As we admittedly left you hanging for a week, here's an extra long chapter for you.
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Joshua skulked down the darkened street, hugging the wall to blend into the shadows. A lone street light didn't really do much to illuminate the place. Not that I mind. It does make it a little more difficult to avoid crashing into lurking dumpsters. Almost as bad as bookcases, those dumpsters.
Moriarty and Sherlock were just ahead. Moriarty was keeping up a stream of obnoxious chatter. Sherlock was trying to ignore him and failing miserably.
What am I supposed to do now? I'm not the genius here. I just do fancy backflips.
So perhaps I'll flip around until I crash into something and it knocks an idea into my head.
That didn't work so well before.
They were approaching a larger road. A car pulled up to the curb. Sherlock, Moriarty, and his men got in.
Joshua crept forward carefully, staying out of sight of the vehicle's occupants. As the car pulled away, he ran behind it. He followed it for a few blocks, but he was getting tired and attracting the curious attention of other drivers. The car stopped for a traffic light, and Joshua slid under it, grabbing the bumper with his hands and propping his feet against the machinery under the car. He was now hanging underneath it.
As long as I can hold on, I should be good. The car started moving again. Joshua's fingers were cramping and the wind made it hard to breathe. To make matters worse, the exhaust pouring out of the muffler near his head was making him feel dizzy. He shook his head, trying to clear it. It didn't help.
He pulled himself as far away from the muffler as he could, keeping his face turned away from it. The car stopped at another light, and he relaxed against the ground, releasing some of the strain on his arms.
I feel like I'm going to puke. How much carbon monoxide can a human inhale before dying?
That's a cheery thought.
The light changed and he hoisted himself back up quickly. I almost wish I was in there with them.
Almost.
I have no idea where we're going . . . I don't know how much longer I can . . . I can . . . His head was spinning.
Need to . . . stop . . . exhaust . . .
Joshua's fingers loosened and he felt himself hit the ground. No . . . no, I need to . . . to follow . . .
He pulled himself up with superhuman effort, staggering to the side of the road, where he crumpled to the ground again. A wave of nausea rolled over him, and he threw up repeatedly, his body trying to flush out the poison. At length he started to feel like death was not yet eminent.
I lost them. The sense of failure was worse than the nausea, and fresh air didn't help it at all.
I'm lucky there weren't any other cars around. Then I'd have to convert from the leaping ninja to the squished ninja.
If I have to die, I'd rather not do it by puking my internal organs out on a sidewalk in London or being run over by a car.
I think a nice, warm fireball would work. Maybe a plane crash.
Man, I'm morbid today.
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Joshua stared at the bottom of his coffee cup. He was sitting at a small café. Last café I was in, I almost died.
Most places I've been recently, I've almost died. I'd better not make a habit out of it.
I don't know what to do now.
Sherlock would know what to do.
Mycroft's phone buzzed in his pocket.
Where's Sherlock?
I wish I knew. Joshua started to put the phone away, but stopped in sudden remembrance. I do know! There's still the tracking device!
He grabbed the phone and clicked the tracking app.
Please wait . . .
Please work . . .
And there it was. Joshua threw a bill on the table and sprinted out of the café.
"Taxi!" A taxi swerved to a stop beside the curb.
I'd better not go directly there . . . "Harmann Street. And double if you get there fast!"
Hang on, guys. I'm coming for you.
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Odd section of town for them to be . . . Joshua looked around. Buildings, mainly apartments, lined the street. They were old and dilapidated. There were no people about.
Well, it is night. Normal people are in bed. Not saving the world.
Okay, that may be a slight exaggeration.
Saving three-quarters of the world. He grinned, then instantly felt bad for enjoying himself when the only people he knew in the world were quite possibly dead.
Well, not all the people I know. Mycroft's probably as well as ever. Unfortunately.
Wait. What about John? I forgot him completely. He's probably flipping out. Joshua pulled out his phone, then stopped. I don't know his number. Too bad. I could use some backup.
He shoved his phone back in his pocket and pulled out Mycroft's. So Sherlock is roughly two blocks away . . . I hope Moriarty's not still with him.
Joshua set off, using every ounce of skill he possessed to remain completely unnoticeable. Moriarty's probably got guys watching for me . . . knows I might show up. He slowed down as he approached his target destination.
Three story apartment building. Looks unguarded.
Probably a trap. He flattened himself against a wall and examined the building closely. No lights. Looks abandoned.
Except . . . he caught a glimpse of something at a window. Not a movement . . . not really much of anything. But something's there.
He remained frozen against the wall, his eyes fixed on the shadows inside the window. Ninjas were masters of shadows. But knowing the darkness was more than being able to hide or move unseen. Joshua could see the dark, really see it. The shades of darkness, the way it melted into itself. And that shadow was just a bit too dark.
Exactly the way it would be if there was someone hiding in it . . . he squinted, probing the shadow with his eyes. A man. Definitely. He could barely make out the silhouette.
If there's one, there'll be more . . . scanning the building carefully, he spotted three more motionless men, all armed. Two on the ground level, one each on the second and third.
It appears he's overlooked my very favorite method of breaking and entering . . . over the rooftops. Joshua moved slowly back down the street. I'm probably out of sight . . . he slipped on his shuko and started up the nearest building. The climbing claws bit easily into the wood and he made quick progress.
Reaching the roof, he pulled himself up. That was an easy climb. Now for the hard part . . . the apartment he was aiming for was three buildings down. He leapt quickly, pausing on the rooftops between jumps to make sure the coast was still clear.
Last jump . . . Joshua started forward, but stopped instantly as a flash of movement on the roof of the building caught his attention. There issomebody there . . . I couldn't see him from the ground.
This suddenly got much more difficult. The man was looking away from Joshua, watching the street below. He might not see me jump . . .
I'll have to try. There's no other way. Joshua crept carefully to the edge of the roof and jumped across in a great bound, landing noiselessly on the other side. The man didn't move.
Obstacle averted. He moved away from the man, searching for a way into the building. None was readily apparent.
I'll have to climb down the side. Joshua swung himself over the edge and started down. Now if only I can find an unlocked window . . . he climbed alongside the first window and tried to lift it. Locked. The next one has a guard. He climbed underneath it, out of view of the sentinel.
Down to the second story, then.
The third window was also locked, but the glass was cracked. Joshua carefully pulled the pieces out of the frame and wiggled through, then nearly had a heart attack. The room wasn't empty.
Two figures lay on the floor. They did not move, and Joshua relaxed. That was very close. He moved towards them cautiously. A boy and a girl, ten or eleven years old. They were asleep, huddled together for warmth.
They must live here. Strange that Moriarty would hide out in an occupied building . . . Joshua was turning towards the door when a flash of metal caught his attention. He turned back, frowning, and bent over the children.
Handcuffs . . . they're prisoners here too. Then a horrible thought struck him.
Maybe they're not sleeping . . .
He put his hand in front of the girl's mouth, careful not to touch her. She's breathing. Good. So is the boy.
Now what? I can't leave kids in this place, but I sure can't take them with me.
I'll have to come back . . . if I survive. Joshua turned and went to the door. Locked.
Of course it's locked. It's basically a cell. He picked the lock quickly and slipped out. It was pitch black in the hallway.
The darkness was intense. He waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark, but they didn't. A shiver ran down his back.
What's the matter with me? Ninjas like darkness.
Darkness, yes. Icy black hallways of doom, not so much.
Now I'm just being dramatic. He forced himself to start moving, running his hand along the wall to feel for doors.
Do. Not. Think. About. Spiders.
Ninjas do notlike spiders.
Moriarty said he was a spider. Strangely appropriate. His hand found a door. I think this leads to a room with a guard in it . . . but I'm not sure.
The handle turned noiselessly and he opened the door a crack. Yes. There is a guard. He scanned the room quickly. No Lestrade, no Sherlock. Moving on.
He closed the door and continued down the hallway.
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Maybe they're not here at all . . .
After searching all of the second story and most of the ground level, Joshua was getting a bit discouraged. All he'd found were guards.
Well, there's still the third story . . .
Joshua checked the last room on the first floor. Nothing.
Looks like I'm heading up then.
He mounted the stairs quickly yet cautiously, treading lightly to keep the old boards from creaking. Reaching the third floor, he slipped down the hallway and reached for the first door. As he touched the knob, he heard voices from inside the room. Freezing, he focused on the voices, trying to identify them.
Moriarty . . . and Sherlock. He waited for a moment. No Lestrade.
I can't do anything for Sherlock with Moriarty there, so I guess I'll keep looking for Lestrade. Joshua moved to the next door.
It was locked. His heart leapt, and he started picking the lock quickly. Since it was locked, there's a good chance there's something or someone important inside . . .
The lock clicked, and he opened the door softly. The room had no window, and he couldn't see a thing.
I really need to start carrying a flashlight . . . there's a backlight on my phone. That might work.
Joshua reached for his phone, then stopped, frowning. If Lestrade was here, wouldn't he have said something by now? Or at least made some noise? He listened intently. Maybe he's asleep. Or drugged.
Joshua advanced slowly, feeling the way with his feet. Nothing . . . he made a second sweep, turning up empty again.
Oh yeah. I was going to use my phone. He pulled the phone out and activated it. The sudden burst of light blinded him momentarily. Blinking, he waited for his eyes to adjust.
Hearing a soft noise at the doorway, he flashed the light towards it in time to catch a glimpse of a man slipping away.
Lestrade! Joshua started to call out, then remembered there was a supervillain in the next room and decided against it.
He managed to sneak by me. Nice ninja work. He hurried out into the hallway, turning his phone back off to be less noticeable.Probably thinks I'm one of Moriarty's dudes here to kill him. The evil assassin in the dead of night or something.
If he runs into a guard, Moriarty will figure out I'm here. And then we're sunk.
Joshua looked around. Since it was pitch black, the look didn't accomplish much. Where would he go?
Probably the first floor. The one with the most guards. Brilliant.
Hey, that's a British term. I'm turning British.
Brilliant.
He ran for the stairs. I'll have to try to intercept him. He'll be caught in a heartbeat.
"Lestrade?" His whisper seemed awfully loud in the quiet building. "Lestrade, it's me. Joshua." No reply.
He must have gone down already.
Joshua took the stairs two at a time, bounding downwards. He paused at the second floor to listen. A faint sound came from below. Someone downstairs . . . coming up? Why would Lestrade . . .
Unless that's not him.
He bolted away from the stairs, ducking into the closest room. He pressed himself against the wall, breathing hard. Listening carefully, he heard the footsteps continue up the stairs without pausing.
Whew.
I hope he's not going to check on Lestrade.
Joshua waited a few moments to make sure the guard wasn't coming back. All seemed clear. As he reached for the doorknob, a floorboard creaked behind him. He started to spin around, but an arm tightened around his neck and a hand was clamped over his mouth and nose.
Joshua reacted instantly with a vicious backward kick, but his assailant dodged it nimbly, increasing the pressure on his throat. Joshua felt the world starting to spin.
Twisting desperately, he tried to throw his attacker over his shoulder. The man's grip loosened as he stepped back to avoid the throw. Taking advantage of his opponent's momentary instability, Joshua jammed his elbow into the man's stomach.
The man fell back with the wind knocked out of him, and Joshua sprang free. He slumped against the wall, his mind still spinning from lack of oxygen. He could feel the blood circulating through his neck again, and his breath came in ragged gasps.
He had a pretty good idea who his attacker was.
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Any guesses?