Chapter 25-Black Boxes and Babies

Disclaimer: Just own a fertile imagination. No money made here.

The woman outside Sherlock's apartment had piqued his curiosity but he did not feel like letting her in. He had seen her once before at Molly's funeral. She had been waiting a solid twenty minutes outside of his flat. She knew he was home having made eye contact with him, but she also nervously eyed where the CCTV's were located.

She held her body ramrod straight and walked with confidence. Her long jet-black hair was loose and hung down the back of her leather jacket. He deduced that she was an agent of some kind. Since her first appearance had been at Molly's funeral he knew it had to be related to the information Magnussen had sent to his pathologist. He also picked up that she wanted help, this meant that she was either rogue or about to be. Though she did keep her eye on the cameras she did not seem overly concerned, her main focus was getting in his building. She wanted him to agree to help and so was not forcing her own entry.

Sherlock sighed with the information he was picking through on the woman. She was more interesting than most things were these days with the exception of his mother almost being blown up.

Sherlock had received the call shortly after creating the videos that would be sent to Molly.

"Sherlock, you're going to want to take this," John said with a touch of steel in his eyes and a frown set in his face as he held out his phone.

Knowing at one glance who was calling his best friend, Sherlock stood up and took the phone as he started to pace. "Jim." Sherlock spoke into the phone.

"Oh, there you are Sherly. You'll have to excuse me for calling your little pet but you have the bad habit of not picking up the phone when someone calls you," Moriarty sing sang into the phone.

"What's the game this time?" Sherlock asked with boredom dripping from his voice.

"Now, now. Daddy likes for his baby boy to use good manners. After all, I just wanted a nice little chat with my all time favorite playmate."

"I'm not in the mood for a chat," Sherlock bit off the last word as he paced the length of his apartment like a caged jungle cat at the zoo.

"Pity. How about we reminisce? I was looking over some of my fan letters when I came across one that was not for me but was in fact for you. You threw it away years ago but I'm the more sentimental of the two of us so I retrieved it for you. Since you lost the writer of the letter I thought you would like it back as a memento or keepsake?"

"As you said, I am not sentimental. You can keep or burn it for all I care."

"I thought you might feel that way. So I'm going to burn it for you. Hmm…it's a shame that it's pinned to Mummy Holmes new vest though."

Sherlock had stopped his pacing when he heard the word, 'mummy'.

"Oh, do I have your attention now?" James continued in his higher pitched voice that he used when he was playing. His voice dipped lower on his next words, "You have thirteen hours to solve the puzzle until your mummy becomes one of the angels forever."

And with that the phone clicked off. There was no point in tracking the burner phone, as the actual conversation had been too brief. Sherlock was able to reach Mycroft who had been frantically searching once he heard that their mother was missing. Sherlock filled him in on the phone call but neither could figure out what it meant. It took a conversation between Sherlock and Mary before they could search in the right direction.

"It's a movie reference. I can't believe you don't get it." Mary stated in too calm a manner for Sherlock's liking. He growled a warning. "It's Molly's favorite movie and you named the dogs after the characters."

"I don't actually pay attention to such nonsense!" Sherlock let out his frustrations on Mrs. Watson.

"But it looks like Moriarty did."

Mary put Sherlock back in action and he was able to find his mother in one piece within a garden labyrinth. It had been too easy of a puzzle but the warning it issued was clear.

Violet had been shopping with guards having refused to stay at home in safety when she had been taken. Siger had been beside himself that he had not made her stay. The guards were dead but she made it home safely that night with the exception of gash on her face. On the back of Molly's note written in blood were the letters I.O.U. and in black near the bottom it said, 'You freed your precious mummy and I freed one of my own.'

While Mycroft had all his resources focused on recovering his mother someone else had their resources focused on releasing Sebastian Moran from prison. Mycroft Holmes was quickly losing favor as he fought to hold his position while protecting his family.

Sherlock was not sure if he agreed with more of his family being sent to America but at least they would be with Sherrinford. Sherlock smirked to himself as he imagined his older brother being cooped up with their parents and the Watson baby.

Mary had stayed behind but had entrusted the elder Holmes' with her and John's son as she prepared to do battle alongside her boys. She would create a safe place for her child to grow up in and she would be keeping her husband safe too, thank you very much.

Sherlock went back to wondering if the woman outside would stay until John got back. It would not be too long until the good doctor made his appearance. If she truly wanted his help it would have to be worth it. He went to his couch and curled up to wait for his doctor to come home before doing anything.

"Oi! Sherlock. We have a client." John threw a throw pillow at Sherlock's head.

"Not taking cases. Go away." Sherlock grumbled and waved his hand behind his back refusing to turn around to face the woman he had left outside most of the day…at least he think he had. He had no idea how much time had passed.

"Trust me you'll want to take this case," the woman's voice came out deep with an easy to identify American accent.

"And why is that Miss…"Sherlock finally turned his head over his shoulder.

"Nikita."

Sherlock scrunched his nose at such a ridiculous sounding name. Americans! "Nikita what?"

"Just Nikita."

Sherlock turned to sit up on his couch and looked up at the standing woman. He waited for her to get on with it and waved his hand in an imperious manner.

Nikita gave a half smile and crossed her arms, "What? No tea? I thought you Brits were famous for it?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes while his former flat mate gave a longsuffering sigh before apologizing and rushing to do so. While John prepared tea Nikita made herself comfortable in Sherlock's chair even after he told her not to.

"Are you ready to listen to what I have to say?" Nikita asked the pouting detective.

"This better be good." Sherlock grumbled.

"You're telling me. You better be worth the wait because if you're not I don't know what's going to happen to your pathologist."

The last statement was enough to get Sherlock's attention and he was able to get to Nikita before she could defend herself. His hand went to her throat and her hands went to try to pry it off in reflex. She had been surprised he could move as fast as he did and cursed herself for dropping her guard.

"She's dead. You went to her funeral," Sherlock fumed

"We may have gone but she seems to have missed it." Nikita gasped out her sentence.

John cursed his friend having heard the commotion and talked Sherlock into letting the woman's throat go. Sherlock loosened his grip but did not remove his hand completely.

"I come in peace." Nikita insisted as she stared into blue-green eyes that looked at her with mistrust.

"Prove it. Remove your weapons and put them on the coffee table. I'll take the first gun," he reached into her boot to remove a small handgun, "and hold it for you while you remove the rest."

Nikita kept her eyes trained on the man before her as he kept her own gun trained to her head. Since she wanted his help so badly she did not try any tricks as she laid her mostly illegal tools on the table. John just shook his head at the exchange and let out a few more expletives.

"So…" Sherlock said as Nikita's only encouragement to speak while the gun remained in his hand.

"I used to work for an organization called Division." Nikita started but paused as John let out a few more choice words from where he was standing against the wall.

"Used to work?" Sherlock asked.

"I'm trying to take them down."

"They killed someone you loved." Sherlock deduced.

Expecting deductions Nikita gave a short nod and said yes before continuing on. "They are corrupt and need to be stopped. The only way to do that is to collect seven hard drives that are called 'black boxes'. The leader of Division is using these to blackmail people in power and has hidden them throughout the world."

"I'm a detective not a magician. I can't magically find hidden boxes with nothing to go on."

"I have the locations but I don't know who has them."

"If you have the locations why can't you just go get them?" asked John.

"Because they are being held in safe deposit boxes in banks, correct?" Sherlock reasoned.

"Yes." Nikita looked to the detective.

"Why come to me? Why should we help you?" Sherlock leaned forward with his hands in a praying position.

"I know you've heard of Division thanks to your friends outburst. The only way to escape their grasp is in death. I'm the only one to have ever managed to leave-"

"Wrong, but continue." Sherlock interrupted.

"I've heard you are the best detective. I'm more of an assassin. I need your skill set and you need to help me and quickly for Molly's sake."

Sherlock visibly bristled at the comment but Nikita continued. "I'm not sure what kind of relationship you have with her but I know you care about her. Division is after her and they have already located her. However, they won't make a move against her while she is in US protective custody. She has access to information that she shouldn't and they don't want it getting out. She's the one who gave me the locations and I promise you that she and her child won't be safe until Division has been destroyed."

Sherlock blinked at her owlishly but made no response.

John finally spoke for both of them with his arms crossed and eyebrows pinched together, "Child?"

"Molly's pregnant, didn't you know?" Nikita asked with eyebrows furrowed.

John felt his legs turn to jelly while his best friend buffered.