
It was a statement, not a question, and once again it came from the ex hit man.
John looked at Sherlock and waited for his best friend to elaborate, which he did.
"We know the crime to be committed has to be big, big enough that I would be called in, big enough that I wouldn't stop until I solved it.
While I have worked for the Secret Service occasionally – " he made a face and John couldn't fight the grin. Even now the consulting detective didn't like thinking about working for his brother "mostly I am called in on murders. Now, obviously the person who is about to be murdered is someone important. Someone it can't be easy to kill. Someone who is needed to ensure the smooth running of the country – "
"And not only wouldn't you be there to solve his murder, if you were killed, but Mycroft is distracted from ensuring his own safety because he's looking for the person who put the hit on you" Greg interrupted him. "I have to admit it is a good plan".
"That may be" John said, "but what now? The list of people who want to kill Mycroft must be even longer than – "
"Not that long, actually" Sherlock replied quietly. "Think, John. Yes, Mycroft runs the country. But how many people know that?"
John didn't know the answer. He had never been aware, hadn't suspected that a single man was the British Government until Mike Stamford had introduced him to Sherlock and his brother had had him kidnapped.
He wouldn't be surprised to find that most politicians didn't know who was the real power either and simply thought Mycroft Holmes was a hard-working employee. If there was anyone who could get away with manipulating the most powerful men in the country, making sure they only made the decisions he wanted them to make while leading them to believe it to be theirs, it would be him.
"There is everyone he's ever kidnapped – I'm certain some of them might hold a grudge" Greg commented lightly.
Sherlock was going to reply but then saw the small smile on the DI's face and thought better of it.
Tobias was starting to wonder if kidnapping people was a family tradition. He had never cared much for his family – not that it had been large to begin with, they hadn't been particularly fond of him either and they couldn't have said to have any traditions, really – but it did seem a little impractical.
"Am I to understand that Mycroft kidnaps people on a regular basis?"
"He makes a habit of kidnapping and interrogating everyone I meet more than once" Sherlock answered.
Tobias nodded and chose not to comment.
"Either way – we are going to find the most likely candidates in Mycroft's file cabinet. A limousine will be picking us up shortly – "
His text alert rang out and Sherlock read the message.
"The driver is here" he announced.
The others followed him as he went downstairs, Mrs. Hudson shuffling out of her flat to tell them to be careful.
The door of the limousine was already open, and Sherlock was about to enter when it happened.
He felt a sharp pull on his arm, heard the sound of shattering plaster, and then he was lying on the pavement, Tobias hovering over him; he turned his head to find John and Greg crouching next to them, their eyes roaming over his body to make sure he hadn't been ensured; a bullet had crashed into the wall of the house next to 221B, passing where Sherlock's head would have been if he hadn't been dragged down.
"Move" the hit man hissed it.
Sherlock quickly sprang into the car, Tobias waited for Greg and John to get in before doing so himself, and then the limousine was rushing away.
Author's note: I could do with a few more reviews. Tell me if you like it, it would mean a lot.
