Hi!
Thank you to all readers and reviewers! The author thanks you for your continued support:
FlyingPigMonkey—sorry I missed you for the Chapter 9 list
Logical Fallacy—I know. I feel awful too.
TheSmilingCat
Toby—I'll just call you that from now on for short. I'm a democrat and so you can understand that I'm lazy. lol.
lesser mortal
Shenanigan (2X)—You liked that line? Thanks! I liked your word 'yowza'.
GoldenVine (2X)—god, I hate it when computers randomly shut off!...except when it means I get two reviews instead of one.
My Beautiful Ending—Ikr. I am still recovering from shock.
Kristina—the contact info you gave me got cut off since the site doesn't allow links. Go back and check the reviews for The Mouse and the Spider I left you a way to contact me. I wanna talk to you to!
I know I'm not supposed to be replying to reviews in-chapter (it's actually against the site's rules, lol) but once I started I can't really stop, now can I?
It would seem a bit rude...
(And don't think I'm being rude to lesser mortal and TheSmilingCat either, I just talk to them on PM.)
And for everyone: I'm bored and lonely (lol) so feel free to email me anytime (if you want to lol), so what if anyone knows my name. I'm a big girl now.
No males read anyway and so I'm not really worried lol.
(Not that I'm being sexist or anything lol it's just that any dangerous females would probably chose a different genre of fanficiton to read.)
Mycroft's secret prison was within driving distance of James's secret house.
How convenient.
In the first location, Mycroft Holmes and his new 'best friend' Sebastian Moran had spent the morning conversing while waiting for James Moriarty to visit.
Also in the first location, Sebastian Moran and his new 'worst enemy' Mycroft Holmes had spent the morning arguing while waiting for James Moriarty to be captured.
Except when he did visit, thereby getting captured, 'he' was the wrong James Moriarty.
The gray-uniformed men escorted the not struggling Jim Moriarty (and Molly Hooper) into the office where Mycroft looked up and smiled, and Moran turned his head and rolled his eyes.
"Surprise, surprise, I'm alive!" Jim greeted, grinning until he saw Mycroft's bored expression, "…you don't look very surprised, Mr. Holmes."
"That's because Mr. Moran already informed me of that regrettable fact." He stated, gesturing to Moran.
"Now that's not very nice, 'outing' me like that!" Jim gasped, "How could you do such a thing 'Mr. Moran'?"
"I was recommending that 'Mr. Holmes' arrest the one actually responsible for the bombings." Moran explained, "Instead of me."
"You still believe I'm guilty?" Jim laughed, "It wasn't me! I'm an innocent man—well, of that, anyway…"
"Why turn yourself in, then?" Mycroft asked.
"Because I missed you." Jim answered, coyly, "…and your brother—where is Sherlock, anyway? Can he come out and play?"
Mycroft sighed.
"I see, Miss Hooper, that you incapable of keeping a secret." He chastised, shaking his head sadly, "Which is quite a shame because my brother so trusted you…"
Molly stared down at the floor, ashamedly.
(Dark red carpeting when all the other rooms were white, metal and concrete.)
"Oh come on, Mikey, don't torture the poor girl." Jim groaned, "God knows what I put her through to get that information out of her."
Moran snorted.
"She doesn't look injured to me." he evaluated, examining Molly's lack of visible injuries.
(She looked as if she'd cut her knee while shaving her legs that morning—but that was it.)
"But that's the thing about torture," Jim reminded, in a dark whisper, "The scars are on the inside... Isn't that right, soldier?"
To that statement, Moran just shrugged.
"Mr. Holmes, can you please tell Sherlock that I'm sorry?" Molly requested, finally looking up and towards Mycroft, "I never wanted—"
"I'm sure he'd love to tell Sherlock that you're sorry." Jim interrupted, "...Once he's finished apologizing for letting me 'have my way' with his little brother."
The room was silent for a moment, everyone glancing around at each other awkwardly.
"Well, then, I could use a cup of tea." Mycroft decided, abruptly, "Would anyone else like anything?"
Jim opened his mouth to speak, but due to the excited look on his face Mycroft quickly added "to drink, that is." to which Jim's face fell.
"…yeah… just some coffee or something." Jim muttered, "I haven't had any all morning and my head's starting to pound."
Mycroft turned to Moran.
"For you, Mr. Moran?" he asked.
"Water." Moran said, dryly, "No ice."
(Jim thought it was funny, at least—but then again, Jim thought everything was funny).
Mycroft turned to Molly.
"And for you, Miss Hooper?"
"Oh, me? I'm fine—I mean coffee would be nice—but tea is good, too, or water—but anything's good, really—or nothing, if it's too much trouble…"
Molly rambled nervously, but one had to forgive her. This was her first time being arrested, after all.
"No trouble at all." Mycroft dismissed, and then looked up from Molly to the men holding her and Jim, telling them "You know what to do."
The gray-uniformed men glanced at eachother (questioning why Mycroft would want to be left alone in a room with three prisoners) then released Jim and Molly from their grasps and exited the office.
"And they call both you Holmes brothers geniuses." Moran muttered (also questioning why Mycroft would want to be left alone in a room with three prisoners).
"Speaking of the other Holmes brother—" Jim began.
"If you turned yourself in so that you could see Sherlock," Mycroft interrupted, "then you've come all this way for nothing, Mr. Moriarty."
"I didn't come 'all this way'." Jim corrected, "It's just down the road."
"From where?" Mycroft inquired, surprisedly, "I didn't realize there was anything else in the area."
"Well there isn't much." Jim agreed, "Just a creepy old haunted house by the woods."
"Really?" Mycroft responded, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
(If that were true, then he'd have to reprimand his security team for being so lax in surverying the area surrounding his secret prison.)
"You hid there?" Moran questioned, suspiciously and taken aback, "Why would you hide there when you knew I was looking for you?"
He knew what 'creepy old haunted house' Jim was talking about.
And Jim snickered.
"Because I knew you'd never look for me somewhere you knew I knew you knew about. It's called 'hiding in plain sight'. Always works, too."
Moran shook his head, groaning exasperatedly.
(Sure, Mycroft was a little annoying…but Jim was…Jim was Jim. He was Moran's definition of annoying.)
Molly was still counting the 'I knew you knews' in Jim's sentence, trying to decipher its meaning.
She nodded in agreement with Jim once she had.
Mycroft smiled.
"Still, you won't be seeing Sherlock—"Mycroft began.
"We're not here for Sherlock."Jim interrupted, "We're here to set the poor caged jailbird free."
"Call me a 'bird' again and you're dead." Moran threatened, glaring at Jim out of the corner of his eye.
"Mr. Moran did not resist arrest." Mycroft stated, "Ever since we have kept him very comfortable and he hasn't complained once. I have no reason to believe that he is unhappy here and would like to leave. So again, Mr. Moriarty, you've come here for nothing."
"Well, in that case, we'll just get our guns and we'll go." Jim decided, "Come on, Molly."
He turned around, starting towards the windowed office door, Molly hurrying confusedly after him.
"You're not going anywhere." Mycroft told them, "... I would be a very impolite host to allow you to walk away before you've had your beverages."
Hand on the doorknob, Jim stopped, letting go of it and then turning back around to face the seated Mycroft and Moran.
Molly did the same, sighing.
This was going to be a long day and it was only ten o'clock...
"Hey, where did you get the guns anyway?" Moran inquired, turning around in his seat to stare down Jim.
"Found 'em." Jim shrugged.
"And now you've gotten them all confiscated, haven't you?"
"…maybe."
Jim grinned toothily in sheepish sham guilt.
Moran almost slapped his forehead.
Almost.
But he was trained to keep his composure and so his composure he kept.
"…oh no! They weren't your guns, were they?" Jim asked, feigning shock and worry, "How could you have left them all alone and unprotected there?"
"Because I didn't think anybody would steal them." Moran grumbled.
And he really hadn't, either.
It had seemed safe to keep his (illegal) stockpile of weapons in the old, abandoned mansion because most people did not know it even existed and the ones that did also knew that it was less than ten miles away from a secret government prison.
But then he should have remembered how stupid (insane (ingenious)) Jim was.
"…Sorry." Molly apologized, "We thought somebody had just left them there or something… we didn't know they were yours."
"You didn't know." Jim corrected, chuckling.
"Well, you didn't tell me…" Molly murmured.
But she did not roll her eyes.
"No wonder James is having such trouble." Mycroft laughed, crossing his arms smugly, "He can't even keep his own house in order. None of you are on the same page."
"I don't live in the same house as James." Jim literalized the metaphor, "And he and I don't read the same books, anyway."
"I'm just sort of here…" Molly admitted, sighing defeated and nervous.
"He is the cause of all my employer's 'trouble'." Moran declared, pointing at Jim, and then adding, "And most of yours, too, Mr. Holmes. You and my employer should not be enemies."
"I gave him the chance not to be." Mycroft told him, "I asked him—very nicely, I might add—to give me the keycode. He refused and chose to flee instead. But he'll be here soon, I'm sure…"
"If all you want is the code, you don't even need my employer." Moran stated, "I'll tell you how to get it."
"You'd betray your beloved boss like that?" Jim laughed, "So much for loyalty."
"I think he'd forgive me if he wasn't captured," Moran dismissed, "and you were…'taken care of'."
"Well that can certainly be arranged…" Mycroft offered, "Now where can I get the keycode, Mr. Moran?"
"You could've gotten it when you arrested Jim the first time." Moran explained, "The idiot has it on his phone."
"'Idiot'? Me?" Jim repeated, offendedly, "I'm not the one who wrote it up on the board for the whole classroom to see."
"'Hiding in plain sight'." Moran returned, "Nobody knew about the code at that time—until you told everybody about it—and even if they did, they wouldn't have believed he'd have kept it out there like that."
"Except for me…" Jim reminded, "And it's not my fault Mycroft's too senile and his employees were too stupid to think of checking even checking my phone while I was in custody—although they were a bit distracted during my arrest."
He remembered how the masses Mycroft's employees had frozen, gazing in awe (stood there awkwardly, staring unsure of how to react) as he had kissed Molly 'goodbye', not noticing as he handed her his phone for safe-keeping (not being allowed to search or apprehend Molly because Mycroft hadn't wanted Sherlock (or anyone) to notice she was gone and figure out what had happened).
"Your phone, please, Mr. Moriarty." Mycroft requested, reaching and open hand across the desk towards Jim.
Jim reached into his pockets, searching and then patting his suit before shrugging apologetically.
"I…seem to have forgotten it…" he grimaced, "…Sorry 'bout that."
Mycroft retracted his arm, furrowing his brow in annoyance.
"How convenient." He acquiesced, "I'll have my men search you, just to make sure, when they get back with the tea."
"…and the coffee." Jim reminded, "and the 'water, no ice', and the 'anything's good really—or nothing, if it's too much trouble'..."
"No." Mycroft shook his head, "Just the tea."
And so they all drank tea from teacups when the two gray-uniformed men returned.
(—Except for Moran who refused to drink anything from a teacup.)
The tray was placed on Mycroft's desk, on top of the newspaper by one employee while the other was directed to frisk Jim.
"Don't forget to check for cavities." Jim reminded the guard, as he stretched out his arms.
And Moran almost made a snide comment about Jim being used to having 'things' in his 'cavities'.
Almost.
But he was trained to keep his jokes to himself and so his jokes to himself he kept.
"Told you so." Jim smirked when the search yielded no cellphone, "I don't have it with me. Although you could check Molly, just to make sure, she did have it the last time…"
"I don't have it!" Molly squeaked, setting her teacup down startledly on the saucer she held in her other hand.
"And I supposed neither of you have any idea where it is." Mycroft supposed, resting his chin on his palm and his elbow on the desk with a sigh.
Now even he was starting to get tired of this, and he usually enjoyed interrogations (as long as he was the one doing the interrogating, of course).
"Actually, I do." Jim stated, reaching forwards to grab a cup from the tray, "It's back at the house where I left it."
"Then I'll send my men to get it—" Mycroft began.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Moran interrupted, "Sending somebody there is just what he wants you to do. He probably rigged it to blow up or something if anyone goes in there."
"I would have but you didn't leave me any bombs." Jim denied, "Just guns and knives."
"Knives weren't mine." Moran replied, "They were there when I got there and I don't even know what you brought there."
"Jim didn't bring any weapons, really, he didn't." Molly informed, "And he didn't set any traps in the house."
"You can't trust what they say." Moran warned, turning to Mycroft.
"And why are you so eager to help Mr. Holmes today?" Jim asked sipping the tea.
"Because, out of the two of you, I like him better." Moran answered, matter-of-factly.
"And here I thought we had something special…" Jim sighed, clinking teacup against saucer, "…and yet I find you and Mycroft making conversation behind my back!"
"You know it's nothing personal, Mr. Moriarty." Mycroft dismissed with a wave of his hand, "It's just business."
"Well, I don't think James'll be happy with either of you once he gets here." Jim reasoned, "You did say he was coming, didn't you, Mr. Holmes? You're people are out there apprehending him—when do you think he'll actually get here?"
"All in good time, Mr. Moriarty, all in good time…" Mycroft troped.
"Define 'good time' for me, if you will." Jim requested, "Because it could mean different amounts for different people, for example—"
"This is why nothing ever gets done." Moran snapped, "You all talk too much."
"Well, excuse me—"
"No. You want the code, Mr. Holmes? Get the phone. You want the phone? Go get it."
"And how do you recommended I do that, Mr. Moran, when you've warned me not to trust a word Mr. Moriarty has said?"
Moran smiled (...well, he moved the corners of his mouth slightly upwards in what was probably supposed to be a smile.)
"Easy." He said, "Send the woman. She knows where the house is, she can find the phone, but she won't hurt your employees. And if there is some kind of trap at the house, well…"
"Brilliant plan, Mr. Moran." Mycroft approved, "We'll send Miss Hooper to retrieve Mr. Moriarty's phone. We all know that he'd never send her into danger, would he?"
"Never." Jim affirmed, with a smile, then bowing his head to kiss the hair on Molly's head.
Molly took a breath to steady her (relatively) calm exterior.
As far as she knew Jim hadn't done anything to the manor…but that was only as far as she knew and she knew that she often didn't know very far.
"Then I'm sure we won't have any problems." Mycroft predicted cheerfully.
Half an hour later, of course, they heard the drumbeat of a helicopter above them, shaking the entire building (and knocking Moran's untouched tea to the ground).
Mycroft had already deduced what had happened by the time they heard the marching bootsteps and the 'knock' at the door.
The 'knock' at the door that kicked it open.
Nine men in gray uniforms filed into the office, followed by a (half frightened, half embarrassed) Molly (holding a confused Toby and a smartphone) and then James.
Suddenly the room was uncomfortably crowded.
Mycroft stood up.
"Come to deliver your keycode to me in person?" he hoped.
"No." James answered, "I've come to ask—very nicely, I might add—for you to release my employee and remove from the news any fictions that might imply I'm a terrorist."
The uniformed men turned their guns towards Mycroft who turned his gaze towards them.
"And how much did he pay you to betray your country—and more importantly, your company?" Mycroft questioned them.
The men said nothing, staring straight ahead at the wall and so Mycroft continued staring at them questioningly.
"He orders them not to speak." Moran explained, from his chair, "Wastes too much time."
"Oh." Mycroft accepted, nodding down at Moran.
"You wasted too much time talking and now you missed your chance at getting the code." Moran continued, rising from the seat, "Have a nice afternoon, Mr. Holmes."
He started towards the office door.
"Are they dead?" Mycroft asked, looking back to James, "My men from the firm? Did yours kill them?"
"No, they just knocked them unconscious." James told him, "And they won't kill you, either, Mr. Holmes, if you stop hunting me."
"Give me the keycode and I will." Mycroft stated.
"You're not in the position to negotiate that—"James began.
"Then stop negotiating!" Moran interrupted, quite loudly, then adding more evenly "...Sir. Let's leave before anyone else unexpected shows up."
"James wasn't 'unexpected'." Jim corrected, "We all knew he'd be coming. I even texted him directions to get here so he could come save us."
"You tried to set him up." Moran countered, "Again."
"No…" Jim explained, smugly, "I knew that if Mycroft's shadows were searching the globe, playing 'Where's Wally' then the last place they'd think to look was here and so nobody would be here to stop us when we all escape."
"There is no 'we all'." Moran countered, "My employer is done with you. You're the British government's problem now."
James turned to Molly.
"Miss Hooper, you told me that if I helped you help my brother survive, then you would be able to control him." he reminded, "Next thing I hear, three buildings I have connections to have blown up."
"For the last time, that wasn't me!" Jim exclaimed, "And I think Molly's done an excellent job controlling me, if I say so myself. She's even gotten me to promise not to kill anybody which is more than you were ever able to do, James."
Molly smiled, blushing.
(It was awkward, yes, and embarrassing, yes…but she couldn't say that she wasn't just a little proud.)
"Then there shouldn't be a problem with him leaving you here." Moran accepted, "If she's been doing her job properly."
"I'm not letting Jim out of my sight again." James decided, "He's too dangerous and he knows too much to be left in custody here. He's coming with us and if he doesn't behave himself then you can kill him."
Jim smiled knowing that James's threat was about as empty as the vacuum of space.
"Okay." Moran acquiesced, "Now let's just go."
For the second time, he started hurriedly towards the door.
He knew that if Jim and James continued talking, they'd never stop—especially with Mycroft in the room who apparently enjoyed talking as much as they did.
"Now wait just a minute—" Mycroft tried.
"No." Moran refused, pointing a warning finger at him and then at Jim as soon as he opened his mouth, he then turned to James, "We have to leave now, sir."
Moran went first, followed by James, Jim, Molly (Toby in cat-carrier), and the nine men in gray uniforms.
They made it through the doorway (having to step over the door that had been knocked down and the spilled tea) and down the first concrete off-white hall before they turned the corner.
Nine more gray-suited men and one black-suitskirted woman waited for them, holding nine black guns and one black smartphone.
"No one's going anywhere." Anthea informed them as she texted Mycroft.
His phone buzzed loudly and everyone turned to see him standing behind the 'escaping' prisoners and their 'rescuers', a content and slightly amused look on his face.
Moran sighed.
This was exactly what he'd been trying to avoid.
"Now," Mycroft said, "Give me the phone, Miss Hooper."
He extended an open hand.
And Molly was ready to just give him Jim's phone and be done with this entire ridiculous situation…
…but then James's men had to go and point their guns towards Mycroft's men.
"Seems we're at a stalemate here." James 'deduced'.
"And how do you suppose we remedy that?" Mycroft inquired.
Moran groaned.
Obviously they would 'remedy' the 'stalemate' by talking everyone in the building to death.
"We make a deal." James offered, "You can have Jim's phone and all the information on it but in return you can't pursue me, my employees, my brother and his girlfriend ever again. You have to leave us all completely alone."
"Agreed." Mycroft agreed, "May I have the phone now?"
James nodded but Molly waited until Jim nodded to deliver the phone to Mycroft.
Good.
Now this was finally finished—except it wasn't.
"As soon as I verify that the keycode is on here, I will allow you all to leave." Mycroft stated.
"That's not what we agreed on." James countered, "You have what you need, you have no reason—or method to keep us here."
He gestured in reminder to his nine employees with guns.
"And you have no method to leave." Mycroft returned, "Unless, of course, you want shootout that would inevitably end in all ours deaths."
"But you don't want that either, Mr. Holmes, do you?" James retorted, "So why threaten it?"
"Because I work for the government, Mr. Moriarty." Mycroft explained, "And I know how to play war."
"Did somebody say my name?" Jim asked, inserting himself into the conversation now that it was getting a little more interesting.
"Wrong 'Mr. Moriarty'." Mycroft told Jim.
"Stay out of this." James warned Jim.
"Just check the phone and get this over with." Moran requested.
Mycroft glanced down at Jim's phone, tapping at it with his thumb.
"…It appears there is a password." He announced, looking up.
"Tell him the password!" Moran barked at Jim immediately.
"Can't he figure it out?" Jim shrugged, "It's not hard. It's just five letters…"
"Stop wasting time, Jim." Moran groaned.
Mycroft tried to give Jim his phone but he shook his head and folded his arms like a pouting child.
"No." Jim refused, "I want somebody to solve my puzzle."
Mycroft sighed, rolling his eyes.
"Anthea!" he called.
And she strode over, putting her own smartphone into her jacket pocket so she could take Jim's.
"Shouldn't be difficult…" she muttered, already scanning the device.
"How about he just tells you the password," Moran suggested, trying (and failing) to sound less annoyed than he was, "and we all can go home."
"Brilliant plan, Mr. Moran." Mycroft commented (again), "If Jim Moriarty wants to waste my time he knows he can do it in a dark room with a few of my best men."
"Are you trying to threaten me or arouse me, Mr. Holmes?"
"What I meant was that they could torture the information out of you—"
"Yeah, because that worked so well the first time—"
"Enough!" Moran roared, shout echoing through the hallway as he punched the concrete wall in frustration and fury.
…all in his mind, of course.
In body, Moran stayed composed and silent, clenching fists the only proof of his anger.
He watched Jim and Mycroft bicker until James finally interjected.
"Jim, just tell the nice lady the password, please."
"…oh alright." Jim sighed, then turning to Anthea, "c-o-c-k-b."
"c-o-c-k-b?" Anthea repeated, to which Jim nodded.
She typed the letters into his phone but when nobody laughed Jim was disappointed.
"Get it?" he asked, , "c-o-c-k-b? 'cock-buh' as in 'I am cockblocked'? Instead of 'I am Sherlocked'? Like Irene Adler's phone?"
He glanced around at everyone's confused faces expectantly.
Some stared at the floor, others at the ceiling, while others just held their heads in their hands, shaking them sadly.
"Well I thought it was funny…" Jim grumbled down to the concrete floor he was now kicking at.
"It's unlocked." Anthea declared, looking up and towards Mycroft.
"Good." Mycroft approved.
"Are we done here now?" Moran asked, as politely as possible (and it was not possible for him to be very 'polite' in this particular moment).
"Once we see the code." Mycroft answered.
Anthea returned to clicking through the cellphone.
Moran returned to clenching his fist and teeth.
"Found it." Anthea said, looking up once more, "It's the only thing with numbers long enough to be a code of that capability. To use this we'd need as much power as an entire power-station and we can't use a wireless network for this, we'll have to use broadband. A lot of broadband."
She walked over to Mycroft, showing him the screen of the phone.
"It can all be arranged." Mycroft stated, then turning to James, "Is this it?"
Anthea held up the phone towards James, who nodded.
"Yes." he confirmed, "…I only created it anyway so I could monitor my younger brother. I never wanted money or power, like you think. I actually wanted to protect people from him."
"And you've done a fine job of that, now haven't you?" Jim congratulated slapping James on the back, "How many people have I killed again? I've lost count…"
"It's under one hundred." James recalled, edging away from him, "Eighty-nine, I believe…unless there have been more since your 'death'."
"There haven't." Molly stated, quickly.
"I can't believe you kept count…" Jim laughed, "I didn't even think it was that many."
"The number's not just ones you've killed personally." James explained, "It also includes the ones you've paid to have killed, arranged to have killed and those killed as a result of any of your actions. I'm not sure if you're aware of all of those but there were eighteen people—"
"I don't know and I don't care." Jim shrugged.
Molly, of course, did care.
"That's awful!" she exclaimed, before she could stop herself, quickly bringing her hand to her mouth to muffle the gasp.
"It really is, isn't it...?" Jim sympathized, "Now I can't even make it an even ninety!—because of you."
He glared at her in absolute disgust and so she glanced away. But when she dared look back he was just smiling at her as if nothing was wrong.
"Ah, the classic criminal changing his ways for a good woman." Mycroft commented, "How romantic."
"I know right, it should be a movie or something." Jim agreed, "In fact it probably already is. I know you had to have had the hotel room bugged. Bet you got some pretty good footage there—"
"What?" Molly cried.
"Oh. Mycroft made a sextape of us…or several." Jim told her, "I thought you knew."
"He—I—you—"Molly stammered, face a searing red.
"It was not a 'sextape'." Mycroft dismissed, "It was necessary surveillance footage."
"Why didn't you do something about this, why didn't you tell me?" Molly demanded to Jim, then turning to Mycroft (although being unable to look him in the eyes), "Please delete whatever you have of me!"
"He's probably enjoying it too much to do that." Jim chuckled.
"I didn't watch it myself." Mycroft clarified, "I have people for that."
"Ooh, was it you?" Jim inquired excitedly, turning to Anthea, "What'd you think?"
Anthea didn't bother looking up from the keycode on Jim's phone.
"I think we've heard more than enough." James interjected, "Now that Mr. Holmes has the code, there's no purpose in us being here any longer."
"So are we free to go now or what?" Moran added.
"Yes, you may leave." Mycroft allowed, "My employees and I will escort you out."
In a perfect world Mycroft and his people would have had the code, and James and his people would have disappeared off into the sunset (even though it was only mid afternoon) never to be bothered again.
There would be no hunger, no thirst, no poverty and no war.
Also, Jim would never have killed eighty-nine people (either he would have killed zero and been an upstanding citizen—or he would have killed an even ninety).
But this was not a perfect world.
And so when the twenty-four people (eighteen in gray suits, and then rest with names, faces and importance) exited the secret prison in the middle of the nowhere on the cleanly-mowed field there was someone waiting for them.
And Moran knew this would happen.
He knew, knew, knew, knew this would happen and this was exactly what he had been trying to avoid.
Because, being a 'company man' himself, Moran knew that no employee betrayed the private-military firm.
There was no amount of money, no threat of death, no nothing that would make any employee turn on their employer.
Their true employer.
Porlock stood smiling, leaning against his armored-vehicle (which had a familiar auburn-haired woman sitting inside in the driver's seat), waiting for the twenty-four people (his employees and then the rest) arrive.
"Finally cracked the code, I see." He started, starting towards them, "It's about time. I've been waiting."
"Mr. Porlock?" Mycroft and James both said, both very confused.
Jim admired the man's style.
(Gray suit. Nice. …but the bald head had to go. It was reflecting the sun for god's sake!)
"Hello, Sebastian." Porlock greeted, passing James and Mycroft to address Moran.
"…Mr. Porlock…" Moran acknowledged, guardedly.
Porlock sighed.
"When I had you surrender yourself to authorities, I had no idea that Mr. Holmes here would disgrace your name like that all over the news." He lamented, "But because I can't have that kind of bad publicity tarnishing my company, I regrettably do have to fire you. I'm sorry."
"I'm not." Moran declared, "And you're an arrogant person coming here yourself to do this."
"Well, if I'm going to do this, I might as well do it in person—"Porlock reasoned.
"Do what?" Jim interrupted, "Tell me what's going on, 'Sebastian', because I know your 'boss' didn't come all the way down here just to fire you."
"He wants the code." Moran informed.
"You told him about it?" James accused, taken aback.
"No, your brother did." Moran answered, "Porlock has criminal contacts, when Jim sent out his mass text one of Porlock's guys must have got it. Then when I was arrested he knew Mr. Holmes would be coming for you next. And since he's one of the people who actually know who your brother is, now he's here to get the code Jim advertized."
"Well, Mr. Porlock," Mycroft began, "You've come all this way for nothing, then. I'm not giving you the keycode."
"Really?" Porlock questioned, raising an eyebrow, "Because I am asking—very nicely, I might add."
Suddenly all eighteen gray-suited men lifted their guns and aimed them towards Mycroft and James.
They were all on the same side, after all.
Porlock's side.
"I offered you more money than you can ever make at that firm." James reminded the nine men formerly in his employ, "And you all accepted."
"They were ordered to accept." Porlock corrected, "Just like they were ordered to bring you to Mr. Holmes if you didn't offer. Whichever got you back to England faster."
"Speaking of England…" Mycroft said, "…you realize you are betraying your country by doing this, Mr. Porlock."
Porlock snorted, shaking his head.
"You mean the same way you're betraying your country by conducting secret operations behind not only the people's backs but your employers' backs as well?" he compared, "Because if you tell the government about this, I'll tell them about how you manipulated the media, how agreed to set the mass murderer Jim Moriarty free in exchange for a phone…and how you assisted your brother Sherlock Holmes in his 'suicide'."
Mycroft took a breath.
"…so you want the keycode. Why?" he inquired.
"I think you know why." Porlock chuckled.
"The company you represent is multi-national with over a million employees, all military-trained." Jim listed, already buzzing with excitment, "With the code you could shutdown any electronic device with internet-access. While everyone was confused and isolated, your army could attack! You and your counterparts at the head of branches in the other countries would take over the world—or at least start World War Three…"
James, Moran, Mycroft, Anthea and Molly were all less excited about that prospect.
"I like how you think." Porlock smiled at Jim. "Still, I should have my men shoot you where you stand for everything you've done…But I won't because I don't want to make an enemy out of your brother," he turned to James and then to Mycroft, "or of you, Mr. Holmes."
"Oh, you know it's far too late for that, Mr. Porlock." Mycroft dismissed, "And the only reason you're not killing me is because you don't want to lose your government contracts."
"And you don't want to lose your employment in the government either." Porlock warned, "And that's why you won't kill me."
"And why aren't you going to kill me?" James inquired.
"I hear you have friends in the Middle East, Mr. Moriarty." Porlock explained, "And my company's been thinking of opening an office there…"
"You won't get away with this." Moran spat.
"I already have." Porlock laughed, "…now who has the phone that the keycode is so conveniently stored on?"
He glanced around at the people that weren't his employees, while his employees continued to train their guns on them.
Anthea looked to Mycroft who nodded regretfully.
She handed Jim's phone to Porlock who accepted it.
"Thank you, miss." He thanked, "And thank you, Mr. Holmes and Mr. Moriarty."
"Your welcome." Jim grinned.
Mycroft, James, Moran, Anthea and even Molly glared at him to which he shrugged in innocence.
He was just trying to be polite, after all…
Porlock turned and went back towards his armored-vehicle, large enough to fit the eighteen employees that marched after him.
They boarded the truck which started up and then drove away, leaving the six people remaining to stare in shock.
And even Jim didn't think that was funny.
He'd only come to here to bide time until Sherlock finally showed up and the 'ultimate enemies' were reunited once again in the 'afterlife'.
Maybe there was still hope…
"There is no chance in hell Porlock'll just let us go like that." Moran declared, "If he didn't kill us and he didn't put guards on us, the only thing left for him to do now is have a plane fly over this location and drop a bomb on us. It could already be on its way. We have to get out of here. Now."
"I agree." James agreed, "…They left the helicopter behind. I just bought it today, not the firm, so it's probably safe."
"I can fly it." Moran informed (which wasn't unexpected, really. Many soldiers learned how to fly a helicopter in the military. Just not as many learned when they were teenagers because their father could afford one).
"And I know a safehouse we can go to." Mycroft offered, "We can hide there and plan what to do next."
"We're going to have to kill Porlock for this." Moran decided, "And we might have to kill the regional directors in the US, France and Germany, if they're in on this too. Those are the ones he works most closely with."
"We'll figure all that out later when we have more resources available." James accepted.
"Now we have to go." Mycroft added.
"Oh, so we're all working together now?" Jim chuckled.
"Well you know what they say about the 'enemy of my enemy'…" Mycroft troped.
"My friend." Jim smiled, "…now if only Sherlock were here, this would be perfect."
Mycroft would have rolled his eyes, but there just wasn't time for that.
Instead he, Anthea, Moran, James, Jim and Molly (carrying Toby) raced towards the helicopter, minds also racing with shock, fear and disbelief.
This could not be happening…
And it wasn't.
They'd only been on the helicopter for half an hour when everyone's cellphones buzzed with the same mass text message.
(—Except for Jim's, since he didn't have his phone anymore.)
Jim sulked down into his seat next to Molly who was too busy covering her ears against the oppressing sound of rushing wind to check her phone (and Toby, in the cat-carrier, who was mewing in extreme distress).
Jim pulled Molly's phone from her purse to read the text.
World War Three?
No.
There are already enough wars and our company is doing just fine.
But a code like that could change the game.
Give one country an unfair advantage over another.
There is already enough of that, too.
Any more and someone might win.
Now that's bad for business.
And so we of our humble company have decided to share this code with the world, even the playing field.
We gave it its own website so that any government (and any wealthy corporation or individual, really) can access it and use it for their own purposes.
We understand that that isn't exactly 'fair'…but it's close enough.
You can find the link below.
The company thanks you for your continued friendship.
Mycroft stared down at his phone.
"Nuclear deterrence…" he sighed, shaking his head.
James stared down at his phone.
"Public domain software…" he sighed, shaking his head.
Moran knew better than to use his phone while piloting a helicopter.
Moran also knew better than to think that he and James (and Jim and Molly) would be go free now that James no longer had the keycode to trade with Mycroft.
His former employer may have thought he had evened 'the playing field', but all he'd done was allow Mycroft Holmes to win.
"Sebastian was right, sir." Samantha said as she drove the armored-vehicle along the empty country road.
Next to her sat her employer, Mr. Porlock, and behind them sat the eighteen gray-uniformed men (now chatting amongst themselves, glad that they didn't have to pretend to point guns at eachother anymore and that they were finally allowed to talk again).
"About what?" Porlock asked, leaning back in his seat as he scrolled through Jim's phone.
"You shouldn't have come here yourself and been so…dramatic." Samantha stated, "It wasn't professional and it put you in unnecessary danger."
"I did what I had to." Porlock dismissed, "That's how people like them work. They're power-hungry. If I'd told them what I really wanted to do with the code, they wouldn't have believed me."
"You could have sent someone in your place, though." Samantha countered.
"Nobody else but the people in this car can ever know about this." Porlock declared, "So it had to be me. It couldn't have been you. That wouldn't have worked. I don't like it when family fights family. I'd never sent you in against your own brother."
"But I'm not really against Sebastian, now am I?" Samantha reminded, "He played his part perfectly."
"Yeah, he did, didn't he…" Porlock agreed, which a chuckle, "…he just doesn't know it yet."
I should have mentioned it last chapter.
Samantha 'Sam' is Sebastian Moran's sister.
Why?
Because John has Harriet 'Harry'.
That sort of thing makes sense in my mind.
And as for Mr. Porlock there… I think I might have mentioned the name was from 'A Valley of Fear'.
According to Wikipedia, Arthur Conan Doyle chose the name because some poet named Samuel Taylor Coleridge was interrupted while writing by some dude from Porlock saying "it is what it is, Sam".
Sam.
Oh look. There's that name again.
Now before I talk myself in circles, I'll just shut up.
I want to hear you all talk!
What do you have to say?
