Author's Note: My sister cracks me up. That is all.
Don't own
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"There he is."
"Who?"
"Your brother. Looking for me. If you need me, I'll be hiding in the kitchen."
"Take the phone."
"Right."
Joshua snatched the phone and ran into the kitchen. He might search the place . . . under the sink, no, too obvious, I could jump out the window, he's probably got people watching, in the fridge, I'd be dead. So the only other place would be a cupboard, where he would probably look, or the garbage can.
I hate hiding in garbage cans. At least it has a flip-up lid. He checked the contents quickly. Not much. Good.
He emptied the contents of the garbage bag into the lid and climbed into the can. I'm going to have to dislocate my elbow. I hate that. That was one part of ninja training that had been highly unenjoyable- popping out joints to allow you to fit into places normal people couldn't. He did it quickly. Ow, and ow again.
He scrunched down the rest of the way into the can, and let the lid close, depositing a pile of garbage on his head. Nasty.
Footsteps came up the stairs into the sitting room. Joshua strained to hear, and found to his delight that he could.
"Hello brother dear…" Mycroft…
"What do you want?" And that's Sherlock. Welcoming as ever.
"Has he been here?" Mycroft didn't waste any time.
"Who?"
"You know who, he said he met you. Where is he?"
"The ninja. Typical. What, did you send him to spy on me?"
Mycroft ignored the question. "Are you aware that Lestrade's disappeared? Didn't show up for work today, no trace of him anywhere."
"What of it? He's just a policeman."
"Yes…and unfortunately also the only father figure you've ever really had."
"Oh please . . . I wouldn't quite go that far."
"Of course not . . . he only risked his job to keep you off drugs." Joshua could hear Sherlock huff in response.
"Not to mention making sure you ate, giving you a place to stay, hanging on to you during your detox…"
"Being there for me when you weren't."
"I was working."
"So was he."
"My work is more important."
"…what do you want, Mycroft?"
"I want to know what's going on. This is Moriarty again, isn't it."
"I don't think it's any of your business."
"Sherlock, that boy is dangerous. If he shows up here-"
"If he shows up here I shall do whatever I please. Good day, Mycroft."
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John paid the cabbie quickly and turned towards the door of 221B Baker Street. As he reached for the handle, the door opened and Mycroft stepped out. "John? I thought you were in Dublin."
"Yes. I was."
"You weren't due back for three more days."
"Sherlock asked me to come back."
"Really . . . why?"
"Wanted my help."
"With . . .?"
"He didn't tell you? I rather assumed that was why you're here."
"I was just . . . checking up. Keeping track of him. Although I'm actually having a harder time keeping track of his little friend."
"Friend?"
"It's hard to say . . . one minute they're working together, the next they're trying to kill each other. I expect you'll meet him soon enough. Do tell me where he was hiding. And try to keep an eye on them both." Mycroft handed John a card. "My mobile number. You might need it."
"I already have your number."
"This is a different one. My regular phone is . . . incapacitated."
Mycroft turned and walked off down the street. John stared after him.
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"He thinks I'm working with Moriarty." Joshua stood up, snapping his elbow back into place with a jolt of pain.
"Are you?" Sherlock seemed less than concerned.
"Would I tell you if I was?"
"Maybe."
Footsteps pounded up the stairs. Joshua squeaked and jumped under the table. A most un-ninja like noise, squeaking. But then, ninjas do strange things when facing eminent death.
"Sherlock?" A man walked into the room quickly. "I just saw Mycroft-"
"So did I. It was distinctly annoying."
"What happened to your face?" The man stared at Sherlock.
"He happened to my face." Sherlock gestured towards Joshua under the table. "Fortunately, I believe we've passed that stage now."
Joshua wiggled out from under the table. It ought to be safe, or Sherlock wouldn't have drawn attention to him. "Hi."
"You're the guy Mycroft was talking about? The one who tried to kill Sherlock?"
"Well, maybe not kill, but certainly maim for life. I'm Joshua Kalman, first class ninja, and quite probably the bane of Mycroft's life at the moment."
"John Watson. You're a ninja? I thought those didn't really exist."
"Actually, ninjitsu is quite prevalent in Japan today. Ninjas are fairly common in the martial arts."
"Sorry to interrupt your utterly unfascinating conversation, but we're going to Scotland Yard now. And I need the phone back." Joshua handed it to him.
"Is that Mycroft's phone?" John was looking confused. "He left it here?"
"Actually, he was looking for it." Sherlock put on his coat and went out.
John looked at Joshua. "He stole Mycroft's phone?"
"No, I did. We'd better hurry or he'll leave us."
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"We're looking through all the files in the drug division for four years ago." Sherlock walked rapidly down the hallway, with Joshua and John following close behind.
"Are you going to give us any more information?" John asked. "Because we can't really help if we don't know what we're doing."
"A letter with information directly tied to the theft of a top-secret British missile disappeared from a drug ring in London. We have to find it."
"How do we find it by reading old drug cases all night?" Joshua looked exasperated.
"My homeless network picked up that the underground world was buzzing with the news of an undercover cop making off with something valuable from the heart of a drug ring. That was around four years ago."
"So you think that was the letter." John shook his head. "Seems like a shot in the dark to me."
"Sherlock . . ." Joshua's voice was tense. "The date, is that 2009?"
"Yes."
"That's when . . . that's when my father . . ."
Sherlock's eyes lit up. "Yes! Yes, that would make sense! The letter never resurfaced because the policeman who stole it was killed. He must have hid it or Moriarty wouldn't be looking for it . . ." he turned and started searching through files.
"Okay, I'm still confused." John waited for an explanation, but none was forthcoming.
"Sherlock, Lestrade had a file on my dad yesterday in his car. I didn't look at it too closely, but it might be what we're looking for."
"That's easy enough then," John said. "Where's Lestrade?"
Joshua stared at him, then looked at Sherlock. "You didn't tell him?" Sherlock was busy and did not respond. "Lestrade . . . Moriarty has him."
"There's nothing here." Sherlock straightened and strode quickly towards the door. "We're going to have to go to his house."
"Wait, Sherlock…" John recovered from his shock in time to grab the detective's arm as he brushed past. "Lestrade…you…"
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "He'll be fine, I'm fine, now can we please get moving!"
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