A/B: I am so sorry I took so long to update. Real life, no energy, the fun times that is depression and other things conspired against me.

This is the end of part 1. Yes there is a cliffhanger. Yes there will be a part 2. Yes there will be a happy ending-eventually. It just may take a bit of time as I work out the details. I think I will continue in this same story, but I haven't fully decided yet. I may go to a new story:D because that's fun too and I need a new Selkie song as I have used most of the lyrics for the first one for chapter titles;)

10. Separated by the Sea of Fate

The thud of helicopter blades filled John's senses as he ran heedlessly to the house. Panic screamed at him, pushing him to get to Molly as fast as possible. He was dimly aware of Sherlock running beside him. He raced up the driveway, the scree and slide of stone under his feet making him stumble. The garden beside the house wasn't large enough for the helicopters to land. They would have to put down further on the road, but he bet they weren't alone, and there would be cars coming shortly. Resignation at the sight of figures lowered from helicopters, he had expected as much.

The screen door flung open and he practically ripped it off of its hinges as he ran into the house, screaming Molly's name. Harry popped her head out of the living room, her face white.

"Oh God, what is it? What is it? Are those 'copters?"

"They're here. They've come for us! Get down to the docks! Go!"

"Not without Molly! Dad! We need to go!"

Sherlock had run past John and already reached the staircase; he yelled back, "I have her!" He came back down the stairs two at a time with a sleepy Molly in his arms. She was dressed in the clothes John had laid out, and the bag he had packed was in Sherlock's free hand. Harry reached her before John could.

"Go!" he repeated. "I'll get Dad." Harry held Molly tight and took the bag from Sherlock as she ran for the door. John looked around the downstairs of the house quickly, but there was no sign of Jack. Sherlock grabbed him and spun him around. "You need to leave. I can delay them. I will find your father and bring him. But you must leave." He pulled John close and kissed him, harsh and urgent and then shoved him away in the direction of the door.

"No, I am not going without you. We are not even going to argue about this."

"You can hide in the water. I can't. I can make them think I am on their side."

"Don't lie to me. You said Mycroft knew. They will know you are not one of them anymore."

"Perhaps. John, please. I can, and I will talk my way out of this. I need you to go. Go and be safe. I will come back to you. I promise."

"Not good enough." He grabbed Sherlock's hand and started tugging him in the direction Harry and Molly had disappeared.

The sound of breaking glass made them both duck down as shots fired at the house. John wanted to, needed to race to the window and see if Molly and Harry had made it to the Basin.

Sherlock crawled along the floor gesturing for John to follow. They reached the basement stairs, and John followed Sherlock down. There weren't as many windows down here and with the lights off the intruders would not be able to see in. The basement door had better protected from the tree line. John grabbed Sherlock's arm before he could open the door.

"What about my father?"

Sherlock's face, half hidden in the minimal light seeping in through the basement windows, looked thoughtful for a moment. "I think we both know how they knew precisely where we are. "

At the first sound of the helicopter blades cutting through the air, John had suspected as much. He nodded, tightened his heart against his father. He could never forgive him. "Right, you're right. Okay then. We do this my way. I hope to God Harry, and Molly made it down to the dock. I am going to open the door. Get as close to the ground as you can. Harry should have finished calling everyone before this so hopefully there's a boat or something for you and Molly."

"John, no let me finish." Sherlock reached and stroked John's cheek. "I meant what I said. I can stop them and give you time to get away. They don't know I am not part of their schemes anymore."

"And I said we are not arguing about this." John placed his hand on the doorknob. The team sent against them most likely had infrared scopes and night vision goggles. His eyes rested on the lighting panel beside the door, and he flicked the nearest switch. Bright light flooded the front of the house, and he heard muffled yells from the trees.

"Pays to have bright yard lights in the winter," he grinned at Sherlock and then spoke with an exaggerated East Coast accent. "Gets black dark here."

"Good call."

They slipped out the door and raced toward the road. John's skin crawled, and his flesh tightened as he prepared for the feel of bullets entering his skin. There were some sounds of movements through the trees, but they made it to the dock without incident.

Reaching the dock, John could just make out a small dingy out on the water, most likely Greg's. It wouldn't take long for the helicopters to find it. In fact, they were already heading their way and would be there in a second.

"Shit. Okay here's what we are going to do. I am going in the water. You follow. I will change and haul you to the boat. You'll need to hold your breath."

Sherlock shucked his shoes quickly as John started to strip. Neither of them got very far when the voice rang out. A voice they both recognized.

"Captain Watson, I would advise you stop what you are doing and kindly put your hands up.

"Oh for God's sake. Mycroft came. He never leaves England."

Under different circumstances, John would have smiled at the note of disgust in Sherlock's voice.

"John lad, do as he says."

Of course.

"They will kill me if you don't come."

"They're going to kill you anyway, Dad," John said under his breath.

"I can still get us out of this. Please, John. Let me try," Sherlock pleaded with him.

John shook his head slowly at Sherlock and turned toward Mycroft and the group of men ranged behind him. His father stood to the left of the group, not quite on the dock. If nothing else he could give Molly and Harry time to get away. Please, he thought, let them already be on Greg's boat or far out to sea. He took a step closer to Mycroft Holmes and his father. He already anticipated the answer to his question but because of the desperation in his heart, he said it just the same. "If I come, will you let my daughter go?"

"I am sure we can come to some arrangement."

There was a hiss from behind him. "He's lying."

John looked back over his shoulder. "I know. Delay tactics."

"Come now, Captain Watson. You would do well to come to me before something unfortunate happens."

John took another step forward. A shot rang out from behind them, from the trees.

He felt a thud, like a punch to his left shoulder, and on the wings of the anguished cry of his name, he went into the water.

Above the yelling and shouting, Mycroft barked out, "Stop shooting this instant. You might hit me. And bring me the fool who fired that shot."

Sherlock prepared to jump after John when he saw a flicker of movement out the corner of his eye. A seal was swimming below the dock. He didn't think it was John, but whoever it was would take care of him, better than he could. He thought quickly Delay tactics was what John had said. All right then.

Drawing himself up to his full height and sweeping into a persona he had hoped he had left behind, he drawled, "Well done, Mycroft. You couldn't wait. Your impatience has cost us dearly. I almost had him. I'd almost won his confidence when you and your imbecile men show up and send them into hiding. You've lost the girl because of this. Call off your men, let me get back to work and see if I can fix this."

"Oh, Sherlock. You can lie to these men, and you can even lie to yourself but you cannot nor will you ever be able to lie to me. I heard you when Captain Watson fell into the water." Mycroft approached him and disdain rolled off of him. His hand came out and clenched onto Sherlock's shoulder. A sharp pain drove him to his knees. Mycroft leaned down and whispered into Sherlock's ear, a caress, a veiled threat. "I heard you. I heard your distress. You think you love him. My dear brother, you are not capable of such low emotions."

He patted Sherlock's hair. "I know you, you see. I made you who you are. It's time to come home, Sherlock. I will fix all of this and take care of you. We will make you better and then, my dear brother, only then will I set you free. Gentlemen, if you would please, take care of this…mess." A group of men descended upon Sherlock and pinned him to the dock, handcuffing him. A few well-placed kicks and hits, a blow to the head, prevented him from rising.

Mycroft was speaking to the officer in charge, ordering him to use the helicopters to sweep the Basin and the area for boats or seals. There was a scuffle as Jack Watson was hauled away; his useless yelling about what he'd been promised lost in the din.

Chaos swirled through Sherlock's mind. The wooden planks bit deeply into his expose skin; slivers shoved into his flesh as he was hauled to his feet. He risked one last glance out to the ocean. It was impossible in the dark to see clearly but for a moment, he entertained the hope he saw a dark head surface through the waves.

John, he thought, his heart all but breaking. Swim, swim far away and hide. Before I come back.

oOo

He didn't remember tumbling gracelessly into the water. The agonizing burning in his left shoulder blocked coherent thought. Flashes of images painted the inside of his eyelids, but nothing made sense. Water flowed over his head, and the usual welcome rush that encased him when he went in wasn't there. He'd entered an unfamiliar and hostile environment, not his natural home. Barely thrashing, the instinct to struggle slammed out of him as pain and heat crashed over him, and the knife-sharp feel of salt water stung the entry wound that had pushed him off of the dock. He barely avoided crying out, some self-preservation reminding him to keep his mouth closed. The lack of air burned in his lungs. A bitter, iron taste lingered in his mouth. As he came up, some force lifted his head above the waves, and he coughed, sputtering. Air hit his shoulder; sharper deeper pain erupted from his wound, and it almost made him black out.

"Steady on, now. Keep still," a quiet voice whispered harshly in his ear. It wasn't the one he wanted to hear. "John?" John managed a feeble nod. He recognized Greg's voice on the second hearing. "God damn it. What the hell happened?"

John looked at him blearily, then the shock and blood loss won out and he remembered nothing for a long time.