(So guys, this is the last chapter of this story! I'm so so sorry it took me so long to get to this point, but sometimes, stuff just gets in the way. Since today is the airdate for the first new episode of Sherlock in two years, I thought I'd mark the occassion with the ending to the story. There will be a sequel, and there will also be a sort of spin-off about that weird American cannibal I mentioned earlier on in the story. Thank you so much for being so loyal to this story, and I couldn't ask for a better readership, all the helpful comments and brit picking and everything has been an absolute joy, so without further ado, the ending! -Randi)
Even as the relief set in that Q was out of Moran's way, Sherlock knew it wasn't over. Moran was one of the most dangerous working criminals in the world. There was no way this was over. Stealing a glance at Moriarty, Sherlock quickly deduced he knew too. So he must have been in on this American cannibal business. The thought was more than a little frightening.
"One more time: Why were you in our apartment?" John jerked Moriarty's arm a little further, and though it was obviously pretty painful, he still kept a straight face.
"Because Raoul was bored, I was bored, you were out, Mycroft was annoying. I mean really, I'm surprised Sherlock or James over there haven't gotten it yet." Moriarty never really seemed to stop grinning, and the effect, or lack thereof, it had on the three opposing men did nothing to stop him from doing so. Even with eyes swollen from pepper spray, that Cheshire cat characteristic never left.
And with a snap of a joint, Moriarty had John on the floor, the hostage situation reversed. "Any of you make any sort of move and Dr. Watson takes the fall." Moriarty shot Sherlock a sly look, a sort of "have you got it yet?" glance.
But it was James who spoke first. "This has to do with Mycroft doesn't it?" He said it slowly, nothing sudden, no inflection in his voice hinting a move.
"Oh, he speaks! Very good." Raoul, still on the floor, seemed to be enjoying himself, which was exactly the problem.
"Okay, that gets us somewhere. Is this about the library?" Sherlock seemed to be seeing something in front of him that was not in fact actually there. It was like the leads were forming in front of his very eyes. "Mrs. Hudson has been rather nagging about getting it cleaned out. Says there's a bit too much back there, that perhaps I should narrow down the biographies." The words were gaining momentum, as they usually did in situations like this, not that Sherlock had been in one so complex.
"And?" Moriarty knew he had the rest of it.
"This is about him." Sherlock nodded in James' direction, who didn't have time to react before the words resumed. "I've really get to check back there more often. Mycroft is hiding something of importance back there. He's paid off Mrs. Hudson to have me find it for him, keep it on the down low. He would, he's got too many other pies to deal with, both literally and figuratively, also he's hidden it so well that not even he remembers or perhaps it really is all that important. Either way it's material, not just a flash drive or something that had to be copied, definitely originals, hidden in the only library so large that nobody could find it that's also private enough to nobody would go looking. And it's something big, something akin to a chink in the armor." Sherlock paused for a moment. "I'm going to have to have a talk with Mycroft about this."
"I ought to keep you." Raoul coughed from the floor.
"Hands off, Raoul." Moriarty was statue still, John clearly alarmed but keeping calm, what with the gun steadily near his temple.
"Come in." Sherlock said to nobody in particular.
The door cracked a bit, revealing a slightly battered Q, hands in the air, laptop nowhere in sight, although out of the hands of Moran assuredly. In truth, it was left with Mrs. Hudson downstairs, who had fussed over Q's cuts and bruises briefly before remembering that there was a situation upstairs.
"Isn't a little bit superfluous to have two of you?" Raoul said. James' grip tightened on the gun.
"Depends on how you look at it." Q said simply. Sherlock gave a grin, a real one, but kept focused on Moriarty's aim. The only interruption to the tense silence was the usual London cacohpany, and the night, lightened by skyscrapers and signs that seemed to stretch on forever, seemed to be much darker in 221B.
"Oh, you didn't." Sherlock tried to sound surly, but there was a note of relief, a thank you that wouldn't be given until later, or maybe never. It was hard telling with Sherlock.
A second later, the backdoor was smashed down.A veritable SWAT team filled the apartment, oddly silent against the pounding of feet. Moriatry managed a few shots shattering a window. Silva didn't make a move.
And with that, Moriarty and Silva were taken into custody. Which of course meant that they'd be back out on the streets within the month, but for now, it meant that the general public was safe.
And just to make things even more interesting, after the two were taken out of the apartment building, Lestrade came up the stairs, looking a bit like a concerned father checking in with his kids.
"Is Scotland Yard involved already?" James asked.
"Wait, how do you know Lestrade?" John had stood up and was clearly still shaken from being held hostage (again) but was getting over it quickly. It was an occupational hazard at this point.
"Not every scrape I get myself into is a national emergency." James smiled wryly.
"I believe it." Q went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Sherlock had gone back to the closet-like room that held a large percentage of his library, and the only good cure for being held hostage was a cup of tea.
"Watson and I were in the military together. Got put together on this thing Mycroft had going on, it's all a bit of a mess." James said, taking a chair.
"Yeah, Mycroft always tries to put his brothers on his cases. Seems to like to torture them." Lestrade seemed to take comfort in the fact that everyone involved was okay, and his serious demeanor was melting quickly.
"Not all of them are torture, Inspector." Sherlock returned from the library with a small stack of new looking papers and a an actual file stamped with the word "CLASSIFIED" in big red letters. It could not have been more obvious, but somehow, Moriarty and Silva had never found it.
"And this one?" Lestrade asked hesitantly.
"Absolutely aggravating." Sherlock rolled his eyes and tossed the folder on the kitchen table without much of a second glance.
"What, are you not going to read it?" James asked slyly, seemingly disappointed at the detective's lack of curiosity.
"Oh it's all the same after a while, classified this and that. I stay out of it, keep my perception clear." Sherlock was already on his phone, probably texting Mycroft to come get the very thing that had just caused them so much anguish.
"No need to text me, brother."Everyone in the room turned to see Mycroft coolly enter the apartment, umbrella in hand and the day's paper under his arm.
"Detective Inspector." He nodded in Lestrade's direction, both a hello and a goodbye. Lestrade took his cue and left.
"It's so secret you had to shoo away the police?" Q was sitting at the cluttered table, fingers tapping nervously, cup of tea already half empty. It was the first time all three Holmes brothers had been in the same room since... a few Christmas-es ago. If this was going to be anything like that particular incident, it was probably better to leave now.
"My apologies for the inconvenience, Sherlock." Mycroft said somewhat awkwardly, as if realizing that he really had just placed files for hiding in Sherlock's library that almost got not only his two brothers, but a war veteran and Agent 007, killed. There seemed to be a bit of guilt seeping into his cold face, but it evaporated quickly.
"That's it?" John asked, a note of anger coming into his voice. "Sorry? What possessed you to even start to think this thing was even a good idea. What the hell, Mycroft?" John was standing up now.
"The files weren't placed here to remain hidden, it was a drop-off point." Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Did you really not get that far, brother?"
"I was preoccupied making sure that my apartment didn't become a crime scene." Sherlock answered, deadpan and seething.
"I've always known you were an asshole." James said, poking through the fridge, and finding a beer left over from Ms. Hudson's last bridge club meeting.
There was an awkward silence. Everyone turned to stare. James merely shrugged, popped the top and sat down.
"The point is," Q started, playing the role of peacemaker as always, "this was a bad idea, Mycroft. Take your stuff, and don't do it again." Q might not be in the deduction business professionally, but he had picked some things up over the years, and his mind was elsewhere at this exact moment.
"I truly am sorry." Mycroft didn't make eye contact, and his umbrella twirled idly. "This little thing was not supposed to turn into a hostage situation. Now if you don't mind, I have some clean-up to do." HE started towards the door, but stopped when he saw the window shattered by Moriarty's last gasp attempt at getting out of custody. "I'll take care of this." And then he walked away.
Everyone sat in silence for a moment.
"Excuse me a moment." Q said abruptly, and practically ran after Mycroft, catching him just as he was about to leave the building.
"I have to ask you something." He said, a little out of breath. "Did you find Moran? Is he gone?"
Mycroft hesitated, a bad sign already.
"We have people after him. But he's not in custody as of yet." he answered gently, like telling someone their dog had died or their grandma was in the hospital.
"He's going to come after me. You know." Q slumped against the wall.
"I'm giving you every protection I can afford." Mycroft was getting impatient, umbrella a steady tap on the floor.
"Well it's not going too well as of now."
"I know. There have been mistakes, but I can promise, you'll be safe." Mycroft remained distant, but if he had been any sort of normal person, and if the Holmses had been any sort of normal family, there would have been a hug thrown in there. Maybe a handshake. But they were the Holmses, and there was nothing of that sort in this family.
"Well, I'd best let you get going." Q had one foot on the bottom stair.
"I promise." Mycroft said steadily.
"I know."
"I can't imagine being related to Mycroft." James said, taking a long sip. They were all still sitting in the kitchen, staring around blankly, thinking about where this was going.
"It's just as bad as you'd expect." Sherlock was statue still, hands clasped, deep in thought.
"So, you got shot." James turned to John, wry wit back in place.
"Yep. Not as fun as it sounds." John took a sip of tea.
"Well, maybe we'll get paired up again soon. Seems Mycroft likes to put you all through the ringer." James stood up, smoothed the suit that seemed to permanently be in place. Always classy, only occasionally trashy.
"This isn't over." Sherlock said again, staring straight ahead at the broken window.
"Figures." James rolled his eyes and checked his watch. "Better be off. I'm sure there's some crisis of national importance that needs tending to.
"It's been a pleasure." John shook his hand.
"Same." Sherlock gave a small smile, but didn't move from the kitchen.
"Take care." John said, and with that, James left.
He ran into Q on the stairs, Mycroft having already left.
"Are you going to be alright?" He asked, standing above him on the stairs.
"Yeah. I will be. Eventually. It's been a long day."
"Get some rest." James waltzed past him, and out the door into the chilly night. It was beginning to rain again.
While walking along, James happened to pass Mycroft, to whom he could be heard saying, "I still think you're an asshole."
"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." Q said gratefully, picking up his things that she'd kept for him.
"Dear, you should take it easy, you've had a long day. It's the least I could do." She apparently had been aware about the day's events, but to what extent, Q was not sure.
"I will, I've just go to say good-bye to Sherlock and John." He said, shouldering his laptop bag.
Mrs. Hudson insisted on a hug, which Q returned.
As he climbed the steps to 221B, he realized that he was probably going to be seeing a lot more of his brothers. Q wasn't sure if this was a good thing yet. In some small part of his heart, he'd always wanted them to at least be civil towards each other, but he wasn't sure how this was going to work. But they'd have to find a way.
"Hello again." Q said, upon returning to the apartment.
"Did Mycroft leave?" Sherlock asked.
"Yeah, he's gone."
"Good. Now we can all breathe easy. Dinner anyone?" Sherlock seemed to decompress a bit. And if any sort of food was mentioned, it definitely meant he was off a case.
"Are you up for it?" John looked in Q's direction. He gave a small nod. Out of all of them, Q had actually had it the worst, what with Moran nearly killing him. Surely he must be pretty shaken, but apparently not. BEsides, eating was a good way to fend off shock.
"That settles it then. First family dinner since that Christmas." Sherlock grabbed his coat.
"Which we're not going to talk about." Q offered up a small grin, but it was insistent.
They settled upon the Chinese place that John and Sherlock frequented. The soft lights and idle chatter of those around them felt safe after a day on the run. It was odd to think that this mess had started this morning. It seemed an eternity had passed.
"Are you going to be okay tonight?" John refused to believe that Q could just walk away from this, but so far he seemed fine.
"Yeah, I'm sure. Mycroft apparently has people keeping an eye out, which I can live with for now." He said, taking a sip of tea.
"Oh, he would." Sherlock quipped.
"If you need anything, just call." John decided to let it go for now. Q looked to Sherlock, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. That was about as close to coming outright and saying "You're my brother and I care about you." as Sherlock was likely to get, and Q was also willing to take that.
And like everything about that day, it was not yet over. Battles would be fought, arguments had, and they would all find themselves together again, but not for a while. Events had been set in motion, but for now, they would just have to wait. And that was not a bad thing. The world can only take such a cosmic event like all three Holmes brothers in the same room one or twice a year.
-James Bond, Q, Sherlock Holmes, and John Watson will return-