A relatively short chapter. Things are hotting up in the hunt for the people traffickers.

Check chapters for specific trigger warnings.

Single quotation mark bold indicate text messages.

Trigger warnings: swearing

John was halfway through his afternoon shift at A&E when his phone buzzed with a new text message. He finished handing his latest patient over to the nurse who would escort them to the X-ray Department for their suspected fractured femur. Taking a moment to relax he pulled out his phone to glance at the message, expecting it to be something innocuous from Sherlock.

He was half right. It was from Sherlock, but was far from innocuous.

'Diogenes Club urgent. Mycroft has sent car. SH.'

John quickly arranged cover for the remainder of his shift, grabbed his coat and leapt into the waiting car.

Try as he might, he couldn't stop his mind worrying at what needed his urgent attendance. It had to be the Kelvins. The man hunt was in full swing ever since the team sent to arrest them had missed them at their head office. A co-ordinated raid across the planet all happening at the same time, and the one team that needed to get it right were delayed for ten minutes by a broken down bus, giving two of the ring leaders time to make their escape. There had been no sightings since they disappeared at the airfield. No aircraft were missing so they hadn't flown out, but a search of the airfield turned up nothing. They'd vanished into thin air.

Of course, the couple in Mrs Turner's flat had been picked up as part of the raid. It turned out they were hired guns, not even surveillance specialists, just a couple of low level con artists who didn't mind what they did for money, and thought it sounded like easy pickings.

The relief when they were arrested was surprising. None of the residents of 221B had noticed how much being under constant surveillance had worn at them. They went a little bit mad that first evening, getting very drunk, swearing copiously (because Mary had felt embarrassed about swearing when she was being recorded), and finally snuggling together on the sofa, relieved at no longer having to hide their true relationship in their own home.

The flat next door had been searched, but left in situ, just in case other members of the organisation made their way there. It was unlikely, but, honestly, the investigation team had more important things to occupy them. Picking over the flat could wait until later. Mycroft had the bugs removed from 221B and took the recordings into evidence. He had his people go through them first to ensure anything too personal was removed from the official record.

John's worried musings stuttered to a halt when his driver announced their arrival. He was greeted in silence by the elegantly uniformed doorman and led silently through the interminable corridors of The Diogenes Club by a footman before being shown into Mycroft's office.

Only once the door almost silently closed behind him did John explode. "Well? What's happened?"

"Calm down John. It looks like we have them. Mrs Turner has just called. Two men arrived on her doorstep ninety minutes ago claiming to be cousins of 'Helen Marshall' and asking if they could wait in the flat. Of course, Mrs Turner played her part beautifully, allowed them entry then called my people. We are not sure why they are in the flat, as opposed to fleeing the country. One can only assume that their plans have in some way been disrupted. They are, after all, surprisingly stupid men. Having questioned him, it is obvious that Terry Spencer is the true brains behind the operation. It was only when he was brought into KDL that this whole child smuggling operation began. However, the Kelvins have enjoyed a late lunch and are planning their move. They seem to be of the opinion that you, Sherlock, can help them escape the country. They are unaware that the listening devices have been removed or that their employees have been arrested, so are making themselves comfortable until you arrive home, when they will no doubt attempt to hold you for ransom and flee the country. We left a few devices of our own in the 'Marshall's' flat simply to monitor things. They are currently drinking coffee, playing a computer game, Grand Theft Auto I believe … " Mycroft made a moue of disgust. "… and discussing what they want to do to you, dear brother, as retribution for your interference. It is quite colourful, in a childish way."

Anthea suddenly entered the room. Despite her regular change of code name, Mycroft still thought of his steadfast colleague as Anthea, the appellation she'd selected when she first joined his staff.

"Sir, we have a problem. Apparently the 'Marshall's' were provided with an illegal firearm when they were installed in the flat. It was well hidden, behind the bath panel."

John felt anxiety tighten in his gut. "Tell me you found it when you searched the flat."

Anthea looked shame faced and Mycroft looked angry. "No, unfortunately not. But the Kelvin's did know where it was hidden and have just recovered it from its hiding place. They are planning to await your return then force Sherlock to help them. They are quite prepared to kill anyone who stands in their way."

"Bollocks, Mary!" John's face was ashen. "Mary's finishing early today. She has a meal planned, wanted us home by five sharp. Shit! Our wife's alone in the flat with two armed madmen next door!"

Mycroft tried to be the voice of calm. "Do you have your weapon with you?"

John stared at Mycroft in disbelief. "Of course I bloody don't Mycroft. I don't carry it to hospital, only when I'm out with Sherlock. It's in the safe in our bedroom."

"Well that's something anyway. They can't gain access to a second weapon."

"Unless they force Mary to open the safe."

Sherlock attempted to comfort his husband. "They have no reason to John. How would they even know you have a gun? It's not like America where everyone owns one. And we've always been careful to keep any mention of firearms out of the police and press reports. Even the safe is well hidden. Unless they ransack the flat they won't find it."

John calmed a little. "So what do we do? It's gone four. Mary will already there. They may already be in our home."

Mycroft made a decision. He was angered that it was on his watch that the Kelvin's had escaped, and it was his team who had failed to secure the handgun that now threatened his sister-in-law. He was going to make this right. He had to. He had failed his brother too often in his life, he was not going to fail now.

"Jenkins is waiting downstairs. Have him drive you back to Baker Street. I will call Mrs Hudson to determine the situation. I will instruct her to lock herself in her flat and remain there until we give the all clear."

Sherlock and John left the Club via the exit to the private car park. As promised, Jenkins was waiting, engine running.

Neither man spoke, each lost in their thoughts, until John's phone rang. It was Mycroft.

"John. Mrs Hudson is secure. She believes no-one has entered since Mary returned home shortly after four. However, we have heard nothing from the flat at 219 since three forty-five. It is possible they are already in your flat and awaiting your arrival. At this juncture it is impossible to know whether Mary is held captive, or is unaware she has guests. I have a team on standby, but will deploy once we know the situation."

"OK. Good to know. So, Sherlock and I will go in. Your team is to wait for our signal. The panic buttons are still in place, one on the stair and one by the double doors? Good. We'll hit one of those when we need you. Make sure you've got your best agent on the surveillance camera. We may not be able to reach the buttons so you need someone who can make a judgement call."

"Of course John. McGregor is monitoring. He has seen no sign of intruders as yet, but has confirmed that Mary is home. She is not displaying any signs of duress, so we must assume she is currently alone."

"Good. At least that's something. This had better bloody work Mycroft. If anything happens to Mary neither of us will be taking any prisoners. Understood?"

-0-0-0-

Mary arrived home shortly after four. She unpacked her shopping then took a shower. She was just exiting her bedroom having dressed in leggings and a t-shirt when she heard the front door bell. Less than a minute later it rang again. Mrs Hudson could not be in. Slipping on her shoes she made her way downstairs. She opened the door to greet two men, both scruffily bearded, wearing baseball caps and dark glasses.

"Hello. Can I help you?"

"We're here to see Sherlock Holmes."

"Oh, clients. He will be pleased. Come in and take a seat down the hall. He should be home shortly."

The men seemed jumpy, but that wasn't unusual for Sherlock's personal clients. They followed the way she indicated, taking the seats outside flat C.

As she made her way back upstairs, she texted Sherlock. 'Clients, 2 men, outside C waiting 4 U. B long? Mx '

In the car, Sherlock's for beeped. "John, Mary's OK, but they're in 221B waiting for us outside flat C. There's no telling if they'll remain there. Jenkins, how much longer?"

"Five minutes sir."

"Sherlock, tell Mary to get upstairs and lock the door, just to be on the safe side. I don't want to scare her unnecessarily, but I don't want her putting herself in danger."

"Done. Jenkins, quick as you can please."

Mary received the text, frowned, but locked the door to their flat anyway. Sherlock had said they'd be home shortly so she started on dinner. Vegetable lasagne made with leeks instead of pasta, a particular favourite of Sherlock's. Grabbing the chopping board she began preparing the vegetables.