Three Weddings Part 1

Chapter 10

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone for your support yesterday, especially to those who 'buried' the negative review. I am completely overwhelmed by the goodwill in this fandom. I really was not upset by the review itself, but I was angry on behalf of those less able to withstand such a lack of thought and empathy. We need to take a stand on this, and make our fandom a zero tolerance area for this kind of behaviour.

I'm putting a post on my tumblr site – evenlode dot tumblr dot com – about it, and I'd be grateful if you would reblog and disseminate it if you agree, so that we can protect all the writers who put so much time and effort into making such wonderful stories for us to read – FREE!

In response to a few comments – yes, John is taking this well at the moment. Too well. Believe me, things will get more complicated but that this point, I think he is just so relieved to have Sherlock back and alive that he's happy. Lots of people mentioned the sexual dysfunction. Right now that doesn't feature much, but it is something the boys will have to deal with. And incidentally, regarding daily postings – I don't write fast. I finish the story before I start posting it, which means I can guarantee you get your daily dose and also that the quality is consistent. Fiendish, eh?

Anyway, my luvlies, here is your next episode. Hang onto your hats. As Gorgeous George would say: "this is gonna get messy!"

As part of the new entente, Mycroft had allowed Greg to come along and see him off for New York. He was taking the Lear jet from City airport, so it was not far, but it was a significant step. Greg felt like he had made progress. And judging by the look on Anthea's face when he got into the back seat next to his partner, he was not the only one. She slipped him a knowing smile when Mycroft was not looking. He noticed that she was wearing some rather impressive diamond earrings. They must have cost a fortune. He wondered who the new boyfriend with deep pockets was.

There was barely any traffic, and Clive, Mycroft's regular driver, drove smoothly. Greg watched Anthea and Mycroft going through their briefcases, checking documents. Mycroft's thigh pressed against his own. The sun shone. Even though his lover was going away, it felt like a good day to be alive. Greg felt optimistic. Mycroft had promised to take a holiday for one thing, which was cause for celebration in itself.

'We could go to the house in Antigua,' he had suggested while Greg was cleaning his teeth that morning, slipping his arms around the inspector's waist fondly.

'What house in Antigua?' Greg frowned.

'Oh, I've got this house. A friend left it to me. It's quite nice, but I haven't been for years. I just let it as a holiday villa.'

'Hang on, hang on, just a minute-' Greg squirmed in his arms until they were facing one another. 'Can we just go back a bit there? You have a house in Antigua?'

'Yes.'

'In Antigua. As in the Caribbean?'

'Yes.'

'Caribbean, as in white sands and palm trees?'

'I suppose so, yes.'

'You tell me this now?'

'I didn't think you'd be interested.'

'Not interested? Not interested? Which part of you do I have to suck to get you to take me there right now?'

So that was agreed. (At least, after the sucking was concluded.) Antigua. Greg was already planning how much factor 30 he would have to pack. And whether they could fly the kids over for a week in the summer holidays.

He was musing on this thought when he noticed a change in the atmosphere in the car. Anthea was checking her phone with an urgent expression. She glanced up at Mycroft.

'Sir?' Clive's voice came from the front seat.

'Yes?'

'We have a code Blue, sir.'

Mycroft and Anthea exchanged looks. Anthea opened her laptop and logged into a site Greg had not seen before. He realised it gave her a high resolution view out of the rear of their car. Two solid-looking dark Mondeos were behind them.

'Give the alert, and take evasive action,' Mycroft said coolly, after a brief look at the screen. The car began to subtly speed up.

'They're definitely following us,' Anthea said.

'Can you get an ID on the registrations?'

'Just sending the data through, sir,' she said, tapping the keyboard.

'What's going on?' Greg asked, feeling the tension rise.

'We appear to have company.'

The car careered around a sharp corner, and the passengers grabbed at the upholstery to stabilise themselves.

'They're not backing off,' Clive said.

'Go to code Red,' Mycroft barked. Anthea started scrabbling in her capacious handbag. She pulled out an automatic pistol and checked the clip. Greg goggled at the metallic sheen of the barrel, then became aware that Mycroft had opened a deep compartment at the front of the limousine's passenger cabin.

'You've done the firearms course, haven't you, Greg?' He pulled a machine pistol and another handgun from what looked to Greg like a terrifying collection hidden under the innocuous looking padded box.

'Erm, yeah, years back.'

Mycroft pulled out an ammunition clip and loaded the pistol, then offered it, butt first, his hand gripping the barrel, to his lover. The engine had begun to roar. They were going incredibly fast.

'Stay close to me, and if anything happens, shoot to kill, understand?'

Greg nodded. He took the gun from his lover's hand. It had a sinister weight in his palm.

There was a sudden crackle, and a pinging from behind the seat. Greg twisted round and saw a man leaning out of the car behind them, aiming a gun. His gut clenched in horror.

'Who are these people?'

'I think we shall find out soon enough,' Mycroft said as the car lurched through another ninety degree turn. 'The nice thing about these new Mercedes is that they can leave a Ford like that standing on a straight.'

'Trouble is, we aren't on a straight,' Anthea growled. 'Where the hell is that back-up?'

'I still prefer the old Bentley Mulsanne,' Mycroft went on. 'That was a car with character as well as balls.'

More bullets rattled off the boot.

'Not sure that the bullet-proofing was quite as good, though,' he observed.

'Yes, sir,' Anthea agreed. She had moved up from a growl to a snarl. 'Shame you totalled it.'

'Ah, yes,' said Mycroft with a wistful smile. 'Those were the days! We've had to rein in the spending since the Coalition got in.'

At which point, all hell broke loose.

They were in the heart of the Square Mile now, amongst canyons of office buildings. They rounded a curve and came upon a brewery delivery lorry, backed up to one of the many bars that populated the street levels below the trading floors. The lorry driver was just in the process of pulling up the vinyl covers on the side of his truck. He saw the limo just in time, and flung himself out of the way. Clive jagged the wheel, but they were going too fast. The tyres screamed, the vehicle spun and they hit the undercarriage of the truck side on, crushing in underneath.

Tomorrow – well, now, that would spoil it for you, wouldn't it…