Disclaimer: I don't own Holmes. Please don't sue.

A/N: Hi, guys. Sorry about the delay in this chapter, but my muse wasn't cooperating with the plot flow. Real life didn't mitigate things, but I'm not here to complain (Hopefully, Chapter 4 will take less time to write). Thanks to all of you who reviewed-hope this chapter meets your expectations. Well, without further ado, here's Chapter Three!

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Chapter 3-

Tick, tick, tick

The steady, ever-present heartbeat of the old grandfather clock in the darkest corner of the room did little to soothe my nerves as I stared into the blazing fire, awaiting my companion's return.

"How are we going to get out of this one?" I muttered to myself, glancing away from the fire's hypnotic, dancing flames. The question faded into the silence of the comfortably lit room without any hope of an answer.

Sighing, I slowly sauntered across the room to wind the old timepiece for the day, still turning over the evening's events over in my troubled mind. The silver pendulum captured my gaze as it caught the flickering light from the hearth, glinting and flashing as it swung in graceful arcs to and fro below the clock's intricately carved face. My thoughts returned to my last encounter with the Moriarty Gang at Reichenbach Falls many years ago. Sunlight had reflected into my sight from Holmes's silver cigarette case, which had held the last note that I had thought I would receive from my long time friend.

"I am pleased to think that I shall be able to free society from any further effects of his presence," he had said in the note regarding Professor Moriarty, "though I fear that it is at a cost which will give pain to my friends, and especially, my dear Watson, to you."*

"He didn't take you down with him before," I stated resolutely into the empty room. "I won't let him beat you this time."

'But what is there that you could do?' the sceptic in my mind asked sourly, sounding surprisingly like Holmes's sardonic drawl. I was once again sorely reminded that my friend was still out there in the blizzard, leaving me here helpless with nothing to do and no one for company but my own thoughts.

"I could go to Scotland Yard, and seek help from one of their inspectors," I mused. "God knows that they owe Holmes enough to repay him a favour."

'Much too slow, that would be to do any good,' the sceptic retorted dismissingly. 'Everything takes twice as long to implement in those circles of bureaucracy. Furthermore any official undertaking of the sort would gather too much publicity and alert Omega. The detectives from Scotland Yard would probably find a way to put this case in the papers so the world will know that Sherlock Holmes went to them for help. Mycroft's name will be in the obituaries before they even file the case report."

"Well, there has to be some way to investigate this without turning to any outside help," I responded determinately, trying desperately to recall Holmes's methods of detection. "I know that the Omega faction is responsible for this, so I could go to Professor Moriarty's rooms. There's bound to be some evidence there pointing to where they have Mycroft."

'The Professor is dead,' the sceptic pointed out rather severely, as if conversing with an extremely dull and temperamental child. 'Holmes himself saw Moriarty's plunge down Reichenbach Falls. There will be no reason for anyone in the surviving Omega faction to go to their former leader's lodgings. You will do Holmes no good by throwing yourself in jail after committing a felony and ransacking the late Professor's rooms without avail. The only thing that this will succeed in doing will be to alert Omega of your nosing; they will surely be watching the premises carefully."

Inevitably frustrated with myself, I threw up my hands in despair and gave in to pacing furiously before the hearth crackling merrily in mockery of my black mood. "This is hopeless!" I cried aloud, inwardly cursing my incompetence. Surely Holmes would have formulated some ingenious plan to save his brother by now.

The grandfather clock's last chime of the ninth hour came and went without the firm and steady tread of my friend's footsteps on the corridor outside. I was slightly worried by Holmes's lack of presence, as he was rarely late without good reason.

"Perhaps he has found something useful in his brother's rooms," I mused hopefully as I collapsed into my favourite armchair, praying that the sceptic would be thankfully silent.

'Or perhaps he has run into one Omega's many agents?' the cynic in me asked ruthlessly, undeterred by my inward plea for peace. 'What if he's been attacked? Or worse, hurt? Even dead?'

"Holmes has tackled and beaten them before," I assured my frantic thoughts. "He's gotten the upper hand at the end of every confrontation with Omega in the past. He's resourceful enough to keep himself on his two feet."

'What if Holmes has gone looking for his brother without you?' the sceptic asked. 'What if he's left you behind?'

The thought drifted into the silence of the room unanswered, echoing ominously in my mind. If indeed Holmes had gone on without me, there was little I could do to mitigate the situation.

***

The door swung open slowly just as the clock began to chime half past nine, drawing me out of my reverie of helplessness. Holmes sauntered in heavily with an air of coldness, his face graver than I'd ever seen him. There was no spark of life in those eyes that mirrored the storm clouds outside, no spring of energy in his legs as he dragged his feet to his usual seat by the fireplace without even taking off his hat or winter coat. Thankful as I was to see him safe and apparently unharmed, it was disappointing to find that there was nothing to assuage me of my turbulent concerns.

"Holmes?" I asked cautiously after stepping behind him to close the door. Holmes turned suddenly towards me from his chair by the fire; and, to my utter surprise, fixed me with a piercing, scrutinizing stare that I had not seen since the first days of my acquaintance with the man. Our eyes locked for a few seconds that dragged on like eternities, before Holmes was apparently satisfied with what he found and slumped back into his chair with a dejected sigh.

"The situation grows darker," said he, before launching into a vivid description of his findings at Pall Mall. My already turbid mood grew more sombre as he continued his account, and when he had finished, Holmes and I were wearing similar frowns upon our foreheads.

"What will you do now?" I asked quietly, still inwardly reeling with the new information Holmes had provided.

"There is only one choice," Holmes responded grimly, his shoulders sagging from the pressures that the evening had brought. "There can be little doubt that Colonel Moran is behind all of this-there is no one else who would have the power and resources to accomplish the kidnapping so successfully. I must comply with Moran's wishes and meet his appointment."

I imagine that I must have looked hilarious had the situation been not so serious. I gawked. For a whole minute, I had my mouth hanging open like a goldfish before I had realised. I then blinked, shook my head, and checked my ears three times, to make sure that I still had my senses. I opened my mouth gapingly, but words wouldn't seem for form.

"HOLMES, HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!" I exclaimed once I had regained control of my voice. Ignoring my friend, whose eyes flashed dangerously with anger, I took several deep breaths before continuing. "Don't you realize it's a trap? What if we get hurt, or worse, killed? We won't do your brother any good as corpses!"

"And what will you have me do if you are intelligent?" Holmes retorted icily with his eyes narrowed into menacing slits. "There is nothing I can do unless, in your omniscience, you happen to know where Moran is keeping Mycroft. Going to the police or attempting to search for Mycroft would only ensure his name in the obituaries on tomorrow's morning newspaper. There is no reason for you to come with me, Watson; as far as I am concerned, there is no 'we' in this matter. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be leaving now."

Before I could say any more, Holmes stood and swiftly swept out of the room.

"Holmes!" I yelled hysterically as I ran after him into the outside hallway, desperately trying to make my friend see reason. "You cannot do this! There has to be another way! Don't throw your life away for this!"

He paused at the foot of the stairs and glared frigidly back up at me from the lower landing. "You do not control me, Watson," he uttered frostily, before striding back out into the night and slamming the door closed with a resounding bang.

All energy seeped from my body as I collapsed to my knees and slumped dolefully against the hard wall. Holmes was now out there alone without any source of aid, and all my efforts had only served to drive him faster out of the door.

'Now he's going to die hating you,' the cynic stated excitedly as I shut my eyes in regret.

"What have I done?"

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Note: * Quote was from Final Problem by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle