The back of the van was cramped, dim, and stuffy. There was too much excitement for the boys to sleep. They wanted to crawl around and inspect everything in the moving van. Even Jonah was excited to check out the new scents.
"Try and get some sleep, John." Sherlock said stroking back John's hair.
"Is everything okay back there?" Lestrade said poking his fingers and nose through the grate.
"For the thousandth time! Yes!" Mycroft shouted. He stood up and slid the grate closed, casting them in complete darkness. He sat back down with a huff.
Milo began to fuss in Mycroft's arms and the boys threatened to chime in. Sherlock stood and opened the grate once more. Lestrade stuck his fingers back through and clutched on to the bottom of the grate.
"Please, can I come back with you?" Lestrade begged with a whimper.
"We can't pass through the wall without you." Sherlock responded
Lestrade stretched his fingers, reaching for Sherlock. Sherlock laced his fingers in Lestrade's. He looked down at John who looked away from them. John heard them whisper something very softly.
They hit a bump in the road and John reached out to catch an armful of pups. He managed to grab hold of Jonah and George and barely had his finger tips on Michael's collar when he slipped away. Michael became airborne and Sherlock caught him mid-air. Michael looked at Sherlock with surprise.
"Good catch." John said with a sigh of relief.
"Everyone okay?" Lestrade asked from the front. Mycroft grabbed hold of a broom and whacked the grate. Lestrade withdrew with a whine and whimper.
"We're almost there." Sherlock said. Mycroft undid his shirt and began feeding Milo, while Sherlock gave Michael his bottle and John gave George his.
"Jonah, eat." John said trying to hand Jonah a bottle. Jonah refused the offering.
"Jonah, come here my son." Sherlock said reaching out for him. Jonah crawled over and into Sherlock's lap with Michael. Sherlock offered him the same bottle and he took to it immediately.
The van stopped, the engine cut out, and John held his breath. The back opened suddenly, startling John. He slid down further and clutched on to George.
The sentinel began sniffing the van. "These all clothes?"
"Of course they are." Lestrade growled. He grabbed a bag and shoved it into the sentinel's arms. "Check them, all of them." The sentinel held the bag and looked at Lestrade with wide-eyed fear. "Well?"
"It's clothes." The sentinel said with a gulp.
"Get back to work." Lestrade scoffed. The van's back doors slammed shut and John let out a small breath.
Milo started to fuss and John's blood turned to ice.
"Sh, sh." Mycroft hushed softly. The engine roared to life and she began crying. "Please." He begged, offering up his nipple. She began to howl and Michael stopped eating to join in. Sherlock clamped a hand over Michael's mouth. George put down his bottle and John placed a hand over his mouth as well.
"Quiet down back there, they're opening the gate." Mary said worriedly. "The detective inspector is still out there!"
Jonah's voice rang out like a police siren, "Aah-ooh!" He howled.
"Jonah!" John shrieked. The van revved and Mary floored it through the gate while it was still opening. Shots rang out into the night and there was a loud thud against the side of the van. Mary brought the van to a screeching halt. The front passenger door opened and slammed shut.
"Drive damnit!" Lestrade shouted. Mary floored it once more and the contents and people in the back lurched before accelerating forward.
"What happened?" Mycroft shouted through the grate.
"I..." Lestrade started.
"He shot them." Mary said dispassionately.
"My brothers..." Lestrade said in disbelief. "I killed them."
John woke up to the early morning's light streaming through the grate.
"Mm. Where are we?" John asked stretching out. His head lolled over to see all four pups sleeping and curled up against Mycroft. John chuckled softly. "Mummy of the year."
"They heard a hound." Sherlock said stroking John's hair. "They all went straight to him for comfort."
"A hound? Like... a real hound?"
"Yes." Sherlock said pulling his hand away.
"Did you see it?" Sherlock shook his head. "It was probably a canine." John said dismissively.
"I saw them in Baskervilles, with my own eyes, John." Sherlock looked at him worriedly. "They were breeding them. That's when I knew we had to escape, whatever the cost."
"Who's breeding them?" John asked with an air of doubt.
"The Lambdas."
"No they weren't."
"I'm telling you, the royal family is looking to wage war."
"We're already at war." John said snuggling against Sherlock's thigh.
"That's what they want you to think. The Lambdas are going along with the Omicron's demands. They're trying to build their trust. They've even released the betas-"
"What would the Omicrons want with a bunch of betas?"
"John... the betas are their people. We stole them."
"No!" John said sitting up. "That's a lie. Betas were a by-product-"
"John, betas were not always reproductively isolated from Omegas and Alphas. There are still Omicron genes floating around the population. John, the Lambda line is dying."
"It's as strong as ever!"
"There hasn't been a pure-blood Lambda born to the family in nearly a century. The royal family is desperate; they've been out-breeding into the population for years, hoping for a miracle. My father had royal blood. He bred with my mother to make Mycroft and me, in hopes we would carry on the Lambda genes and perhaps we'd have luck with the next generation."
"You are practically royalty..." John said looking at Sherlock stunned.
"John, when Jonah was tested, he was nearly a one hundred percent match. He's more Lambda than the King!"
"Meaning?" John asked concerned.
"Jonah would be next in line for the crown."
John's jaw dropped. "Then why does he want Jonah dead?"
"He doesn't, John. Don't you see?"
"No!"
"Jim's a traitor!" Sherlock shouted. "He doesn't want Jonah to inherit the crown. He wants it for himself."
"He can't take the crown. He's not royalty!"
"He most certainly isn't Lambda royalty."
"No." John said with disbelief. "No! He... he's an Alpha. He got Molly Hooper pregnant!"
"Him and Richard Brook are a bit short to be Alphas, you said so yourself. Didn't anything else seem to strike you as odd about the two?" Sherlock looked deep into John's eyes. "About their eyes?" John gulped. "Milo's name was denied. Why do you believe Jim would have wanted her named after him?"
"Because Milo's an Omicron... like Jim."