Chapter 24

The Losing Side

Mycroft was an absolute wanker. Insisted he and his other government cronies were cleaning up the remains of the project for super soldier injections a year ago. Now he was telling the project head Myra Jones was spotted in Wales a few days ago, a second sighting outside London this morning. Useless.

It would seem the higher members who worked on the project were on a last ditch attempt to revive and achieve government allowance for their project. Sherlock suspected the Professor was involved, possibly scheming to accomplish a grand government take-over in this manner. He'd run him and Moriarty throughout nearby locales as diversion. It was all a bit of a mess.

He dropped his mobile on the counter and Molly stood awkward in the doorway. A nervous smile quivered and fell from her face. She came inside the lab and hesitated. Her uncertainty worn plain a lot of the time was annoying.

"Sherlock... Uh, you have a friend..here? Maybe."

"Maybe," he repeated, refusing to sigh, and looked toward the doorway behind her. The afternoon was dragging. "Well?"

A broad-shouldered man in dark clothing entered the room and folded his arms on his chest. "Holmes."

Right. What could he want without Moriarty?

"Your pet's missing."

Blinking, he stared. Pet? What? He opened his mouth to ask and closed it after Moran glanced in Molly's direction.

"The Hound."

"Sherlock, you got a dog?"

"No." There was an edge to the word that made her out to be an idiot. John would say, "Not good."

"Give us a minute, would you, Molly?"

"Oh. Yes. Of course. Right away." He bent his held back to stare at the ceiling a moment. Awkward girl for no rational reason.

The second she was out the door he stood and picked up his phone, checking there were no messages or calls he somehow missed. Nothing. He stared across the counter to Moriarty's employee.

"Where's John?"

"Don't know. Boss is missing too. Guess he took me off doctor watch too soon."

He overlooked the information Moran was ordered to surveil his friend for now. They might have left the crime scene outside the flat together. He hadn't been paying attention, mind elsewhere with the recent murders orchestrated by the Professor. If the two were together, they were snatched together.

"Do people usually risk snatching a dangerous man like Jim Moriarty?"

Moran coughed a laugh. "No one alive."

He understood the meaning. Yes and no. It seemed incredibly suicidal to do anything to Moriarty he didn't want done. Even when Mycroft had the criminal mastermind in custody once, it became clear it was on his terms and served his plans. Sherlock paid that price. Thanks for that, brother.

Sherlock considered the body in the morgue and the two other bodies connected to it. "MI6 rogue agents. Gone after John and Moriarty happened to be there."

It was loathsome to admit, there may be no great need to worry for John's well-being if Moriarty was with him. He held fascination for John. They would regret hurting him in the criminal's company. However, there could be a situation where there was nothing he could do to stop harm being committed.

He messaged his brother to get off his chubby bum and track John's phone as well as inform potential locations of the fugitives in or around the city. Mycroft tried to ring him and he rejected the call. He pointed at Moran with the hand gripping his mobile.

"Any idea where they might be?"

Moran rubbed his jaw and jerked forward in place before squaring his shoulders again. "You know who has them."

Whoops. Right. "Yes. Suspicions at least. Myra Jones ran the project John was involved in a while past. Dominic Parker you are familiar with since you knew he would take a shot at John..which you will have to explain to me later. They're the two who harbor a grudge and were most dedicated to the project's success."

"What can they gain by taking Watson?"

Locations were sent to his phone. He walked toward the exit. Molly was at the end of the corridor and whirled about to look when he strode quickly past her.

"Sherlock. You know if you need help, just ask."

He regarded the kind woman. "Paper and pen?"

She hurried to tug out a notepad and pen from her lab coat pocket. She was holding it out to him but he ignored and brought up Mycroft's text. Scanning the dozen addresses, he began reading the bottom half listed to her. She comprehended writing was his need and began scribbling. He repeated the first two she hadn't realized she needed to be copying down and looked at her expectantly.

"What-what should I be doing?"

"Call Lestrade. John Watson's been kidnapped."

/

It was a colder and drearier day than he would like. Sebastian got behind the wheel and inclined his head toward the passenger getting in next to him. Four locations and no hostage situation to be found. Once the door shut, he started the engine. An area of London and address were read to him. He thought the police might have better luck than them.

Their duo traveled in silence. Moriarty was the quiet sort more often than not so it was a common circumstance. He didn't know much about Sherlock Holmes except for what was in Moriarty's file and included in Moriarty's whining. In his determination, it was enough to assess and respond to any event where the man was involved.

He could hear that brain spinning thoughts, ideas, errors in logic, connecting streams of concepts. Jim was a simple man compared to Holmes. The immediate element was his whole deal. Planning worked around it. His own brain was attentive to driving, monitoring surroundings and potential threats, and strategizing the rescue. A snatch and grab of their own would do to get his boss out should a cavernous warehouse be the layout.

They came up empty. This fifth address another pile of nothing. The warehouses were in use and not criminal by any means he could identify. Reentering the car, Sebastian drove out of the lot and onto the street. Neither of them were willing to show the loss they felt at each failed search. Time was a luxury they may not have.

His fingers tapped the wheel, indicating his growing anxiety his boss wouldn't be all right. Moriarty would not accept Watson's demise. These people incorrectly thought the good doctor could achieve the impossible. He was no one who could introduce and complete a deal with government agencies. He clenched the wheel tight, knuckles whitening.

"Stop."

"Why?" He pulled off the road.

"That one. The department store, three floors up. No lights."

The rest of the clothing store was brightly lit and packed with customers on the lower levels.

"But business is a booming. Heh." Sebastian grinned. "Nice catch."

"Could be nothing."

He leaned over and saw Holmes was texting his detective inspector friend. His grin shrank to scoff. "We'll take the stairs. There..and there."

Holmes stood outside the car searching for stair access to the store. Sebastian retrieved his guns, holstering the smaller ones and hiding the larger rifle in his jacket. He walked around the car and handed the other man one of the handguns. Time to do his thing. His kind of pleasure.

He sent a message to Moriarty's phone once he noted the armed guard pacing close to the window. Probably an accident. Former government agents shouldn't be so sloppy. Disappointing performance. One should take care not to get thrown off their game.

/

Former Agent Mitchell held the mobile to show him the received text. "What's this mean? This some kind of code?"

Jim read it and gestured with his bound hands. "Couldn't say. Drunk text?"

At least the tape from their ankles was removed to avoid having to carry them when they were moved from the van. The former agent adjusted to stand in front of the man seated in a chair to Jim's right. There was a chair's length between the two chairs they'd been deposited in to be obedient captives. They weren't separated so it would suffice.

"Hey. Is he lying?"

The doctor read the text out loud. "Lost puppy found in Yard. Poo cleanup."

John scratched his forehead using his thumb and lowered his bound hands to his lap. His left hand fisted, steady as could be. The phone was discarded to the table. One of the guys standing around for intimidation factor glared at their buddy.

"Take the battery out again or they'll track us," he growled. "Why'd you put it back in anyway, you?"

"He's a major player in crime, mate. There's bound to be useful intelligence."

The soldier standing behind John's chair kicked the leg and jabbed the tip of his gun into John's neck. "Paul was talking to me. Answer the question, Watson. Is your pal lying?"

"Do all criminals lie?"

Parker slapped the unmarred cheek from where he perched on a small table with a lamp missing the bulb, to the right of John. He had jealousy issues. He'd have mortality issues in less than five minutes knowing Moran.

"You exposed us, ruined what we made. The drug works! It works and you had to wreck it because you've got a moral high ground, eh? You're the superior one and the rest of us crawl around at your mighty feet!"

He stood and socked him in the stomach. John grunted, curling forward, gasping out, "Freedom matters to everyone."

When he could breathe a little better, he added, "I didn't see you giving up yours, Dominic."

John had taken to a first-name basis with their kidnappers. It seemed to irritate them. Familiarity from a man who only pretended to be one of them and turned their plans upside down. He sat proper in the chair.

"Shut up, all of you." Jones was at the door, leaning on the frame. "Last chance, John. Make the call to Holmes or your time on this earth is up."

Mitchell punched him in the face, fist colliding with his left cheek and causing his head to snap to the side. Jim leaned into the backing of his own chair beside John's, pasted on smile firm. Two notches for Mitchell, one for the no-name with the machine gun pressing into his neck, and three for Parker.

John struggled to breathe. Blood leaked out the right corner of his mouth. "Myra, this is mad. Mycroft can't give you what you want. Funding and information? Resources to restart the project in a different country? In exchange for me? Who told you a crazy trade was feasible?"

NSA, CIA, MI6. It was noise to him. Bureaucrats were so boring. He wished he could put his earbuds in and listen to music. Anything but this drivel.

"You're terrible at prolonging your life, Watson." Jones was less friendly with his name now. "Parker. You get your wish. Kill him."

Parker cheered right up, reaching into his duffel bag on the floor and removing a silencer. Jones slammed her fist into the open door. "Quiet!"

He crouched and shoved the metal parts in the bag. "Very well. Quiet. I know! Tape up his nose and mouth. Smothering sounds enjoyable for me."

Jim looked at the tape roll lifted from the bag and how the other soldiers backed away to provide space. John was letting fear in. A little. He was proud that was all. A broad smile on his face, he raised his hands above his head to draw attention. Six men and the woman at the door shifted their eyes to him.

"Want to hear a riddle?"

Disgust twisted Parker's features. "You're supposed to be some big, scary king of crime? What a joke."

"No. It's a riddle. Here we go." Two of them gawked at his implacable nature. "A man is trapped in a room with a dirt floor and a single window too high to reach. He has a shovel and two days to escape. How does he escape?"

"What shit is that?"

"You're the shit, gentlemen. Poo on the bottom of my shoe." A laugh and his hands clapped together to touch his grinning mouth. "The man uses the shovel to create a pile of dirt by the window to climb to freedom."

"Shut it, mate."

"Why are we listening to this guy?"

"Maybe we should just kill him."

"You wanna be the one who kills James Moriarty?"

"He'll want us dead no matter what we do now!"

Traces of humor and smiling vanished. "You won't be leaving this building alive if John doesn't want you to. I'll pile your bodies high to our freedom."

Jones was impatient and shifting her weight foot to foot. Jim gazed over to her.

"Do you want to know how I know you let the Professor convince you this was a feasible plan?"

Mitchell inched toward the only exit from the room. "What's he talking about?"

Jones and Parker knew. Their faces said everything. John was surprised, but he assumed John was always surprised. He was fun that way. Ordinary. His ordinary.

"My people don't betray me. They have a powerful need to keep living. When one of mine crossed me, it struck me a funny thing for him to do. Sure enough. A message to my other phone explaining in case he didn't survive, his plan to lure the Professor to believe his loyalty and give up something extra instead of money. He gave up you all. Sang for me, the Professor did without ever knowing. He pointed you at John, not once but twice. Always a choice and you chose hurting John both times."

"Other..phone?"

Morons.

"You didn't search him, Mitchell?!"

He rarely got his hands dirty but he would make an exception for the Professor should he ever lay a finger on John.

"That's a novice mistake, Martin. You hate to see it."

Jim looked at John putting on bravery to say that. These guys didn't scare him like Moriarty could. They worked with him on assassinations and combat and still managed to think of him as a non-threat. The doctor, not the soldier. He was the Hound and they would regret this capture.

"Look, I'm lacking sleep here!" he protested to his boss.

"No worries. My men don't know about the second phone. They have no need. They either do their job proper or die."

Their choice each time was between Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. To kill. To capture. They were a hopeless bunch. Incapable of entertaining him in the end.

"Search him now!" Parker demanded and no-name stepped up behind Jim to do it.

Mitchell moved closer to stand to Parker's left, studying the hostages in turn.

"I'm sleep-deprived as well," John said to join the conversation. "And I'm in pain thanks to you lot. Appreciate the icing on top of my day."

"I'm having a good day," shared Jim, a soft smile for his man.

A sniper round pierced the head of no-name. Mitchell and Parker dropped low, furniture for cover to break line of sight. Jones and the soldier not far from the door ran for it. Paul was slow to react and when he did, he made the poor decision to lower himself in the open, gun aimed at the wall of window. Bye bye, Paul.

John tried to see what was happening at his back when Paul's body thudded on the floorboards. Moran didn't have the two lying flat and the driver stood in the corner throughout their captivity. He decided now was when he would point his gun at the captives and demand mercy.

"Hey! Stop him from shooting! Get up! Go! Go!"

Jim laid his cheek on his hands, happily amused. "Don't you think you should find someplace to hide?"

The fool entered full view of the window, running for the exit. He was in a blind spot and hadn't known it. Panic was hilarious. Nobody could think that way. He collapsed, two rounds in his chest. John shoving his chair backward and standing sudden cut his giggle short. The final two were grabbing handguns to make a move.

"John. Inner left jacket pocket."

No hesitation. He came to him and reached in, fingers brushing against his chest before grasping the handle of the gun. Jim smiled while he ordered them to stop moving and Parker resisted. A bullet to his right arm changed his mind.

Cursing and clutching the wound, he was harmless now. Mitchell laid face down on the floor with his hands open and surrendering. Jim stood and faced the window. He formed the two fingered peace symbol with both hands. Kneeling briefly in the direction of the surrendered soldiers, he picked up the gun that slipped through Parker's fingers after he was shot.

He put a bullet in the man's lower leg and the name on his mental list had two ticks. "Shoot him anywhere you like, John."

"You can't just shoot people, Moriarty!"

"Yes. I did. You saw me."

"You're insufferable." John sounded like he meant it.

He tossed the gun beyond his shoulder in mocking fashion. "Less harmful means will have to do."

Examining Parker a long moment, he kicked him in the face. Satisfied with the three ticks, he turned to Mitchell. He owed him two. Hm...

Jim lowered to his knees and gripped his wrist, applying pressure until there was a snap. He did the same to the other wrist. John appeared nauseous.

Standing, he looked to him. "You see this at hospital, don't you?"

"I don't watch people be tortured, no."

He kicked Parker in the face with finality. "That's for the smother thing."

"Moriarty."

"They kidnapped you. They hurt you. They were going to kill you."

John had the saddest look on his face, bordering on devastated. "All things you did to me. In that order."

He beamed with pride. "Look how far we've come!"

Seeking and finding a knife strapped to Mitchell's boot, he removed it and cut the tape. He tore the remnants of tape from his wrists and did the same for John. Slinging an arm around his shoulders and pointedly ignoring the groans of pain coming from the floor, he smirked at the wide open door awaiting them.

"Free at last. You sure know how to turn me on. This was a near perfect date. Could have done without the roughing you up bit, but the rest? Perfection."

Silence. He waited him out. He always would. The silence broke.

"Puppy, Jim?"

He kissed him on the mouth and John sputtered, then melted into the kiss. John sucked on his lower lip and licked at his upper lip, sighing. Jim savored the acceptance. They were wrapped in all of each other and untangling them seemed a folly.

John pulled away and lowered to one knee to grab the tape. "We should tie them up until Lestrade gets here."

He understood all of Moran's text message. Splendid. John continued to impress.

Sherlock raced into the room out of breath. He absorbed the contents of the room but focused on them. Jim ignored the unwelcome blight and John looked relieved he was here.

"Sherlock!"

The ordinary brain clicked and he spun to him. "Moran's the sniper?"

Well, a step at a time. Johnny was a growing sort. He supported that for himself and was never disappointed.