Chapter 13

The interior of the trailer was fitted out as an office or command center. John looked around, ignoring the men in suits working at computer stations or speaking on the phone. His gaze stopped on Anthea, who came forward to greet them. "Good evening, Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson," she said.

"Why is Lestrade here?" Sherlock asked. Pleased as he was to see their friend and colleague, John had the same question. He had assumed that MI5 or some agency he didn't even know about would handle a situation like this involving Mycroft.

"Mr. Holmes's standing orders," Anthea explained. "If there were an incident in the greater London area, D.I. Lestrade was to lead the operation."

Sherlock's eyebrows arched up but he made no comment, turning aside to pace in a tight circle, muttering to himself.

"I tried to contact you," Lestrade told John.

"Mycroft swapped out my phone," John explained.

"You saw him? When? You need to bring me up to date." John glanced at Sherlock, but as he didn't seem inclined to participate in the conversation, John tried to relay the facts as efficiently as he could.

"All makes sense now," Lestrade said at the end of John's tale. "Mycroft has some kind of panic button his captor didn't know about. He sent out a distress signal about an hour ago. Of course, we have them surrounded. We sent in a phone, told him there was no way out. We're offering ransom, safe passage, the usual, but he refused to negotiate. Said the plan was to die along with Mycroft. But in that case, why spin it out? Why take him anywhere? Why not just kill him on the spot? Now I get it. He was waiting for his man to bring you along. Wanted to finish you and Mycroft together, I suppose. Maybe taunt you about Sherlock a bit first."

The mention of his name seemed to pull Sherlock back to them. "I should have realised," he said in frustration. "Moriarty wanted to thwart Mycroft nearly as much as he did me, and he was fixated on John. He wanted all three of us, and X does too. X thought he got me this morning and he sent that tosser after John. It was obvious that Mycroft would be a target!"

"Don't be too hard on yourself." John tried to soothe him. "We're all still alive."

"It was not a bad plan," Sherlock allowed. "If his man in the park had been successful, Mycroft would be next. Presumably he was waiting for confirmation. But then you turned up with the note and he decided to move sooner rather than later." He turned to Anthea. "What was Mycroft doing before this?"

"He was going to question a witness, someone who saw you at the train station. We assume they were overpowered."

"Who was with him?"

"Alex Gustafsson. Analyst in the Northern European section. Speaks Norwegian."

"It's him," Sherlock declared. "He's the one."

"Who?"

"They weren't overpowered," he said impatiently. "Gustafsson is the captor. He must have concocted a report of a Norwegian witness so that Mycroft would take him."

"Her," Anthea said. Her eyes swept the three of them, confirming that she had their attention. "Alexandra Gustafsson." She pulled out an iPad and began tapping the screen.

Sherlock immediately glared at John. "No remarks!" John adopted an expression of complete innocence. "She has an X in her name; I was right about that." John snorted.

"She's been using a voice changer," Lestrade said. "Sounded like a bloke. But now we know exactly who we're up against."

"Here, have the file," Anthea said, holding the tablet out to Sherlock. "Of course, any of it could be fabricated," she reminded him, even as he began flicking through the document.

"John, look." He flipped the device around, showing John a photo of an attractive young woman with long blonde hair, brown eyes and a strong jaw. Their eyes met in a moment of wordless communication: Molly. Sherlock's instincts had been ahead of the data, ahead of the logic. It made sense, a horrible kind of sense, to John. Gustafsson had fancied Moriarty, admired him, hero-worshipped him, and now was trying to eliminate those he had wanted to eliminate.

"All right," said Lestrade. "We know who we're dealing with and that's a huge plus, but this is a very volatile situation. She's prepared to die as soon as she gets John."

"We'll deliver him," Sherlock said at once. "She doesn't know the man she sent for him. I'll take him in."

"No!" Lestrade's horrorstruck reaction was immediate.

"Why not?"

"Sherlock! Be reasonable. She may not know the bloke she sent, but she knows you."

"His hair's different and he can walk different, seem like a different person," John suggested.

"But according to you, she wants to kill three people, and we're going to give her the two that she's missing! What kind of strategy is that?"

"So John and my brother should face an adversary with one of your lot to protect them? I'm not going to let that happen!"

"Do I get a say?" John inquired mildly.

"Oh, we all know what you're going to choose," Lestrade snapped, rubbing his hand over his face. "We don't have a lot of time here. Mycroft is totally at her mercy. She could kill him at any moment. And if John and his escort don't turn up soon she may become suspicious."

"My plan, then?" Sherlock pressed him.

"God help us," Lestrade moaned in surrender.

Author's Note: Thank you for following the story so far! What do you think of Sherlock's plan?