*This Chapter has some secret code in it. I'll provide both the broken up link for the cipher (if you want to immerse yourself into the story and decode the secret code) and the translation at the end of the chapter*

Sherlock waits for their cab to drive away before entering the motel and picking up two of the bags. The man from the roof sits at a table outside one of the other rooms. He's in his 50's, wearing a black long-sleeve shirt, rolled at the hems to the elbows. He has a nasty burn on his right hand, rendering it nearly paralyzed. His carefully styled, greying hair still shows traces of red, and his strong jaw features well-trimmed stubble. Sherlock pretends to have not noticed his presence, instead carrying the bags to the street and hailing a cab. He places the bags in the trunk before heading back for the rest. When he returns, the man is gone, probably hoping to jump Sherlock inside the room. He slowly enters, checking behind the doors and in the bathroom without finding the mystery man. Deciding he must have been mistaken, Sherlock picks up the remaining bags and locks the door behind him. He bumps shoulders with the man coming up the stairs. "Excuse me sir. I'm terribly sorry."

"It's not a probl- Sherlock Holmes?" The man's voice is deep and sinister, but clearly not his normal voice.

Sherlock suppresses a laugh. "You know who I am?"

"But of course I know you. You're the famous Consulting Detective." He holds out a hand to shake but Sherlock ignores it, flourishing the bags he's holding.

"I'd love to stay and chat, sign something, the like, but I have a cab on the meter and I'm in a bit of a hurry. Mye's wife's having a baby. Left a few minutes ago for the hospital."

"You don't have a wife."

Sherlock laughs, "You're quite right. Slip of the tongue. Mye is a nickname for my brother. His wife. She doesn't look it, but you know how hips work. Lovely to meet you, but please excuse me." Sherlock starts down the stairs, but the man grabs his shoulder.

"She's not pregnant." The man pulls out a gun and a resident, who'd just stepped out of their room, screamed, and slammed the door. "You're not going anywhere Sherlock."

Sherlock slowly sets the bags down and raises his hands. "Who are you and what do you want?

"I've been sent to kill you."

"You couldn't have done it a little less in the open?" Sherlock glances over to the window nearest them and the curtains quickly shut. "Humans don't typically enjoy watching other people die. Besides, you're much less likely to get caught if you shoot me discreetly. You know," Sherlock lowers his hands slowly. "I believe you're the first to pull a gun on me out in the open. Must be pretty sure of yourself." Sherlock gestures to the street. "Mind if I pay the cabbie? Then you're welcome to take me to a better location."

The man nods. "Sure. Go ahead. Make it quick and don't try anything."

"Thanks." He hands the man the key. "Mind dropping those in my room?" He points to the bags and heads to the cab without waiting for an answer. "How much do I owe you?" He asks the driver, pretending to flip through bills while actually typing into his phone. He sends his brother the text telling him he's leaving the motel and pays the driver, taking the bags from the back and returning to the man. "Ready to go?" He drops the bags off and follows the man up the street. "Hate to be a backseat driver in my own murder, but mind hiding the gun, so we don't draw attention to ourselves?" The man shakes his head, pushing Sherlock forward with the gun to his back. "Fine. Could I at least know your name? I'd like to know who to turn into the police."

"My name is of little importance, especially not to a dead man." The man is doing his best to hide his irritation.

"Like you'll manage to kill me. I can't even kill myself."

The man laughs sarcastically. "Because no one can kill the great Sherlock Holmes. Not even a bullet directly into the cranium. Because he's. Not. Human."

Sherlock looks back, "You're the first one to understand that. I could kiss you! Thank you."

"Oh shut up." The man lifts his gun threateningly and Sherlock continues walking.

"So, where are we going? Do you have a car parked somewhere? Is there an abandoned building nearby? Or maybe over a bridge I can push you off of?"

"You're funny Sherlock. Quite funny. Just walk." The man is not having any of Sherlock's sass, but Sherlock decides to press his luck.

"You really think so? I've always thought I could take up comedy. My brother of course thought otherwise. Tell me your name so I can prove to him someone thinks I could make it."

"Amusingly enough, I can't seem to recall my name at the moment. Maybe I will when you're dead. I'll be sure to tell him for you."

Sherlock stops in his tracks. Behind the annoyance, he can tell this man isn't lying. "You can't remember?" He turns to face him. "You really can't remember your name?"

"Nope." The man keeps the gun steadily pointed at Sherlock's middle.

Sherlock tilts his head slightly. "Doesn't that seem strange to you?"

"Not really. I've always been 958 to my employer."

"Your employer?"

"Yeah? I told you I was sent to kill you." 958 relaxes his grip on the gun.

"So you're a part of a secret organization of assassins. This is getting exciting!" Sherlock drums his fingers over his lips. "The Guy Fox Society? The Malicious Moor? The Devil's Expansion? Oh, please tell me you're from there." Sherlock gently claps his hands together eagerly but 958's expression doesn't change. Sherlock drops his excited grin and sighs. "You're not. So then, where are you from? Why me? Why now? And for what reasons?"

"I don't have answers for you. I just do as I'm told."

"Your employer must be very smart, very demanding, and very angry. They know what they want and will do whatever has to be done to get it."

"Precisely. I'd never willingly cross him."

"I see. A dictator. And then there's you. 958. One of…how many of you are there?"

"Don't be fooled by the number, Mr. Holmes. It's just my spot in the book. Including me, there are," He does a quick count in his head, "24 of us still alive."

"A book huh? Must be a rather long running organization. So, does he get everyone from the army, or just you?"

"How-" 958 looked momentarily shocked, but his face quickly returned to its normal, emotionless state. "But of course. You're Sherlock Holmes. You would have figured that wouldn't you? Tell me, what gave it away?"

"Without including the obvious physical signs, your demeanor. For starters, you have great discipline and aren't easily distracted. You have high control of your emotions. In the presence of authority, you hold your tongue in cheek. And you keep glancing at your watch which indicates you're good at keeping time and are determined to get this over with. All signs of a seasoned soldier."

"Observant. But I'm afraid I have to stop your game here. We've strayed far enough from civilization. I think it's time for you to die."

Sherlock looked around at the alley they'd stopped in. A couple finches are busy bathing in the water which had accumulated in the center of the walkway. It was still early, so none of the shops had yet opened. One shop keeper had a hanging ivy plant beside the window adding a little color to the red and brown brick. "Here? Now? I'm slightly disappointed."

"What were you expecting? An oasis in the middle of nowhere? I'd have gladly killed you at the motel, but it was you who insisted we do it somewhere less crowded."

"I admit, it would be much preferable to die somewhere prettier than here. But I'm inclined to believe your employer would want proof of my death, which would mean bringing him my body. Seems rather difficult to have to carry my body from here without being detected."

958 laughs heartily. "The death of Sherlock Holmes would be widely broadcast. There would be no need to take you back. I'd simply need to leave the body somewhere it would be sure to be found and recognized. Here is perfect." He raises the gun, aiming it at Sherlock's head. "Any final words? I'm itching to get this over with and learn who I am."

"What's that supposed to mean? How do you not know who you are?" Sherlock furrows his eyebrows, genuinely curious.

"Haven't we already been through this?"

"Not knowing your name, and not knowing who you are, are different." Sherlock took a cautious step forward, and while 958 did flinch his gun a little, he didn't seem concerned. Sherlock continued circling 958, observing everything about him. "You know nothing? Just that you were a soldier?"

"That's all I've been told." 958 followed Sherlock with his gun but continued to face the same direction, back almost perpendicular to the wall.

"So what? Do you receive information in return for each kill?"

He nods. "Each mission we accomplish grants us a small reward. Each failure results in punishment. Earn enough successes and we get better rewards. This particular success would mean I learn my name, and a chunk of my past. I have to say, I'm quite eager."

Sherlock gestures to 958's hand. "Is that what the burn is from? A failed mission?"

He lifts his scarred hand, examining it. "This?" Sherlock reaches to take his hand, and he quickly pulls away. "This was my first injury. I can no longer feel it, but they continue to burn the flesh so I am reminded of what they can and will do to me." While he speaks, Sherlock receives a text.

HSPCP ESP SPWW LCP JZF HP NSPNVPO TY LY SZFC LRZ LYO JZF DETWW LCPYE SPCP HP XPLYTYR UZSY LYO T LCP RPEETYR LYITZFD. –XS (M1)

UFDE SLGP UZSY DPYO JZF LYO XLCJ ZQQ SPWW HLENS NLCP TX QTYP UFDE TY ECLQQTN –DS (S1)

958 holsters the gun and snatches the phone from Sherlock's hands. Sherlock immediately protests. "Could I have my phone back please?"

958 examines the text messages, completely flabbergasted by the jumbled letters and lack of punctuation. He looks up to Sherlock who's stopped less than a stride away. "What does it say?"

"By the looks of it, gibberish."

"But you understand it. You sent a response."

"Oh yes. I understand it. But," Sherlock shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets, "I think it's a little beyond you."

"Would it be?"

"I tried to teach John, but he didn't understand it."

"John is dim."

Sherlock scowls at him, "How about you talk to him, then come back and tell me that."

"I've been watching you all for a while now. He's thick."

Sherlock can feel his blood beginning to boil. "Take that back!"

958 gestures to the gun on his belt. "I'm the one with the gun."

Sherlock waves his hands mockingly. "Oh no! A gun. I'm so afraid." He holds out his hand, palm up. "Give me back my phone, and do not insult John in front of me again."

"I'll do as I please." Sherlock's phone buzzes and 958 examines the screen. Still unable to read the code, he reluctantly hands it back. "That's not what I'm here for. Take it. Your colleague won't be able to help you now anyway."

Sherlock grabs it, glad he removed the contact name years ago and reads the response.

TX RWLO JZFCP LWCTRSE OTO JZF DPP ESLE XLY ZY JZFC HLJ ZFE -XS (M2)

JPD OZYE HZCCJ SP WPQE YZHSPCP TY DTRSE LRLTY UFDE RZ TWW EPIE JZF ZY XJ YPH YFXMPC HSPY T RPE EZ ESP LTCAZCE -DS (S2)

"You may continue." Sherlock sends his reply and pockets his phone, holding out his hands in surrender.

"I may continue? You're on death's door, and all you can do is crack jokes." 958 laughs and draws his gun again.

Sherlock shrugs unenthused. "Been there, done that. It's all boring now." He holds up a finger as another text comes in.

958 rolls his eyes. "Sure. Whatever. Take your time."

Sherlock smirks. "I like you. You're patient."

RZ HSPCP JZF OTOYE RPE XP L AWLYP –XS (M3)

ELVP XTYP T HLD RZTYR EZ RZ ZFE LYO HZCV QCZX LQLC UFDE ELVP XJ AWLNP TWW NZXP FA HTES L YPH ZYP ZY ESP HLJ ESPCP OZYE HZCCJ ZGPC TE ELWV DZZY –DS (S3)

"Apologies. This may take a moment. Clearing up a case for a rather confused DI."

"I do believe in final goodbyes. May as well add that when you finish."

ZV QTYP TED PGPCJZYP PWDP SPCP ESLED TY OLYRPC NFCCPYEWJ LYJHLJD DLQP OCTGP –XS (M4)

Sherlock glances up briefly. "While I take care of this, why don't you give me a history lesson? What's brought you into the organization?"

ESLYV JZF DPP JZF DZZY AWPLDP EPWW UZSY T YPPO EZ MZCCZH L BFLCEPC QZC L DXZVP HSPY T RPE ESPCP –DS (S4)

T ESZFRSE JZF HLYEPO ZQQ ZQ ESZDP –XS (M5)

"I was picked up after the war maybe 25 years ago. 30? They taught me to kill and promised to help me remember who I was. Met my wife Midnight during training. We got married and now, I'm here, one of the top members."

"Midnight? Curious name." Sherlock replied distractedly.

UFDE EPWW STX XLJMP T YPPO L WTEEWP PIECL SPWA –DS (S5)

"She used to be 793 but earned her name after an especially profitable theft from a jeweler in Persia."

"You two sound perfect for each other. Already had criminal in common. Any kids?"

QTYP –XS (M6)

ESLYV JZF –DS (S6)

"No, kids aren't allowed, for obvious reasons."

"But you want one. I can tell. You've wanted one for a while." Sherlock shoved his phone away and eyed 958 as he moved his finger onto the trigger.

"Goodbye Mr. Holmes."

Text Conversation: Cipher: www. dcode .fr/caesar-cipher
(M1)Where the hell are you? We checked in an hour ago, and you still aren't here. We, meaning John and I, are getting anxious. -MH
(S1)Just have John send you and Mary off. He'll watch Care. I'm fine, just in traffic. -SH
(M2)I'm glad you're alright. Did you see that man on your way out? -MH
(S2)Yes. Don't worry, he left. Nowhere in sight. Again, just go. I'll text you on my new number when I get to the airport. -SH
(M3)Go where? You didn't get me a plane. -MH
(S3)Take mine. I was going to go out and work from afar. Just take my place. I'll come up with a new one on the way there. Don't worry over it. Talk soon. -SH
(M4)Ok fine. It's everyone else here that's in danger currently anyways. Safe drive. -MH
(S4)Thank you. See you soon. Please tell John that I need to borrow a quarter for a smoke when I get there. -SH
(M5)I thought you wanted off of those. -MH
(S5)Just tell him. Maybe I need a little extra help. -SH
(M6)Fine. -MH
(S6)Thank you. -SH

Song: Not Afraid to Die - Written by Wolves