TITLE: It Takes a Village
CHAPTER/TITLE: Chapter Twenty Five/ Moriarty. Baker Street. Now. - SH
RATING: T (language, content)
A/N: if you get confused, don't worry, all will be explained later. for example, why did Sherlock run off? what did he figure out? well, sherlock has this tendency to not let others in on his plans or deductions sometimes in these types of situations. if you're wondering why/how something happened, it will be explained in either dialogue or flashbacks later. this is paced like an episode would be, like time skips, etc.
Please read and review, many thanks.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock.
Chapter Twenty Five: Moriarty. Baker Street. Now. - SH
Mycroft Holmes was just finishing reassuring his little brother of their mother's safety when one of his staff burst through his office doors.
"Baker Street's down," he panted.
Mycroft's glare told the man to explain, but quickly.
"We lost the feed."
"How?" Mycroft demanded, pulling his mobile out once again.
"We don't know, sir," he shook his head. "We're working on it."
"Then work harder," The elder Holmes snapped. "Did you dispatch a team?"
"Not yet, sir," he swallowed. "Came straight here to tell you."
"And you can't manage to do more than one thing at a time?" Mycroft practically barked at the sniveling man. "What are you being paid for? Get a team there, now."
Mycroft rolled his eyes as the man whirled around and skittered out of his office. Any other time he would have hoped and assumed that this was just Sherlock taking out his cameras to annoy his older brother.
But not now.
Not when it came to Moriarty.
To the safety of those Sherlock held most dear.
He was just about to hit send on a text to the man when a message from said brother popped up on his screen.
'Moriarty. Baker Street. Now. - SH'
So it seemed Sherlock had caught on. His little brother had most likely spotted a clue at the most recent crime scene, a hidden message, something, that alerted him to Baker Street.
Of course, Sherlock didn't know about the downed surveillance.
With the lost feed and the text from Sherlock, Mycroft was certain.
Something very big, and very bad, was happening at Baker Street.
Gregory Lestrade was still trying to figure out exactly what Sherlock had seen to make him react in such a way. The inspector had debated following the man, but once he had hit the sidewalk, Greg had no clue as to where the consulting detective and blogger had disappeared to.
He was just turning back to his crime scene when his mobile chirped.
Glancing down at the screen, Lestrade nearly dropped the device.
'Moriarty. Baker Street. Now. -SH'
So that was where Sherlock was heading. And in such haste? Without explanation? That couldn't mean anything good.
"Baker Street." Lestrade verbalized the text to his team in way of an order. "Now."
"But what about-?"
"I don't care about protocol," Lestrade interrupted one of the officers. "Keep officers here at the scene. But I need backup to Baker Street, now." He turned toward the door before motioning for his forensic's team member. "Anderson, with me."
Philip wasn't a cop, but it wasn't as though Greg hadn't already broken a hundred different rules and policies for Sherlock Holmes. Besides, over the years, Anderson had grown into a close friend of the inspector's. And he had also grown into quite the forensics worker. He had always been sharp, no matter what Sherlock had said, but now he was even better. And he, too, had stake in the lives of those that resided at Baker Street. He may not have been as close as Greg to them, but Philip had almost taken on the role of yet another surrogate uncle to the Watson's child. Something just told him to bring the man.
Something told him to bring every man he could.
Because something very big, and very bad, was happening at Baker Street.
Mary made it to the bakery in record time, somehow, and quite thankfully, avoiding the speeding ticket she had well earned. She wasn't going to detour, but the bakery was on the way home, and she couldn't just leave Mrs. Hudson alone.
Still, she had that nagging in her gut that was telling her to get to the flat.
She found Mrs. Hudson seated inside near the window and ran up to the woman.
"Oh, Mary, dear," she started with a smile, "you didn't need to come. They're just having a bit of trouble, I guess. Said it wouldn't be much longer."
"I'm not here for the cake," Mary took her landlady's hand, "we need to go."
"Go? Where? What about Billie's cake?" Mrs. Hudson followed the mother, though the continually looked back at the bakery as they left.
"We can come back for it," Mary answered hurriedly, pulling the woman along and then practically pushing her into the passenger seat.
"Mary, what is going on?" Mrs. Hudson shook her head as the younger woman peeled out into traffic.
"I'll explain everything when we get there," Mary replied, digging in her pocket and pulling out her phone.
"Oh, you really shouldn't use that thing while driving, dear," Mrs. Hudson warned.
Ignoring her landlady's well meaning words, Mary lifted the device, listening with an anxious ear and heart to the ringing on the other end.
"Molly's not answering," Mary said, more to herself, as she tossed down the mobile and sunk the pedal even deeper into the floor.
What she would've given to have her gun on her right then.
She was now almost quite sure she would need it.
Because something very big, and very bad, was happening at Baker Street.