Mrs. Hudson watched them go. She was worried. She never liked it when her boys ran into dangerous situations.

She would have preferred if they could have stayed and waited for Mycroft to find the one who did this, but she'd known right away that Sherlock would run in the middle of it. And John would be right behind him, as he should be.

At least they weren't alone. They had Greg and Tobias.

She'd grown quite fond of the young man who'd shown up so unexpectedly. He was quiet and polite, and the consulting detective trusted him; she thought that she'd at first detected some tension between their visitor and the doctor, but now he seemed to tolerate him, at least.

And he had helped them. Thank God he'd been there; she didn't know what would have happened to Greg otherwise. As to herself – she'd known the boys would come, of course; she'd been scared for them. But she knew that many people, even killers, were reluctant about hurting old ladies, had seen it in the hit men's eyes, and she had been confident that she would be able to defend herself if she could distract him long enough to reach for the cricket bat she always kept nearby. She had made a habit of being prepared for anything when she'd still been married.

She made herself a cuppa and resigned herself to wait. After all, her boys had always come back, even if she'd had to wait a long time.

The drive to Mycroft's house didn't take long, which proved Sherlock assumptions were the safe house lay.

"So your brother has narrowed down the list of suspects?" Tobias asked.

Sherlock nodded.

"Let's hope he's more successful then with Sir James Walter" he added. He was simply stating a fact, and Sherlock felt that he might be thankful for the ex hit man's clear head today. Tobias was quick, and he was a good fighter. And he was loyal; Sherlock had never doubted it, but he could see that John finally trusted him completely too.

He was glad. They would need to trust each other today.

When they reached Mycroft's house, Sherlock wasted no time but quickly got out of the limousine and almost ran towards the front door. Normally, he would have tried to appear dignified in front of his brother. Now he didn't care.

The elder Holmes opened the door and stepped aside.

He mustered Sherlock and his friends and sighed.

"I already suspected that you would be in need of proper clothing for the occasion. You will find suits in the second room upstairs. As to you, Sherlock" he turned to his brother who, as always, was dressed in a suit, "there's a tie in the dining room."

The consulting detective frowned; he hated wearing ties. John shot him a smile as he made his way upstairs; Greg and Tobias came after him, the ex hit man wisely choosing not to ask how Mycroft knew which size he wore.

Sherlock went into the dining room without waiting for his brother to lead the way.

Three files lay on the table, next to a blue tie.

He put it on, asking, "So these are the suspects?"

"Obviously" Mycroft drawled.

"Only the three?"

"I assure you, brother mine, that I have no reason to suspect anyone else who will be attending the conference."

There was no use in asking Mycroft how he knew. Sherlock accepted that his brother was right and continued, "So we have to keep you alive and figure out who it is."

"Not only me. Whoever it was will be angry that you escaped. Therefore – "

"It might be possible that a hit man shows up" Sherlock sighed. As if it wasn't going to be difficult enough to find the would-be murderer of the British Government in an assembly of people whose job it was to hide their true feelings and motivations.

John, Greg and Tobias found the room and quickly split to put the suits on.

When they met again the hallway, the DI shook his head.

"He didn't need to get a new one for me. I own suits."

"And you think I don't?" John inquired.

"I wouldn't know. Are you aware one can buy something else in clothing stores than jumpers?"

"I don't own a suit" Tobias interrupted. "I used to borrow mine". It had been easier to travel with only a small amount of clothes, and whenever he needed to get close to a target in a place where he would attract attention in his usual attire, he had known where to go and always to pay in cash.

"If we make it out of this alive, Mycroft might allow you to keep it" Greg joked. John raised an eyebrow at his attempt to make light of the situation, but didn't seem to mind.

While they were making their way downstairs, Tobias wondered if his targets had had friend who'd tried to protect them, and what he would have done had he known. He had never had to kill a witness – he'd always been careful – but he might have easily come into such a situation, and he could easily have killed someone like Greg or John without a second thought.

Not to mention that, if Sherlock hadn't kidnapped him, he could very well have been one of the hit men targeting him right now.

He supposed this might be what guilt felt like. He wouldn't know. And he had to concentrate on the matter at hand. He was here to protect Sherlock. And his friends. And his brother.

The consulting detective and the British Government were impatiently waiting for them.

Sherlock's gaze swept over them before turning to Mycroft.

"We are to be members of the diplomatic corps? I think, since the other diplomats at the conference have never seen us before... And there's a chance John and I will be recognized".

"Which is why you two are not there as members of the diplomatic corps, but as part of the security detail" Mycroft replied. "And yes, officially. It is probable that whoever wants to murder me is keeping a close eye on my office, so I had one of the politicians who owes me a favour insist that you be part of the conference because he felt you would make a good impression on the foreign diplomats. You are quite famous, brother mine".

Sherlock didn't react to his sarcasm and instead answered, "The person responsible will think it a coincidence, a possibility to kill two birds with one stone".

The British Government nodded.

Then he proceeded to talk about the suspects.

Martin Kellers, 34, occupied a minor position in the Ministry of Inner Affairs. Mycroft considered him dangerous for the simple reason that he always knew what to say and tended to play down his intelligence; there was also some evidence that he had tried to make friends with some of the British Government's associates.

George Pelton, 57, a long-standing member of the diplomatic corps and bitter that he had never got the recognition he felt he deserved. Mycroft freely admitted that he had never thought he deserved any – he was too blunt to be a good diplomat.

Hellen Carr, 44. Strong willed and working in one of the many departments of the Ministry of Justice, and had already made herself indispensable to the Secretary of State for Justice. She had made it clear that she would gladly be part of Mycroft's "team" and had been furious when he had denied her request. According to him, she was too focused on her career to serve the country well.

Once they'd gone over the files and committed everything important to memory, Mycroft looked at his watch before calmly announcing, "It is time." The limousine was already waiting for them.

As they followed his brother into the building where the conference was held, Sherlock took a deep breath.

Ten hours of presentations and meetings and private discussions. Three suspects. One murderer.

The game was on.